History of European Ideas 28 (2002) 227–245
A pragmatic conservatism. Montesquieu and the
framing of the Belgian constitution (1830–1831)
A. de Dijn
Department of Modern History, K.U. Leuven, 21/5 Blijde-Inkomststraat, 3000 Leuven, Belgium
Accepted 26 June 2002
Abstract
In 1830, members of the Belgian National Congress asserted that they would not attempt
to create an ideal constitution. Rather, they wanted to frame a constitution which would take
the existing order into account, which would be adapted to Belgian manners and customs.
Their ‘pragmatic conservatism’, as it can be described in distinction to Burke’s juridical
conservatism, was to an important degree inspired by the writings of Montesquieu. Both the
discussion on the monarchy and the debate on the senate were influenced by the Esprit des lois.
Indirectly, the debates in the National Congress give evidence of the enormous influence of the
Esprit des lois on political thought in the Restoration period.
r 2002 Elsevier Science Ltd. All rights reserved.
Keywords: History of political thought; Restoration period; Belgian constitution; Montesquieu;
Pragmatic conservatism; Forms of government
In 1830, revolution put an end to the Restoration on the European continent.
As had been the case forty years before, political upheaval began in France, where
the Bourbon king Charles X was deposed in favour of his cousin, Louis-Philippe.
The neighbouring United Kingdom of the Netherlands was first to be subjected to
the influence of the July Revolution. In 1815, the former Dutch stadholder, now king
William I, had been granted sovereignty not just over the old Dutch republic, but
over the Belgian provinces as well. The Great Powers thus hoped to create a strong
buffer against French expansionism. Since 1828, however, William’s authoritarian
style of government had caused increasing irritation among his Belgian subjects. In
September 1830, two months after the revolution in Paris, the atmosphere in Brussels
was tense. A performance of La muette de Portici on August 24 put the spark to the
E-mail address: [email protected] (A. de Dijn).
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A. de Dijn / History of European Ideas 28 (2002) 227–245
tinder. Electrified by the patriotic aria Amour sacre!e de la patrie, the audience took to
the streets, where rioting turned rapidly into outright rebellion against the Dutch
authorities. Against all expectations, the Belgian insurrectionists were victorious
over the Dutch troops, which had been hastily despatched from The Hague. On
October 4, a provisional government declared Belgium independent.1
At the founding of the July monarchy, the existing Charter had been maintained,
although some of its articles were amended. Unlike their French predecessors, the
Belgian revolutionaries decided to call elections for a constitutional assembly. The
National Congress, named in honour of the American legislature, sat from
November 10, 1830, to July 21, 1831, when the new king Leopold I was inaugurated.
The main brunt of its work, however, was done in the winter of 1830–1831. Two
problems of a more general nature were dealt with in this period. From 19 to 22
November, Congress deliberated whether Belgium was to become a republic or a
monarchy and from 13 to 15 December, it discussed the introduction of a senate.
Both questions were, at the time, considered to be of utmost political importance.
Most deputies rose to the occasion. They were often well read in politics, as was
usual among the nineteenth-century elite, and debates took place on a high
theoretical level. This makes ‘‘the vehement and excellent discussions’’ (E.H.
Kossmann) in the National Congress a unique source for the study of constitutional
thought at the end of the Restoration period.
1. A pragmatic conservatism
After the French Revolution, most politicians and publicists agreed that the
failure of the Assemble!e nationale to devise a stable constitution should be attributed
to their penchant for ‘‘abstract speculation’’. The Belgian National Congress was
determined not to fall into the same trap. The Belgian constitution, it was repeatedly
asserted, would not be based on abstract reason, but on the experience of past and
present. Jean-Baptiste Nothomb expressed the general distrust of philosophical
politics most effectively. A liberal journalist who had made a name in the paper war
leading up to the revolution of 1830, Nothomb presented himself as an essentially
practical man. He had no aptitude to solve philosophical problems, but then, he
thought, such aptitude was not needed in the present assembly. If the Belgian state
was to have durable institutions, they should be adapted to the circumstances of
the moment, leaving little room for philosophical speculation on the legislator’s part.
