The earliest portable watches appeared in Europe during the sixteenth century, following earlier developments in large mechanical clocks for churches, town halls, and domestic interiors. These early watches were costly objects, admired for their ingenuity and decorative cases, but their accuracy was limited. They were first and foremost luxury possessions, owned by those who could afford both the mechanism and the craftsmanship required to produce them.

A major advance in the history of timekeeping was made by the Dutch mathematician, physicist, and astronomer Christiaan Huygens (1629-1695). In 1656, he developed the pendulum clock, which greatly improved the precision of stationary clocks. Nearly two decades later, in 1675, Huygens devised the spiral balance spring for portable timepieces, an innovation that significantly increased their accuracy and laid the foundation for the modern watch. The first examples were constructed in Paris by the renowned clockmaker Isaac Thuret (c. 1630-1706), whose technical skill transformed Huygens’ theoretical design into a practical reality. Although Huygens and Thuret later became embroiled in a dispute over credit for the invention, their collaboration illustrates the close relationship between scientific innovation and skilled craftsmanship in the development of early watches.

The improved accuracy made possible by the balance spring contributed significantly to the growing popularity of the pocket watch. By the eighteenth century, it had become a visible symbol of refinement, prosperity, and punctuality, carried by merchants, gentlemen, scientists, and travelers alike. As production increased and prices gradually declined, pocket watches became more accessible throughout the century, and by its end they were owned by a broad segment of society, particularly the urban middle classes.

When not being worn, early pocket watches were suspended from decorative wall hooks or furniture-mounted brackets known in France as crochets porte-montre or crochets de montre. Introduced during the seventeenth century, these simple supports allowed owners to display their valuable timepieces within the home while keeping them readily accessible. As pocket watches gained popularity and the desire to display them grew, these functional hooks gradually evolved into more elaborate porte-montres, or watch stands. The majority were produced in wood. An early example is a watch stand from the personal collection of King Louis XIV (1638–1715), of France (Fig. 1). Throughout the eighteenth century, freestanding watch stands were produced not only in carved wood but also in a variety of more luxurious materials, including gilt bronze, silver, and ceramics. While examples in gilt bronze and silver reflected the growing demand for costly luxury goods, ceramic watch stands, despite their inherent fragility, also gained increasing popularity. Their decorative appeal and the opportunity they offered for artistic display evidently outweighed the practical disadvantages of a more delicate material.

It is possible that France, as an important center for the production of watch stands, also played a role in the development of faience examples. A Rouen faience watch stand, dating to around 1730, suggests that ceramic interpretations of the form were already being produced in France during the first half of the eighteenth century. Whether France was the first to produce ceramic watch stands remains uncertain, however, as a Viennese porcelain example dating to around 1725 is also known.

Following this broader European development, Delft potters produced their own tin-glazed earthenware versions of the fashionable watch stand, although no surviving Delft examples appear to predate about 1760. Most extant Delft watch stands date from the Rococo period and reflect the exuberant asymmetry and playful ornamentation characteristic of the style. Among the most popular models is one featuring several young boys climbing over and hanging from the framework of the stand (Fig. 2). Produced in a number of closely related variations, these watch stands are generally unattributed, and the factory responsible for the original design remains unknown.

A particularly elaborate polychrome example with a unique design formerly in the Aronson collection demonstrates how successfully this fashionable model was translated in Delft faience (Fig. 3). Its richly modeled Rococo ornament, lively polychrome decoration, and carefully framed circular aperture transformed a practical support for a pocket watch into an elegant decorative object.

Not all Delft watch stands, however, followed the Rococo idiom. A later blue-and-white example in the Louis XVI style, which is on view in the Princessehof, Leeuwarden (Fig. 4) reflects the changing taste of the final decades of the eighteenth century. The exuberant curves and animated figures of the Rococo gave way to a more restrained and symmetrical design, illustrating how Delft potters continued to adapt the watch stand to contemporary fashions.

As independent objects, watch stands were most commonly displayed on a mantelpiece or commode, where they combined the practical function of supporting a pocket watch with an ornamental role in the interior. During the eighteenth century, however, Delft potters also produced more elaborate compositions in which the watch stand was incorporated into an inkstand, following a fashionable European type (Fig. 5). By combining the watch holder with writing implements, these multifunctional objects found a natural place on the writing desk or in a gentleman’s study, where they united practicality with fashionable display.

Even rarer are ceramic models of pocket watches themselves. Carefully moulded and painted to imitate contemporary metal watches, these trompe l’oeil objects reproduce the characteristic convex case, suspension loop, and painted dial, while one example proudly bear the inscription “DELFT” (Fig. 6). It has generally been assumed that they were intended to occupy the aperture of a watch stand when the owner’s pocket watch was being worn, thereby preserving the visual completeness of the display.

Although ceramic watch models are often associated with Dutch Delftware, the earliest example presently known is an English Delftware model bearing the initials MD and dated 1696. The origin of this remarkable object type therefore remains uncertain. The earliest surviving Delft examples are of a later date, suggesting that the idea may already have been established elsewhere before being adopted by Delft potters.

Surviving ceramic watch models are exceptionally rare. Besides the early English example, only six Dutch Delft examples are currently recorded, all polychrome: one in a German private collection, one in the collection of Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen, an example in the Royal Museum for Art and History in Brussels and three in the Aronson collection (Figs. 6 and 7). Their function has never been documented in contemporary sources, and whether they indeed served as substitutes for pocket watches remains a plausible, though as yet unproven, interpretation.

Although many questions surrounding the origin and function of these remarkable objects remain unanswered, the Delft examples demonstrate how rapidly potters responded to new fashions and technological innovations by translating pocket watches and their accessories into faience. They not only testify to the creativity and ingenuity of Delft potters, but also illustrate the profound cultural significance of the pocket watch during the eighteenth century. Their rarity and the limited number of known examples underscore the need for further study.

Notes

1. Landes, David S. Revolution in Time: Clocks and the Making of the Modern World. Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1983. Revised edition, 2000, p. 87
2. Landes, 2000, p. 116
3. Landes, 2000, p. 125
4. Ibidem
5. Bernd Bauer (ed.), Taschenuhrständer, Pocket-Watch Stands, Porte-montre, Stuttgart, 2024, p. 11
6. Bauer, 2024, p. 240
7. Bauer, 2024, p. 386
8. This stand is depicted in Bauer, 2024 on p. 240
9. Bauer, 2024, p. 299
10. Bauer, 2024, p. 293
11. Depicted in Louis L. Lipski and Michael Archer, Dated English Delftware, Sotheby’s Publications, London, 1984, p. 418, no 1754
12. The first is depicted in: Bauer, 2024, p. 248, no 476 and the second in: D.C. Mees, Kunstnijverheid en Tegels 1600-1800, 1997, p. 194, no B 235

Coffee: few commodities are as widespread or as deeply woven into daily life. For many people, the day begins with a cup of coffee, accompanied by the vessels and utensils designed for its preparation and enjoyment. The remarkable relationship between coffee and ceramics continues to attract scholarly and public interest. This is reflected in the forthcoming exhibition Coffee? A Dutch History in Ceramics, at the Princessehof National Museum of Ceramics in Leeuwarden, which explores the role of coffee in Dutch history through the lens of ceramic production and consumption. This article examines the arrival of coffee in the Dutch Republic and the ways in which the growing coffee culture influenced the development of Delftware during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.

Coffee had a long history before it entered Dutch society in the seventeenth century. According to one of the many legends surrounding the discovery of coffee, its stimulating effects were first observed by goats. Although the story lacks historical evidence, it remains too compelling to omit. The goats of an Ethiopian goatherd named Kaldi supposedly became unusually energetic, jumping around, after eating the berries of the coffee shrub. An abbot from a nearby monastery discovered that the berries of the coffee plant provided this energy. He gave them to his monks, enabling them to stay awake longer for prayer and work. This discovery is said to have laid the foundation for coffee culture in the Middle East.

From Ethiopia, coffee plants were brought to Yemen by Arab traders during the fourteenth or fifteenth century. The principal export harbor was Mocha, located on the Red Sea, whose name would later become synonymous with coffee itself. It was here that Coffea arabica was traded, the aromatic coffee variety prized for its refined flavor and relatively limited production. The term “mocha” derives directly from this harbor city, while “arabica” still refers today to the same species of coffee bean that once circulated through the Arab trade networks.

Although Dutch merchants had secured trading rights in Mocha by 1617, the coffee trade to the Dutch Republic developed only gradually. In 1628, the VOC purchased its first known cargo of raw coffee beans in Yemen for trade in Persia, marking the beginning of a long-standing coffee trade within Asia.

During the same period, coffee was steadily making its way westward through the Ottoman Empire into Europe. The Ottomans played an important role in promoting its consumption, and in 1638 coffee was publicly auctioned in Venice for the first time, one of the earliest documented moments at which the beverage entered European commercial life.

The Dutch Republic followed somewhat later. Coffee was first auctioned in Amsterdam in 1661 and quickly gained popularity among urban consumers. Known at the time as cauwe, a word likely derived from the Arabic qahwa, the beverage soon became a familiar feature of city life. Amsterdam records mention a coffeehouse as early as 1663, and by around 1700 no fewer than thirty-two officially registered coffeehouses were operating within a small district of the city center alone (Fig. 1).

For the Dutch East India Company (VOC), importing coffee exclusively from Mocha ultimately proved insufficiently profitable. In 1699, coffee cultivation was introduced by the Dutch on Java, and in 1712 more successful plantations were established in Suriname, both colonies of the Dutch Republic at the time. These developments marked the beginning of an extensive Dutch coffee trade, transforming the Dutch Republic into an important distribution center for Scandinavia and the German territories.

Although coffeehouses played a significant role in introducing the beverage to Dutch consumers, the most significant development occurred during the first half of the eighteenth century when coffee drinking increasingly shifted into the domestic sphere. Falling prices and expanding imports enabled a growing number of households to prepare and serve coffee at home, stimulating the production of specialized coffee wares that transformed coffee consumption into a distinctly domestic ritual.

Coffee pots and mills for grinding coffee beans were initially unknown in the Dutch Republic. The earliest European coffee pots, used primarily in coffeehouses, were tall, slender vessels. Usually made of tin or copper, they were designed to withstand the prolonged heating required for traditional coffee preparation. Their high spouts reflected the practical need to pour coffee while leaving the grounds settled at the bottom of the vessel. Teapots, which contained loose tea leaves that moved freely within the liquid during brewing, generally had lower spouts. This distinction is clearly illustrated by a yellow-ground Delft bowl depicting a coffee pot (right) beside a teapot (left) (Fig. 2).

From around 1680 onward, porcelain coffee pots were imported from Japan and later from China, many of them produced specifically for the Dutch domestic market. Around 1700, the original conical form gradually evolved into the pear-shaped coffee pot inspired by Persian examples, a silhouette that would become the standard European coffee pot throughout the eighteenth century. An early Delft coffee pot in the collection of the Groninger Museum (Fig. 3) demonstrates how quickly Delft potters responded to evolving tastes and new patterns of consumption.

Alongside these forms, the kraantjeskan developed, a vessel fitted with one or more taps from which coffee could be dispensed directly into cups. Similar forms were already known in Europe by the late fifteenth century, when large tap-equipped guild vessels were used for serving beer and wine.

Coffee cups followed a somewhat different course of development. Delft potters had already been producing small cups for tea consumption since the seventeenth century, and these forms could readily be adapted for the serving of coffee. As the consumption of coffee and chocolate increased, taller and more cylindrical forms appeared that were better suited to these beverages.

