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.[24]
[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.[25]
[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.[26]
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 _comités
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
seabirds 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.
FOOTNOTES.
[Footnote 24: Bortier, _Le Littoral de la Flandre au IX^e et au XIX^e
Siècles_.]
[Footnote 25: Letter to the Manx Reform League, November, 1903.]
[Footnote 26: 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.]