‘‘I believe,’’ Nothomb concluded, ‘‘that most of our problems have already been
irrevocably resolved by facts outside the bearing of our deliberations.’’2
Today, this empirical approach to politics is usually associated with the name of
Edmund Burke. His denunciation of philosophical speculation in materia politica has
undoubtedly many points in common with the attitude of the Belgian founding
1
E.H. Kossmann, The Low Countries, 1780–1940 (Oxford: 1978), pp. 151–160.
Nothomb’s speech can be found in full in: E. Huyttens (Ed.), Discussions du congr"es national de
Belgique (vol. 1, Brussels: 1844–1845), p. 192. All translations are my own unless otherwise indicated.
2
A. de Dijn / History of European Ideas 28 (2002) 227–245
229
fathers. Yet it would be wrong to see in this resemblance a direct influence of
Burkean conservatism. Although Nothomb did refer to the writings of Burke in his
speech, this was merely to underscore his argument that the introduction of a
republic would lead to military despotism. No other references to Burke were made
during debates on the future form of government in the National Congress.
Moreover, important differences existed between the writings of Burke and the
disposition of the Belgian deputies.
In 1960, J.G.A. Pocock argued in a seminal article that Burke’s conservatism was
of a very specific nature.3 Burke’s anger, as Pocock pointed out, was aroused
primarily by the institutional reformism of the French Revolution. He blamed the
French for failing to undertake a serious attempt to reform their constitution instead
of demolishing it. For this reason, Burke rejected every comparison between the
Glorious Revolution of 1688 and the French Revolution of 1789. The French had
attempted to enlarge their freedom by creating a new legal order on the basis of the
Rights of Man. With the Glorious Revolution, the English had only re-established
the existing order. Indeed, the goal of this revolution was ‘‘to preserve our antient
indisputable laws and liberties, and the antient constitution of government which is
our only security for law and liberty.’’4 In short, Burke’s conservatism can be
described as a legal conservatism. The tradition he wanted to preserve was very
specifically juridical. The past Burke defended, existed in the historically developed
institutions of the French nation—in the ancient French constitution.
In this manner, Burkean conservatism can be characterized as the inheritor of an
intellectual tradition known as the common law tradition. From the sixteenth
century onwards, this mode of thinking had become widespread in juridical circles.
Lawyers assumed that the laws and customs, which together composed a society’s
constitution, were in fact ‘immemorial’: they were so old that their genesis had been
forgotten. No specific institution or person within living memory could claim
authorship. Their very ancientness assured the superiority of those laws and
customs; they were the product of the collective wisdom of the ages and therefore
rose above individual reason. But they were also exalted above the will of the legal
sovereign. Because of their ‘immemorialism’, they were not the visible result of regal
caprice; and therefore could not be arbitrarily abolished by the ruling sovereign.5
For this reason, an appeal to the old constitution of their country had more or less
become a standard procedure amongst European revolutionaries of the seventeenth
and eighteenth centuries, used by the Whigs in 1688 and by the Dutch Patriots in the
1780s. Recently, it has been shown that the Brabant Revolution of 1787–1791, the
3
J.G.A Pocock, ‘Burke and the Ancient Constitution: A Problem in the History of Ideas’, reprinted in:
J.G.A. Pocock, Politics, Language and Time. Essays on Political Thought and History (Chicago–London:
1971), pp. 202–232.
4
E. Burke, The Writings and Speeches of Edmund Burke. Volume VIII. The French Revolution,
1790–1794, L.G. Mitchell and W.B. Todd (Eds.) (Oxford: 1989), p. 81.
5
J.G.A. Pocock, The Ancient Constitution and the Feudal Law. A Study of English Historical Thought in
the Seventeenth Century (New York: 1967), pp. 30–55.