VOC records indicate that at least three different types of coffee cups were in use: double ware, large Dutch coffee ware, and single Dutch coffee ware. The latter measured approximately 6.5 cm (2.6 in.) in height and 7.5 cm (2.9 in.) in diameter. These dimensions correspond closely to surviving late seventeenth and early eighteenth century coffee cups, which were generally smaller than the vessels commonly used for coffee today. An interesting example is found in a set of four cups fitted with a handle, produced by Pieter Adriaensz. Kocx around 1700, although it remains unclear whether they were intended for the consumption of coffee or chocolate (Fig. 4). Probate inventories nevertheless suggest that cups were frequently used interchangeably for tea, coffee, and chocolate, indicating that distinctions between these beverages were not always reflected in everyday household practice.

As coffee drinking spread beyond the coffeehouse and into the domestic sphere, Dutch potters responded to the growing demand for specialized coffee wares. An archival source from 1695 records the shipment of Hollants Porceleyn coffee pots from Delft to The Hague. Since Hollants Porceleyn was the contemporary term for Delft faience, this shipment provides one of the earliest documentary indications that Delft potters were producing coffee pots by the 1690s. Given the time required for the introduction and commercial distribution of new forms, production likely began somewhat earlier.

Delft potters adapted models that had originally been developed in metal and porcelain. A Delftware coffee pot with tap, preserved in the collection of the Kunstmuseum Den Haag demonstrates how functional metal prototypes were transformed into fashionable ceramic table wares (Fig. 5). Another model, preserved in the collection of the Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, is clearly derived from contemporary metal coffee pots and features a cylindrical body with a straight spout (Fig. 6). This type also occurs with a reinforcing bridge connecting the upper part of the spout to the body of the pot, providing additional stability.

Yet Delftware coffee pots were produced in smaller numbers than metal examples. Metal vessels remained more practical for daily use because they could withstand direct heat and frequent handling, whereas Delftware coffee pots were fragile and likely intended primarily for serving coffee at the table rather than brewing it. This may also help explain why comparatively few Delftware coffee pots survive today.

The growing popularity of coffee also found expression in Delftware decoration, as is reflected in Fig. 1. Next to this example, is a pair of polychrome vases made at Het Morieanshooft (the Moors Head) factory during the directorship of Rochus Hoppesteyn depicts elegantly dressed figures gathered around a table furnished with cups and a clearly recognizable coffee pot (Fig. 7). Similar imagery appears on a Hoppesteyn vase in the collection of the Moritzburg Art Museum in Halle, where two distinct coffee pots are represented within an elaborate interior scene. Such depictions are particularly valuable because they preserve visual evidence of contemporary coffee wares that may no longer survive and demonstrate that coffee drinking had become sufficiently familiar to serve as a recognizable decorative motif.

During the eighteenth century, the rococo style came to exert a strong influence on Delftware production. Coffee pots, like many other ceramic forms, became less rigid in appearance and adopted more fluid silhouettes and organic contours. Among the few surviving Delftware coffee pots, one of the finest examples is a large polychrome coffee pot and cover in our collection (Fig. 8). Its elegant pear-shaped form, enriched with rococo scrollwork, reflects the mature European coffee pot type that developed during the eighteenth century. A closely related example, decorated in a slightly different palette, is preserved in the collection of the Princessehof Museum.

Very few Delftware coffee wares survive when compared to the relatively large numbers of tea wares produced during the same period. This disparity may reflect differences in the preparation of the two beverages. Tea was typically infused in a teapot and served directly from it, making ceramic vessels ideally suited to the process. Coffee, by contrast, was often prepared over a fire and required more durable equipment. Metal coffee pots therefore remained more practical and widely used throughout the eighteenth century, while Delftware examples were likely intended primarily for serving coffee at the table and displaying refinement and taste. Produced in smaller numbers than tea wares, they remain comparatively rare today. Yet precisely because of their scarcity, surviving Delftware coffee pots provide valuable insight into the growing popularity of coffee in the Dutch Republic and the ways in which Delft potters adapted their products to accommodate changing patterns of consumption.

Notes

1. On view from October 10, 2026, until August 29, 2027.
2. Pim Reijnders and Thera Wijsenbeek, Koffie in Nederland. Vier eeuwen cultuurgeschiedenis (Delft/Zutphen, 1994), p. 12.
3. Reijnders and Wijsenbeek, 1994, p. 19.
4. Reijnders and Wijsenbeek, 1994, p. 11.
5. Rudi Matthee, “Coffee in Safavid Iran: Commerce and Consumption,” Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient 37, no. 1 (1994), p. 2.
6. Anne E. C. McCants, “Poor Consumers as Global Consumers: The Diffusion of Tea and Coffee Drinking in the Eighteenth Century,” Economic History Review 61 (Special Issue, 2008), pp. 175–176.
7. Reijnders and Wijsenbeek, 1994, p. 43.
8. Reijnders and Wijsenbeek, 1994, p. 24.
9. Marijke de Koning, Henk Snelders, and Els Stronks, “Niet zo beschaafd als we dachten: Koffiehuizen, sociabilisering en literaire socialisatie in Amsterdam, c. 1685–c. 1785,” Tijdschrift voor Nederlandse Taal- en Letterkunde 139, no. 1 (2023), p. 40.
10. Judith te Kronnie, “From Elite Brew to Everyday Fuel: The Evolution of Dutch Coffee Culture in the 18th Century,” Public History Amsterdam, University of Amsterdam, September 27, 2024.
11. Reijnders and Wijsenbeek, 1994, p. 55.
12. Anna Preußinger, Material Culture in Early Modern Amsterdam Coffeehouses: The Sociability and Aesthetics of Porcelain Coffee Ware (Leiden University, 2022), p. 31.
13. Ibid.
14. Reijnders and Wijsenbeek, 1994, p. 75.
15. Reijnders and Wijsenbeek, 1994, p. 58.
16. J. de Kleyn, “De kraantjeskan met conische vorm, een oud type koffiekan,” Antiek, no. 6 (1972/1973), pp. 435–436.
17. Reijnders and Wijsenbeek, 1994, p. 91.
18. Preußinger, 2022, p. 37.
19. Reijnders and Wijsenbeek, 1994, p. 75.
20. Ibid.

]]> https://aronson.com/delftware-coffee-utensils-the-rise-of-coffee-drinking-in-the-dutch-republic/feed/ 0 https://aronson.com/delft-cruet-sets-form-function-and-context/ https://aronson.com/delft-cruet-sets-form-function-and-context/#_comments Thu, 07 May 2026 10:42:05 +0000 https://aronson.com/?p=80824 Oil and vinegar sets, commonly referred to as cruet sets, are among the more telling additions to the early modern dining table. Their emergence marks a shift toward more structured dining, in which individual elements assumed a defined role in both presentation and use.

In the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, dining in Europe became increasingly formalized. Meals were arranged with growing attention to order, symmetry, and display, a development closely linked to the adoption of dining à la française, a style associated with the court of Louis XIV. Dinners were organized in successive courses, beginning with cold dishes, followed by hot preparations, and concluding with preserved fruits and sweetmeats, a precursor to the modern dessert. Dishes were set out in balanced compositions across the table, from which guests served themselves. In this setting, tableware played an active role, as each course introduced a new combination of functional and decorative objects.

Within this context, cruet sets provided a practical means of serving liquid condiments, most notably oil and vinegar, directly at the table. Their presence also signals a broader shift in taste. Flavors became lighter and less dependent on heavy seasoning in the kitchen, while diners were given greater control to adjust their food according to individual preference. Initially produced in metal and glass, these sets soon offered Delft potters an opportunity to explore both form and decoration within a clearly defined functional type.

Strictly speaking, the term cruet refers to the individual vessel, a small bottle with a narrow neck and stopper, rather than to the ensemble as a whole. The supporting structure is more accurately described as a stand or frame. The direct origins of such vessels most likely lie outside the domestic sphere. In medieval liturgical practice, small containers known as ampullae were used to hold wine and water for the Eucharist, typically presented as a pair. These were sometimes marked with the letters “V” for vinum and “A” for aqua to distinguish their contents. They were most often made of metal, while glass examples became more common from the Renaissance onward.

Although their appearance in the seventeenth century may seem novel, the combined use of oil and vinegar has a much longer history. An early example of a joined cruet is found in a Roman or Syrian glass vessel with a double body (Fig. 1). This type is often described as an oil and vinegar bottle, although its precise function remains uncertain.

By the early medieval period, however, the pairing of oil and vinegar is securely attested in elite contexts. At the court of Charlemagne (742-814), meals could include vegetables or salads prepared with oil, vinegar, and generous quantities of pepper. This use primarily took place in the kitchen, as part of the preparation of dishes, rather than at the table, as would become customary in later periods.

Seen in this light, the growing presence of oil and vinegar in Northern European dining during the seventeenth century does not represent an entirely new development, but rather a transformation in the way they were presented and used. No longer confined to the kitchen, they became part of the table setting itself, presented in dedicated vessels and ultimately giving rise to the cruet set as a distinct and recognizable object.

A late sixteenth-century oil and vinegar vessel in Medici porcelain may represent one of the earliest European examples intended for use at the table (Fig. 2). Marked with the letters “O” and “A,” referring to oleum and acetum, it invites comparison with the earlier liturgical practice of marking paired vessels. While a direct connection cannot be firmly established, the parallel suggests a continuity in the visual language used to distinguish liquids. At the same time, the object points to the emergence of a comparable use in a secular and more refined dining context. By this date, such vessels were no longer confined to liturgical settings, but were also incorporated into the material culture of the table. Its execution in costly Medici porcelain underscores both the novelty of the form and its association with elite settings.

Over the course of the seventeenth century, cruet sets became part of increasingly elaborate table arrangements. Their emergence in a courtly context is often linked to Cardinal Mazarin (1602-1661), whose role at the court of Louis XIV (1638-1715) has given rise to the suggestion that he played a decisive part in their dissemination. Such claims, however, remain difficult to substantiate. While it is clear that Mazarin acted as an important intermediary for Italian taste within France, direct evidence for his role in introducing or popularizing cruet sets is lacking.

A small pouring vessel listed in his inventory nevertheless offers a more tangible point of reference. The so-called burette, recorded in 1644 and now preserved in the Louvre, demonstrates that refined vessels for controlled pouring were already present within elite circles at an early date (Fig. 3).

The development of cruet sets should be understood within a broader European context, in which forms and ideas circulated between different regions. The earliest Dutch example for secular use is a silver set dating from 1642, reflecting this wider exchange (Fig. 4). Made by the silversmith Anthony Grill, who originated from Augsburg but was active in Amsterdam, it consists of a tray with a detachable frame, an oil vessel, two casters, and a salt. A closely comparable set appears in a later print made for a lottery held in Durgerdam, near Amsterdam, organized to raise funds after a devastating fire in 1689 (Fig. 5).

Delft cruet stands appear to derive from contemporary metal prototypes, such as those attributed to the silversmith Anthony Grill. The vessels are raised on a foot, fitted with a handle, and conceived as bridge-spouted ewers, the spout set low on the body and connected to the neck by a supporting strut.

Delft potters translated these elements into faience, adapting both form and function to suit ceramic production. This development is exemplified by one of the earliest known Delft faience cruet stands, produced in the late seventeenth century at De Metaale Pot (The Metal Pot) factory under the directorship of Lambertus Cleffius, owner from 1679 to 1691. This blue and white set forms part of an extensive dinner service commissioned for Prince Wenzel Ferdinand Lobkowicz of Bílina (1656-1697), now known as the Lobkowicz service. The cruet stand was conceived to hold three vessels: two bottles intended for oil and vinegar, and a third container, most likely for mustard. The ensemble offers an exceptional insight into the level of sophistication achieved by De Metaale Pot as early as the 1680s.

