Vermeer's Delft: De Delftse Donderslag, Delft

Delft, like other fortified Dutch cities, stored weapons and gunpowder in various buildings. At the time Delft boasted walls, eight gates and twenty-four to twenty-six turrets for its defense system. In 1602, the first part of the Armamentarium was specially constructed for the storage of the States of Holland's weapons, but other vacant spaces were also used for this purpose. The dubious honor of storing such a frightening amount of explosive material had fallen to Delft because it was protected by firm ramparts. One such location was the ancient convent of the former Sint-Claraklooster (St. Clara's Convent) in the northeastern part of the city at the end of the Geerweg. since 1637. It stocked an enormous quantity of gunpowder, mostly underground.

The De Delftse Donderslag (Delft Thunderclap) refers to a catastrophic explosion that occurred on the morning of October 12, 1654, in Delft, a city known at the time as Het Secreet van Holland (The Secret of Holland), one of six arsenals in Delft designated by the States-General, the Dutch national assembly.

Monday morning just before half-past ten, a man named Cornelis Soetens made his approach to perform a routine inspection of the magazine. Accompanied by a colleague from The Hague, Soetens, who donned in a vivid red cloak, entered the narrow corridor. A lantern was ignited to pierce the darkness accompanied by a servant by their side. To ensured his cloak remained unsoiled, Soetens gave it to the servant with instructions to take it home. The duo then descended the staircase to procure their two-pound sample. The precise cause of the accident remains unknown—one story goes that some sparks from his burning lantern were transferred to the gunpowder—but the explosion inginted between 80,000 and 90,000 pounds of gunpowder.  The Schuttersdoelen—the training ground for members of the militia—bordering the monastery grounds, were completely destroyed. the stained glass windows of both the Oude and Nieuwe Kerk (Old and New Churches)—which had been spared during the Beeldenstorm–were lost. The event was so powerful that Dirck Evertsz. van Bleyswijck, a Delft historian and eyewitness, described apocalyptic scenes (fig. 1 & 2) thirteen years later, where it seemed as if the sky was cracking open, the earth was splitting, and hell itself was opening its jaws.

"And then it seemed as if the heart of creation had opened up. The air filled with an immense noise that multiplied and magnified into an all-encompassing roar. Five huge successive explosions merged with one another. The earth shuddered and shuddered again. Flames rose and an intense heat fanned out in a searing wave. Walls fell and bits of houses soared upwards along with their contents: beams and floorboards, bricks and roof-tiles, glass and pottery, pans and tools, clothes and children's toys flew up and outwards; so did curtains, carpets, doors, windows, knives and spoons, loaves of bread, barrels of beer. And so, too, did once-living things, some now barely alive, many dead. Trees; plants; men; women; children; cats; dogs; pet birds. They were whole or in pieces: arms, legs, torsos, heads, rose and fell. The vibrating air was thick with smoke and dust and rubble, and strangely wet as well, for the water in the canals had been blown high."^{Anthony Bailey, Vermeer: A View of Delft (New York: Holt Paperbacks, 2002), 7.}

The sound of the explosion was heard as far away as Texel, more that 150 kilometers away.. The explosion created a cloud of dust and toxic fumes within the city, hurling stone debris, wood, and human remains beyond the city walls. Nothing was left of the gunpowder tower itself; in its place, a deep water-filled pit had formed. The entire northeastern corner of the city was flattened, leaving no buildings standing on Verwersdijk, Doelenstraat, and Geerweg. Large trees by the shooting ranges, adjacent to the convent complex, were completely uprooted. The explosion caused extensive damage to various city buildings, and more than two hundred houses were completely destroyed.

Fortunately, a significant number of citizens were away, either visiting a market in Schiedam or attending a fair in The Hague. But Carel Fabritius, Vermeer's colleague and Rembrandt's most talented pupil, who had lived with his family in the Doelenstraat nearby the gunpowder magazine, died at his easel while working on a portrait, and along with him, a portion of his limited body of work. A baby girl was rescued after 24 hours. She was still sitting in her high chair, still clutching an apple and smiling. Despite the initial Herculean effort to clear the rubble and rescue those trapped underneath, only a few survived.

