Produced by Bruce Albrecht, Sankar Viswanathan, and the
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[Illustration: A PEASANT WOMAN OF THE ARDENNES.]
PEEPS AT MANY LANDS
BELGIUM
BY
GEORGE W. T. OMOND
ILLUSTRATED BY
AMÉDÉE FORESTIER
LONDON
ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK
1909
* * * * *
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. THE SANDS OPPOSITE ENGLAND
II. INLAND: THE FLEMISH PLAIN
III. TRAVELLING IN BELGIUM
IV. SOME OF THE TOWNS: THE ARDENNES
V. BELGIAN CHILDREN: THE "PREMIÈRE COMMUNION"
VI. CHRISTMAS IN BELGIUM
VII. NEW YEAR'S DAY
VIII. PAGEANTS AND PROCESSIONS
IX. THE STORY OF ST. EVERMAIRE: A COUNTRY PAGEANT
X. THE CARNIVAL
XI. CHILDREN'S WINTER FESTIVALS
XII. THE ARCHERS: GAMES PLAYED IN BELGIUM
XIII. WHAT THE BELGIANS SPEAK
XIV. A SHORT HISTORY
XV. THE BELGIAN ARMY: THE CONGO
* * * * *
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
BY AMÉDÉE FORESTIER
A PEASANT WOMAN OF THE ARDENNES _frontispiece_
THE DUNES
A SHRIMPER ON HORSEBACK, COXYDE
THE VEGETABLE MARKET, BRUGES
ANTWERP
THE HÔTEL DE VILLE, BRUSSELS
AT THE KERMESSE
A CHÂTEAU IN THE LESSE VALLEY
A FARMSTEADING
PLAYING "JEU DE BOULE" AT A FLEMISH INN
VILLAGE AND CANAL, ADINKERQUE
WATERLOO: THE FARM OF LA BELLE ALLIANCE AND THE
MOUND SURMOUNTED BY THE BELGIAN LION
A MILK-SELLER IN BRUGES _on the cover_
_Sketch-Map of Belgium._
* * * * *
[Illustration: SKETCH-MAP OF BELGIUM.]
[Illustration: THE DUNES.]
* * * * *
BELGIUM
CHAPTER I
THE SANDS OPPOSITE ENGLAND
If you leave the mouth of the Thames, or the white chalk cliffs at
Dover, and sail over the water just where the English Channel meets
the North Sea, you will in about three or four hours see before you a
long expanse of yellow sand, and rising behind it a low ridge of
sandhills, which look in the distance like a range of baby mountains.
These sandhills are called "dunes." Here and there at intervals you
will see a number of little towns, each town standing by itself on the
shore, and separated from its neighbour by a row of dunes and a
stretch of sand.
This is your first view of the little country called Belgium, which is
bounded on the east by Holland, and on the west by France. It is, from
end to end, about half the size of Ireland.
There are no cliffs or rocks, no shingle or stones covered with
seaweed. There are no trees. It is all bare sand, with moss and rushes
on the higher ground above the beach. In winter the wind rages with
terrific violence along the coast. The sand is blown in all
directions, and the waves dash fiercely on the shore. It is cold and
stormy, with mist and dark clouds, and sometimes violent showers of
hail. But in summer all is changed. Often, week after week, the waves
roll gently in, and break in ripples on the beach. The sky is blue,
and the sands are warm. It is the best place in the world for digging
and building castles. There are very few shells to gather; but there
are no dangerous rocks or slippery places, and children can wade about
and play in perfect safety. So many families--Belgians, English,
Germans, and a few French--spend the summer holidays there.
Hundreds of years ago the storms of winter used to drive the waves
ashore with such violence that the land was flooded, and whole
villages were sometimes swept away. So the people made ramparts of
earth to keep back the water, till by degrees many parts of the
Belgian shore were thus protected. They still continue to build
defences against the sea; but instead of earth they now use brick and
stone. It looks as if in a few years the whole coast will be lined by
these sea-fronts, which are called _digues de mer_.
A _digue_, no matter how thick, which rests on the sand alone will not
last. A thick bed of green branches is first 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 top of the _digue_, at the edge of the seaward slope,
is composed of heavy blocks of stone cemented together and bound by
iron rivets.
The finest and longest _digue_ is that which extends from Ostend for
about nine miles. It is a good place for bicycle rides. No motor-cars
are allowed on it.
Each of the little towns which you see dotted along the coast has a
_digue_ of its own, on which there is a row of villas and hotels
facing the sea. Among the dunes behind the _digue_ there are more
villas. These are generally very picturesque, with verandas, red-tiled
roofs, and brightly painted woodwork.
All day long in summer the _digue_ of each town is crowded by people
walking about in the sunshine, or sitting watching the bathers and the
children playing on the sands. It is a very gay sight. There are
prizes for those who build the best castles, and it is curious to see
hundreds of little Belgian, English, French, and German flags flying
on these small forts, and to hear the children shouting to each other
in so many different languages. It makes one think of the Tower of
Babel.
From six in the morning till six in the evening bathing-machines go to
and from the water, and often there seem to be as many people in the
sea as on the shore. There is a boat anchored a little way out, in
which two men in red shirts, with ropes and lifebelts, sit watching to
see that no one goes too far out, for the tide is often very strong.
Sometimes these men, who are called _sauveteurs_, stand on the sand,
and if they think anyone is swimming too far they blow a trumpet to
call the swimmer back.
In the evening, when it is dark and the lamps are lighted, there is
dancing on the _digue_ to the music of a barrel-organ. The Belgians
are very fond of this dancing, and often the English and other
visitors join in it too.
All summer this holiday life goes on, with bathing, lawn-tennis, and
in some places golf, till at last the time comes for going home. The
hotels and villas close their doors. The windows are boarded up. The
bathing-machines are pulled away from the beach, and put in some
sheltered place among the dunes. The _digue_ is left in solitude, to
be covered with driven sand, and splashed with foam from the waves
which beat against it, till the season of summer gaiety comes round
again next year.