In addition to the Lobkowicz service, another important early blue and white set, attributed to Frederik van Frytom (1632-1702) on account of its finely painted landscapes, and possibly also produced at De Metaale Pot, follows a similar model, with accommodation for three vessels. A further early example, now in the collection of Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen, is attributed to De Witte Ster (The White Star) factory and bears a coat of arms, suggesting a noble provenance.

Production at De Metaale Pot continued under Lambertus van Eenhoorn, successor to Lambertus Cleffius, who owned the company from 1691 to 1721. From this period, blue and white cruet stands are known that were designed to accommodate four or five vessels. A late seventeenth-century example of such production is a cruet set marked IVB for Johannes Verburg, comprising a stand for four elements, including two bottles for oil and vinegar, a mustard pot, and a caster, now part of a private collection collection (Fig. 6).

The factory De Grieksche A (The Greek A) was likewise engaged in the production of cruet stands during this period, under the directorship of Adrianus Kocx from 1687 to 1701. A notable blue and white set of six elements, comprising a stand, two bottles, a large caster, a smaller example, and a mustard pot, is preserved in the Amsterdam Museum (Fig. 7). A comparable blue and white set, marked APK and bearing the coat of arms and monogram of the Danish baron Iver Juel Høg and his wife, indicates that production of this model continued under Adrianus’ son, Pieter, who owned the company from 1701 until his death in 1703. As Iver Juel Høg had already died in 1683, the commission was likely made by his widow, Helle Nielsdatter Trolle (1657-1722).

In the eighteenth century, the use of cruet sets became more widespread, extending beyond elite circles to a broader public. This development allowed for the introduction of new models and color schemes. In addition to blue and white, Imari and so-called cashmere palettes were employed (Fig. 8). While the spouted form remained in use, a model with a rounded body and a wider neck fitted with a pouring lip appears to have gained particular popularity (Fig. 9).

On the basis of extant examples, it may be cautiously suggested that the earliest Delft cruet sets comprised between three and five vessels arranged within a stand. As is often the case with new dining practices, such sets were likely conceived as part of larger services and intended for use within aristocratic, and possibly royal, contexts. Over the course of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, however, these more elaborate configurations were gradually simplified, and cruet sets were increasingly reduced to two bottles intended solely for oil and vinegar.

The use of oil and vinegar sets increased over the course of the eighteenth century. Extant examples indicate that such wares were produced at several Delft factories, including De Witte Ster, De Metaale Pot, De Grieksche A, De Drie Posteleyne Astonne, De Twee Scheepjes, De Romeyn, and In ’t Fortuyn, demonstrating the extent to which this form had become firmly established within Delft faience production.

Notes

1. Acqui Newling and Scott Hill, Pass the Cruet, Sydney Living Museums, February 12, 2015, published online: https://blogs.sydneylivingmuseums.com.au/cook/cruet-sets/index.html
2. John McClintock and James Strong, Cyclopedia of Biblical, Theological, and Ecclesiastical Literature, vol. 1 (A–B), New York, Harper & Brothers, 1896, p. 206.
3. Wina Born, Eten door de eeuwen. De geschiedenis van de culinaire cultuur, Baarn, Bosch & Keuning, 1989, p. 93.
4. Besides the example illustrated here, a comparable model is preserved in the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston (inv. no. 12.717).
5. Rijksmuseum Bulletin, “Keuze uit de aanwinsten,” 1997, p. 157.
6. Marion S. van Aken-Fehmers and Loet A. Schledorn, Delfts aardewerk. Geschiedenis van een nationaal product, Zwolle, 2001, pp. 53–54.
7. Illustrated in A. Vecht, Frederik van Frytom (1632–1702). Life and Work of a Dutch Pottery Decorator, Amsterdam, 1968, pp. 74–75.
8. A stand with five compartments, lacking its vessels and marked LVE for Lambertus van Eenhoorn, owner of De Metaale Pot (The Metal Pot) from 1691 to 1721, was sold at Christie’s Amsterdam on November 2, 2005, as lot 415. Another holder for four vessels, marked LVE G 24, is in the collection of the Kulturen Museum in Lund (inv. no. KM 9342).
9. Cruet set, Attributed to De Witte Ster (the White Star) factory, Delft, circa 1700, Collection of the Boijmans van Beuningen Museum (inv. no. A 2249 a-f (KN&V))
10. Ulla Houkjær, Tin-Glazed Earthenware from the Netherlands, France and Germany 1600–1800, Copenhagen, Design Museum Danmark, 2016, p. 160.

William of Orange chose Delft for its strategic advantages. The city proved both loyal to the rebel cause and defensible: it lay beyond the immediate reach of Spanish forces, was protected by strong fortifications, and benefited from an extensive network of waterways that facilitated communication and supply. At the same time, his efforts to impose greater order on the military organization of the revolt proved crucial to its survival. He strengthened discipline, curbed the often unruly conduct of the Geuzen captains, and laid the foundations for a more structured military administration, responsible for the supply of artillery, gunpowder, transport, and provisions, as well as for the improved mustering and payment of troops.

Following his assassination in 1584 by Balthasar Gérard, authority passed to the States General until his son Maurice of Nassau was appointed stadholder in 1585. Building on the organizational and administrative foundations laid by his father, Maurice, in close cooperation with his cousin William Louis, stadholder of Friesland, initiated far-reaching reforms of the Dutch States Army. In 1599, the Ordre op de Wapeninge (Order Concerning the Arming of Troops) was established, setting standardized regulations for the armament and payment of infantry and cavalry units. These measures were particularly significant for the infantry, which formed the backbone of the Republic’s army during the Eighty Years’ War and accounted for a substantial portion of state expenditure. A growing emphasis was placed on the use of firearms, and the training of soldiers was increasingly systematized through drill instructions developed by William Louis and codified in the influential manual by the Southern Netherlandish artist Jacob de Gheyn (1565–1629).

Although Maurice did not reside in Delft, the city retained its military importance. Its role shifted from a centre of political leadership to one of logistical significance. Delft became a crucial hub within the Republic’s military infrastructure, housing both the provincial arsenal of Holland and the Generality’s central magazine. Together, these institutions formed a vital nexus in the supply and distribution of arms and munitions to both the standing army and civic militia units.

At the same time, this infrastructure entailed considerable risk. The catastrophic explosion of the gunpowder magazine in 1654, the so-called Delft Thunderclap, devastated a large part of the city and claimed many lives. Contemporary accounts describe the scale of destruction: approximately 200 houses were completely destroyed, a further 300 lost their roofs and windows, and scarcely a household in the city remained untouched. Entire neighborhoods were erased, and the disaster entered both visual and written memory as one of the most traumatic events in Delft’s history (Fig 1).

This event did not lead to a complete relocation of military storage from Delft. Already in the 1660s, a new gunpowder magazine was constructed at a distance of “a cannon shot” from the city, in an effort to prevent a recurrence of such devastation. At the same time, the arsenal in the city centre was extended (Fig. 2). Further expansion followed in the 1690s, when the arsenal doubled in size; to accommodate this enlargement, thirty-one houses were purchased and demolished.

The concentration of military resources profoundly shaped the character of Delft. Practices such as inspection, storage, and distribution formed part of daily life, reinforcing broader military reforms that emphasized order, coordination, and discipline. Even after the Peace of Münster in 1648, which marked the formal end of the Eighty Years’ War, the Dutch Republic did not enter a period of lasting stability. The Republic remained engaged in successive conflicts, including the Anglo-Dutch Wars, colonial confrontations overseas, and the crisis of the Rampjaar (Disaster Year) of 1672, when it faced invasion on multiple fronts. Within this context of persistent military tension, Delft retained, and indeed reaffirmed, its importance as a centre of military infrastructure.

By the eighteenth century, Delft’s role within this system had become more stable and institutionalized. While the city no longer functioned as a centre of military innovation or political leadership, its arsenals and depots remained in operation. The military thus persisted as a continuous presence within the urban fabric, embedded in its structures, labour, and daily routines.

Within this context, military imagery on seventeenth- and eighteenth century Delftware might be expected as a logical and meaningful theme, reflecting a system deeply embedded in the identity of the city. Yet, surprisingly few such objects have survived. Military subjects are far more commonly encountered on Delft and Northern Netherlandish tiles and tile panels, where they appear in greater number and variety. Engravings of soldiers by Jacob de Gheyn, for instance, served as an important source of inspiration and were widely adapted in seventeenth-century tile production.

Based on surviving objects, a modest interest in sixteenth- and seventeenth-century military themes in Delftware emerges towards the mid eighteenth century. This renewed attention may be linked to the political and military developments surrounding the War of the Austrian Succession (1740–1748). As an ally of Austria and Great Britain, the Republic became increasingly involved in the conflict, particularly when French forces advanced into the Southern Netherlands. The invasion of 1747 exposed the vulnerability of the Republic and led to significant political change.

In response to this crisis, William IV (1711–1751), Prince of Orange-Nassau, was appointed stadholder of all seven provinces, becoming the first to hold this office on a hereditary basis. At the same time, he was installed as Captain-General of the Union, consolidating both political and military authority. His wife, Anna of Hanover (1709–1759), Princess of Brunswick-Lüneburg and daughter of King George II of Great Britain, embodied the Republic’s dynastic ties with Britain and played an active political role, later serving as regent. Their elevation was accompanied by a surge in Orangist sentiment and public expressions of loyalty, reflected in Delft faience, such as a pair of bustes featuring the royal pair (fig. 3).

A small group of Delftware butter tubs preserved in the collection of Museum Prinsenhof Delft (fig. 4), decorated with military motifs and bearing an Orangist association, combines these themes. The Orangist secretary of Delft, Gaspard Rudolph van Kinschot, commissioned the butter dishes on the occasion of the inauguration of William IV as Captain-General of the Union on May 15, 1747. The museum’s collection also includes two plates dating from the first half of the eighteenth century, both depicting card-playing soldiers after a print by Cornelis Bloemaert II (1603-1692) (fig. 5), as well as a plate dating from the same period, showing the conquest of Maastricht by the Duke of Parma in 1579 (fig. 6).

An intriguing plaque from the Aronson Collection (main image), depicting military exercises, may be understood as part of this broader eighteenth-century emergence of the visual expression of military identity in Delftware. Although it appears to be unique, with no closely comparable examples currently known, it fits within this developing context. The composition is arranged in three horizontal registers, each illustrating a different aspect of military drill and exercise. The upper two registers depict artillery drills with a cannon and seem to be inspired by Jacques Callot’s (1592–1635) series Les exercices militaires (fig. 7), while the lower register shows two soldiers engaged in a fencing exercise.

While Callot produced numerous prints depicting military drill and the handling of weapons, these were not conceived as formal instructional tools comparable to the manuals of Jacob de Gheyn. Rather, they functioned as widely circulated visual observations of contemporary military practice. Their clarity of gesture and sequence nevertheless endowed them with a quasi-didactic quality, making the principles of drill and discipline accessible to a broader audience beyond the strictly military sphere.

Whether this plaque was intended as an instructive object or as a commemorative reflection on the importance of drill and discipline, introduced by Maurice and William Louis in the seventeenth century, remains uncertain. What is clear, however, is that it demonstrates the remarkable breadth of subject matter explored by Delft pottery painters and reveals how military themes, though relatively rare, could be adapted into complex and intellectually layered compositions within Delft faience.

