An intricately carved and adorned shell takes pride of place in the Rare Treasures Gallery in the Natural History Museum, London [Fig. 17.1].1 It was once part of a marine creature, the exterior of a Nautilus pompilius, which lived in the depths of the Indo-Pacific region. Its exhibition label describes how Sir Hans Sloane, its collector and founder of the Natural History Museum, would have marvelled at the beauty of its logarithmic curls and appreciated the added value from its decoration.2 Little, however, is said about its geographic origins, or the complex global networks of correspondence and exchange that would have delivered such a coveted object into Sloane’s collection. Dated to the 17th century, this shell is the only known fully-signed piece by Jan Bellekin. It has a unique history linking the Indo-Pacific region, the early modern Netherlands and Britain. How did the transformation from a marine creature to this object of display occur, and what did such an object signify to its audiences as it traverses space and time?
Jan Bellekin, A 17th-century carved nautilus shell showing three techniques used by Dutch craftsmen: cameo work, engraving and an opening resembling a helmet cut into the wall of the chamber, late 1600s, 15.8 × 11.7 cm. London, Natural History Museum
Image © Trustees of the Natural History Museum, London
1 Liminality and Spaces of Circulation
This Nautilus shell, as an object of distant origins oscillating between naturalia (natural wonders) and artificialia (man-made creations), would have been treasured in a collector’s cabinet in early modern Europe. Though there have been many object-based analyses in early modern scholarship, the context of reception in early modern Europe and the history of European collecting have often taken centre stage, even if highlighting global connections and recovering local perspectives from regions of origin have become increasingly important.3 The connection between commercial networks and the proliferation of such objects has been understood in terms of Harold Cook’s Matters of Exchange, which demonstrates how the Dutch East India Company facilitated the transfer of goods and ideas leading to developments in natural history and medicine in the Dutch Republic.4 Subsequent scholarship has continued to expound upon the role of trading companies as facilitators of knowledge.5
In line with these recent approaches, this chapter attempts to give more agency to the Jan Bellekin Nautilus shell as an object that travels through spaces of circulation, which in turn constituted global connections in the early modern period.6 To unravel this further, I adopt the description of shells as ‘liminal things’, as used by Anne Goldgar in her introduction in Concophilia, which surveys the myriad ways in which a fascination with shells flourished in early modern Europe, particularly the Low Countries.7
What does it mean for this Jan Bellekin Nautilus shell to be a ‘liminal thing’? In a recent chapter by Martin Mulsow discussing history of knowledge approaches, with a response from Lorraine Daston, Mulsow uses case studies to reconstruct global connections to either a court space or an individual.8 This Jan Bellekin shell, however, had neither a fixed space nor a fixed identity. As the Nautilus shell travels, the values accorded to it remains mutable. In this chapter, I trace its travels through space and time, and reconstruct its value in each space of circulation, discussing the knowledge practices and actors involved. Knowledge in this instance is understood as information which has been processed. The act of processing information about the object constitute the knowledge practices in each space. Each space of circulation is embedded within a particular ‘knowledge culture’, as Mulsow defines it.9 Space is used to denote both literal and discursive space. This Nautilus shell as an object that travels reveals its own capacity to occupy the spaces between particularity and generality.
2 From Primordial Patterns to Contemporary Omens
The first space of circulation which the Nautilus inhabits is the biogeographic space of its origin, the Indo-Pacific region. What was its value to peoples across this vast oceanic region? The early modern Nautilus shell was perceived as an object of nature that reflect patterns of nature across time. Making associations between the logarithmic curls of its shell and prehistoric fossil counterparts constituted one of the earliest developments for the study of cephalopods (the scientific class to which the species Nautilus pompilius belongs today) in the 17th and 18th centuries.10 The long history of association of molluscs with human life can also be understood through the use of molluscs as a food resource across the region.11
Nautilus shell mounted in silver, gilt and chased, engraved with dragons among clouds, ca. 1550, 26.1 × 17 × 10.3 cm. London, British Museum
Image © Trustees of the British Museum, London
In addition to these fundamental concerns, the Nautilus has also long occupied symbolic value in some Indo-Pacific communities. Archaeological evidence suggests that Nautilus shells had been used for ornamentation purposes some 42,000 years ago in the Timor Leste region.12 Collated evidence across archaeological finds suggest a sort of continuity, that ‘the use of Nautilus shell was restricted by social conventions important enough to be upheld and continued over many thousands of years’.13 It further demonstrates how communities in the Indo-Pacific region held not only the practical knowledge required to prepare molluscs for consumption, but also maintained a social system with material culture, preserving ways of passing down knowledge through generations. On the other side of the spectrum, a recent anthropological study of the Buli community in North Maluku notes that upturned, empty Nautilus shells are often seen as bad omen.14 This range of evidence from prehistoric times to contemporary accounts, from which practical knowledge, social hierarchies or long-held beliefs could be inferred, serves to demonstrate that the Nautilus has been invested with different values particular to each ‘knowledge culture’.15
The vastness of the biogeographical space of the Nautilus and the scale of deep time run the risk of falling into generalisation, that each shell is inherently mutable across every space and time.16 However, two particular instances suggest that shells already inhabited a space of circulation within the Indo-Pacific region and constituted shared material or symbolic values across different ‘knowledge cultures’, likely even before the arrival of Europeans in the region.