230
A. de Dijn / History of European Ideas 28 (2002) 227–245
immediate precursor of the revolution of 1830, was similarly legitimated by
presenting it as a return to the old constitution(s) of the Southern Netherlands.6
The conservatism of the 1830 Belgian revolutionaries was no part of this tradition.
Invocations of the old constitution were not amongst the arguments legitimizing the
formation of the Belgian state. It was clear to all participants in the debate that the
Belgian constitution was new, the work of man and not of time. The Belgian
founding fathers agreed, however, that the specific, historically developed nature of
the Belgian nation should be accounted for in the creation of the new institutions.
Their rejection of abstract rationalism was motivated by a certain relativism. To
devise an abstract, ideal constitution was considered a chimerical enterprise. One
should try instead to determine which constitution was best adapted to the manners
and customs of the Belgian nation. As Fe! lix de Merode put it: ‘‘In the framing of our
laws, we necessarily have to consult the character, customs and social habits of the
people for whom those laws are meant.’’7 This mode of thinking did not demand a
tenacious holding on to tradition, but it attempted to account for the existing order
in the creation of the new. It was, in other words, a pragmatic conservatism.
Some contemporaries, it is interesting to note, saw this pragmatic conservatism as
a sort of ‘modern’ alternative to the disused doctrine of the ancient constitution. This
view was proposed by the confirmed Catholic abbe! Louis, a French citizen who had
found a new home in Belgium shortly before the revolution of 1830. In a pamphlet of
1832, entitled La r!evolution veng!ee, Louis admitted that the goals of the Belgian
founding fathers had gone beyond a re-affirmation of the old constitution—
something he deplored, since he saw the mania for written constitutions as one of
the greatest mistakes of modern times. Yet, this did not prevent Louis from thinking
the Belgian constitution of 1830 better than most other modern constitutions. Like
the old, unwritten constitutions of the Ancien Re! gime, it was based on the existing
customs and habits of the Belgian nation. Such a constitution was very different
from the rationalistic constitutions produced under the influence of the French
Revolution:
Although the principle on which they [the modern constitutions] are based, is
always vicious, one can easily feel that a difference should be made between those
which, approximating the ancient constitutions, express, as they did, the customs
of the nation for which they are made, and those which are entirely a product of
modern reason, and do not respond to the first needs of society. The former still
contain the principal elements of social life. The latter are a fertile soil of political
6
On the use of this doctrine during the Glorious Revolution, see again Pocock’s Ancient Constitution,
especially chapter 9 ‘1688 in the History of Historiography’. On the discourse of the Dutch Patriots, see:
W.R.E. Velema, ‘Revolutie, Republiek en Constitutie. De ideologische context van de eerste Nederlandse
grondwet’, in: N.C.F. Van Sas en H. Te Velde (Eds.), De eeuw van de grondwet. Grondwet en politiek in
Nederland, 1798–1917 (Deventer: 1998), pp. 20–45. The invocations of the old constitution during the
Brabant Revolution were investigated in: G.M.H. Van den Bossche, ‘Historians as Advisers to
Revolution? Imagining the Belgian Nation’, History of European Ideas, 24 (1998), pp. 213–238; and Id.,
Enlightened Innovation and the Ancient Constitution. The intellectual justifications of Revolution in Brabant
(1787–1790) (Brussels: 2001).
7
Huyttens, Discussions du congr"es national (vol. 1), p. 245.
A. de Dijn / History of European Ideas 28 (2002) 227–245
231
troubles and dissension, because they hold the nations upon which they are
imposed in a violent and unnatural state.8
2. Constitution, history, and society
The roots of this ‘modern’ conservatism can be found not in the nineteenth, but in
the eighteenth century and more specifically in the works of Montesquieu.