NOTES

1. K.W. Swart (eds. Raymond Fagel, M.E.H.N. Mout and Henk van Nierop), Willem van Oranje en de Nederlandse Opstand 1572–1584, The Hague, 1994, p. 69

2. A Geuzen captain was a leader of irregular rebel forces during the early stages of the Dutch Revolt, often commanding groups of insurgents or privateers who operated with a considerable degree of autonomy before the army became more formally organized.

3. The States General was the central governing body of the Dutch Republic, representing the collective interests of the seven United Provinces.

4. M.A.G. de Jong, ‘Militaire hervormingen in het Staatse leger en de opbouw van het wapenbedrijf 1585–1621’, in: Bijdragen en Mededelingen betreffende de Geschiedenis der Nederlanden, vol. 118, The Hague, 2003, p. 470.

5. M.A.G. de Jong, Militaire hervormingen in het Staatse leger en de opbouw van het wapenbedrijf 1585–1621, vol. 118, The Hague, 2003, p. 469. A “Generality magazine” (Generaliteitsmagazijn) was a centrally administered arsenal supplying the army of the Union as a whole, as opposed to provincial magazines maintained by the separate provinces.

6. Reinier Boitet, Beschryvinge van de Stad Delft, Delft, 1729, p. 564

7. Ibidem

8. ‘Zwaar Geschut’, City Archive Delft, published online, July 15, 2023

9. Wilhelm Joliet, Wisselwerking van sponsen en decors, Harlingen – Rotterdam, Wapenhandelinghe van roers, musquetten ende spiessen, n.d.

10. Caption with inventory number B 2-428-A

In this article, we look beyond the objects in the Van Gelder Collection themselves to the substances they formerly contained. Rather than focusing on form or decoration, we explore the collection through the lens of so-called wondermiddelen (wonder medicines): substances whose reputed powers were sustained by long-standing tradition and a belief in wonders that once formed an accepted part of medical practice.

In the early twentieth century, the Dutch physician and medical historian M. A. van Andel published his study Klassieke Wondermiddelen, a work rooted in a growing interest among physicians in the history of their own discipline. Van Andel did not approach these remedies as curiosities or superstitions to be dismissed, but as an accepted part of earlier medical practice, using them to illustrate how deeply tradition and belief in wonders had shaped pre-modern medical practice.¹

Remarkably, Van Andel wrote from Gorinchem, the same town in which the pharmacist Van Gelder would later establish his own pharmacy. What at first appears to be a minor coincidence proved a fruitful point of departure for connecting Van Andel’s historical perspective with the material legacy preserved in the Van Gelder Collection. Where Van Andel reconstructed a medical worldview that has largely receded in the western world through texts and historical sources, the Van Gelder Collection preserved its material remains.

Among the many substances discussed by Van Andel, adeps hominis stands out as one of the most striking examples. Known in medical Latin as adeps hominis, and often obtained from the bodies of executed criminals, hence its vernacular designation beulszalf (executioner’s creme), it was prescribed for wounds, rheumatism, and disorders of the nerves.² Its use reflects a set of assumptions fundamental to apothecary practice: the belief in transferable qualities, the authority of long-established tradition, and the search for substances endowed with extraordinary efficacy. According to this logic, vital force was thought not to vanish immediately at death, but to remain active in bodily matter and capable of being transmitted through it. Fat taken from individuals who had died suddenly in full health and physical strength, was therefore considered especially potent. Although such remedies gradually disappeared from regulated pharmaceutical practice, the broader medical logic they exemplified also informed the use of other animal, vegetal, and mineral substances in early modern medicine, albeit on different grounds.

While the apothecary ceramics assembled by Van Gelder do not include vessels associated with adeps hominis, they do preserve inscriptions naming substances that occupied a similar conceptual space.

One such substance is dragon blood, Sanguis Draconis. Despite its evocative name, it is neither blood nor connected to the world of dragons, but a deep red gum-like resin obtained from trees native to the Canary Islands and Madeira, as well as from various tropical plants (Fig. 1).³ In early modern Europe, however, the distinction between appearance and material reality was far less decisive. Its vivid color and suggestive name encouraged its interpretation as a powerful vital substance. Sanguis Draconis was used primarily for wound treatment and to staunch bleeding, applications that aligned closely with its perceived sanguine nature. The belief that the “blood of a dragon” could restore or protect human blood exemplifies a medical imagination shaped by analogy and symbolism. A vessel inscribed Sang. Dragon. thus records not only a medicinal substance, but a way of thinking (Fig. 2).

Equally charged, though rooted in the animal world, was castoreum, inscribed on apothecary jars in the collection as O(leum) Castorei (Fig. 3). This pungent substance was obtained from the scent glands of the beaver and was widely prescribed for nervous disorders, convulsions, and what early physicians described as hysteria. Castoreum was surrounded by a persistent and vivid myth, already circulating in antiquity and recorded by authors such as Pliny the Elder: the belief that a hunted beaver would bite off its own testicles to escape, sacrificing part of itself to survive.⁴ This misconception also led to the erroneous assumption that castoreum itself was derived from the testicles rather than from specialized scent glands. Although anatomically false, the story lent castoreum an aura of self-sacrifice and extraordinary potency. Its repellent odor, rather than undermining confidence in the remedy, was taken as proof of its strength. At the same time, castoreum does possess genuine pharmacological properties, as it contains salicylic acid, a compound derived from the beaver’s diet of willow bark.⁵ In this sense, Oleum Castorei functioned as a wonder medicine whose reputation was shaped by both myth and measurable effect

A more subtle, but no less evocative substance is spermaceti. Spermaceti is a waxy material extracted from the head of the sperm whale, an animal that early modern Europeans knew primarily through perilous maritime encounters (Fig. 4). It is encountered in the collection on a vessel inscribed u ceti u spermat:ceti (Fig. 5). Literally, the inscription reads Unguentum Ceti sive Sperma Ceti (ointment of ceti, that is, spermaceti). The double formulation reflects early modern pharmaceutical practice, in which a single substance could circulate under different names in medical literature and prescriptions, and served to ensure clear identification rather than grammatical precision.  Whales occupied a liminal position between the known and the monstrous, and substances derived from them inherited this ambiguity. Spermaceti was valued for its cooling, soothing, and restorative qualities and was widely used in ointments for burns, wounds, and skin conditions. Its perceived efficacy drew not only on practical experience, but also on its exotic origin and the dangers involved in its acquisition. As with many wonder medicines, rarity and risk enhanced therapeutic credibility. The cylindrical jar mentioned above, shows that this substance was used around 1810.

Together, these substances, human fat, dragon blood, castoreum, and spermaceti, each grounded in different forms of tradition and experience, reveal a medical culture in which belief, observation, and material practice were closely intertwined. The pharmaceutical ceramics of the Van Gelder Collection give material form to this world and offer a rare and compelling insight into the enduring power of wonder within the history of medicine.

Notes

1. M.A. van Andel, Klassieke Wondermiddelen, Gorinchem, 1928, p. 3

2. Van Andel, 1928, p. 49

3. Nationaal Farmaceutisch Museum, collection no. 193

4. Igor Rosa, From Scythia to Sarmatia – Medical Use of Beaverʼs Body Parts from the  Antiquity to the Early Modern Period, Bratislava, 2018, p. 9

5. Rosa, 2018, pp. 7-8

With TEFAF 2026 in sight, we are greatly looking forward to presenting our collection in Maastricht and would like to offer a first preview of a remarkable ensemble. The group consists of eight Delftware plates, accompanied by a vase and a butter tub, both dated 1720. Together, they form a rare and unusually coherent ceramic response to one of the earliest market collapses in modern financial history.

Although comparable in certain respects to the Dutch tulip mania of the 1630s, this crisis grew out of a new form of speculative share trading that increasingly detached itself from underlying value. In England, a large public debt, intensified by years of warfare including the War of the Spanish Succession (1701–1713), was addressed through an unconventional measure, converting government debt into shares issued by chartered trading companies. This solution significantly lowered the interest payments on government debt.¹ In 1711 the South Sea Company was founded as part of this framework. Inspired by the English model, the Scottish financier John Law proposed comparable strategies to France, and in 1719 the Compagnie des Indes was created, often referred to as the Mississippi Company (Fig. 1).^{2 3}  Investors bought shares on a massive scale, encouraged by the promise of extraordinary overseas profits and by the visible involvement of government.

The boom could not last. Prices rose so sharply that shares became a vehicle for rapid resale, sometimes even traded for profit before they had been fully paid for. When it became clear that expected commercial returns would never match the inflated prices, markets collapsed and many were left with worthless holdings and severe debts. News of the collapse spread rapidly across Europe, and the events of 1720 were discussed, analyzed, and satirized far beyond England.

Although share trading was not new in the Dutch Republic, notably through long-established companies such as the VOC, widely regarded as the first company in the world to issue permanent, freely tradable shares, the events of 1720 marked a shift in scale and character. Many Dutch investors also participated in South Sea Company shares, linking Dutch capital directly to the speculative boom in London and ensuring that developments abroad were closely followed at home.⁴ In June of that year, speculation became widespread in the Netherlands, rapid resale replaced long-term investment, and newly proposed companies multiplied at an unprecedented pace. At its height, around thirty-one such companies existed on paper and an estimated 300 million guilders were invested in shares.⁵ Several cities, including Amsterdam, Leiden, and Haarlem, prevented local companies from taking shape by issuing bans, and by October 1720 trading was being curtailed across the Republic.

Compared with England and France, the damage in the Dutch Republic remained more limited, partly because state capital was not tied to the same degree to these ventures, and because participation remained relatively contained.⁶ Even so, the crisis was widely discussed and generated public tension, particularly among the urban poor, who feared economic hardship.⁷ In Amsterdam, unrest on October 5, 1720 became known as the Actiepest, with violence directed at share traders around the Engelsche Koffiehuis, known as Quincampoix, after the bankers’ district in Paris (Fig. 2).⁸

The Dutch response was immediate and highly visible in print. Satire became a dominant way of describing the crisis, and the best-known compilation is Het Groote Tafereel der Dwaasheid (1720), which collected texts and images mocking the logic of “paper wealth,” the theater of speculation, and the speed with which crowds could be drawn into a shared illusion.⁹ It is within this environment, where topical imagery circulated quickly and widely, that Delftware satire makes particular sense (Fig. 3). Delft potters were well placed to translate familiar figures and short slogans into ceramics, and practical forms such as plates and household vessels offered an ideal surface for direct and recognizable commentary that could even serve as conversation pieces.

The group of Delftware objects that will be presented at TEFAF in March, belongs to this satirical tradition. The so-called actie imagery on Delftware frequently depicts commedia dell’arte characters, Harlequin figures, fools, jugglers, and more conventionally dressed figures representing traders holding share certificates and contracts (Fig. 4). Their inscriptions read like pointed captions, designed to be understood at a glance. Such pieces compress a complex financial event into a sharp visual shorthand, turning speculation into theater and bringing that theater into domestic space.¹⁰

The inscriptions found on this group are an integral part of its satirical programme. Rendered in deliberately corrupted Dutch and French, they evoke the shouted slogans and market cries of early-eighteenth-century share trading: “Wie wil premie” (“Who wants a premium?”), “Loop axsies” (“Buy shares!”), “Actions à vendre” (“Shares for sale”), and “Ik win op axsies” (“I profit from shares”). These confident assertions are countered by more sardonic phrases such as “Sotte axsie” (“Foolish shares”) and “Pouvres actions” (“Poor shares”), which, read with the benefit of hindsight, underline the rapid collapse of speculative optimism. The fractured spelling of acties as axsies, along with phrases that verge on nonsense, is intentional and mirrors the confusion, bravado, and collective delusion that characterised the financial mania of the 1720s. Together, these texts transform the objects into rare ceramic witnesses of the South Sea Bubble, capturing both the language of speculation and the moral critique that followed its disastrous end.