The devastated area was eventually redeveloped, leading to the creation of the Paardenmarkt. The shooting range building was moved to what is now Doelenplein. When plans were made for a new gunpowder magazine, it was constructed at a safe distance, a mile from the city center outside the city walls.

"The dust had scarcely settled before some realised the tragedy might have its profitable side. There was of course a lot of work for builders and carpenters and glaziers—fabers of all sorts—and for the crews of barges which carried away rubble and brought in building materials. Before the end of the year, a journalist from Amsterdam named J.P. Schabaelje had produced a sensationalist pamphlet about the Donderslag.' Two artists, Gerbrandt van den Eeckhout from Amsterdam, who had, like Fabritius, worked in Rembrandt's studio, and Herman Saftleven from Rotterdam, came to town to draw the wreckage. Van den Eeckhout's drawing showed the little girl in her high-chair being rescued and was used in the Schabaelje pamphlet." ^{Anthony Bailey, Vermeer: A View of Delft (New York: Holt Paperbacks, 2002), 7.} The calamitous even has inspired many artists over the centuries. The poet Jus van den Vondel made a special lament on this theme under the title Op het Onweder van 's Lants Bussekruit te Delft. Bleyswijck (1639-1681) was fifteen years old when the disaster struck. He leaves us the following description:

…such a fearsome tumult as if the vault of heaven
had burst open and ripped the very earth
asunder, so that not only the town, all of
Delftland, but all of Holland and the
neighbouring provinces were shocked
and shaken.

The losses in the city were inventoried and partial compensation was paid. Recent invesitgation has revelated that "Mechelen, where Vermeer’s mother Digna Baltens still resided at the time of the disaster, was eligible for compensation. This is shown by the register of persons who received compensation from the States of Holland for damage to their houses. Damage to the inn was put at 150 guilders, some of which (forty percent) was compensated, an amount of 60 guilders—a considerable sum at the time."^{Babs van Eijk, "Vermeer: the man behind the paintings," in Vermeer's Delft, edited by David de Haan, Arthur K. Wheelock Jr., Babs van Eijk, and Ingrid van der Vlis (Zwolle: Waanders Uitgevers, Museum Prinsenhof Delft, 2023), 23.}

Van Bleyswijck deemed this disaster more severe than the city fire of 1536, as entire streets along with their inhabitants—old and young, sick and healthy, rich and poor—were obliterated in an instant. The exact number of victims remains unclear, with some individuals never found and many bodies recovered unrecognizable. A notable victim was the painter Carel Fabritius, who was rescued from the rubble of his home but died shortly after.

The disaster left a profound impact on the community, with tales of miraculous survivals circulating, , while poets and artists dedicated works to the event. Contrasting accounts of the cause of the event were giving by rival relitious factions. "Reverend Petrus de Witte burst forth with a fiery pamphlet in which he explained that the explosion was a manifestation of God's displeasure at the mild, even tolerant way Delft Protestants had been treating other religious groups, rather than vehemently opposing them. The liberal Reformed, the Mennonites, and the Roman Catholics were just as much infidels as Mohammedans and other heathens. Indeed, Delft was a veritable Sodom or Gomorrah that deserved its fate. Petrus de Witte denounced the city council for allowing Catholic services to be held in the old Begijnhof chapel after the explosion. Similarly, if less obstreperously, a Jesuit priest, Arnout van Geluwe, said that he was taking comfort from the fact that neighbourhoods where 'many devout Catholic hearts dwelt' had been spared - a sure sign that God was looking after those He really cared for."^{Anthony Bailey, Vermeer: A View of Delft (New York: Holt Paperbacks, 2002), 14.}

Help arrived from various quarters, including a 100,000 guilder contribution from the States of Holland and West Friesland. A local collection was organized in Delft, and wealthy citizens distributed thousands of roof tiles to the needy, although it was later discovered that these materials were being sold at high prices. The devastated area was eventually redeveloped, leading to the creation of the Paardenmarkt. The shooting range building was moved to what is now Doelenplein. When plans were made for a new gunpowder magazine, it was constructed at a safe distance outside the city walls. The elegant powder house designed by Pieter Post (1608– 1669) is located "within cannon shot" distance from the city.