The first instance of shared circulation across the Indo-Pacific region can be extrapolated from a few carved Nautilus shells in European collections with scales, dragons or floral motifs. These motifs have led scholars to suggest that either the carving was undertaken by Chinese artists, and the shell subsequently mounted in silver in Italy, Germany or the Dutch Republic, or that European artists were imitating Chinese designs to give a foreign flair to these shells.17 In his analysis of the Nautilus shell with probable ‘Chinese’ origin in the British Museum collection, Hugh Tait did not find conclusive evidence to confirm the links between Chinese workshops and shells in European collections [Fig. 17.2]. However, Tait’s sources highlight a much earlier trade in nacreous shells from Kiau-chï (present-day Northern Vietnam) to be made into cups and small ornaments, as part of the Chinese and Arab trade in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries.18 Even before the arrival of Europeans in the region, there had already been ornamental trade in shells, with the workshops of Chinese craftsmen possibly situated in coastal regions of Suzhou, Zhangzhou as well as Canton.19 Tait cites two Chinese historical texts written by Zhang Xie (1574–1640) and Qu Dajun (1630–1696) which describe Vietnam and Hainan island as sources of such shells, suggesting the trade and craftsmanship of shell artefacts in the Chinese workshops were already well-established by the time of their writing.20
The second instance of shared circulation can be traced through Malay manuscripts and their regional counterparts which describe shells in literary terms. Hikayat Indraputra is a classical Malay text, with the earliest extant written manuscript dated to around 1700.21 The tale describes the quest of the protagonist, Indraputra, to find medicine to cure the childlessness of a certain king named Syahsyian, incorporating many fantastical elements and miraculous encounters.22 In one part of his quest, Indraputra comes across a new realm where he becomes overwhelmed by the wealth of God’s creations.23 He is dropped into the sea by his enemy Tamar Boga, whose son he had killed. While looking for a way out of this realm, Indraputra comes upon a river which begins where the water is ‘sweet’, morphs into saltwater along its middle, and ends with freshwater. In this body of water, he is welcomed by various creatures of God’s creations, each welcoming him while at the same time swearing vengeance. The shells are but one of the many aquatilia he encounters, including fish and crabs. At each friendly-yet-menacing welcome, Indraputra retaliates by cooking and eating the flesh of the animals and throwing away the shells or carcasses. Each time, whatever animal part he tosses into the waters regenerates thousandfold as living creatures anew, and at the end of each such encounter, Indraputra’s inner voice wonders again at the wealth of God’s nature.
Some repetitive descriptions of shells were most likely a trope of the literary genre, with bodies of water often described as ‘sweet, the shells comprising of pearls and gems’.24 However, this tale could also be used to extrapolate probable shared cultural understandings of aquatilia within these interconnected manuscript cultures. The scene of an audience with a mystical being describes how shells can be used as a tribute.25 In another part of the tale, the hero describes the charm of a man-made space consisting of a garden and a pool, by naming the variety of aquatilia that resides in its ‘sweet’ waters: oysters, snails, algae, shells and crabs.26
This tale features in manuscript traditions in multiple languages across Southeast Asia.27 Mulyadi’s dating and regional study of manuscripts suggests that the tale might have been circulating in the region from the 16th century or even earlier.28 A close reading of the themes and linguistic characteristics leads Mulyadi to conclude that this tale was most likely ‘passed down from generation to generation by story-tellers, tinted with Indian elements, before acquiring its Islamic veneer when Islam spread throughout the Malay world’.29
Both these spaces of circulation feature sources which do not directly mention the Nautilus. It is contended, however, that these instances still demonstrate how shared material and symbolic values existed in some communities across the Indo-Pacific region, as there likely would have been for the Nautilus shell.
3 ‘Noteworthy’ Shells
One aspect of the Nautilus which has been much discussed is how such a shell was prized for its exoticism and rarity for Europeans. The rarity was not just because it came from the Indo-Pacific region, distant and only accessible through long voyages on ship. It was also because this species of Nautilus pompilius lives in the deep sea, and only surfaces when the animal inside was already dying or in trouble, compounding its rarity. It is likely therefore that Nautilus pompilius shells were found floating on water surfaces.30 The process of collecting such shells leads to other spaces of circulation, as the Nautilus moves from being the remnants of an animal into becoming logistical data within the Dutch East India Company (VOC) infrastructure. The directors of the VOC produced a list of desirable objects that should be sent back to the Dutch Republic as early as 1623, which included rare animals.31 While the letters below describe encounters from the 18th century, it can still be illustrative of knowledge practices on the ground within the context of the VOC ‘knowledge culture’.
A letter from Ternate dated 13 September 1724 describes how local people could not find sufficient large shells for collecting.32 Various knowledge practices on the ground could be inferred from this report. Firstly, that the letter writer takes advice from an ‘inlander’, the term VOC uses to describe indigenous peoples. It was also noted that the governor had sent out different vessels with indigenous sailors to search for shells in various locations including reefs and seabanks within the three kingdoms of Ternate, Tidore and Batchan. This suggests that the VOC needed locals who had familiar geographical knowledge of the region and knew where to look for shells. There is also implicit knowledge of territorial boundaries which people involved in the search must be able to put into practice. The letter also reported that previously the Macassarese had brought some small shells as trading goods, but not in notable quantities. This letter writer uses the term ‘naamwaardige’ several times, which I have translated as ‘noteworthy’.
The nature of what constituted ‘noteworthy’ shells in quantity and quality is something that might have developed out of incidental encounters, but became codified within the VOC infrastructure as logistical data. The ‘knowledge culture’ of the VOC meets that of an Asian court in one encounter where the nature of the ‘noteworthiness’ of the object in discussion comes to the fore. In a letter from Timor dated 22 May 1741, the resident Christiaan Fredrik Brandenburg describes several fortuitous moments over the course of several days. While intending to take a walk along the VOC’s garden with the ‘burgher’ Carel de Clercq, he comes across a broken piece of shell of good white pearl.33 This first half was found by de Clercq on their walk, while the second half was found the next day by a ‘mardijker’ named Jonaszoon. The resident was also accompanied by an enslaved person, who came to understand how the resident valued the wholeness of a shell, based on observing the resident’s dismay at finding a broken shell. The next day, the enslaved person successfully found another whole shell in the waters of Baban. The day after that, the resident had an audience with Buni, the King of Kupang. In the discussion, the King describes how the animal is used for nutrition, but they typically dispose of the shell. Upon discovering that the resident, and therefore the VOC highly values such a shell, the King promises to set up an exchange with the VOC.
