THE COAST OF FLANDERS
To walk from Nieuport Ville to the Digue de Mer at Nieuport-Bains
is to pass in a few minutes from the old Flanders, the home of
so much romance, the scene of so many stirring deeds, from the
market-places with the narrow gables heaped up in piles around
them, from the belfries soaring to the sky, from the winding streets
and the narrow lanes, in which the houses almost touch each other
from the tumble-down old hostelries, from the solemn aisles where
the candles glimmer and the dim red light glows before the altar,
from the land of Bras-de-Fer, and Thierry d'Alsace, and Memlinc,
and Van Eyck, and Rubens, the land which was at once the Temple
and the Golgotha of Europe, into the clear, broad light of modern
days.
The Flemish coast, from the frontiers of France to the frontiers
of Holland, is throughout the same in appearance. The sea rolls
in and breaks upon the yellow beach, which extends from east to
west for some seventy kilometres in an irregular line, unbroken
by rocks or cliffs. Above the beach are the dunes, a long range
of sandhills, tossed into all sorts of queer shapes by the wind,
on which nothing grows but rushes or stunted Lombardy poplars,
and which reach their highest point, the Hoogen-Blekker, about 100
feet above the sea, near Coxyde, a fishing village four or five
miles from Nieuport. Behind the dunes a strip of undulating ground
('Ter Streep'), seldom more than a bare mile in width, covered with
scanty vegetation, moss, and bushes, connects the barren sandhills
with the cultivated farms, green fields, and woodlands of the Flemish
plain. On the other side of the Channel the chalk cliffs and rocky
coast of England have kept the waves in check; but the dunes were,
for many long years, the only barrier against the encroachments
of the sea on Flanders. They are, however, a very weak defence
against the storms of autumn and winter. The sand drifts like snow
before the wind, and the outlines of these miniature mountain ranges
change often in a single night. At one time, centuries ago, this
part of Flanders, which is now so bare, was, it is pretty clear,
covered by forests, the remains of which are still sometimes found
beneath the subsoil inland and under the sea. When the great change
came is unknown, but the process was probably gradual. At an early
period, here, as in Holland, the fight against the invasions of the
sea began, and the first dykes are said to have been constructed
in the tenth century. The first was known as the Evendyck, and
ran from Heyst to Wenduyne. Others followed, but they were swept
away, and now only a few traces of them are to be found, buried
beneath the sand and moss.[*]
[Footnote *: Bortier, _Le Littoral de la Flandre au IXe et au XIXe
Siècles._]
[Illustration: THE DUNES. A Stormy Evening.]
The wild storms of the tenth, eleventh, and twelfth centuries changed
the aspect of the coast of Flanders. Nieuport rose in consequence
of one of these convulsions of Nature, when the inhabitants of
Lombaerdzyde, which was then a seaport, were driven by the tempests
to the inland village of Santhoven, the name of which they changed
to 'Neoportus'--the new harbour. This was in the beginning of the
twelfth century, and thenceforth the struggle against the waves
went on incessantly. Lands were granted by Thierry d'Alsace on
condition that the owner should construct dykes, and Baldwin of
Constantinople appointed guardians of the shore, charged with the
duty of watching the sea and constructing defensive works. But the
struggle was carried on under the utmost difficulties. In the twelfth
century the sea burst in with resistless force upon the low-lying
ground, washing away the dunes and swallowing up whole towns. The
inroads of the waves, the heavy rains, and the earthquakes, made
life so unendurable that there were thousands who left their homes
and emigrated to Germany.
Later, in the thirteenth century, there was a catastrophe of appalling
dimensions, long known as the 'Great Storm,' when 40,000 Flemish
men and women perished. This was the same tempest which overran
the Dutch coast, and formed the Zuyder Zee, those 1,400 square
miles of water which the Dutch are about to reclaim and form again
into dry land. In the following century the town of Scarphout, in
West Flanders, was overwhelmed, and the inhabitants built a new
town for themselves on higher ground, and called it Blankenberghe,
which is now one of the most important watering-places on the coast.
Ever since those days this constant warfare against the storms
has continued, and the sea appears to be bridled; but anyone who
has watched the North Sea at high tide on a stormy day beating
on the shores of Flanders, and observed how the dunes yield to
the pressure of the wind and waves, and crumble away before his
eyes, must come to the conclusion that the peril of the ocean is
not yet averted, and can understand the meaning of the great modern
works, the _digues de mer_, or sea-fronts, as they would be called
in England, which are being gradually constructed at such immense
cost all along the coast.