Montesquieu’s De l’Esprit des lois (1748), unlike Burke’s writings, was repeatedly
referred to during discussions in the National Congress.9 This was by no means
exceptional. In the Restoration period, the impact of the Esprit des lois on the
political debate was considerable. Especially Montesquieu’s scientific approach to
politics—his attempt to ground political philosophy on a new and more empirical
footing by an impressive comparative study of laws and institutions from all over the
world—was much admired. The great constitutional diversity depicted by
Montesquieu convinced many that a general, universally valid natural right was a
chimera. They learned from the Esprit des lois that, to be durable, a constitution had
to be adapted to the society it ruled. The ideal state, as Montesquieu had concluded,
did not exist: ‘‘It is better to say that the government most in conformity with nature
is the one whose particular arrangement best relates to the disposition of the people
for whom it is established.’’10 Already in the eighteenth century, this proposition met
with general acceptance both inside and outside France.11 After 1814, it became a
political truism.
In the context of the post-revolutionary Restoration, Montesquieu’s political
relativism was seen first and foremost as a powerful alternative to the abstract
rationalism of the French revolutionaries. Hence, the Esprit des lois greatly appealed
to conservative politicians like Friedrich Ancillon, the Prussian statesman and
.
publicist. In 1815, Ancillon published a political treatise, Uber
Souveraniteit
und
.
Staatsverfassung, which was translated a year later by his French counterpart,
Franc-ois Guizot.12 This treatise consisted mainly of a plea for a mixed government,
in which the king, the aristocracy and the people would share power. Yet, in one of
his last chapters, Ancillon warned that the principles he had just set out should not
[L.J.C. Louis], La r!evolution veng!ee ou consid!erations politiques sur les causes, les e!v!enements et les suites
de la r!evolution belge par un catholique patriote de Bouillon (Louvain: 1832), p. 28.
9
For instance, by Seron, Destouvelles, Helias d’Huddeghem, and Wannaar. Huyttens, Discussions du
congr"es national (vol. 1), p. 197, 240, 443, 454.
10
Montesquieu, The Spirit of the Laws, A. Cohler, B. Miller and H. Stone (Trans. and Eds.)
(Cambridge: 1989), Book I, Ch. 3. Following conventional usage, references to the Esprit des lois will not
mention page numbers but the relevant book and chapter numbers.
11
In the Southern Netherlands, this influence appears clearly from P. de Neny’s M!emoires historiques et
politiques sur les Pays-Bas autrichiens (2 vols., Amsterdam: 1785). I am indebted to Dr. Tom Verschaffel
for pointing this out.
12
F. Ancillon, De la souverainet!e et des formes de gouvernement. Essai destin!e a" la rectification de
quelques principes politiques (Paris: 1816). On the relationship between Guizot’s and Ancillon’s ideas: P.
Pasquino, ‘Sur la monarchie constitutionelle de la monarchie de Juillet’ in: M. Valensise (Ed.), Franc-ois
Guizot et la culture politique de son temps (Saint-Amand: 1991), pp. 111–128.