A close reading of this letter reveals other information about the VOC settlement as a space of knowledge circulation. The company had established enough of a presence to have a garden. The language used and the practices of knowledge echoed that of the Dutch Republic. Conversing in gardens, which is a known scholarly activity in early modern Europe, also took place locally in Timor. This letter also shows the range of peoples from different statuses operating within the shared space. This includes the resident, who is the highest VOC authority on the island of Timor, the ‘burgher’, denoting a free citizen of the colonies, and a ‘mardijker’, usually a term used in the colonies to describe someone descended from enslaved peoples who had been freed. The motivation given to the ‘mardijker’ for this collecting process was ‘uijt liefhebberij.’ ‘Liefhebbers’, or enthusiasts, in the context of the Dutch Republic refers to someone who pursues knowledge out of love for the subject, here we see one such person operating within a colonial context, as part of the VOC ‘knowledge culture’. Aside from the physical spaces associated with VOC power, the interactions between the VOC resident and the King of Kupang took place in a courtly setting, which can be seen as another space of circulation, particularly that of cross-cultural knowledge exchanges.
4 Knowledge in Transit
The establishment of the Dutch East and West India Companies facilitated increased exchange of information and goods, which enabled access to rare natural objects such as Nautilus shells.34 A steady trade in natural objects began to emerge.35 Since collecting naturalia was an incidental effect and not the official purpose of these voyages, on most ships the naturalia trade was limited by space allocations.36 The shipping and storage of such natural history object therefore entails certain kinds of knowledge practices. These included, for example, knowing how to organise storage space on the ship, or how to maximise the economic value of goods transported. Those of higher rank were given more space on a ship and could bring back more found objects from their travels.37 Thus small and light items, such as the Nautilus shell, which could fetch high value, were deemed most profitable and desirable.38
Practical knowledge was also required, including methods to preserve and store inanimate specimens in good condition, or how to take care of live animals in transit. Winters outlines how the lack of knowledge about proper care would have contributed to the estimation that half of all live animals did not survive such long journeys.39 This included lack of knowledge about the feeding of animals, or knowing which animals could handle enclosed spaces.40
Once the ships arrived in the Dutch Republic, natural history objects became eligible for sale or distribution, which saw them enter different spaces of circulation. Some brokers purchased objects dockside and resold them to collectors.41 Brokers would have had to judge the quality of specimens upon arrival to determine which would fetch the highest price. In auctions of these naturalia, the auctioneer would have to determine the grouping of items, the order of the auction, or even which city the auction should take place in.
5 Genealogies of Knowledge
Upon arrival in the Dutch Republic, the Nautilus would have gained capacity to enter different spaces of circulation. First, it entered the spaces of textual knowledge production: as an unadorned object decontextualised from its distant origins, to be identified, named and scrutinised as part of European genealogies of knowledge. Secondly, it entered the spaces of material knowledge and artisanal practices, which will be further discussed below.
The naming of things is the first step in incorporating a new specimen into European intellectual discourses. The Nautilus pompilius, as a marine creature, already had associations with the sea at a fundamental level. However, the same could be said for any marine creature. What made this species also distinctive was its etymology which reinforced this oceanic association. The name Nautilus pompilius derives from the Greek word ‘ναυτίλος’ (of a ship), which is also associated with the word ναύτης (a sailor). Aristotle used the name ‘ναυτίλος πολύπους’ in his History of Animals (622 BCE) to describe the animal that uses its membranes as a sail, and tentacles as oars.42 Pliny the Elder’s Natural History (first century CE) describes the characteristics of the Nautilus echoing that of Aristotle’s, only with the analogy to a sailing vessel being made more explicit. Between describing the use of membranes as sail and tentacles as oars, and the subsequent lines description of the animal’s reflexive sinking in the event of fear, Pliny adds a line which was not present in Aristotle:
Afterwards it twists back its two foremost arms and spreads out between them a marvellously thin membrane, and with this serving as a sail in the breeze while it uses its other arms underneath it as oars, it steers itself with its tail between them as a rudder. So it proceeds across the deep mimicking the likeness of a fast cutter, if any alarm interrupts its voyage submerging itself by sucking in water.43
The identification of species based upon the authority of classical authors such as Aristotle and Pliny was a significant aspect of the humanist tradition which began during the Renaissance. Reconciling new material and textual knowledge coming from Asia that did not fit the boundaries of existing knowledge inherited from Antiquity continued as both a linguistic exercise and scientific practice through to the Enlightenment. The coining of the modern term ‘nautilus’ for scientific identification can be traced back to Pierre Belon’s L’histoire naturelle des estranges poissons marins […] (1551).44 However, in line with Aristotle and Pliny, Belon’s descriptions actually refer to the species which today is known by the scientific name Argonauta argo. In Belon’s text, the Nautilus pompilius is referred as the chambered or pearly nautilus, described as analogous to a large porcelain due to its mother of pearl shell.45
Within these genealogies of European knowledge, Nautilus shells also embodied the efforts of learned men like Georg Everhard Rumphius to expand upon existing knowledge by offering more empirical observation. Rumphius was a German who worked for the VOC in Ambon. Though his D’Amboinsche Rariteitkamer (Ambonese Curiosity Cabinet) was only published posthumously in 1705, his writings are relevant evidence of the developing trends through the 17th century of acquiring certain knowledge about the expanding world. Rumphius pioneered the observation of tropical shells in situ, recording accurate locations, as well as local practices related to shells.