Related Chinese export porcelain versions made for the Dutch market raise the question of purpose and suggest that these objects were likely intended not only as commentary, but also as a cautionary lesson for Dutch audiences, a warning against speculative schemes and the risk of placing hard-earned profits into fragile paper ventures (Fig. 5).¹¹

This satirical Delftware ensemble was part of the Meentwijck Collection of Dutch banker and stockbroker Dirk Nienhuis and his wife Liesbeth. Their collection was named after the villa they purchased in Bussum, a house designed in 1912 by the renowned Dutch architect and designer K.P.C. de Bazel (Fig. 6). The villa takes its name from De Bazel’s residence on the nearby Meentweg. Over time, it became closely associated with an impressive and wide-ranging collection of Dutch applied arts from approximately 1890 to 1940, now widely known as the Meentwijck Collection.

Nienhuis began collecting with stamps and weights, favoring objects with intrinsic value that were easily tradable, and later expanded the collection to include ceramics, glass, clocks, jewelry, lamps, and posters. His attention to a period that was not yet widely fashionable meant that prices were often modest at the time, while the quality of his selections helped shape later appreciation, attracting the interest of museums and collectors. Within that context, the Delft plates, alongside the vase and butter tub dated 1720, stand slightly apart from the collection’s usual period and focus. Their presence adds a distinctive historical dimension, bringing the world of commerce and financial history into dialogue with the applied arts that otherwise define the Meentwijck Collection, and may be understood in light of Nienhuis’s professional background in banking and securities trading.

Three centuries after the crash, these objects remain compelling for reasons that go beyond rarity alone. They show how quickly financial crises enter culture, how satire can function as a form of public analysis, and how these Delftware objects, as part of the decorative arts, can carry sharp commentary without leaving the domestic sphere. It is difficult not to recognize familiar patterns, whether in the dot-com boom, housing bubbles, or crypto euphoria. The tools change, but the sequence remains the same, the promise of easy gain, the acceleration of imitation, the moment when belief outruns reality, and the sudden reversal. For that reason, the caution embedded in these objects remains relevant, inviting reflection well beyond their historical moment.

Notes

1. Jeroen Salman, “Spelen met de financiële crisis van 1720. De Aprilkaart in Het Groote Tafereel der Dwaasheid,” in: Historisch Tijdschrift Holland, vol. 42, no. 3, 2010, p. 179.
2. The poem in this print may be translated as follows: “This is Law, so great, so extraordinary, who turns one into a hundred thousand; and while these finances thrive, Paris calls itself a second Peru; but once silver and trust run dry, it is the end of Quincampoix.” In this context, “Peru” refers to mythical wealth associated with gold and silver, while “Quincampoix” denotes the Parisian district where much of the speculative trading associated with Law took place, and by extension the financial system as a whole. The horse beneath John Law is depicted defecating coins, a satirical image intended to ridicule the illusion of effortless wealth.
3. Salman, 2010, p. 179.
4. Halde van Rijn, “De windhandel van 1720,” published online on Oneindig Noord-Holland, 26 March 2012.
5. J. A. Worp, “De windhandel op het tooneel,” in: Noord en Zuid, vol. 24, Culemborg, 1901, p. 381; and Van Rijn 2012.
6. Salman 2010, pp. 179–180.
7. Pieter Langendijk, Quincampoix of de windhandelaars en Arlequyn Actionist, 1720′, new edition by C. H. Ph. Meijer, Zutphen, 1892, p. 14.
8. Langendijk, ed. Meijer 1892, p. 8 and pp. 14–15.
9. Kuniko Forrer, “De wereld is vol gekken: de ontstaansgeschiedenis van Het Groote Tafereel der Dwaasheid,” in: De Boekenwereld, vol. 14, March 1998, p. 109.
10. D. Howard and J. Ayers, China for the West, London, 1978, vol. I, pp. 234–235.
11. Ibidem.

]]> https://aronson.com/actie-delftware-from-the-meentwijck-collection/feed/ 0 https://aronson.com/the-fan-shaped-flower-holder-form-function-and-international-origins/ https://aronson.com/the-fan-shaped-flower-holder-form-function-and-international-origins/#_comments Fri, 09 Jan 2026 09:32:53 +0000 https://aronson.com/?p=79205 Main image by Marie Louise Photography. Blue and White Flower Vase, marked CK for Cornelis Koppens, owner of De Metaale Pot (The Metal Pot) factory from 1724 to 1757, Delft, circa 1730, Aronson Collection (inv. no. D2211)

Delft flower vases with multiple spouts have been admired since their earliest production in the last quarter of the seventeenth century. Among the many forms developed in Delft potteries, the fan-shaped flower holder stands out as one of the most distinctive and enduring types. Although it belongs to the broader Delft tradition of vessels designed to separate and support individual flower stems, its flat back, radiating top, and relatively modest scale define it as a clearly recognizable and distinctive group. This article explores the origins and context of this elegant flower holder.

From Egytptian and Middle Eastern prototypes to European adaptations

Delft flower holders with spouts should be understood as the result of a gradual evolution rather than a sudden invention. The basic principle of arranging flowers individually in tubular openings likely originates in ancient Egypt. Wall paintings from the tombs at the Egyptian archaeological site of Beni Hasan, dating to around 2500 BC, depict vases with spouts specifically designed to support the heavy-headed lotus flower. The lotus held profound symbolic significance in Egyptian culture, associated with rebirth and eternal life.

In the ancient world more broadly, flowers primarily served religious, symbolic, and ceremonial purposes. In Greek and Roman cultures, they were present in and around the home, but mainly in ritual contexts, such as domestic altars, banquets, and festive occasions, rather than as permanent elements of interior decoration. This long-standing association between flowers, symbolism, and controlled display forms an important conceptual backdrop for the later development of specialized flower-holding vessels.

Much later in history, further examples of spouted vases appear in the Middle East. As early as the Seljuk and early Ilkhanid periods in Iran (eleventh to fourteenth centuries), potters produced small stonepaste vessels with a central neck surrounded by short tubular spouts (fig. 1).  These compact objects already embodied the essential idea later refined in Delft: a shared water reservoir combined with separate supports for individual stems.

During the Safavid period and within the wider Ottoman floral culture of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, this principle was developed into larger and more luxurious flower holders (fig. 2). These objects formed part of a broader courtly culture in which flowers, including tulips, played a highly symbolic role. Through trade routes, and earlier through crusader contact, Middle Eastern arts exerted a sustained influence on European material culture.

By the early seventeenth century, these long-standing traditions of symbolic flower display increasingly intersected with new European ideas about gardening, order, and visual control, expanding the role of flowers from primarily symbolic markers to carefully staged objects of aesthetic display.

Gardening manuals and botanical treatises began to conceptualize flowers not only as living plants rooted in the soil, but also as carefully arranged objects of display. In this intellectual climate, Giovanni Battista Ferrari’s De Florum Cultura (1633) famously described vases as “portable gardens,” emphasizing their role as instruments through which nature could be shaped, ordered, and admired indoors. The publication illustrates several vase designs in which individual flower stems are supported by separate, clearly defined openings, reinforcing Ferrari’s notion of the vase as a “portable garden” and anticipating the development of multi-spouted flower holders (fig 3). This notion provides an important conceptual bridge between earlier symbolic flower vessels and the emerging European interest in complex, multi-spouted flower holders.

Across Europe, related ceramic “portable garden” solutions emerged both before and alongside the Delft examples. The earliest European multi-spouted vases appeared in late sixteenth-century Italy (fig. 4). In their overall profile and controlled distribution of stems, this Italian model comes close to the later Delft fan-shaped type. By the late seventeenth century, additional forms were produced in Savona, Italy and earlier in the seventeenth century in France, faience workshops in Nevers developed gondola- or navette-shaped flower holders fitted with multiple nozzles (fig. 5). Although often regarded as autonomous inventions, these Nevers vessels show clear conceptual affinities with Middle Eastern models, reinforced by their frequent decoration with floral motifs derived from Iznik pottery.

Delft potters operated within a dense network of international contacts. Their connections to Nevers and Italian ceramic centers probably formed one channel of influence, but direct exposure to Middle Eastern objects through the Levant trade must also be considered. This seventeenth-century commercial system linked the Dutch Republic with Ottoman ports such as Smyrna, Aleppo, and Constantinople, facilitating not only the exchange of goods but also the circulation of visual ideas and aesthetic preferences.

One of the most visible outcomes of this exchange was the introduction of the tulip to the Netherlands. By the early seventeenth century, tulips had become high-status luxury plants, culminating in the well-known tulip mania of 1636–1637. Although this predates the emergence of Delft flower holders by several decades, it established a cultural climate in which elaborate flower display had strong appeal. From around 1900 onward, multi-spouted Delft vases even came to be called “tulip vases,” a term that is evocative but historically inaccurate. These vessels were intended for a variety of flowers, including tulips, often combined into carefully orchestrated bouquets.

The emergence of the fan-shaped flower holder in Delft

In sixteenth- and seventeenth-century Ottoman decorative arts, floral motifs were embedded within a symbolic framework reflecting cosmic harmony and cultural meanings. Ottoman art routinely incorporated highly stylized plant forms, tulips, carnations, hyacinths, and roses, arranged in rhythmic, symmetrical compositions that emphasize balance and order, a principle linked in Islamic aesthetic theory to the notion of cosmic equilibrium (mizan). Symmetrical floral arrays on Iznik ceramics, for example, have been interpreted as visual expressions of these ideals, with rotational symmetry and radiating forms evoking spiritual and cosmic balance (fig. 5). Stylized motifs such as carnations often appear in fan-like configurations, particularly in textiles and ceramics of the classical period, associated with elegance and refinement in courtly contexts. While the fan-shape should not be understood as a literal symbol, these forms reflect a visual language of ordered, controlled display, which resonates with the later development of Delft’s fan-shaped flower holders, translating two-dimensional compositional logic into three-dimensional ceramic design.

The fan-shaped flower holder belongs to the earliest group of spouted vases produced in Delft. The first examples, dating from the 1680s, were so-called quintel vases, featuring a single fan-like row of five spouts designed to support individual flower stems. (fig. 6). Constructed from multiple small tubes joined together, it allowed individual stems to be arranged into a structured, frontal bouquet. Archaeological evidence connects this form to royal contexts: Fragments of two fan-shaped flower holders bearing the mark of Samuel van Eenhoorn, owner of the Grieksche A factory between 1678 and 1687, were found in the gardens of Paleis Het Loo, the residence of King William III (1650–1702) and Queen Mary II (1662–1694). These pieces likely correspond to the “flat flower bottles” recorded in a 1713 inventory of the royal collection, indicating both their prestige and their functional differentiation.

What distinguishes the Delft fan-shaped type from its international predecessors is not the basic idea of spouts, but its geometry. The flat reverse indicates that these vases were intended to be placed against a vertical surface, such as a wall, chimney breast, or within a niche or overmantel, rather than viewed in the round. The radiating top transforms the bouquet into a frontal, carefully staged display, emphasizing symmetry and visual control. Rather than imitating a single foreign prototype, Delft potters appear to have assembled several narrow vase units into a unified silhouette, thereby creating a new visual logic for floral presentation suited to specific interior contexts.