A most interesting and, indeed, wonderful thing in the recent history
of the Netherlands is the rapid development of the Flemish littoral
from a waste of sand, with here and there a paltry fishing hamlet
and two or three small towns, into a great cosmopolitan pleasure
resort. Seventy-five years ago, when Belgium became an independent
country, and King Leopold I. ascended the throne, Ostend and Nieuport
were the only towns upon the coast which were of any size; but
Ostend was then a small fortified place, with a harbour wholly
unsuited for modern commerce, and Nieuport, in a state of decadence,
though it possessed a harbour, was a place of no importance. To-day
the whole coast is studded with busy watering-places, about twenty
of them, most of which have come into existence within the last
fifteen years, with a resident population of about 60,000, which
is raised by visitors in summer to, it is said, nearly 125,000. The
dunes, which the old Counts of Flanders fought so hard to preserve
from the waves, and which were at the beginning of the present
century mere wastes of sand, a sort of 'no man's land,' of little
or no use except for rabbit-shooting, are now valuable properties,
the price of which is rising every year.
The work of turning the sand into gold, for that is what the development
of the Flemish coast comes to, has been carried out partly by the
State and partly by private persons. In early times this belt of
land upon the margin of the sea was held by the Counts of Flanders,
who treated the ridge of sandhills above high-water mark as a natural
rampart against the waves, and granted large tracts of the flat
ground which lay behind to various religious houses. At the French
Revolution these lands were sold as Church property at a very low
figure, and were afterwards allowed, in many cases, to fall out of
cultivation by the purchasers. So great a portion of the district
was sold that at the present time only a small portion of the dune
land is the property of the State--the narrow strip between Mariakerke
and Middelkerke on the west of Ostend, and that which lies between
Ostend and Blankenberghe on the east. The larger portions, which
are possessed by private owners, are partly the property of the
descendants of those who bought them at the Revolution, and partly
of building societies, incorporated for the purpose of developing
what Mr. Hall Caine once termed the 'Visiting Industry'--that is
to say, the trade in tourists and seaside visitors.[*]
[Footnote *: Letter to the Manx Reform League, November, 1903.]
[Illustration: AN OLD FARMER]
Plage de Westende, Le Coq, and Duinbergen--three charming summer
resorts--have been created by building societies. Nieuport-Bains
and La Panne have been developed by the owners of the adjoining
lands, the families of Crombez and Calmeyn. Wenduyne, on the other
hand, which lies between Le Coq and Blankenberghe, has been made
by the State, while the management of Blankenberghe, Heyst, and
Middelkerke, as bathing stations, is in the hands of their communal
councils.
On the coast of Flanders, Ostend--'La Reine des Plages'--is, it
need hardly be said, the most important place, and its rise has
been very remarkable. Less than fifty years ago the population was
in all about 15,000. During the last fifteen years it has increased
by nearly 15,000, and now amounts to about 40,000 in round numbers.
The increase in the number of summer visitors has been equally
remarkable. In the year 1860 the list of strangers contained 9,700
names; three years ago it contained no less than 42,000. This floating
population of foreign visitors who come to Ostend is cosmopolitan
to an extent unknown at any watering-place in England. In 1902
11,000 English, 8,000 French, 5,000 Germans, and 2,000 Americans
helped to swell the crowds who walked on the sea-front, frequented
the luxurious and expensive hotels, or left their money on the
gaming-tables at the Kursaal. On one day--August 15, 1902--7,000
persons bathed.[*]
[Footnote *: I give these figures on the authority of M. Paul Otlet,
Advocate, of Brussels, to whom I am indebted for much information
regarding the development of the coast of Flanders. See also an
article by M. Otlet in _Le Cottage_, May 15 to June 15, 1904.]
Blankenberghe, with its 30,000 summer visitors, comes next in importance
to Ostend, while both Heyst and Middelkerke are crowded during
the season. But the life at these towns is not so agreeable as at
the smaller watering-places. The hotels are too full, and have,
as a rule, very little except their cheapness to recommend them.
There is usually a body calling itself the _comité des fêtes_,
the members of which devote themselves for two months every summer
to devising amusements, sports, and competitions of various kinds,
instead of leaving people to amuse themselves in their own way,
so that hardly a day passes on which the strains of a second-rate
band are not heard in the local Kursaal, or a night which is not
made hideous by a barrel-organ, to which the crowd is dancing on
the _digue_. At the smaller places, however, though these also
have their _comité des fêtes_, one escapes to a great extent from
these disagreeable surroundings.
