Lecture 1: Introduction
The subject of these Lectures is the argument that, since the rise of the Revolution-ideas, the cause of events lies in the natural development of these pernicious notions.
You rightly ask me to clarify the choice, nature, utility, and scope of this wide-ranging subject.
1. The choice. Upon completing the Handbook of the History of the Fatherland, I reflected on what has happened in the Netherlands since 1795 down to our own day. With the exception of moments when the hope of a better future presented itself, there was an unmistakable, and sometimes acute, sense of humiliation and decline. When we attend to our material interests, to the insignificance of the State, the narrowness of trade, the burdens on industry, the astonishing number of the destitute, we find everywhere a distressing contrast with former prosperity and splendor.
The decline is not confined to material welfare. In the political forms by which people have aimed at the beneficial union of authority and freedom, we see a long series of experiments: not only have all of them failed, but each has left behind an ever stronger feeling that constitutions show their strength more in disorganizing the State than in governing it.
This disorder extends to the entire fabric of civil society. Consider the dissolution of the diversity of Estates, as it was built upon acquired rights and upon the nature of social development; the disadvantages of unlimited competition; the removal of the bonds of love and submission that once grew out of a spirit of association and a sense of duty; the almost irresistible influence of the great capitalists; and the ever more threatening condition of poor relief. Even this superficial survey points to the existence of a general cause of social decay.
But, you say, experience has perhaps been the best teacher, and has led us, by a hard road, to the soundness of a theory which, drawn from deliberation and experience, becomes the unerring guide for better practice. Is that so? Has so much harm yielded at least this advantage, that the science of constitutional law has gained in development and certainty? The contrary is true.
Never perhaps has every question been so greatly and increasingly prey to uncertainty; never has doubt in science produced such wavering in action. Unable to govern the State by fixed rule or well-considered design, those in power count themselves fortunate if, living from day to day, they can accomplish whatever the course of events leads them to, willingly or unwillingly. Never before has an aversion to all theories arisen so strongly as a consequence of the deceptiveness of so many theories.
The same skepticism is visible in the foundations of Religion, morality, and law. Opinion is most deeply divided: everything has become subjective and individual. Everyone has his own faith, his own opinion, and for many these are so unstable that, with the changing of circumstances and the passing of years and days, they are constantly replaced by some other equally fleeting opinion. We have not one church creed, nor even a few religious denominations, but, under the almost universal name of Christian confession, a countless multitude of conceptions concerning God and His Word. The intensity of the conflict sometimes abates not through increasing agreement, but through diminishing interest.
Do I perhaps exaggerate? Judge for yourselves. When we look back, what do you make of the steps taken on the path of perfectibility, the endless improvement this age has promised itself? Do we rejoice over industry and trade? Are we unconcerned about financial affairs? Does the Netherlands play a brilliant or honorable role on the stage of Europe? Have we, through Constitution and Government, forged a lasting covenant of freedom and order? May we rejoice that Government and subjects are bound together by the bonds of mutual trust and affection?
Is there reason to be proud of the manner in which the organization of the state guarantees and promotes the rights of religion, morality, and science? Do we feel that the forces of the nation are given that unimpeded operation without which the state is a body without a soul? Does the government press forward, with steady progress, toward a well-chosen goal? Does diversity of views resolve into higher agreement? Is the multiplicity of opinion paired with unity of principles?
On a subject so serious, I wish to avoid even a tone that smacks of irony. I would rather ask plainly: where do this decline, this disorder, and this general decay come from? Do you attribute them to forms of government? We have had every kind: democracy, aristocracy, rule by one man, despotism, constitutional government. The entire storehouse of revolutionary governments has been at our disposal. To circumstances? They have not always been unfavorable. To the degeneration of the People? It had not sunk so low that no revival was possible. Was there a lack of men of ability and energy? There have been statesmen to whom I deny neither talent and character, nor good intention, and that compels us all the more to seek the reason why even their wisdom was deceived and their vigor paralyzed.