While it might be tempting enough to consider Rumphius’ contributions as more ‘empirical’ since it was based on his own observations, the division between earlier Renaissance forms of reasoning and Rumphius’ is not as clear-cut. In his description of the paper nautilus, Rumphius takes the analogy of the sailing vessel even further by localising the analogy, saying that ‘this little boat is steered like a kind of Javanese sloop, called Tingang, commonly known as Tinan, which is steered with 2 rudders’. This confusion between the Nautilius pompilius and Argonauta argo continues with subsequent authors reflecting upon and engaging with previous interpretations. Rumphius also engages with ancient and early modern texts alike to situate his empirical observations, demonstrating how the practices of analogical and linguistic analyses that have been seen as a defining feature of the Renaissance continued well into this period. The scientific naming and classification was eventually resolved by Carl Linnaeus in the 10th edition of Systema Naturae in 1758 (first published in 1735). This is evident from the current naming with is appended with L., referring to Linnaeus.
Though Pliny already mentions shellfish like the Nautilus lived in the Indian Ocean, it was not until Rumphius that the local names associated with both Nautilus pompilius and Argonauta argonauta came to re-associated with the marine creatures again.46 Nautilius pompilius in Rumphius’ text is described as ‘Nautilus major sive crassus’ alongside its Malay names, ‘Krang Modang’, ‘Bia Papeda’, ‘Bia Coijn’, as well as Ambonese ‘Kika Lapia’.47 Rumphius’ text also notes how the terms ‘Bia’ usually only refers to the shell, whereas the term ‘Kika’ can also include the next type of Nautilus, that is Argonauta argo, which is listed as ‘Nautilus tenuis’ and ‘Roema Gorita’ in Malay.
Though Rumphius’ text did not go further to explain the historic meanings of these names during his time, the translator E.M. Beekman’s footnotes provide current information on the etymology of these terms. For Nautilus pompilius, the second term ‘Papeda’ is the name in Moluccan language for a porridge cooked using sago flour.48 For the Argonauta, ‘Roema Gorita’ can be translated as ‘house of the Gorita’.49 In this case, ‘Gorita’ is a term generally used to mean octopus or squid.50 Tracing the reception of Malay words into European linguistic systems also reveal further spaces in which knowledge circulated. Mahdi’s research on the reception and adaptation of Malay words in German publications before 1700 includes analyses of texts by VOC employees.51 Mahdi concludes that Malay words and their associated knowledge entered German publications through Indo-European or Dutch-associated nomenclature, and not necessarily directly from indigenous Malay speakers themselves. Tracing connections through such linguistic roots further reiterates the many layers of mediations of knowledge between the Indo-Pacific region and Europe in the early modern period.
6 Material Value and Artisanal Skills
Aside from being incorporated into these genealogies of textual knowledge, the Nautilus shell would have also embodied material value as an object of knowledge.52 There was a fascination with nature’s shapes, colours and patterns in the early modern period, which coincided with the drive to acquire more knowledge.53 Naturalists were curious about the Nautilus shell because of its logarithmic form, which some perceived as representing the ordering principles of the universe.54 Seen through a cross-section, the Nautilus is made up of spiraling chambers, each preceding chamber proportionate in shape and size to the next [Fig. 17.3].55 Material objects from far-away places had additional appeal, especially if they were close enough to touch, to handle and to experience their surfaces.56 For natural, unadorned shells, as Daston and Park note, the value lies in the feeling of unmediated interaction with a distant land.57 For Jan Bellekin’s Nautilus shell, however, I would suggest that the value lies in the very accumulation of mediated contacts through travel and exchange: that the Nautilus shell’s journey from the Indo-Pacific region to the early modern Netherlands added to its material value. The Nautilus shell would have been even more valued for its intricate decorations, after its transformation from natural object to object of display.58
Nautilus major sive crassus, or Bia Papeda, depicted with the animal. Engraving. From Rumphius Everhard Georg, D’Amboinsche rariteitkamer […] (Amsterdam, François Halma: 1705) Plate XVII. Leiden, University Library M y 104
Image © Leiden University Library
The task of working on this Nautilus shell took skill. Natural objects that displayed technical virtuosity in minute details, such as this shell, were often treasured.59 It represented a challenge of artisanal skill against the inherent beauty of nature’s creations.60 The surface of this shell is wrapped in delicate relief-carving with a vines-and-leaves pattern. This carving showcases the shell’s natural pale brown striations and reveals a mother-of-pearl layer underneath. The patterning winds around the surface of the shell and echoes the spiraling of the shell itself. The minimal use of lines to etch the putti figures preserves the delicate surface of the shell while showcasing its natural luminescence.
Objects such as this Nautilus shell would have been admired for the beauty and virtuosity of its creation, and for providing ‘fruitful new fields’ for artisans.61 Collectors deemed artistic intervention to add value to the natural object, thus the drive to have shells ‘beautified’ artificially.62 ‘Shell-doctoring’ emerged as a substantial trade in the Netherlands which provided livelihoods for artisans.63 Rumphius describes the method of preparing the Nautilus shell to become a functional vessel: by rubbing away the outer parts of the shell with something corrosive, followed by washing, then cutting out the chambers.64 In addition to preparing, carving and adding colour to the engravings using crushed coals, this Nautilus shell is also fitted with a metal helmet in its last chamber, which requires dexterity to insert without breaking the delicate shell.
