It is conjectured that Hoorn took its name from the mole protecting the harbour, which might be considered to have the shape of a horn.  The city as she used to be (now dwindled to something less, although the cheese industry makes her prosperous enough and happy enough) was called by the poet Vondel the trumpet and capital of the Zuyder Zee, the blessed Horn.  He referred particularly to the days of Tromp, whose ravaging and victorious navy was composed largely of Hoorn ships.

Cape Horn, at the foot of South America, is the name-child of the Dutch port, for the first to discover the passage round that headland and to give it its style was Willem Schouten, a Hoorn sailor.  It was another Hoorn sailor, Abel Tasman, who discovered Van Diemen’s Land (now called after him) and also New Zealand; and a third, Jan Pieters Coen (whose statue may be seen at Hoorn) who founded the Dutch dominions in the East Indies, and thus changed the whole character of his own country, leading to that orientalising to which I have so often referred.

A more picturesque hero was John Haring of Hoorn, who performed a great feat in 1572, when De Sonoy, the Prince of Orange’s general, was fighting De Bossu, the Spanish Admiral, off the Y, just at the beginning of the siege of Haarlem.  An unexpected force of Spaniards from Amsterdam overwhelmed the few men whom De Sonoy had mustered for the defence of the Diemerdyk.  I quote Motley’s account:  “Sonoy, who was on his way to their rescue, was frustrated in his design by the unexpected faint-heartedness of the volunteers whom he had enlisted at Edam.  Braving a thousand perils, he advanced, almost unattended, in his little vessel, but only to witness the overthrow and expulsion of his band.  It was too late for him singly to attempt to rally the retreating troops.  They had fought well, but had been forced to yield before superior numbers, one individual of the little army having performed prodigies of valour.  John Haring, of Hoorn, had planted himself entirely alone upon the dyke, where it was so narrow between the Y on the one side and Diemer Lake on the other, that two men could hardly stand abreast.  Here, armed with sword and shield, he had actually opposed and held in check one thousand of the enemy, during a period long enough to enable his own men, if they had been willing, to rally, and effectively to repel the attack.  It was too late, the battle was too far lost to be restored; but still the brave soldier held the post, till, by his devotion, he had enabled all those of his compatriots who still remained in the entrenchments to make good their retreat.  He then plunged into the sea, and, untouched by spear or bullet, effected his escape.  Had he been a Greek or a Roman, a Horatius or a Chabras, his name would have been famous in history—­his statue erected in the market-place; for the bold Dutchman on his dyke had manifested as much valour in a sacred cause as the most classic heroes of antiquity.”