Among the most elegant expressions of Delft ceramics produced around 1700 are objects intended for the dining table. This refined cruet set, made at the celebrated De Roos (The Rose) factory in Delft, reflects the growing sophistication of dining culture in the Dutch Republic at the turn of the eighteenth century.

The set comprises two gracefully modeled covered vessels, preserved together with their original fitted stand. Intended for the presentation of condiments during formal meals, such ensembles combined utility with decorative refinement and formed an important part of fashionable table display within affluent Dutch households.

Marked with an R in blue for De Roos, the set belongs to a period in which Delft potters achieved remarkable artistic and technical refinement. During the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, dining customs became increasingly elaborate, influenced by French court culture and the emergence of multi-course service. Decorative table accessories gained prominence as symbols of taste and civility, encouraging Delft factories to create coordinated ensembles of exceptional elegance.

The present cruet set demonstrates the delicacy and assurance characteristic of the finest Delft production of the period. The vessels are distinguished by their elegant silhouettes, with elongated necks, scrolling handles, and finely curved spouts that lend the composition both balance and vitality. Their forms reveal careful consideration not only of practical function, but also of visual harmony.

The cobalt-blue decoration is executed with remarkable finesse upon a luminous white tin-glazed ground. Floral sprays, scrolling foliage, and playful putti animate the surfaces with a sense of lightness and rhythm. The painter skillfully balances richly ornamented passages with areas of open white ground, allowing the decoration to enhance rather than overwhelm the elegant contours of the vessels.

Cruet sets of this type are comparatively rare, particularly when preserved complete with their original stand and covers. Their survival provides valuable insight into the rituals of dining and domestic display during the Dutch seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, when even functional tableware was designed to contribute to an atmosphere of refinement and cultivated taste.

More than three centuries after its creation, the cruet set continues to convey the elegance and sophistication that once adorned elite Dutch interiors. It remains both a functional object and a compelling work of art, a beautifully preserved example of early Delft craftsmanship at its finest.

D2621
Blue and White Cruet Set
Delft, circa 1700

Marked R in blue for De Roos (The Rose) factory

DIMENSIONS
Height: 18.5 cm. (7.3 in.)

PRICE
€ 11.500 (US$ 13,500 export*) incl. shipping
(excl. local taxes, if applicable)

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.

This exceptional pair of Delft trays presents a refined and politically charged homage to Prince William IV, Stadtholder of the United Provinces, and his consort, Princess Anne of Hanover. Executed in a deep cobalt blue, the trays combine courtly portraiture with rich ornamental detail, embodying both the technical sophistication of Delft potters and the broader cultural significance of the House of Orange-Nassau in the mid-18th century.

Each tray is centered with a finely painted bust-length portrait, set within an architectural window opening that lends the composition both depth and a sense of staged grandeur. Princess Anne is depicted with elaborate coiffure, wearing pearl earrings and a sumptuous gown, her ermine-trimmed mantle emphasizing her royal dignity. Behind her, a landscape of trees and clouds is framed by a classical pillar, suggesting both cultivated taste and dynastic stability. The upper register is adorned with stylized acanthus leaves and a harp—perhaps an allusion to harmony and refinement—while beneath, a banderole identifies her as ANNA VAN BRUNSWYK LUNENBURG / Prinsesfe van Oranje enz. enz. enz. The composition is flanked by orange branches, alongside a lion holding a bundle of arrows and the head of a unicorn, reinforcing themes of sovereignty and legitimacy.

The companion tray depicts Prince William IV, shown wearing a short powdered wig, a sash, and an ermine-lined mantle over his embroidered uniform. The insignia of the Order of the Garter—conferred upon him in 1733—is prominently displayed, reflecting his international prestige. He holds a coat of arms featuring a lion rampant with sword and arrows, a potent symbol of Dutch unity and authority. His portrait is similarly framed within a window opening, crowned by acanthus ornamentation, a chain with a pendant of Saint George and the dragon, and a command staff. The banderole below reads WILLEM CAREL HENDRIK FRISO / Erfstadhouder der Vereenigde Nederlanden, accompanied by an orange branch.