The Bellekin family were well-regarded in the Netherlands for producing such fine objects of display. This Jan Bellekin shell is the only present-day fully-signed piece by the engraver-artisan. Though the name in the Hans Sloane catalogue is given as ‘Jan Belkien’, there has been noted spelling variations of the same name in the form of Belkien, Bellekin and Belquin.65 He was part of the same workshop in Amsterdam established by Jérémie Belquin.66 The timeline suggests that Jan Bellekin was a contemporary of Cornelis Bellekin, and they were most likely brothers.67 Cornelis Bellekin had a more prolific output, so his pieces are easily identified today.68 H. Sander, a traveller to Amsterdam in 1777, wrote about the prized status of a Cornelis Bellekin piece:
They place a high rarity value on Nautili [Nautilus pompilius L.] which have been carved by Bellekin. He carved heads, coats of arms, flowers & c. on them. Such a piece cost 100 guilders.69
7 Nature’s Resemblances
In the early modern period, cabinets of curiosity played a role as the site of intersection between art and nature.70 Daston and Park note that ‘objects that displayed the closest resemblances between the two realms’ were considered most marvelous.71 The term ‘resemblances’ used by Daston and Park requires unpacking. The technique of casting from life is a form of imitating nature and creating a resemblance in another medium based on the form of the natural object.72 Instead of merely creating a resemblance of the same natural form in a different medium, however, here the artisan had shifted into actively interweaving associations of nature and artifice within one object. The ‘resemblances’ between objects were no longer about copy and imitation, but about intersection, amalgamation, and the interplay of emulating one another. The visual impact usually came from analogies of form between the natural and artificial materials.73
The form of this Nautilus shell mimics a cup for drinking, and it is also adorned with carved patterns echoing its own spiraling form. Pliny the Elder had already established the idea that aberrations of nature reflect the creative playfulness of God and nature.74 Thus the artisan ‘played’ with form and matter just as nature ‘sported’ with her flora and fauna from time to time.75 Artisans who actively created resemblances between the realms of art and nature were themselves converging with the act of nature ‘playing’. The playful nature of early modern image-making which relied on resemblances is also evident, for example, in the first plate introducing for the fourth part of Filippo Bonanni’s Musaeum Kircherianum. In this engraving, the Nautilus shells form a composite assemblage of shells that resembles a human figure [Fig. 17.4]. This may also allude to the associations of the animal bodies of shells with the human reproductive system, as Grasskamp discusses in her article.76
Icones testaceorum quae in parte secunda describuntur. Engraving. From: Bonanni Filippo, Musaeum Kircherianium […] (Rome, Giorgio Plancho: 1709). Public Domain. Biodiversity Heritage Library
8 An Embodiment of Love
Surviving Nautilus shells from the early modern period are engraved with a variety of themes, often biblical or mythological. The question then is, what could the viewer have perceived when confronted with engravings of putti on this particular Nautilus shell? In addition to its general association with the sea, the engravings of putti evoke ideas of love and desire. In classical mythology, Cupid is the son of Venus, who was born of the sea and known as the goddess of Love and Beauty. The vines on the surface of this shell, as well as the musical instruments played by the putti, represent objects which evoke passion.77 This is compounded by the fact that the Nautilus shell is shaped like a cup for drinking, and the putti carry wine glasses. This Bacchic imagery alludes to the potential for being transformed. In parallel to this allusion, the relief-carving and engraving on the surface of the shell itself signifies the human capacity for the love of an object and the possessive act of mark-making left on the object of desire.
Furthermore, the setting of the putti in a garden on this Nautilus shell is also significant, since gardens were seen to reflect a ‘third nature’, the intersection between ‘primal nature’ and ‘human artifice’, a celebration of both usefulness and delight.78 The Enkhuizen poet Cornelis Biens articulated such a dual concept of usefulness and delight: he wrote in his 1636 treatise on drawing that the visual arts reflect this duality, capable of being aesthetically pleasing while inviting contemplation in the mind.79
9 Making Conversation, Making Meaning
Whether adorned or otherwise, the Nautilus shell as a ‘liminal thing’ further embodies the duality of usefulness and delight as an intricately carved object that draws in conversation. The community of liefhebbers or ‘enthusiasts’ who collected objects such as this Nautilus shell were united through their common interests and the exchange of friendship.80 The Nautilus shell could thus function as one of the objects around which an intellectual circle revolved, within which learning and the exchange of knowledge could take place.81 Interested learners would have exchanged observations and specimens among themselves from the 16th century onwards, which would have fostered strong friendship networks by the early 17th century.82
The study of shells, or conchology, became more established with publications focusing exclusively on shells. Two earlier contributions came in the form of Filippo Bonanni’s Ricreatione dell’occhio e della mente, nell’osservazion’ delle chiocciole (1681) in Italy and Martin Lister’s Historiae Conchyliorum (1685–1692) in England.83 The books by Bonanni, Lister and Rumphius met the shell collectors’ demand for precise illustrations, reflecting the popularity of shell collecting which was swept across Europe in the 17th century.84 Spieß undertook an analysis of inventories which shows that the popularity of Nautilus vessels peaked in the early 17th century.85 These Nautilus vessels refer to mounted shells with metalwork, unlike Jan Bellekin’s shell, which does not appear to be made as a mounted cup. This shell is not accompanied by a mount, nor does the surface indicate any mechanism which connects to a mount. A comparison can be made to Cornelis Bellekin’s shell from the same time period, featuring similar carvings, which is accompanied by a mount [Fig. 17.5]. Nevertheless, Spieß’s quantitative study is still relevant as evidence of the popularity of objects crafted from Nautilus shells in the 17th century.
Cornelis Bellekin, Nautilus shell carved with vines, with a matching holder, 1650–1700, 6.5 × 3.5 × 7 cm. Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum
Image © Rijksmuseum
An indication of how this particular Jan Bellekin shell might have been intended to be displayed could be extrapolated from the collection catalogues and sale notices from this time, which suggest that carved and decorative shells were also displayed in curiosity cabinets alongside unadorned specimens, laid out in drawers. Two sale notices for 26–27 September 1708 and 28 May 1709 by a certain dealer J.P. Zomer describes the same curiosity cabinet of 78 drawers, which includes various shells, cones and marine creatures, especially highlighting the inclusion of ‘extraordinaire groote Paerlemoere Hoornen en Schelpen, door C. Bellekin zeer konstig gesneden’ (‘extraordinarily large pearly cones and shells, very finely etched by Cornelis Bellekin’).86 The skills of the collector would have been involved in the organising and ordering of such a shell collection. Therefore, the knowledge and skills require to handle the object would have added to the value to a Nautilus shell such as this.