May, June, and September are the pleasantest months upon the coast
of Flanders, for the visitors are not so numerous, and even in
mid-winter the dunes are worth a visit. Then the hotels and villas
fronting the sea are closed, and their windows boarded up. The
bathing-machines are removed from the beach, and stand in rows in
some sheltered spot. The _digue_, a broad extent of level brickwork,
is deserted, and the wind sweeps along it, scattering foam and
covering it with sand and sprays of tangled seaweed. The mossy
surface of the dunes is frozen hard as iron, and often the hailstones
rush in furious blasts before the wind. For league after league
there is not a sign of life, except the sea-birds flying low near
the shore, or the ships rising and falling in the waves far out
to sea. In the winter months the coast of Flanders is bleak and
stormy, but the air in these solitudes is as health-giving as in
any other part of Europe.
Of late years the Government, represented by Comte de Smet de Naeyer,
has bestowed much attention on the development of the littoral,
and King Leopold II. has applied his great business talents to
the subject. Large sums of money have been voted by the Belgian
Parliament for the construction of public works and the extension
of the means of communication from place to place. There is a light
railway, the 'Vicinal,' which runs along the whole coast, at a
short distance from the shore, from Knocke, on the east, to La
Panne in the extreme west, and which is connected with the system of
State railways at various points. From Ostend, through Middelkerke,
to Plage de Westende, an electric railway has been constructed,
close to the beach and parallel to the Vicinal (which is about
a mile inland), on which trains run every ten minutes during the
summer season. As an instance of the speed and energy with which
these works for the convenience of the public are carried out,
when once they have been decided upon, it may be mentioned that the
contract for the portion of the electric line between Middelkerke
and Plage de Westende, a distance of about a mile and a half, was
signed on May 9, that five days later 200 workmen began to cut
through the dunes, embank and lay the permanent way, and that on
June 25, in spite of several interruptions owing to drifting sand
and heavy rains, the first train of the regular service arrived
at Plage de Westende.
[Illustration: LA PANNE. Interior of a Flemish Inn.]
A large sum, amounting to several millions of francs, is voted
every year for the protection of the shores of Flanders against
the encroachments of the sea, by the construction of these solid
embankments of brickwork and masonry, which will, in the course
of a few years, extend in an unbroken line along the whole coast
from end to end. The building of these massive sea-walls is a work
of great labour and expense, for what seems to be an impregnable
embankment, perhaps 30 feet high and 90 feet broad, solid and strong
enough to resist the most violent breakers, will be undermined and
fall to pieces in a few hours, if not made in the proper way. A
_digue_, no matter how thick, which rests on the sand alone will
not last. A thick bed of green branches bound together must first
be laid down as a foundation: this is strengthened by posts driven
through it into the sand. Heavy timbers, resting on bundles of
branches lashed together, are wedged into the foundations, and
slope inwards and upwards to within a few feet of the height to
which it is intended to carry the _digue_. On the top another solid
bed of branches is laid down, and the whole is first covered with
concrete, and then with bricks or tiles, while the edge of the
_digue_, at the top of the seaward slope, is composed of heavy blocks
of stone cemented together and bound by iron rivets.
_Digues_ made in this solid fashion, all of them higher above the
shore than the Thames Embankment is above the river, and some of
them broader than the Embankment, will, before very many years
have passed, stretch along the whole coast of Flanders without
a break, and will form not only a defence against the tides, but
a huge level promenade, with the dunes on one side and the sea on
the other. This is a gigantic undertaking, but it will be completed
during the lifetime of the present generation.
[Illustration: LA PANNE. A Flemish Inn--Playing Skittles.]
Another grandiose idea, which is actually being carried into effect,
is to connect all the seaside resorts on the coast of Flanders by
a great boulevard, 40 yards wide, with a road for carriages and
pedestrians, a track for motor-cars and bicycles, and an electric
railway, all side by side. Large portions of this magnificent roadway,
which is to be known as the 'Route Royale,' have already been completed
between Blankenberghe and Ostend, and from Ostend to Plage de Westende.
From Westende it will be continued to Nieuport-Bains, crossing the
Yser by movable bridges, and thence to La Panne, and so onwards,
winding through the dunes, over the French borders, and perhaps
as far as Paris!