Everything thus points to a general cause, to whose influence forms of government and circumstances and national character and individual actors have all been subordinate. This cause must be sought in the ideas that have held sway. De la Mennais put it forcefully: “It must be said, for one can never know it too well: everything flows from doctrines, morals, literature, constitutions, laws, the happiness of states and their disasters, civilization, barbarism, and those terrifying crises that either carry peoples away or renew them, according to how much life remains in them.”
Events are the outlines and forms in which the constant workings of the spirit of the age reveal themselves. I wish to make this observable, over the course of the revolutionary era, beyond our own country as well. The history of Europe for more than half a century is the inevitable consequence of the errors that have taken possession of the prevailing mode of thought.
2. To demonstrate the nature of this subject, it is necessary to explain what I mean by Revolution and revolution-ideas. By Revolution I mean not merely one of the many events by which a displacement of public authority is brought about, nor simply the revolutionary storm that raged in France, but the overturning of thought and disposition manifest throughout all Christendom. By revolution-ideas I have in view the principles of liberty and equality, popular sovereignty, the social contract, and conventional regeneration, which are revered as the cornerstones of constitutional law and the structure of the state. The Revolution is, in short, the working out of a complete skepticism, in which God’s word and law have been set aside. I have set this out more fully in Grondwetherziening en Eensgezindheid and in the Narede op Vijfjarigen Strijd.
The conviction that the manifold evils our Fathers experienced, and that we ourselves have experienced, have flowed from this wisdom and from its source, the rejection of the Gospel, has been strengthened in me by fresh observation of the course of events. Once again I have seen how, wherever these theories have taken hold, one is led round in a circle of misery.
By strict application of the Revolution-doctrine one is led, in systematic fidelity, to the most extravagant absurdities and the worst atrocities. When, on the other hand, alarm at revolutionary development, mistaken for mere exaggeration, leads one to desire moderation of practice without abandoning the principle itself, one falls, shrinking from the consequences of one’s own convictions, into a wavering and arbitrariness that has no guide other than the drift and pressure of circumstances. This is what is even now cited as profound political wisdom: the deliberation of the doctrinaires; the system that now holds sway under the name of the juste-milieu, the middle course; the theory of the conservatives; and the system, or, to speak plainly, the routine, the feebleness and drowsiness, the rut, that has also gained the upper hand in our Fatherland.
The consequences of revolutionary ideas can only be effectively combated by taking a stand, outside their influence, on the ground of anti-revolutionary principles. That ground is unreachable so long as one does not acknowledge that the foundation of right lies in the law and ordinance of God. De Bonald expressed this truth with conciseness and deep meaning: “the Revolution began with the declaration of the rights of man; it will end only with the declaration of the rights of God.” Stahl says the same: “Only Christianity and the Christian State and the Christian School bring the Revolution in Europe to a close.”
3. The utility of my subject is evident. It goes to the heart of every dispute in religion and politics. Revolutionary ideas are unbelief applied to constitutional law. Between the Gospel and this practical godlessness there is a struggle of life and death, in which any thought of reconciliation becomes absurd, and which encompasses all that is holy and dear to us, all that is useful and indispensable for Church and State.
In speaking of the importance of the subject, I do not claim that deeper insight into the character of our time will be useful or agreeable to the selfish man or the narrow-minded egotist. On the contrary. The triumph of the principles I advocate is not to be expected any time soon. The errors I combat are strong enough to retain the upper hand in practice for a considerable time, even after they have been defeated in the field of science. Knowledge of truth is a burden for those who are unwilling to make sacrifices for truth. Knowledge that increases responsibility is not desirable for those who are concerned with honor or advantage, with the applause of their contemporaries.
The life circumstances of most of you are settled enough that you need not worry about the possible consequences of a sincere confession. But if a young man, just barely entering his political career, were to come to me for instruction in anti-revolutionary constitutional law, I would hesitate. I would at least endeavor to bring him first to self-examination. I would ask him: have you counted the cost? Are you ready for self-denial? If not, I would have no heart to prepare useless remorse for him. But if I discerned in him a nobler spirit, a more than ordinary measure of happiness and honor, I would call out to him: let nothing hold you back, for you truth has privileges and pleasures by which the loss of every expectation will be abundantly repaid.