Both trays are bordered by an upturned rim decorated with a blue-ground diaper pattern, rhythmically interrupted by floral panels. The undersides are raised on four bracket feet, a distinctive feature that enhances both their elegance and functionality.

Historically, these trays commemorate a significant moment in Dutch history. William IV (1711–1751), born posthumously to Johan Willem Friso, became Stadtholder of Friesland and Groningen at birth and later, in 1747, the first hereditary General Stadtholder of all seven United Provinces. His marriage in 1734 to Princess Anne of Hanover, daughter of King George II of Great Britain, symbolized a powerful Anglo-Dutch alliance. Though his tenure was brief, William IV is remembered for administrative reforms, including the abolition of indirect taxation.

The portraits are directly based on a print dated 1750 by Pieter Tanjé, after a drawing by Gerard Sanders, a German-born court painter active in Düsseldorf and later Rotterdam. This translation from print to ceramic illustrates the close interplay between graphic media and Delftware production, as well as the widespread dissemination of royal imagery through decorative arts.

As a pair, these trays carry an added layer of meaning: together they celebrate not only individual status but dynastic unity. Objects such as these would have functioned as both decorative showpieces and expressions of political allegiance, reflecting the pride and identity of their owners within the socio-political landscape of the Dutch Republic.

D1734
Pair of Blue and White Royal Portrait Trays
Delft, circa 1750

Each painted in the center with a bust-length portrait, one depicting Princess Anne elaborately coifed and wearing pearl earrings and a lavish gown with an ermine fur mantel, placed in a window opening with a background of trees, clouds and a pillar, the top of the window decorated with stylized acanthus leaves and a harp, beneath her a banderole inscribed ANNA VAN BRUNSWYK LUNENBURG / Prinsesfe van Oranje enz. enz. enz., flanked by orange branches with on one side a lion holding a bundle of arrows and on the other side the head of a unicorn; the other depicting Prince William IV wearing a short light wig, a sash and mantel with ermine fur collar, and the Order of the Garter on his embroidered uniform, and holding the coat of arms with a lion rampant with sword and a bundle of arrows, also placed in a window opening with a background of trees and clouds, the top of the window decorated with stylized acanthus leaves, a chain with a pendant in the form of Saint George and the dragon and a command staff having on a ribbon, the banderole beneath him inscribed WILLEM CAREL HENDRIK FRISO / Erfstadhouder der Vereenigde Nederlanden, and an orange branch, the upturned rim with a blue ground diaper work border interrupted with floral panels, and the underside raised on four bracket feet.

DIMENSIONS
Heights: both 27.2 cm. (10.7 in.);
Widths: both 27.6 cm. (10.9 in.)

PRICE
€ 18.000 (US$ 21.000 export*) incl. shipping
(excl. local taxes, if applicable)

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

Delft flower baskets, intended for floral arrangements, have formed part of the repertoire of Delft potteries since the later seventeenth century. Certain workshops even appointed specialists devoted exclusively to the production of these so-called bennetjes. Dated examples reveal that they were frequently commissioned as gifts for festive or ceremonial occasions, underscoring their dual function as both utilitarian and ornamental objects. Their presence in distinguished collections, including that of Paleis Het Loo, attests to their prestige.

This mid-eighteenth-century pair, with its intended use indicated on the bottom, confirms that the tradition of arranging flowers in ceramic baskets continued, albeit on a more modest scale. The relatively small number of surviving eighteenth-century examples suggests that the practice reached its zenith in the final quarter of the seventeenth century. The delicately pierced body and carefully executed decoration of this pair point to the hand of an accomplished and experienced maker.

D2554
Blue and White Pair of Open Work Baskets
Delft, circa 1750

Each marked IB in blue for Justus Brouwer of De Porceleyne Byl (The Porcelain Axe) factory from 1739 to 1775

Each finely painted with an elaborate central scene depicting a basket brimming with fruit, resting on an ornate baroque table and surrounded by delicately rendered insects and butterflies, the pierced sides highlighted in cobalt blue, the handles molded in the form of interlocking dolphins, the upper rim featuring a scrollwork band both on the exterior and the interior, the lower exterior decorated with a geometrical band of squares and triangles with stripes in the middle.