A single day's journey through the district which this 'Route Royale'
is to traverse will lead the traveller through the most interesting
part of the dunes, and introduce him to most of the favourite _plages_
on the coast of Flanders, and thus give him an insight into many
characteristic Flemish scenes. La Panne, for instance, and Adinkerque,
in the west and on the confines of France, are villages inhabited
by fishermen who have built their dwellings in sheltered places
amongst the dunes. The low white cottages of La Panne, with the
strings of dried fish hanging on the walls, nestle in the little
valley from which the place takes its name (for _panne_ in Flemish
means 'a hollow'), surrounded by trees and hedges, gay with wild
roses in the summer-time. Each cottage stands in its small plot
of garden ground, and most of the families own fishing-boats of
their own, and farm a holding which supplies them with potatoes
and other vegetables.
For a long time these cottages were the only houses at La Panne,
which was seldom visited, except by a few artists; but about fifteen
years ago the surveyors and the architects made their appearance,
paths and roads were laid out, and, as if by magic, cottages and
villas and the inevitable _digue de mer_ have sprung up on the
dunes near the sea, and not very far from the original village. The
chief feature of the new La Panne is that the houses are, except
those on the sea-front, built on the natural levels of the ground,
some perched on the tops of the dunes, and others in the hollows
which separate them. The effect is extremely picturesque, and the
example of the builders of La Panne is being followed at other places,
notably at Duinbergen, one of the very latest bathing stations,
which has risen during the last three years about a mile to the
east of Heyst.
Another very interesting place is the Plage de Westende, the present
terminus of the electric railway from Ostend. The old village of
Westende lies a mile inland on the highway between Nieuport and
Ostend, close to the scene of the Battle of the Dunes. This Plage
is, indeed, a model seaside resort, with a _digue_ which looks down
upon a shore of the finest sand, and from which, of an evening,
one sees the lights of Ostend in the east, and the revolving beacon
at Dunkirk shining far away to the west. The houses which front
the sea, all different from each other, are in singularly good
taste; and behind them are a number of detached cottages and villas,
large and small, in every variety of design. Ten years ago the
site of this little town was a rabbit warren; now everything is
up to date: electric light in every house, perfect drainage, a
good water-supply, tennis courts, and an admirable hotel, where
even the passing stranger feels at home. Though only three-quarters
of an hour from noisy, crowded, bustling Ostend by the railway, it
is one of the quietest and most comfortable places on the coast
of Flanders, and can be reached by travellers from England in a
few hours.
Some years hence the lovely, peaceful Plage de Westende may have
grown too big, but when the sand has all been turned into gold,
and when the contractors and builders have grown rich, those who
have known Westende in its earlier days will think of it as the
quiet spot about which at one time only a few people used to stroll;
where perhaps the poet Verhaeren found something to inspire him;
where many a long summer's evening was spent in pleasant talk on
history, and painting, and music by a little society of men and
women who spoke French, or German, or English, as the fancy took
them, and laughed, and quoted, and exchanged ideas on every subject
under the sun; where the professor of music once argued, and sprang
up to prove his point by playing--but that is an allusion, or, as
Mr. Kipling would say, 'another story.'
The district in which Westende lies, with Lombaerdzyde, Nieuport,
Furnes, and Coxyde close together, is the most interesting on the
coast of Flanders. Le Coq, on the other hand, is in that part of
the dune country which has least historical interest, and is chiefly
known as the place where the Royal Golf Club de Belgique has its
course. It is only twenty minutes from Ostend on the Vicinal railway,
which has a special station for golfers near the Club House. There
is no _digue_, and the houses are dotted about in a valley behind
the dunes. This place has a curious resemblance to a Swiss village.
A few years ago the owners of lands upon the Flemish littoral began
to grasp the fact that there was a sport called golf, on which
Englishmen were in the habit of spending money, and that it would be
an addition to the attractions of Ostend if, beside the racecourse,
there was a golf-course. King Leopold, who is said to contemplate
using all the land between the outskirts of Ostend and Le Coq for
sporting purposes, paid a large sum, very many thousands of francs,
out of his own pocket, and the golf-links at Le Coq were laid out.