8
A. de Dijn / History of European Ideas 28 (2002) 227–245
232
be applied too rigorously. Unlike the rules of morality, political prescriptions should
be based on factual data. Political systems should be adapted to the society they were
meant for, instead of being dictated from an abstraction, as had happened during the
French Revolution. No thinker had explained these principles more completely than
Montesquieu, wrote Ancillon admiringly. ‘‘In this respect, his book is truly the book
of the century and the most effective remedy against absolute and exclusive
doctrines.’’13
A similar political relativism resounded in most of the political pamphlets
published in Brussels and other European cities between 1814 and 1830. Almost ad
nauseam, it was stressed that the stability of political institutions depended on their
correspondence with national customs and traditions. This position did not always
lead to the same anti-revolutionary conclusions found in Ancillon’s treatise. Some
writers argued that society had changed so much that the Restoration would only
result in a new revolution. The anonymous writer of a pamphlet entitled De
l’influence de la forme des gouvernemens sur les nations, published in Brussels in 1817,
alerted his readers to this danger. Political abuses, the economic crisis, financial
problems, corruption and political weakness were all factors accelerating the
breakdown of the political system, resulting in the political revolutions of the late
eighteenth century. But these were not the main causes of revolution. Much more
dangerous was the imbalance between forms of government on the one hand and
dominant customs and opinions on the other. To hold on stubbornly to the existing
order was not always the right policy, the author of the pamphlet concluded. Indeed,
revolution would threaten once again if the government were to go on refusing to
take account of the immense societal changes since 1789.14
By 1814, Montesquieu’s political relativism had penetrated into the most diverse
registers of political debate. Its influence was also noticeable in the increasing interest
in history, especially national history, in the first half of the nineteenth century. It
was generally held that political theories should be based on the experiences of the
past in order to be valid. The study of history was therefore seen as indispensable to
a scientific approach to politics. Thus, nineteenth-century historicism, usually
explained as a consequence of the rise of romanticism, was shaped no less by the
‘empiric turn’ of post-revolutionary political thought. A direct link between
historicism and Montesquieu’s political relativism can be found, for instance, in
.
Friedrich Ancillon’s Uber
Souveraniteit
und Staatsverfassung. In order to identify the
.
most suitable constitution for a specific nation at a specific moment, Ancillon
explained in his treatise of 1815, one had to understand the forces that had moulded
this historical entity. And to come to such an insight, a knowledge of history was
essential:
That is the only starting-point from which the political genius can launch itself
into the domain of the future. The knowledge of what has been is indispensable
here to help predict what will be, only what has been done already can indicate
13
Ancillon, De la souverainet!e et des formes de gouvernement, pp. 60–69.
De l’influence de la forme des gouvernemens sur les nations, ou fragment historique et politique (Brussels:
1817), p. 20.
14
A. de Dijn / History of European Ideas 28 (2002) 227–245
233
what one can do, and the sole rule of conduct one can adopt must be drawn from
the consideration of what is useful and possible, in every period and in every
circumstance (see footnote 13).
Avidity for historical knowledge was not a new phenomenon in the history of
political thought. In the common law tradition, history had played an important role
as well. But then, interest in the past was not truly historical. In the constitutionalist
tradition, the importance of history was in fact derived from an identification of past
and present. A specific political constellation was legitimated by the fact that ‘things
had always been that way’. Something was good because it had been good in the past
(see footnote 5). The adherents of Montesquieu’s political relativism, on the other
hand, were preoccupied with the past as past. They were interested in how what
existed now had come into being. Scholars like Ancillon were, in other words,
interested in historical development. This made their relationship to the past much
less rigid than was the case in the juridical conservatism of the common law
tradition. For pragmatic conservatives, it was not crucially important to hold on to
existing institutions at all costs. Thus, the writer of the Fragment historique et
politique rejected the tendency to divide the representative bodies, which had been
introduced in many European states after 1814, into three different orders, as had
been the case in the Ancien Re! gime. The political situation had changed completely,
he argued, because the Third Estate had gained in influence during the last two
centuries, to the detriment of the other two Estates. The anonymous author therefore
strongly advised the authorities to take this evolution into account.15
History had not just been assigned a different role in political thought. The very
nature of the past considered to be relevant had changed. In the common law
tradition, the focus had been almost exclusively on political and juridical history. Its
main concern had been an exact reconstruction of the ancient constitution. At the
beginning of the nineteenth century, however, attention was given to the social and
cultural aspects of the past as well. History manuals of the first half of the nineteenth
century give evidence of the need for information of this kind. They often included
an obligatory chapter on ‘manners and customs’. In these pages, the most diverse
matters were dealt with, ranging from obsolete customs, the state of farming and
commerce, to a discussion of the origin of standing armies.16 In this manner, early
nineteenth-century historiography pursued an interest in social and cultural history,
which had originated in the political thought of the Enlightenment. In his Esprit des
lois, Montesquieu had pointed to the influence of religion, customs and habits, social
stratifications and so forth on the durability of institutions—something he described
15
Fragment historique et politique, p. 20.