10 Representations
The Nautilus shell also takes on different meanings once it moves from being a three-dimensional object into becoming a two-dimensional representation in sale catalogues, engravings in natural history books, or still life paintings. A Nautilus shell can oscillate between its particular and general characteristics in representations, as well as threading the fine line between an existing and an imaginary object, which nevertheless fits into the culture of early modern viewers with its capacity for multivalent readings.
An early example of a particular Nautilus shell is depicted in Basil Besler’s Fasciculus rariorum […] published in 1616 which depicts his curiosity cabinet list.87 On the other hand, the Nautilus shell shown in Ulisse Aldrovandi’s De reliquis animalibus […] in 1618 might just be decorated in typical designs thought to be ‘Asian’ by Europeans in order to evoke artisanal skills and highlight its exotic nature, thus possibly representing an imaginary and not necessarily an existing object.88 On the other hand, another example of an unadorned Nautilus shell which moved from being a particular object to being a representative of a whole is that depicted in the cross-section of Rumphius’ plate. It was once owned by Henri D’Acquet and provided the reference for the engraving. Therefore, this engraving refers to a specific shell that had existed in reality, eventually used to represent a general specimen. Given the popularity and widespread translation and circulation of Rumphius’ text, it would have taken on a very broad appeal.89
This Jan Bellekin Nautilus shell also similarly entered into a wider space of circulation by being represented in the volumes of Albertus Seba’s collection, Locupletissimi rerum naturalium thesauri […] (1734–1765) [Fig. 17.6]. The first two volumes appeared in 1734 and 1735 during his lifetime, but upon his death in 1736 the last two volumes were still awaiting publication, which did not take place until 1758 and 1765. The physical collection of Seba had by then been dispersed all over Europe, after being auctioned in 1752.90 Representations of particular shells could thus be understood as a remembrance of lost objects, once the exact object is no longer within reach. They also take on a generic didactic function, illustrating the knowledge being discussed in the texts.
Jan Bellekin’s Nautilus shell is depicted from different sides, labelled with numbers 1 to 3. Hand-coloured engraving. From Seba Albertus, Locupletissimi rerum naturalium thesauri […], 3 vols. (Amsterdam, J. Wetsteen – William Smith – Janssonius van Waesberge: 1734–1765) Plate LXXXIV. Public Domain. Biodiversity Heritage Library
11 Anglo-Dutch Exchanges in the 18th Century
The story of this particular Nautilus shell continues beyond its transformation from a marine creature originating in the Indo-Pacific region into an object of display or representation in the early modern Dutch Republic. The dispersal of some major Dutch collections in the 18th century allows us to consider how knowledge constituted in the Dutch Republic found its way to subsequent spaces of circulation. One endpoint of such collections was Hans Sloane in London.
A recent article utilising digital technologies to analyse Hans Sloane’s Miscellanies catalogue, comprising of approximately 2,168 entries, was able to generate a list of the ten most commonly occurring place names, as well as place names alongside a person.91 The ‘East Indies’ and ‘East India’ feature highly on both lists, though China and Japan were the two most prominent place names.92 Engelbert Kaempfer, who worked as a physician for the VOC in Japan, features in the list of individual names associated with these ten most occurring places.93 However, this article is based on Sloane’s Miscellanies catalogue. The spread of geographies and actors involved might not necessarily be the same across the different catalogues.
Absent the same digital technologies, a qualitative survey of the catalogue inventories of Hans Sloane reveals a few illustrative examples of the global connections which would have enabled rare objects such as this Nautilus shell to come into his collection. The catalogue entry for this particular Nautilus shell did not reveal a clear source.94 It only describes the specimen numbered 1880 as ‘Jan Belkiens [sic] carved & painted nautilus’ [Fig. 17.7]. However, other catalogue entries make clear the networks of Anglo-Dutch exchanges in the 18th century. Sloane describes a specimen in the Echinoderm collection as coming from a certain ‘Dr. Hermans collection [in] Holland’.95 This specimen would most likely originate from the auction of Paul Hermann’s collection in 1711 where James Petiver bought some items on behalf of Sloane.96 Paul Hermann was a physician working for the VOC in Ceylon between 1672 and 1677.97
Hans Sloane, inventory entry for the ‘Jan Belkien’ shell listed under specimen number 1880. From: Sloane Manuscript Catalogues: Fossils, Vol. 2: Shells, fol. 272. London, Natural History Museum
Image © Trustees of the Natural History Museum, London
In another instance, a French-language advertisement leaflet of the VOC’s upcoming auctions in various Dutch cities is tucked into one of the volumes of Sloane’s catalogue.98 This particular specimen numbered 1716 entered Sloane’s collection accompanied with a certificate dated 2 July 1737 from the directors of the VOC, written in Dutch with a corresponding English language translation:
In the absence of direct description for the source for the Jan Bellekin Nautilus shell, these examples illustrate how other natural history objects entered Sloane’s collection from the Dutch Republic: through Dutch intermediaries or VOC auctions.
12 Afterlives of Jan Bellekin’s Nautilus pompilius
By examining Jan Bellekin’s Nautilus shell through its particularities as well as general characteristics, it has been possible to trace the complexities of knowledge practices across spaces and over time. This chapter has also attempted to be reflexive in the use of sources: in trying to unravel the perspectives from Asian ‘knowledge cultures’, it is necessary to read against the grain of Dutch or other European sources. Conversely, there is insufficient Malay or Indonesian early modern sources which specifically mentioned the Nautilus shell. However, through extrapolations of material culture and literary texts, it has at least been possible to sketch out the spaces of circulation and globalising encounters in the early modern period without privileging European knowledge as the only thread of the ‘knowledge culture’ under discussion. Having traversed through these spaces of knowledge circulation that can be glimpsed through this one particular Nautilus shell, the multivalent histories contained and left behind reveal how its value as a historic and contemporary object could be better understood, from its journey originating in the Indo-Pacific region, to its acknowledged status as a ‘rare treasure’ in the Natural History Museum of London today.