The Club House is handsome and commodious, but, unfortunately, the
course itself, which is the main thing, is not very satisfactory,
being far too artificial. The natural 'bunkers' were filled up,
and replaced by ramparts and ditches like those on some inland
courses in England. On the putting greens the natural undulations
of the ground have been levelled, and the greens are all as flat
and smooth as billiard-tables. There are clumps of ornamental wood,
flower-beds, and artificial ponds with goldfish swimming in them. It
is all very pretty, but it is hardly golf. What with the 'Grand Prix
d'Ostende,' the 'Prix des Roses,' the 'Prix des Ombrelles, handicap
libre, réservé aux Dames,' the 'Grand Prix des Dames,' and a number
of other _objets d'art_, which are offered for competition on almost
every day from the beginning of June to the end of September, this
is a perfect paradise for the pot-hunter and his familiar friend
Colonel Bogey. Real golf, the strenuous game, which demands patience
and steady nerves, perhaps, more than any other outdoor game, is
not yet quite understood by many Belgians; but the bag of clubs
is every year becoming more common on the Dover mail-boats.
Most of these golf-bags find their way to Knocke, where many of
the English colony at Bruges spend the summer, and which, as the
coast of Flanders becomes better known, is visited every year by
increasing numbers of travellers from the other side of the Channel.
Knocke is in itself one of the least attractive places on the Flemish
littoral. The old village, a nondescript collection of houses, lies
on the Vicinal railway about a mile from the sea, which is reached
by a straight roadway, and where there is a _digue_, numerous hotels,
pensions, and villas, all of which are filled to overflowing in the
season. The air, indeed, is perfect, and there are fine views from
the _digue_ and the dunes of the island of Walcheren, Flushing,
and the estuary of the Scheldt; but the place was evidently begun
with no definite plan: the dunes were ruthlessly levelled, and the
result is a few unlovely streets, and a number of detached houses
standing in disorder amidst surroundings from which everything
that was picturesque has long since departed.
But the dunes to the east are wide, and enclose a large space of
undulating ground; and here the Bruges Golf and Sports Club has
its links, which present a very complete contrast to the Belgian
course at Le Coq. The links at Knocke, if somewhat rough and ready,
are certainly sporting in the highest degree. Some of the holes,
those in what is known as the Green Valley, are rather featureless;
but in the other parts of the course there are numerous natural
hazards, bunkers, and hillocks thick with sand and rushes. It has
no pretentions to be a 'first-class' course (for one thing, it is
too short), but in laying out the eighteen holes the ground has
been utilized to the best advantage, and the Royal and Ancient
game flourishes more at Knocke than at any other place in Belgium.
The owners of the soil and the hotel-keepers, with a keen eye to
business, and knowing that the golfing alone brings the English,
from whom they reap a golden harvest, to Knocke, do all in their
power to encourage the game, and it is quite possible that before
long other links may be established along the coast. The soil of
the strip behind the dunes is not so suitable for golf as the close
turf of St. Andrews, North Berwick, or Prestwick, for in many places
it consists of sand with a slight covering of moss; but with proper
treatment it could probably be improved and hardened. It is merely
a question of money, and money will certainly be forthcoming if
the Government, the communes, and the private owners once see that
this form of amusement will add to the popularity of the littoral.
A short mile's walk to the west of Knocke brings us to Duinbergen,
one of the newest of the Flemish _plages_, founded in the year
1901 by the Société Anonyme de Duinbergen, a company in which some
members of the Royal Family are said to hold shares. At Knocke
and others of the older watering-places everything was sacrificed
to the purpose of making money speedily out of every available
square inch of sand, and the first thing done was to destroy the
dunes. But at Duinbergen the good example set by the founders of
La Panne has been followed and improved upon, and nothing could
be more _chic_ than this charming little place, which was planned
by Herr Stübben, of Cologne, an architect often employed by the
King of the Belgians, whose idea was to create a small garden city
among the dunes. The dunes have been carefully preserved; the roads
and pathways wind round them; most of the villas and cottages have
been erected in places from which a view of the sea can be obtained;
and even the _digue_ has been built in a curve in order to avoid
the straight line, which is apt to give an air of monotony to the
rows of villas, however picturesque they may be in themselves,
which face the sea at other places. So artistic is the appearance
of the houses that the term 'Style Duinbergen' is used by architects
to describe it. Electric lighting, a copious supply of water rising
by gravitation to the highest houses, and a complete system of
drainage, add to the luxuries and comforts of this _plage_, which
is one of the best illustrations of the wonders which have been
wrought among the dunes by that spirit of enterprise which has
done so much for modern Flanders during the last few years.
COXYDE--THE SCENERY OF THE DUNES