T. Verschaffel, ‘Pass!e Compos!e. Geschiedschrijving in Belgi.e in de Franse tijd’, Documentatieblad van
de achttiende eeuw, 28 (1996), pp. 47–59 and P.B.M. Blaas, ‘Het karakter van het vaderland. Vaderlandse
geschiedenis tussen Wagenaar en Fruin, 1780–1840’, in: N.C.F. van Sas (Ed.), Vaderland: een geschiedenis
van de vijftiende eeuw tot 1940 (Amsterdam: 1999), pp. 365–389. A concrete example: J.J. de Smet, Histoire
de la Belgique (2 vols., Gent: 1822).
16
234
A. de Dijn / History of European Ideas 28 (2002) 227–245
as a nation’s esprit g!en!eral.17 Precisely those aspects of the past could identify for the
legislator the most important features of the society he had to regulate.
In short, the pragmatic conservatism of the Belgian revolutionaries had its roots in
a very specific intellectual tradition. In imitation of Montesquieu, scholars and
politicians attempted to determine which laws and institutions were best adapted to
the customs and habits of a specific nation. This ‘scientific’ approach to politics can
be distinguished from an older tradition of constitutionalism, which dealt with
politics in juridical terms. The juridical conservatism prescribed a careful holding on
to the existing political order, age guaranteeing legitimacy. The more moderate,
‘scientific’ conservatism of the first half of the nineteenth century, by contrast,
attempted to take the existing political and social order into account. This pragmatic
way of thinking encouraged a preoccupation with the development of society in all
its different aspects, rather than with the more narrow juridical and institutional
aspects of the past. Political discussions in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries,
influenced by the common law tradition, often made reference to the origin and age
of institutions such as parliaments. The political debate in the first half of the
nineteenth century, however, had a very different content. Now, the development of
society itself became the bone of contention.
3. Monarchy or republic
On November 19, 1830, the debate on the future form of government was opened
in the Belgian National Congress, which had been solemnly inaugurated only 9 days
earlier. For 4 days, members of the National Congress would deliberate the question
whether Belgium was to become a monarchy or a republic. This question was of
great importance to the Belgian founding fathers. It had already caused an
important rift in the revolutionary leadership. Louis de Potter, the virtual leader of
the Belgian provisional government, had been a renowned republican for many
years. E.C. de Gerlache, president of the constitutional committee and de Potter’s
most important political opponent, had a strong preference for a monarchy. The
committee opted for the latter form of government in the draft presented to the
National Congress. De Potter displayed great disappointment over this choice. ‘‘It
was not worth shedding so much blood for so little,’’ he famously remarked.18
Eventually, this conflict resulted in de Potter’s resignation from the provisional
government. As he explained in a letter to the Belgian public, he considered the
principles of the Belgian Revolution inconsistent with the adoption of a monarchy.
Only in a republic, he thought, was true freedom possible.19
One of the first speakers to take the floor during the debate in the National
Congress, Mathieu Leclercq, at first seemed to agree with de Potter. His preference,
17
Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book XIX, Ch. 4.
T. Juste, Histoire du Congr"es National de Belgique, ou de la fondation de la monarchie belge (vol. 1.,
Brussels: 1850), p. 51.
19
L. de Potter, Lettre a" mes concitoyens (Brussels: 1830).
18
A. de Dijn / History of European Ideas 28 (2002) 227–245
235
he declared to his audience, was in principle for the republic, the only form of
government that guaranteed true liberty. Initially, he had hoped that, with the
revolution, the time for self-government had come. But further reflection had led
Leclercq to reconsider his opinion. In most political decisions, idealistic enthusiasm
should be avoided. Cold reason and experience should decide the question, and they
taught that a monarchy was the most suitable form of government for Belgium.