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Veldman I.M., “Love Emblems by Crispijn de Passe the Elder: Rollenhagen’s ‘Emblemata’, ‘Cupid’s Bow’, ‘Youthful Pleasures’ and Other ‘Charming and Useful’ Prints”, in Manning J. – Porteman K. – Van Vaeck M. (eds.), The Emblem Tradition and the Low Countries: Selected Papers of the Leuven International Emblem Conference 18–23 August, 1996 (Turnhout: 1999) 111–156.
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An earlier version of this chapter was presented at the LUCAS Graduate Conference Animals: Theory, Practice, Representation, Leiden University (2019). I am grateful to Joanna Woodall
and Eric Jorink for introducing me to this object, and to Andreia Salvador, Hellen Pethers and Kathyn Rooke at the Natural History Museum, London for facilitating access to the object and Hans Sloane’s collection catalogues.
The object on display with this label was last visited in the Rare Treasures Gallery, Natural History Museum, London in April 2019.
Recent scholarship incorporating the complexities of global encounters include Spary E.C., “On the Ironic Specimen of the Unicorn Horn in Enlightened Cabinets”, Journal of Social History 52.4 (2019) 1033–1060. For the history of collecting, see Mette H., Der Nautiluspokal: wie Kunst und Natur Miteinander Spielen (Munich: 1995); Tait H., Catalogue of the Waddesdon Bequest in the British Museum, III: The Curiosities (London: 1991). For interpretations of Nautilus shells, see Kehoe M.L. “The Nautilus Cup Between Foreign and Domestic in the Dutch Golden Age”, Dutch Crossings 35.3 (2011) 275–285; Zuroski E. “Nautilus Cups and Unstill Life”, Journal 18 3 (2017) https://www.journal18.org/1493.
Cook H.J., Matters of Exchange: Commerce, Medicine and Science in the Dutch Golden Age (New York: 2007).
Various case studies tracing the lives of individual figures associated with trading companies have been undertaken. Of particular relevance to the present analysis is Leuker M-T., “Knowledge Transfer and Cultural Appropriation: Georg Everhard Rumphius’s D’amboinsche rariteitkamer (1705)”, in Siegfried H. – Jong J.L. de – Kolfin E. (eds.) The Dutch Trading Companies as Knowledge Networks (Leiden – Boston 2010) 145–170.
Gerritsen A., – Riello G., “The Global Lives of Things: Material Culture in the First Global Age”, in Gerritsen A. – Riello G. (eds.), The Global Lives of Things: The Material Culture of Connections in the Early Modern World (London – New York: 2016) 1–29.
Goldgar A., “Introduction: For the Love of Shells”, in Bass M.A. – Goldgar A. – Grootenboer H. – Swan C. (eds.), Conchophilia: Art, Curiosity, in Early Modern Europe (Princeton – Oxford: 2021) 1–17, here 4.
Mulsow M. – Daston L., “History of Knowledge”, in Tamm M. – Burke P. (eds.), Debating New Approaches to History (London: 2019) 159–179, here 160–163, 169.
Ibidem.
Etter W., “Early Ideas about Fossil Cephalopods”, Swiss Journal of Palaeontology 134.2 (2015) 177–186.
Szabó K. – Amesbury J.R. “Molluscs in a World of Islands: The Use of Shellfish as a Food Resource in the Tropical Island Asia-Pacific Region”, Quaternary International 239 (2011) 8–18.
Langley M.C. – O’Connor S. – Piotto E., “42,000-year-old Worked and Pigment-stained Nautilus Shell from Jerimalai (Timor-Leste): Evidence for an Early Coastal Adaptation in ISEA”, Journal of Human Evolution 97 (2016) 1–16.
Ibidem 13.
Bubandt N., The Empty Seashell: Witchcraft and Doubt on an Indonesian Island (New York: 2014) 1–5.
Mulsow – Daston, “History of Knowledge” 162–163.
Ibidem 176–178.
Tait, Waddesdon Bequest 80–87. Grasskamp A., “Shells, Bodies, and the Collector’s Cabinet”, in Bass M.A. – Goldgar A. – Grootenboer H. – Swan C. (eds.), Conchophilia: Art, Curiosity, in Early Modern Europe (Princeton – Oxford: 2021) 49–71, here 62–63.
Tait, Waddesdon Bequest 83.
Ibidem 84.
Ibidem.
Mulyadi S.W.R., Hikayat Indraputra: a Malay Romance (Dordrecht: 1983) 20.
Ibidem 28.
Ibidem 93–94.
Ibidem 176, 180.
Ibidem 171.
Ibidem 177.
This includes Cham language, the peoples who inhabit part of Vietnam and Cambodia today, as well as the Maranao and Mangindanao peoples who live in parts of the Philippines. Malay-language manuscripts circulated in Indonesia, Malaysia and Singapore. In Indonesia, there is also a separate Acehnese tradition. Ibidem 26–27.
Ibidem 28.
Ibidem 40.
Langley – O’Connor – Piotto, “Nautilus shell from Jerimalai” 12–13.
Winters R., “The Dutch East India Company and the Transport of Live Exotic Animals in the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries”, in Chaiklin M. – Gooding P. – Campbell G., Animal Trade Histories in the Indian Ocean World (Cham: 2020) 27–63, here 32.
Nationaal Archief Den Haag, Verenigde Oostindische Compagnie (VOC) 1.04.02 inv.nr. 8093, fol. 385.
NL-HaNA, VOC, 10.04.02, inv.nr. 8334, fol. 171.
Cook, Matters of Exchange 416.
Ibidem 30.
Ibidem.
Ibidem.
Ibidem.
Winters, “Transport of Live Exotic Animals” 39.
Ibidem 39–40.
Cook, Matters of Exchange 30.