Alongside a wide range of spouted vase types produced in Delf, including bowl-shaped vessels with covers, round and polygonal vases, and obelisk-shaped pyramidal forms, fan-shaped flower holders themselves evolved into a variety of nuanced designs. Delft potters developed increasingly elaborate fan-shaped models with multiple tiers of spouts, as seen in the blue-and-white pair dating to around 1710, which combine an oval water reservoir with a second row of four spouts along the front edge (fig. 7).

. In addition to these developments, Delft potters also produced heart-shaped flower vases derived from the quintel form, characterized by a flattened silhouette and five spouts (fig. 8 2539). Common in the early eighteenth century, these models illustrate how potters adapted the basic multi-spouted concept into distinct silhouettes that responded to changing decorative tastes and specific spatial contexts.

Conclusion

The Delft fan-shaped flower holder is best understood as the product of a layered and international genealogy. While its fundamental concept derives from Middle Eastern models and related European developments in Italy and Nevers, Delft potters did not simply copy these sources. Instead, they reconfigured them, introducing a distinctive fan-shape that transformed the bouquet into an ordered, almost theatrical display. This form may reflect Middle Eastern visual traditions, transmitted through trade and filtered through Dutch taste. In doing so, Delft potters transformed international influences into an object that is unmistakably Dutch, exemplifying Delftware at its most imaginative.

Notes

1. Julia Berrall, “Floral Decoration: Historical and Stylistic Developments,” Encyclopaedia Britannica (online), https://www.britannica.com/art/floral-decoration/Historical-and-stylistic-developments
2. Ronald Brouwer, “Turkish Tulips and Delft Flowerpots,” in The Tulip: A Symbol of Two Nations (Utrecht/Istanbul, 1993),  p. 26
3. M.S. van Aken-Fehmers, Delfts aardewerk. Geschiedenis van een nationaal product, vol. IV: Vazen met tuiten. 300 jaar pronkstukken / Dutch Delftware: History of a National Product. Vases with Spouts. Three Centuries of Splendour (Zwolle / Den Haag: Gemeentemuseum, 2007),  pp. 112-113
4. Brouwer, “Turkish Tulips and Delft Flowerpots, p. 26
5. Van Aken-Fehmers, Delfts aardewerk, vol. IV p. 34.
6. Van Aken-Fehmers, Delfts aardewerk, vol. IV ,pp. 116-117
7. Iznik, in present day Turkey, counts a an important ceramic centre.
8. Brouwer, “Turkish Tulips and Delft Flowerpots,” p. 26
9. “The Whirling Flowers,” Illuminating Objects (The Courtauld Institute of Art),https://sites.courtauld.ac.uk/illuminating-objects/illuminating-objects-home/iznik-dish/the-whirling-flowers/
10. Collection of Paleis het Loo, Apeldoorn (inv. no. RL 6048)
11. A.M.L.E. Erkelens, ‘Delffs porceleijn’ van koningin Mary II / Queen Mary’s ‘Delft porcelain’: Ceramiek op Het Loo uit de tijd van Willem III en Mary II / Ceramics at Het Loo from the time of William and Mary (Zwolle/Apeldoorn: Waanders Uitgevers / Paleis Het Loo, 1996)p. 63

]]> https://aronson.com/the-fan-shaped-flower-holder-form-function-and-international-origins/feed/ 0 https://aronson.com/sinterklaas-and-the-shoe/ https://aronson.com/sinterklaas-and-the-shoe/#_comments Thu, 04 Dec 2025 16:05:18 +0000 https://aronson.com/?p=78949 Main image: Jacob Houbraken, Het Sint Nicolaasfeest, Engraving, 1761, Collection Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam (inv. no. RP-P-1938-1443) The footwear worn by the figures in the engraving correspond perfectly with the Delft miniature shoe models.

On 5 December, many people in the Netherlands celebrate Sinterklaas (Saint Nicholas), a time-honored occasion rich in history, ritual, and joy. It is a fitting moment to reflect on the origins and customs of this celebration, its connection to Santa Claus, and to draw a thoughtful bridge to the role of the shoe during Sinterklaas and to one of Delft’s most charming creations: faience miniature shoe models.

While no official sources confirm details from the life of Saint Nicholas, it is generally assumed that his roots trace back to around 270 AD. He was a Christian bishop of Greek origin, born in Patara (in modern-day Turkey). He died in Myra, today Demre, also in Turkey, on 6 December 343.

Although officially canonized in 1446, Nicholas was regarded as a saint long before that date. His reputation as a benefactor of the poor was widely recognized, and as early as 520, a church devoted to him was built on his original burial site in Myra.

The earliest biography of Saint Nicholas, composed around the year 800, laid the foundation for later accounts, including the widely influential Legenda Aurea (Golden Legends) by Jacobus de Voragine, written around 1300.(1) This work circulated broadly across Europe and underpinned many traditions of the Dutch Sinterklaasfeest. One story in particular stands out, as it appears to have provided an early basis for the custom of putting out a shoe and receiving chocolate coins.

To explain this custom more fully, we turn to a well-known legend. During the time Nicholas served as bishop of Myra, he learned of a poor man with three daughters. The man could not provide dowries for them, which meant they were unable to marry and were destined to live very difficult lives. Nicholas decided to visit the house by night and threw a small bag of gold through an open window (Fig. 1). When the father discovered the gold, he was overwhelmed with gratitude toward the anonymous donor, as his eldest daughter could now marry. Saint Nicholas repeated this generous act twice more, and in the end all three daughters were able to marry.

Some versions of the legend recount that the gold fell into a shoe, which helps to explain how the shoe became part of the Sinterklaas tradition. The custom of setting out a shoe to be filled with treats, known in Dutch as schoen zetten, has been documented from the second quarter of the fifteenth century onward. It was originally linked to charity: children placed their shoes in church to receive alms. By the sixteenth century the practice had entered the domestic sphere. Children would place a shoe by the hearth at home, slip in a note or drawing, and often leave a little fodder for Sinterklaas’s faithful white horse. If they had behaved well, they would discover the shoe filled with treats by morning. Children who had misbehaved might receive a bag of salt or the roe, a small bundle of twigs carried by Sinterklaas’s helper as a traditional symbol of discipline, and in earlier times used for a light spanking. A wonderful example of how the celebration looked in the seventeenth century can be found in a painting by Jan Steen (Fig. 2).

In the Dutch context today, children still eagerly anticipate the arrival of Sinterklaas. They sing songs, place their shoes by the hearth or door, and leave small offerings for his horse, hoping to discover sweets or small gifts the next morning. Other familiar customs include the consumption or gifting of marzipan, gingerbread, speculaas cookies, almond pastry and chocolate letters.

While these customs remain distinctly Dutch, the figure of Sinterklaas also became part of a wider transatlantic tradition. Beyond the Sinterklaas celebrations preserved in former Dutch colonies, in Belgium, in parts of the German-speaking world, and in several Eastern European countries, there is also a clear line of cultural connection linking Sinterklaas to the Anglo-American figure of Santa Claus. When Dutch settlers established New Amsterdam in the seventeenth century, they brought with them the annual commemoration of St. Nicholas on 5 and 6 December, along with customs of gift-giving, children’s songs, and the idea of a benevolent saint arriving from afar. Even after the English took control of the city and renamed it New York, traces of this Dutch celebration continued within local communities.

Over the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, these remnants mingled with other European winter traditions brought by new immigrant groups.(2) Writers and illustrators in New York played a crucial role in reshaping St. Nicholas into a more broadly recognizable, non-sectarian holiday visitor.(3) In this process, the Dutch name and imagery proved especially durable: “Sinterklaas” gradually became “Santa Claus,” and the figure itself shifted from a bishop-saint into a jolly, gift-bearing character associated with Christmas rather than a separate feast day. As the celebration adapted to its new setting, the Dutch custom of putting out a shoe for gifts slowly evolved into the now-familiar practice of hanging a stocking by the fireplace. Seen in this light, the Sinterklaas celebration in New Amsterdam was not the sole origin of modern Santa, but it was an important and formative strand in the larger cultural weaving that produced the Santa Claus myth as we know it today.

Delft miniature shoes

Back in the Netherlands, the enduring image of a shoe waiting quietly by the hearth offers a gentle stepping-stone to miniature Delft faience shoes (Fig. 3). These objects were not made for the custom of schoen zetten, nor were they intended to be filled with treats. Their connection to Sinterklaas is therefore not one of origin, but of association: in both cases, the shoe participates in a culture of gifting and domestic ritual, though in the miniatures the shoe is the gift itself.

Ceramic and ornamental shoe models have captivated collectors for centuries. In the seventeenth century, shoemaking developed into a highly decorative and skilled craft, inspiring the creation of Delft faience miniature shoes as intricate artistic objects. Often made with the same attention to detail as full-sized footwear, these miniatures could symbolize prosperity and affection.

Shoes in general were also linked to customs such as attaching shoes to newlyweds’ carriages (and later cars), a gesture wishing the couple good fortune, fertility and shared wealth. Another practice, recorded from the Middle Ages through the nineteenth century, involved concealing shoes within the walls of homes, thought to protect the household from misfortune and to ward off witches.

By the eighteenth century, exchanging ceramic model shoes had become fashionable among the aristocracy. Celebrated for their refined designs and association with luxury, they were prized collectibles in elite circles.

Various models were produced in both Delftware and Frisian ceramics, ranging from blue-and-white to polychrome and petit feu examples. Always designed in step with contemporary fashion, they came in a range of types and sizes, attesting to their popularity. The pair of blue-and-white slippers (Fig. 4) illustrates footwear commonly worn at home by both men and women in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Slippers like these were typically fashioned from costly materials intended for indoor use, keeping them clean and pristine. Delft painters often evoked these luxurious surfaces, such as silk, leather, metal thread, and stitched decoration; an effect that is clearly visible in this pair.

The examples illustrated in Figs. 5 and 6 show shoes that were typically worn outdoors by both sexes. They had stacked heels, a fashion promoted by the French court of Louis XIV. Heeled shoes were a status symbol, as they were mostly worn by the nobility.

It is highly possible that shoes and slippers were made in little kilns by so-called thuiswerkers (home workers), who were not part of a factory, as was the case with so many other miniature objects. Miniature ceramic shoes like these were sold at annual fairs and markets. Although most examples are undated, some bear dates and initials, suggesting they were given as gifts on special occasions. Since brides traditionally offered a pair of shoes to the groom, it is likely that these faience shoes had the same function. They were a sign of respect for the marriage and domestic stability, and they also signified an erotic connotation in the seventeenth century. Thus, the pair of Delftware shoes was possibly exchanged as a symbol of good luck in marriage.

These finely modelled and carefully painted miniature Delft faience shoes reflect the same culture of gifting and domestic ritual that underlies the Sinterklaas tradition. Both the child’s shoe set out in expectation and the finely crafted faience shoe exchanged or displayed as an object of value belong to a shared history of material customs centered on generosity, family life, and good fortune. They remind us that the shoe, whether set out in hope or cherished as a collectible, holds a lasting place in the material language of giving in the Netherlands, a tradition to which Delft potters also contributed with their creations.

For those who celebrate Sinterklaas, we wish you a wonderful evening, and we can only imagine the delight of anyone who finds a pair of miniature Delft faience shoes in the shoe they set out.

