The day the world came to an end
“A View of Delft after the Explosion of 1654” - Egbert van der Poel. Image from the National Gallery, London.
The Delft thunderclap, as it is now known, was an Earth-shaking event whose vibrations and reverberations shaped the history of Dutch art.
It was a normal, quiet morning in the Dutch city of Delft. People were going about their usual daily business; some unloading barges, making pottery, building furniture, and a few artists were at work. A recently appointed clerk, Cornelis Soetens, quietly made his way down to the gunpowder storage beneath the former Clarist convent in the Doelenkwartier district to perform a routine check on the quality of the powder. All was still and silent. But then… The silence was shattered when a light or spark ignited the gunpowder in the storage sending a shockwave of heat and deafening sound through the city, demolishing buildings and killing hundreds. The boom was so loud that reports of its hearing came from even the small island of Texel at the most northern reaches of the Netherlands. Shattered windows and slammed doors were also reported in the Hague some 20km away.
Why was so much gunpowder so precariously stored beneath the city? At the time of the 16th century, the Dutch rebellion against the Catholic Spanish was in full swing and the city of Delft held a prominent position as a major fortified city. Not only did it manufacture and house Dutch munitions and cannons, it also had pre-existing city walls – unlike the nearby Hague. It is for this reason that William of Orange chose the city as his military base. Under a constant threat of siege or attack, the gunpowder could not be stored away from the city, but must be kept safe within the city walls themselves. The convent provided the ideal storage location with thick walls and underground vaults. However, a series of unfortunate events must have led to the production of a spark or exposed flame in the vault causing an estimated 9000 lb of gunpowder to be ignited. The exact cause is, and will probably remain, unknown. Stories of Soetens lighting a cigar or match are unlikely to be true. A faulty lamp or metal on metal spark are more probable. Others in the city saw in it not a human error, but a divine act. Some of the more extreme Calvinist preachers were quick to attribute the manifestation of punishment and hell on the city to the relaxed measures still allowing Catholicism in the city – highlighting the charged religious feelings permeating the city at the time.
News of the explosion spread quickly through the Netherlands and artists and reporters arrived quickly to the city to capture the scene for their prints. However, I would like here to focus on two Delft-based artists who have by far the most prominent artistic legacy following the event – Egbert van der Poel and Carel Fabritius.
Egbert van der Poel
“A view of Delft with the Explosion of 1654” - Egbert van der Poel.
…lived and worked in Delft. Indeed, he lived close to the site of the explosion and lost his young child in the disaster. Egbert however, elsewhere at the time survived and went on to paint poignant pictures of the aftermath of the explosion. For example, his “View of Delft after the Explosion of 1654” now in the National Gallery of London shows the crater where the Doelenkwartier district once stood. Skeletal remains of buildings are seen further into the city, from which the windows, walls and roofs have been blown away. People lying motionless on the ground, others in a state of panic and shock, with onlookers trying to help the wounded. Another “A view of Delft with the Explosion of 1654” shows the preceding moments at the very time of the explosion.
An eruption of light from the conflagration booms from the site of the explosion, towered by black smoke that blends into the dark ominous clouds of the sky. Figures are seen running and invalids shown crawling away from the site. Pieces of debris are flung high above the city and birds fly away into the distance. These paintings, much reproduced and copied define our collective visualisation of the event. Poel himself went on to paint the scene over twenty times. Presumably in part due as a lucrative product that allowed him to rebuild his life following the destruction of his home. Also likely, as a form of catharsis following the loss of his child.
Carel Fabritius
… was working in his workshop at the time of the explosion, painting a portrait of the sexton of the Oude Kerk of Delft. Fabritius’ workshop was completely destroyed by the explosion and both the artist and the sexton sadly died from their injuries. Fabritius was only 32 years old and was at the time widely considered to be the greatest painter in Delft, indeed one of the greatest in all of the Netherlands. He started his career as a carpenter before being apprenticed to Rembrandt. Little is now known of the enigmatic artist and most of his works were in his workshop at the time of the explosion – now of course lost. The few surviving pieces, that were elsewhere in the city at the time, are however in their own right considered absolute masterpieces, giving the artist an almost mythical reputation as the lost masterful student of Rembrandt. The most famous of his works is perhaps the “Goldfinch”. A small ethereal painting of a single bird, standing upon its perch against a whitewashed wall, with a delicate chain around its ankle. The painting is a form of trompe-l'œil or a trick of the eye. From a distance it truly appears as though there is a real bird, on a perch, casting a shadow on the wall behind it.
“Self-portrait” - Carel Fabritius c. 1654. Image from Museum Boijmans.
“The Goldfinch” - Carel Fabritius 1654. Image from Mauritshuis, The Hague.
The painting is rather unusual for its time and very little like it is to be found in the 17th century. It is also ominously dated and signed by Fabritius in 1654 – the year of the explosion. The painting, in addition to a reimagination of the explosion were thrown into the public eye by Donna Tartt’s eponymous book published in 2013. Much mystery and myth surround the artist Fabritius and many “what if” questions are asked of the possible future of his precocious talent. What he might have produced with another thirty years of life is interesting to speculate. Most fascinating however, is his possible place as the missing link between the two heavyweights of Dutch golden age painting – Rembrandt and Vermeer. It is certainly known that Fabritius studied under Rembrandt. There is also tantalising evidence that Fabritius could have been the teacher of Delft’s most famous yet elusive artist Vermeer. For example, the register of the Delft guild of painters has Carel Fabritius’ name signed four rows above that of Johannes Vermeer, indicating that he joined the guild a few years before Vermeer. Within the guild itself, younger new students were often taught and mentored by those their senior. A further, even more romantic piece of evidence however exists in the following poem, written by Arnold Bon of Delft in 1689 which reads,
“Thus did this Phoenix, to our loss, expire,
In the midst, and at the height of his career,
But fortunately there arose from his fire,
Vermeer who masterfully trod his path.”
With reference to Carel Fabritius’ death in the explosion and a hint that he who arose in his fire (his apprentice) was none other than Vermeer.
Vermeer of course went on to paint his own view of Delft, believed by French Novelist Marcel Proust to be the most beautiful painting ever painted. In stark contrast to the dynamic disarray of Poel’s views of Delft at the time of the explosion, with their heat, noise, chaos and disaster; Vermeer’s is silent, still and tranquil.
“View of Delft” - Johannes Vermeer c. 1659–1661. The quiet serenity of the reborn Delft following the Thunderclap five years before. Image from Mauritshuis, The Hague.
Known as the day that the world ended, where the Earth opened up and brought about hell on Earth to swallow the city of Delft came a resurrection and rebirth. Like Vermeer the phoenix that arose from the demise of Carel Fabritius, so too did the city of Delft of his hand, a serenity of heaven on earth arise from the Thunderclap of Egbert van der Poel’s pandemonium.