Aristotle, History of Animals, Volume III: Books 7–10, ed. and trans. D.M. Balme (Cambridge, MA: 1991) IX 37.
Emphasis mine. Pliny the Elder, Natural History, Volume III: Books 8–11, trans. H. Rackham (Cambridge, MA: 1940) IX 87.
Belon Pierre, L’histoire naturelle des estranges poissons marins […] (Paris: Regnaud Chaudiere, 1551).
Ibidem 55.
Pliny the Elder, Natural History, IX 108.
Rumphius Georg Everhard, The Ambonese Curiosity Cabinet, trans. E.M. Beekman (New Haven: 1999) 89.
Ibidem 419 fn. 11.
Ibidem 420 fn. 1.
Ibidem.
Mahdi W., Malay Words and Malay Things: Lexical Souvenirs from an Exotic Archipelago in German Publications before 1700 (Wiesbaden: 2007).
Daston L. – Park K., Wonders and the Order of Nature, 1150–1750 (New York – Cambridge, MA: 1998) 67.
Allen D., “Tastes and Crazes”, in Jardine N. – Secord J.A. – Spary E.C. (eds.), Cultures of Natural History (Cambridge: 1995) 394.
Kehoe, “The Nautilus Cup” 282.
Ibidem.
Ibidem.
Ibidem 67–68.
Ibidem 281.
MacGregor A., Curiosity and Enlightenment: Collectors and Collections from the Sixteenth to the Nineteenth Century (New Haven: 2007) 47.
Daston – Park, Wonders 274.
Ibidem 213.
Allen, “Tastes and Crazes” 395.
Ibidem.
Rumphius, The Ambonese Curiosity Cabinet 90.
Seters W.H. van, “Oud-Nederlandse Parelmoerkunst: het Werk van Leden der Familie Belquin, Parelmoergraveurs en Schilders in de 17e eeuw”, Nederlands Kunsthistorische Jaarboek 9 (1958) 173–238.
Search query “Bellekin” through artist database in: “Ecartico: Linking Cultural Industries in the Early Modern Low Countries, ca. 1475–ca. 1725”, University of Amsterdam https://www.vondel.humanities.uva.nl/ecartico/.
Ibidem.
Kehoe, “The Nautilus Cup” 277.
Cited in Dance S.P. A History of Shell Collecting (Leiden: 1986) 57.
Daston – Park, Wonders, 296.
Ibidem.
Silver L. – Smith P.H., “Splendor in the Grass: The Powers of Nature and Art in the Age of Durer”, in Smith P.H. – Findlen P. (eds.), Merchants & Marvels: Commerce, Science and Art in Early Modern Europe (London: 2002) 29–62, here 47.
Daston – Park, Wonders 277.
Bredekamp H., The Lure of Antiquity and the Cult of the Machine: the Kunstkammer and the Evolution of Nature, Art and Technology, trans. A. Brown (New Jersey: 1995) 68.
Daston – Park, Wonders 261.
Grasskamp A., “Shells, Bodies, and the Collector’s Cabinet”, in Bass M.A. – Goldgar A. – Grootenboer H. – Swan C. (eds.), Conchophilia: Art, Curiosity, in Early Modern Europe (Princeton – Oxford: 2021) 49–71.
Veldman I.M., “Love Emblems by Crispijn de Passe the Elder: Rollenhagen’s ‘Emblemata’, ‘Cupid’s Bow’, ‘Youthful Pleasures’ and Other ‘Charming and Useful’ Prints”, in Manning J. – Porteman K. – Van Vaeck M. (eds.), The Emblem Tradition and the Low Countries: Selected Papers of the Leuven International Emblem Conference 18–23 August, 1996 (Turnhout: 1999) 111–156, here 126.
Ibidem.
Ibidem.
Swan C., “Collecting Naturalia in the Shadow of Early Modern Dutch Trade”, in Schiebinger L. – Swan C. (eds.), Colonial Botany: Science, Commerce and Politics in the Early Modern World (Philadelphia: 2005) 223–236, here 226.
Ibidem.
Daston L., “The Empire of Observation, 1600–1800”, in Daston K. – Lunbeck E. (eds.), Histories of Scientific Observation (Chicago: 2011) 81–114, here 102.
Macgregor, Curiosity and Enlightenment 136.
Dance, Shell Collecting 29.
Spieß K., “Asian Objects and Western European Court Culture in the Middle Ages”, in North M. (ed.), Artistic and Cultural Exchanges between Europe and Asia, 1400–1900: Rethinking Markets, Workshops and Collections (London: 2010) 27–46, here 24.
Amsterdamse courant, 14 May 1709; Amsterdamse courant, 20 September 1708.
Leonhard, “Shell Collecting” 191.
Grasskamp, “Shells, Bodies” 62.
Leonhard, “Shell Collecting” 208.
Boeseman M., “The Vicissitudes and Dispersal of Albertus Seba’s Zoological Specimens”, Zoologische Mededelingen 44.13 (1970) 177–206.
Ortojla-Baird, A. – Nyhan, J., “Encoding the Haunting of an Object Catalogue: on the Potential of Digital Technologies to Perpetuate or Subvert the Silence and Bias of the Early-modern Archive”, Digital Scholarship in the Humanities (2021) 1–24. https://doi.org/10.1093/llc/fqab065.
Ibidem 12.
Ibidem 13.
Sloane Manuscript Catalogues: Fossils, Vol. 2: Shells, fol. 272, specimen 1880.
Sloane Manuscript Catalogues: Echinoderm, fol. 22, specimen a.30.
Macgregor, A., Sir Hans Sloane: Collector, Scientist, Antiquary, Founding Father of the British Museum (London: 1994) 107.
“About Paul Hermann: The Collection”, Natural History Museum London, https://doi.org/10.5519/0062484.
Sloane Manuscript Catalogues: Fossils Vol. 5: Fishes, Birds, fols. 244–245, specimen 1716.