Notes

1. Paul Faber, De Geschiedenis van Sinterklaas, published on NEMO Kennislink on December 4, 2008

2. Rachel Walman, The New York City Origins of Santa Claus, in: History Detectives, December 21, 2018 (https://www.nyhistory.org/blogs/the-new-york-city-origins-of-santa-claus?)

3. Ibidem

Since Chinese porcelain entered the Dutch market around 1600, it captured people’s imagination and laid the foundation for Delft faience. One of the most fascinating aspects of this cultural exchange is the transformation of Chinese motifs, often associated with deep symbolic meanings, into new forms that appealed to Western tastes. In this month’s article, we explore the original cultural value of two popular figures who are often copied on Delft faience: Lange Lijs (Long Eliza) and Zotje (the Dancing Boy or Fool).

For centuries, the decorations on Chinese art have been far more than mere ornamentation; they have consistently conveyed symbolic meaning and reflected the core values of Confucianism and Daoism, two fundamental pillars of Chinese culture.¹ From a traditional Chinese perspective, the appreciation of porcelain arises not only from its aesthetic beauty but also from the interpretation of its symbolism.² In this sense, decorations are “read” rather than simply viewed, a duality encapsulated in the Chinese character kan, which signifies both “to look at” and “to read.”³

In contrast, Western collectors initially valued Chinese porcelain primarily for its aesthetic and exotic appeal. Delft potters, eager to capture this allure, reproduced Chinese imagery in their faience imitations, often unaware of the original symbolic resonance of the figures.⁴ Narrative scenes were seen as isolated images, detached from their original context and rearranged into decorative patterns suitable for the European market. Chinese female figures, emblematic of exotic refinement, became especially popular during the mid-seventeenth century, stimulated by publications such as Athanasius Kircher’s China Illustrata (1667). This work, drawing on Jesuit reports and travelers’ accounts, offered idealized depictions of Chinese life, emphasizing elegant women, elaborate hairstyles, and scenes of leisure.⁵ Within this context, the figures now known as Lange Lijs and Zotje gained popularity.

In Dutch, Lijs is a diminutive form of Elizabeth and has been associated since the sixteenth century with both a “tall woman” and a “slow person.” Because Chinese female figures on porcelain were typically depicted as tall and slender, the term came to refer especially to the “tall woman,” giving rise to the familiar nickname Lange Lijs (Long Eliza) (Fig. 1). The dancing boys who often accompany her, are known as Zotjes, likely so called because of their playful or comical poses as perceived from a Dutch perspective.

Lange Lijs and Zotje appeared on porcelain depicting garden terraces and pavilions and are recognized as part of a key transitional style in Kangxi porcelain decoration within European collections.⁶ Besides commissioned porcelain, Chinese designers themselves anticipated this demand by emphasizing female figures to satisfy European interest in feminized Chinese motifs.⁷ On Chinese porcelain, elongated female figures were originally part of narrative scenes that would have been immediately recognizable to Chinese audiences. These women often represent specific characters, identifiable by the attributes they hold or by objects placed around them.⁸

When Delft potters copied these figures, they adopted not only their elegant silhouettes but in many cases also their accompanying attributes. However, in Delftware these details lost their original symbolic meaning. Even so, such attributes still provide valuable clues that help us reconstruct the identities of the figures now known as Lange Lijzen.

Chinese historical and mythological figures

One important female figure in Chinese culture is He Xiangu, traditionally regarded as the only woman among the Eight Immortals. She is believed to have been a historical person from the Tang dynasty (618–907), named He Qiong. According to later Daoist hagiographies, He Xiangu received a revelatory dream in her youth instructing her to ingest a mineral, often described as powdered mica, to render her body subtle and impervious to decay. She followed this guidance, took a vow of celibacy, and devoted herself to Daoist cultivation until ultimately attaining immortality.

He Xiangu is most commonly depicted holding a lotus flower, and sometimes a sheng (mouth organ), a bamboo ladle, or a fly-whisk. The lotus is one of the most important and beloved motifs in Chinese art, symbolizing harmony, love, modesty, continuity, and the uniting of different elements. He Xiangu is identified as a healer and an exemplar of moral and spiritual purity within the Eight Immortals.

A Chinese porcelain plate illustrated in Fig. 2 depicts the Eight Immortals, among whom He Xiangu is shown in the upper right, holding a lotus over her shoulder. This image shows similarities with the Delft Lange Lijs figure shown in Fig. 3. These visual parallels, seen in numerous Delft faience examples, many made at De Grieksche A (The Greek A) factory, suggest that the motif may ultimately be traced back to representations of He Xiangu.⁹

On this Delft plate, the Lange Lijs figure is holding both a lotus and an osmanthus spray, while a child beside her carries osmanthus sprays in both hands. This composition may reflect a fusion with Xia Ying, another celebrated female figure in Chinese culture. This elegant woman appears in the narrative Zhe gui ying xi (“Plucking Osmanthus, Children at Play”). The story tells of the scholar Zhang Hua, who met a fairy named Xia Ying, disguised as a woman with a child and holding an osmanthus spray. She promised to marry Zhang Hua if he passed the imperial exams. Motivated by her words, he succeeded, and she stayed true to them.¹⁰ The scene therefore expresses the wish that a child will grow up to succeed in the civil-service examinations and attain official rank.

Another female figure frequently depicted on Chinese porcelain and subsequently copied in Delft faience as Lange Lijs, is the Moon Goddess Chang’e. According to an ancient legend, told in many variants across Asia, the moon is not regarded as a lifeless or empty place.¹¹ In one popular version of the myth, the moon is eclipsed and people, unaware of the astronomical cause, believe the end of the world is at hand. The legendary Emperor Yao therefore commands his most skilled archer, Hou Yi, to restore the moon. Hou Yi shoots his arrows into the heavens; when the moon reappears it is thought he has succeeded.

As a reward, the goddess Xi Wang-mu (the Queen Mother of the West) bestows upon Hou Yi the elixir of immortality. Before Hou Yi can consume it, his wife Chang’e drinks the elixir and flees to the moon, where she remains. In many versions Chang’e is accompanied by a rabbit or hare, the “moon hare”, who prepares the elixir of life from the osmanthus tree on the lunar surface. Chang’e seams to appear on a polychrome Delft dish holding a hare or rabbit (Fig. 5) This depiction was probably unintentional, but it nonetheless illustrates how Chinese cultural and symbolic motifs were adopted and integrated into Dutch Delftware.¹²

Zotje, the lively dancing boy who often accompanies Lange Lijs on both porcelain and Delftware, also occurs as an individual figure on certain Delft objects. In Fig. 4, he is depicted in the left and right medallions, where his posture, attire, and hairstyle, the beginning of a Manchu queue, are clearly visible. Beyond attempts to reproduce Chinese porcelain models faithfully, these features likely appealed to Dutch audiences as striking emblems of the exotic.

On Delftware, Zotje’s image might seem to represent merely an exotic jester, yet his origins trace back to complex Daoist and Confucian symbolism. In Confucian thought, sons represented the highest aspiration of parenthood: male heirs ensured the continuation of the family line and were uniquely qualified to perform ancestral rites. Images of boys therefore often conveyed wishes for many sons. In Daoist philosophy, the child symbolized the ideal state of natural simplicity, purity, and effortless harmony with the Tao, embodying unspoiled vitality and innocence, qualities valued above strength and ambition.

The stories of Lange Lijs and Zotje reveal how Chinese symbolic imagery was not merely copied but transformed as it entered the Dutch artistic imagination. What once conveyed Daoist ideals, Confucian virtues, and narratives of immortality or scholarly success became, in Delft, emblems of elegance, exoticism, and decorative beauty. Yet, when we reintroduce an understanding of the original Chinese symbolism, Delftware offers a far more nuanced insight into this early intercultural exchange. Even though this dialogue between East and West was largely unconscious and unintended, the surviving objects testify to a subtle meeting of worldviews, where Chinese narratives were reshaped through Dutch eyes, and new meanings emerged from misinterpretation. In this light, Lange Lijs and Zotje are not just decorative motifs, but enduring witnesses to a moment in history when global curiosity, commerce, and imagination intertwined, leaving behind a shared visual language that continues to captivate today.

Notes

1. Eva Ströber, Symbols on Chinese porcelain, 10.000 times happiness, 2011, p. 7
2. Ibidem
3. Ibidem
4. Christine Lahaussois, Delfts aardewerk, 2008, p. 106
5. Sarah E. Fraser, Yue Sun, and Hua Wang, Women on Display: Narration and Cross Media Spaces in Seventeenth and Eighteenth-Century Chinese Porcelain, 2022, p. 50
6. Sarah E. Fraser, Yue Sun, and Hua Wang,  2022, p. 51
7. Sarah E. Fraser, Yue Sun, and Hua Wang, 2022, p. 84
8. Jan-Erik Nilsson, Long Eliza or Lange Lijzen on: https://gotheborg.com/glossary/longeliza.shtml
9. Ströber, 2011, p. 116
10. The osmanthus is a fragrant flowering plant native to China. Also known as the Tea Olive, Fragrant Olive, or Sweet Olive, it symbolizes love and is regarded as one of the ten most important flowers in Chinese culture.
11. Jan-Erik Nilsson, Long Eliza or Lange Lijzen on: https://gotheborg.com/glossary/longeliza.shtml
12. Menno Fitski, De Haas en de Maan. Arita-porselein in Japan 1620-1820, Amsterdam/Zwolle, 2003, p. 6
13. Ströber, 2011, p. 186
14. Ibidem
15. Jan Erik Nilsson, https://gotheborg.com/glossary/boy.shtml#S

Bibliography

• Fitski, Menno. De Haas en de Maan: Arita-porselein in Japan 1620–1820. Amsterdam/Zwolle, 2003.

• Fraser, Sarah E., Yue Sun, and Hua Wang. Women on Display: Narration and Cross-Media

Spaces in Seventeenth- and Eighteenth-Century Chinese Porcelain. 2022.

• Kircher, Athanasius. China Illustrata. Amsterdam, 1667.

• Lahaussois, Christine. Delfts aardewerk, 2008.

• Nilsson, Jan-Erik. “Long Eliza or Lange Lijzen.” Gotheborg.com. https://gotheborg.com/ glossary/longeliza.shtml

• Nilsson, Jan-Erik. “Boy.” Gotheborg.com. https://gotheborg.com/glossary/boy.shtml

• Ströber, Eva. Symbols on Chinese Porcelain: 10,000 Times Happiness. Arnoldsche Art Publishers, 2011.

Tobacco has served as a medicinal, comforting, stimulating, and religious substance. Upon their arrival in the Americas in 1492, Christopher Columbus and his crew noted that Indigenous peoples were using what they described as “torches to incense themselves.”(1) This encounter marked the introduction of tobacco to Europe in the late 15th century. Native Americans had been using tobacco long before this introduction, and Europeans initially regarded it as a medicinal herb.

Over the centuries, tobacco’s influence expanded far beyond medicine and ritual; it permeated language and culture as well. Expressions such as “put that in your pipe and smoke it” reflect how deeply tobacco became embedded in everyday life, symbolizing the acceptance of an unwelcome truth. Likewise, the phrase “close but no cigar”—originating from 19th-century fairgrounds where cigars were offered as prizes—illustrates tobacco’s presence even in popular amusement. These linguistic traces remind us that tobacco was not only a plant but also a cultural force shaping idiom, ritual, and commerce on both sides of the Atlantic.

Instead of a typical top-down introduction, as is often the case with trends, tobacco spread from the bottom up: sailors used it to stave off hunger and thirst.(2) Because smoking posed a serious fire hazard on wooden ships, it was prohibited on board. At sea, sailors therefore resorted to chewing or sniffing tobacco instead.