DIMENSIONS
Width: 25.5 and 26 cm. (10 and 10.2 in.)

PROVENANCE
Cor & An Erwich (Barbet) Collection, Belgium;
Aronson Antiquairs, Amsterdam

PRICE
€ 26.000 (US$ 31.000 export*) incl. shipping
(excl. local taxes, if applicable)

For thousands of years, salt has been an indispensable commodity. Essential for preserving and flavoring food, it once held such universal value that it functioned as an international medium of exchange. In antiquity, Roman soldiers were famously paid in salt, giving rise to the Latin salarium, the origin of the modern word “salary.” Salt was also among the earliest commodities to be taxed, with records of salt taxation in China dating back as far as 2000 BC. Given its economic and cultural importance, it is hardly surprising that salt occupied a prominent place on medieval and Renaissance dining tables.

Salt cellars, often referred to simply as “salts”, were designed to contain this precious substance, with the earliest known examples already in use in classical Rome. Beyond their practical function, salts served as powerful social indicators. The quality of salt presented by a host reflected both wealth and status, while a guest’s position at the table could be judged by their proximity to the salt cellar: to sit “above the salt” was a mark of distinction. The most luxurious salts were fashioned from precious metals, while others were made from porcelain, earthenware, or pewter.

By the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, the symbolic significance of salt gradually diminished, and salt cellars became correspondingly smaller. The present Delft salt cellar, however, belongs to an earlier tradition. Its square form and notable height point to a period when salt still held considerable ceremonial importance. Archival sources confirm that square salts were produced in Delft from at least 1667 onwards, yet very few examples of this particular model have survived. As such, this piece offers a rare and evocative glimpse into the rituals and hierarchies of the seventeenth-century table.

D2512
Blue and White Square Salt Cellar
Delft, circa 1670

Biconical vessel on a square base with four round feet in each corner, continuous decoration with on each side a figure in a various landscape, at the top, a square basin with a cherry motif surrounded by a band of scroll work.

DIMENSIONS
Height: 12 cm. (4.7 in.)

PROVENANCE
German Private Collection, Hessen

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://www.aronson.com/actie-delftware-from-the-meentwijck-collection/feed/ 0 https://www.aronson.com/blue-white-flower-vase-2/ https://www.aronson.com/blue-white-flower-vase-2/#_comments Fri, 09 Jan 2026 10:40:43 +0000 https://www.aronson.com/?p=79343 Every month we present a special object from the Aronson Antiquairs’ collection. This month we would like to show you this blue and white flower vase, from circa 1710. Quintel vases have five spouts and were amongst the earliest examples of spouted vases. The heart-shaped model with five spouts, such as the present one, followed the early quintel vase. This model was probably intended to be seen from one side because of the flat shape. The decorative vase may have been displayed on a mantelpiece, or on a piece of furniture.

It was in the late seventeenth century, under the patronage of Queen Mary II, who was as passionate about Chinese blue and white porcelain and its local counterpart, Dutch Delftware, as she was about her gardens, that the Delft factories developed their technical skills and virtuosity in the production of all sorts of ‘vases with spouts’ to display flowers. Inspired by Queen Mary, it also became fashionable in aristocratic circles to decorate their residences with vases full of flowers. For instance, large vases were used to decorate the fireplace in the summer, and smaller vases were placed on the table during a festive meal.

Although the vases in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries were filled with all varieties of cut flowers, there has been much misunderstanding about this. In the mid-nineteenth century, when collectors and art historians rediscovered Delft earthenware, they must have thought that the vases were intended to be filled with hyacinth bulbs or flowers, as they came to be known as ‘bouquetiers à Jacinthes’. Not long thereafter, however, a more familiar name came into fashion, which is still used today: ‘tulip vase’ or ‘tulipière’, ascribed to these vases on the revised supposition that they were intended specifically to hold the precious and popular tulips.

Blue and White Flower Vase
Delft, circa 1710

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

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