A republic would be contrary ‘‘to our customs, our habits, our historical traditions,
to everything that is a rallying point for the ideas and sentiments of the great
majority of the Belgian nation’’ (see footnote 7, p. 186). Sudden innovation in the
political system, as brought about by the institution of a republican form of
government, Leclercq warned, would cause a dangerous instability. Did not history
teach that a nation usually fell into decline when it abruptly changed its political
system? ‘‘From that day onwards, it walks blindly: the guide it was used to following,
with which it needed to become familiar, has gone missing.’’ (see footnote 7, p. 186)
Leclercq’s plea for a monarchy was clearly inspired by Montesquieu’s political
relativism. He did not legitimize his preference by presenting the monarchy as an
ideal form of government. On the contrary, he defended the position that a
monarchy, taking the customs and habits of the Belgian nation into account, would
suit its people better than a republic. In other words, a pragmatic conservatism did
not just affect the general attitude of the National Congress, but was used to
underscore specific arguments as well. An option for the monarchy thus received an
almost ‘scientific’ justification, motivated as it was by an appeal to history and
experience. Precisely in this scientific mode of legitimation, Leclerq’s argumentation
differed fundamentally from the juridical conservatism of the common law tradition.
To Leclercq, the high age of the monarchical constitution was in itself no proof of its
legitimacy. Practical rather than juridical reasons motivated his rejection of the
republic: its introduction would endanger Belgium’s political stability.
The overwhelming majority of representatives shared Leclercq’s opinion. With 174
votes for the constitutional monarchy, against 13 for the republic, the preference for
the former was clear. The international context undoubtedly played an important
role in this predilection. The Belgians had been made to understand that a republic in
the heart of Europe would not be accepted by the major powers.20 During debates in
the National Congress, however, most members appealed to Montesquieu’s political
relativism to legitimize their choice for a monarchy. The Belgian nation, it was
argued, was not (yet) ready for a republican constitution. ‘‘If one had to establish but
a brilliant utopia,’’ sighed Jean-Theodore Jacques, a somewhat hesitant advocate of
the monarchy, ‘‘if one could change and direct at will the material and moral forces
which exist in our country and in the neighbouring statesy’’. But the National
Congress, Jacques thought, could not allow itself to indulge in the dangerous
temptation emanating from principles such as freedom, equality, and independence.
‘‘We have to close our hearts and listen only to reason; we have to beware of
abstractions and theories and measure coolly the realities of our times.’’ (see
footnote 7, vol. 1, p. 200)
20
R. Coolsaet, Belgi.e en zijn buitenlandse politiek, 1830–2000 (Louvain: 2001), ch. 1.
A. de Dijn / History of European Ideas 28 (2002) 227–245
236
The republic was a utopian form of government, an unattainable ideal. In a
republic, defined as a state of self-government by the Belgian founding fathers, the
people made their own law. This meant that the rule of the law was guaranteed on
condition of the voluntary submission of the citizenry to the public good. The
corruption of the citizens, their neglect of the public good, would automatically
bring about the decline of the state. Republican citizens therefore had to develop a
high degree of self-sacrifice. They had to discard their own interests consistently in
favour of the public interest. In short, the republican state made almost impossible
demands on the public spirit of its citizens. Montesquieu’s Esprit des lois was one of
the classic sources of this view. In Book III of this work, Montesquieu had explained
that the success of a republic was based on the principle of vertu—defined as the
ability of the citizens to identify their own interests with the public interest (see
footnote 17, Book IV, Ch. 3). According to the members of the National Congress,
however, such patriotism was sadly missing in the make-up of the Belgian national
character. As Charles Destouvelles, the member for Maestricht, asked the assembly:
Do we have those political virtues, of which Montesquieu places the renouncement of one’s self in the first place—a renouncement which is a very difficult
matter, and which, in the present state of our customs, seems nearly impossible to
me? Do we accord continually a preference to the public interest above our own, a
preference which, according to the author of the Esprit des lois, is required in
