About twenty hours after our embarkation, at Harwich, and six after our
first sight of the low-spread and barren coast of _Goree_, we reached
this place, which is seated on one of many inlets, that carry the
waters of the German Ocean through the southern part of the province of
Holland. _Goree_, rendered an island by these encroachments of the
sea, is always the first land expected by the seamen; or rather they
look out for the lofty tower of its church, which, though several miles
more distant than the shore, is visible when that cannot be discerned.
The entrance of the water between the land, in a channel probably three
leagues wide, soon after commences; and Helvoetsluys is then presently
seen, with the masts of vessels rising above its low houses, amidst
green embankments and pastures, that there begin to reward the care of
excluding the sea.
The names of Dutch towns are in themselves expressive of the objects
most interesting to a people, who, for opportunities of commerce, have
increased their original and natural dangers, by admitting the water in
some parts, while, for their homes and their lives, they must prevent
it from encroaching upon others. _Dam_, _Sluice_, or _Dyke_ occur in
almost all their compounded titles. The sluice, which gives this
town part of its name, is also its harbour; affording, perhaps, an
outlet to the overflowings of the country behind, but filled at the
entrance to the depth of more than eighty feet by the sea, with which
it communicates.
Upon the banks of this sluice, which are partly artificial, the town
is built in one short street of small houses, inhabited chiefly by
tradesmen and innkeepers. The dockyard bounds the sluice and the town,
communicating with the former by gates, over which a small pivot
bridge connects the two sides of the street. Each head of the pier,
or harbour, has been extended beyond the land, for several yards by
pile work, filled with earth and large stones, over which there is no
pavement, that its condition may be constantly known. We stepped from
the packet upon one of these, and, walking along the beams, that pass
between the immense piles, saw how closely the _interstices_ were
filled, and how the earth and stones were again compacted by a strong
kind of basket-work.
The arrival of a packet is the chief incident known at Helvoetsluys,
and, as ours entered the harbour about noon, and in fine weather,
perhaps, a fourth part of the inhabitants were collected as spectators.
Their appearance did not surprise us with all the novelty, which we
had expected from the first sight of a foreign people. The Dutch
seamen every where retain the national dress; but the other men of
Helvoetsluys differ from Englishmen in their appearance chiefly by
wearing coarser clothes, and by bringing their pipes with them into the
street. Further on, several women were collected about their baskets
of herbs, and their dress had some of the novelty, for which we were
looking; they had hats of the size of a small chinese umbrella, and
almost as gaudily lined within; close, white jackets, with long
flaps; short, coloured petticoats, in the shape of a diving bell;
yellow slippers, without quarters at the heel; and caps, that exactly
fitted the head and concealed the hair, but which were ornamented at
the temples by gold filagree clasps, twirling, like vine tendrils, over
the cheeks of the wearer.
Our inn was kept by English people, but the furniture was entirely
Dutch. Two beds, like cribs in a ship, were let into the wainscot; and
we were told, that, in all the inns on our journey, we should seldom,
or never, be shewn into a room, which had not a bed.
Helvoetsluys, it sufficiently appears, is a very inconsiderable place,
as to its size and inhabitants. But it is not so in naval, or military
estimation. It is distant about ten or twelve miles from the open sea,
yet is nearly secure from attack on this side, because that part of
the approach, which is deep enough for large vessels, is commanded by
batteries on shore. It stands in the middle of an immense bay, large
enough to contain all the navy of Holland, and has a dockyard and
arsenal in the centre of the fortifications. When we passed through
it, six ships of the line and two frigates were lying in the dockyard,
and two ships of the line and three frigates, under the command of an
Admiral, in the bay.
The fortifications, we were assured upon good military authority, were
in such repair, that not a sod was out of its place, and are strong
enough to be defended by five thousand men against an hundred thousand,
for five weeks. The sea water rises to a considerable height in a wide
ditch, which surrounds them. We omitted to copy an inscription, placed
on one of the walls, which told the date of their completion; but this
was probably about the year 1696, when the harbour was perfected.
Though the dockyard can be only one of the dependencies upon that of
Rotterdam, the largest ships of that jurisdiction are preserved here,
on account of the convenient communication between the port and the
sea.
Near this place may be observed, what we examined with more leisure
upon our return, the ingenuity, utility and vastness of the
embankments, opposed by the Dutch to the sea. From Helvoetsluys
eastward, for many miles, the land is preserved from the sea only by an
artificial mound of earth, against which the water heavily and often
impetuously strives for admission into the sheltered plains below. The
sea, at high water, is so much above the level of the ground, from
which it is thus boldly separated, that one who stands on the land
side of the embankment hears the water foaming, as if over his head.
Yet the mound itself, which has stood for two centuries, at least,
without repair, though with many renewals of the means, that protect
it, is still unhurt and undiminished, and may yet see generations of
those, whom it defends, rising and passing away, on one side, like the
fluctuations of the tides, which assail and retire from it, on the
other.
It is better, however, to describe than to praise. The mound, which
appears to be throughout of the same height, as to the sea, is
sometimes more and sometimes less raised above the fields; for, where
the natural level of the land assists in resistance to the water, the
Hollanders have, of course, availed themselves of it, to exert the
less of their art and their labour. It is, perhaps, for the most part,
thirty feet above the adjoining land. The width at top is enough to
permit the passage of two carriages, and there is a sort of imperfect
road along it. In its descent, the breadth increases so much, that it
is not very difficult to walk down either side. We could not measure
it, and may therefore be excused for relating how its size may be
guessed.
On the land side, it is said to be strengthened by stone and timber,
which we did not see, but which may be there, covered by earth
and grass. Towards the sea, somewhat above and considerably below
high-water mark, a strong matting of flags prevents the surge from
carrying away the surface of the mound; and this is the defence which
has so long preserved it. The matting is held to the shore by bandages
of twisted flags, running horizontally, at the distance of three
or four yards from each other, and staked to the ground by strong
wooden pins. As this matting is worn by every tide, a survey of it is
frequently made, and many parts appear to have been just repaired.
Further in the sea, it is held down by stones; above, there are posts
at every forty yards, which are numbered, that the spot may be exactly
described where repairs are necessary. The impost for the maintenance
of these banks amounts to nearly as much as the land-tax; and, as the
land could not be possessed without it, this tax has the valuable
character of being occasioned by no mismanagement, and of producing no
discontent.