The year 1560 represents a pivotal moment in the history of tobacco: Jean Nicot, the French ambassador to Portugal—after whom the genus Nicotiana was later named—began experimenting with tobacco as medicine (Fig. 1).(3) He even introduced the plant to Queen Catherine de’ Medici of France as a remedy for her migraines. When she reported relief, tobacco’s reputation as a medicinal herb spread rapidly across Europe.(4)

English sailors likely adopted the habit of pipe smoking from the Spanish and Portuguese. England soon became an important player in the spread of tobacco across Europe. Sir Walter Raleigh (1552–1618) is credited with popularizing tobacco in England after introducing it from the overseas colony of Virginia that he founded in the 1580s.(5) According to  legend, one of his servants, seeing Raleigh smoke for the first time, panicked and doused him with ale or water, believing his master to be on fire (Fig. 2).

The first Dutch herbal book, Cruijdeboeck by Dodonaeus, (second edition, 1554), referred to tobacco as Hyoscyamus luteus, or yellow henbane.(6) It was Emanuel van Meeteren (1536–1612) who introduced the term nicotiana and the name ‘tobacco’ to the Dutch—a term derived from Indigenous peoples themselves. He also recognized the plant’s addictive properties.(7)

When the Dutch saw profit in tobacco, they soon became involved in the overseas tobacco trade. Dutch trade along the coast of, for example, Venezuela and the Antilles, both Spanish colonies, where they initially came for salt, grew rapidly in the early 17th century. For the Spanish, this intrusion into their trade monopoly was a persistent problem. In response, the Spanish government devised and implemented various economic and military measures to repel the foreign intruders.(8)

The violence that the Spanish used against foreigners who interfered with their trade made such a strong impression that the Dutch scaled back their expeditions.(9) This likely prompted the Dutch to explore the possibility of cultivating tobacco domestically instead. From the moment tobacco reached the Netherlands as a live plant—cultivated in botanical gardens for medicinal use—it began to be grown on a larger scale from the early 17th century onwards, particularly in the province of Utrecht, where Amersfoort was the most important center, as well as in the provinces of Gelderland and Overijssel.(10)

As a tropical to subtropical crop, the success of tobacco growth was highly dependent on weather conditions in the Netherlands. Both the quantity and quality of the harvest were affected by the climate. The relatively cool Dutch summers made it difficult for the plants to fully ripen and, especially, to dry properly. Most of the inland tobacco was for medicinal use, not for recreational consumption. For this last purpose, the English American colonies emerged as the principal suppliers of the Dutch market, with Virginia playing the leading role (Fig. 3). The import of Virginian tobacco exploded from circa 500 kg in 1616 to 700,000 kg in 1629.(11)

The popularity of tobacco did not come without hurdles. In the seventeenth century, tobacco was widely criticized by both secular authorities and the Church. Governments saw it as a drain on national wealth and feared fires in densely built wooden cities, caused by careless smoking. Furthermore, they believed that its cultivation would undermine grain production, harming the poor. In Russia, for example, despite a ban, Dutch and German merchants—and many locals—continued to smoke. By 1634, authorities imposed strict punishments, including public flogging and even cutting off the nose.(12) The Church condemned it as morally dangerous, associating it with heathens and the devil. Defenders of tobacco argued that the plant itself was neither good nor bad, praising its calming effects on the nerves and its medicinal uses. Its prestige grew further during the plague years of the 1630s, when it was believed to help prevent infection.

Once it became clear that tobacco could serve as a profitable source of taxation, governments throughout the 17th century increasingly treated it as a “golden goose.”(13) Import duties and excise taxes were soon imposed, and by around 1650, several countries had established state tobacco monopolies. As revenues from tobacco grew, authorities gradually eased restrictions and enforcement against its use. Similarly, ecclesiastical objections diminished over time, as tobacco became more widely accepted socially, even though formal bans and disapproval remained in effect for many years.

In 1630, tobacco, long considered a medicine, was only available in pharmacies.(14) But ten years later it was sold in the tabagie, a public establishment in which people could smoke, drink alcohol, and buy and light their pipes (Fig.4).(15) The tobacco was displayed in rolls of twisted tobacco and sold in parts. The Prinsenhof in Delft holds eight fantastic Delft faience plates out of a series of twelve, showing stages of the Dutch tobacco trade in the late seventeenth century, two of which demonstrate that this practice remained the same (Fig 5 and 6). In the eighteenth century the price of tobacco dropped and it became even more widespread.

Initially, tobacco was smoked in rolled or wrapped form, but it was also dried and ground into powder to be smoked through silver or clay pipes.(16) With these evolving smoking habits came the necessary accessories. Tobacco boxes, for example, were introduced as early as the late sixteenth century.(17) They quickly became a canvas for artists, who crafted exquisite examples in materials such as silver, brass, and shell. These early boxes, often oval or egg-shaped, were relatively small due to the high cost of tobacco at the time and were designed for convenient pocket use.(18) By the late seventeenth century, the shapes of tobacco boxes had diversified to include round and oblong forms, and during the eighteenth century the boxes became more elongated. Metal boxes were often intricately engraved with scenes related to smoking, biblical narratives, everyday life, and military themes.

The practice of smoking—and the artistry expressed in the objects associated with it—flourished in the Netherlands, where it was far more widespread than elsewhere in Europe. Almost every man in the Netherlands smoked a pipe and carried a tobacco box. This prominence is vividly captured in the nickname the Germans bestowed upon their neighbors: Dosenträger (“box carriers”).(19) The early and widespread use of tobacco in the Netherlands meant that the Dutch became pioneers in the development of tobacco-related utensils.

At this time, Delft potters had not yet ventured into producing smoking utensils, as their material was poorly suited for portability. Tobacco did, however, become a popular decorative theme—just like many other aspects of everyday life. The earliest references to tobacco use in Dutch ceramics appear on blue-and-white tiles and plates from the mid-seventeenth century, often depicting pipe smokers and smoking paraphernalia such as pipes and spittoons.(20) (Fig. 7 and Fig. 8).

Over time, Delft potters transitioned from merely depicting smoking equipment to crafting the objects themselves. Delft spittoons are probably the first Delft faience tobacco utensils and began to appear over the course of the seventeenth century.(21) One of the earliest administrative references to such production is the mention of spoeghpotten (spittoons) in a 1692 inventory made upon the death of Rochus Hoppesteyn, owner of Het Jonge Moriaanshooft (The Young Moorshead).(22) Based on the price mentioned in this inventory, these objects were costly products compared to others. Another early reference is found in an inventory from 1702, recorded by Vlielander Hein, which mentions two white Delft spittoons.(23)

Spittoons, usually round with a dished rim and a handle, can be distinguished from cuspidors, which have a flared rim and not always a handle. Seventeenth-century Delft inventories and pottery lists mention only spittoons, while cuspidors appear for the first time in the 1724 price lists, offered alongside spittoons in various sizes and types.(24). Beyond the range of polychrome cuspidors made for special occasions, factories maintained a stock of high-quality blue-and-white examples (Fig. 9). The cuspidor continued to be used until the early twentieth century. As a consequence of the many deaths caused by the Spanish flu in 1918, spitting came to be regarded as a source of disease transmission and was increasingly rejected in public life.

Gradually, smoking culture also came to include domestic use, which resulted in specific paraphernalia for at home. Essential among these was a storage container for a larger quantity of tobacco. Delft potters created table tobacco boxes that not only served as practical storage vessels, but also as showpieces. They were usually closed with an inner lid to prevent the tobacco from drying out. For a century, this remained a typically Dutch product.(25)

An early example of a Delft tobacco box appears in a 1700 inventory of a Delft citizen: a “Delffse aerde tabacksdoos” (a Delftware tobacco box).(26) Unfortunately, details on shape and decoration remain unknown.  It seems likely that this was a table tobacco box, given the fact that such pots were already functional in silver at the time.(27) Physical examples of Delft tobacco boxes from this early date remain unknown.

The larger tobacco jars were used to store snuff or “carrots” of tobacco—dried, twisted leaves—typically in specialized shops. Their form is reminiscent of traditional pharmacy jars and appears to be inspired by Chinese prototypes.(28) They are often decorated with names that refer to the type of tobacco, the place where the tobacco was made, or the port through which it was traded (Fig.10). For example, Rappé for snuff tobacco, after the French word. Numbers can also occur on these storage jars and refer to house brand tobacco of particular shops.(29) Delft pottery ‘De Drie Klokken’ (The Three Bells) was one of the most prominent producers of tobacco jars.(30)

The diverse array of Delft faience tobacco utensils reflects how potters combined commercial awareness with artistic ingenuity, embedding their craft within the routines of daily life. The spittoons, cuspidors, tobacco boxes, and jars that remain each offer their own perspective on the important history of tobacco in the Netherlands.

Notes

1. 1. H.K. Roessingh, Inlandse tabak: expansie en contractie van een handelsgewas in de 17e en 18e eeuw in Nederland, 1976, p. 36.
   2. Stephen Snelders, “Normalisation and Ambivalence: Tobacco in the Seventeenth-Century Dutch Republic,” Cultural and Social History, 20:1, 2023, p. 15
   3. Grace G. Stewart, “A History of the Medicinal Use of Tobacco 1492–1860,” Medical History, Vol. 11, Issue 3, July 1967, p. 234.
   4. Deborah Gage and Madeleine Marsh, Tobacco Containers and Accessories: Their Place in Eighteenth-Century European Social History, London, 1988, p. 11.
   5. Ben Johnson, “Introduction of Tobacco to England,” published online; and Gage and Marsh, 1988, pp. 12–13.
   6. Stewart, 1967, p. 236.
   7. G. A. Brongers, Nicotiana Tabacum: The History of Tobacco and Tobacco Smoking in the Netherlands, Groningen, 1964, p. 17.
   8. Roessingh, 1976, p. 189.
   9. Roessingh, 1976, p. 189.
   10. Brongers, 1964, p. 71.
   11. Snelders, 2023, p. 13.
   12. Roessingh, 1976, p. 91.
   13. Roessingh, 1976, pp. 92–93.
   14. Brongers, 1964, p. 237.
   15. Brongers, 1964, p. 237.
   16. Brongers, 1964, p. 17.
   17. Brongers, 1964, p. 49.
   18. Don Duco, The Dutch Tobacco Box, Pijpenkabinet Foundation, 2012 (https://pipemuseum.nl/en/article/de-hollandse-tabaksdoos).
   19. Duco, 2012.
   20. Van Geenen, 2017, p. 98, ill. 09.56.
   21. Based on paintings, Delft tiles, and plates with depictions of spittoons.
   22. M. van Aken-Fehmers, 1999, pp. 210–211.
   23. Brongers, 1964, p. 169.
   24. Van Aken-Fehmers, 1999, p. 249.
   25. Don Duco, Tabakspotten, published at: https://pipemuseum.nl/nl/tabakspotten.
   26. Van Aken-Fehmers, 1999, p. 141.
   27. A.C. Beeling, Nederlands Zilver 1600–1813, Leeuwarden, 1979, p. 92.
   28. Gage and Marsh, 1988, pp. 66–67.
   29. Joseph Estié, “De Tabakspotten,” in: Christine Lahaussois (ed.), Delfts Aardewerk, Amsterdam, 2008, p. 194.
   30. Femke Haitsma Mulier, “De Drie Klokken: Behind Every Great Factory,” published on aronson.com.

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