republican governments? (see footnote 7, p. 240)
In seventeenth- and eighteenth-century polemics on the republic, the lack of public
spirit in contemporary nations was usually ascribed to increasing wealth. Successful
republics in antiquity, Sparta being the most striking example, imposed a strict
(Spartan) poverty on their citizens, because this enhanced devotion to the public
realm. In modern times, the increase of wealth in most Western European countries,
a consequence of the commercial revolution, made such a Spartan ideal seem more
and more unlikely. Although this perceived increase of luxury evoked fierce criticism
from the more austere republican thinkers in the Ancien Re! gime, it convinced others
that modern nations were simply better off as monarchies.21 This argument still held
sway in 1830. Several members of the National Congress argued that Belgian
affluence was too considerable to expect a sufficient degree of patriotic sacrifice
from the average citizen. A republic was therefore difficult to realize. ‘‘We have old
habits, we hold to old customs, to old ideas; we love our ease, money and luxury,’’
warned viscount Charles Vilain XIIII. ‘‘Those, gentlemen, are not the dispositions
republicans are made of.’’ (see footnote 7, p. 199)
A good many participants in the debate, however, ascribed this lack of public
spirit not to moral shortcomings, but to the inadequate educational infrastructure in
Belgium. Only the educated citizen was capable, they thought, of identifying his
private interests with the general interest. According to Charles Zoude, the member
for Namur, a republic would become possible once education became accessible to
21
On the eighteenth-century debate on luxury: C. J. Barry, The Idea of Luxury. A Conceptual and
Historical Investigation (Cambridge: 1994), p. 126–176.
A. de Dijn / History of European Ideas 28 (2002) 227–245
237
all citizens. Only then would all classes of the population know ‘‘their duty towards
society, as they would all know their powers and rights’’ (see footnote 7, p. 190).
With this reasoning, the National Congress gave a typical nineteenth-century
interpretation of Montesquieu’s view of the virtuous republic. Public-spiritedness
was now more or less rationalized: it was the product of the rational realization that,
in the long term, particular interests were identical with the general interest. In the
further development of liberal ideas in Belgium, this conviction would prove very
persistent. Until well into the twentieth century, many liberals remained convinced
that only the educated citizen could be a full member of society. He (and for some,
‘she’ as well) alone understood that his interests were identical with the public
interest.22
Not all members of the National Congress were convinced by these arguments.
Despite their limited number, a small group of republicans succeeded in bringing an
ardent plea for their preferred form of government. The republicanism they
confessed was fed by different sources. Five out of thirteen representatives who
spoke out in favour of the republic had been politically active at the time of the
French Revolution, either in Belgium or in France itself, where Pierre Seron, for
instance, had been secretary to Danton in 1792. Their attachment to the republic
already dated from the revolutionary period, although this had not prevented most
of them from being employed by the Napoleonic Empire or the Dutch United
Kingdom. The younger republicans, born after the French Revolution, had often
been trained at the faculty of law of the Lie" ge university, known for the political
radicalism of its faculty. As a group, the advocates of a republic held a relatively
marginal position in the National Congress and in Belgian politics in general,
especially after the resignation of their leader, Louis de Potter. Most of the
republicans retired at least temporarily from public life when, in 1831, a republican
plot to overthrow the provisional government failed. De Potter, for instance, fled to
France where he remained until 1838.23
The odd man out in this set of confirmed anti-clericals was the Catholic priest
De! sire! Dehaerne. Dehaerne, a vicar of Bruges, had become a supporter of
republicanism under the influence of Fe! licite! de Lamennais.24 In a remarkable
speech, he invoked a natural-law discourse appealing to justice, the general will and
popular sovereignty to sustain his pro-republican arguments. In his view, the
republican form of government was inherently more just than a monarchy and
therefore deserved preference. Dehaerne blended these natural-law arguments
throughout his speech with a more theological approach to politics. He argued
22
See for instance: D. Gaublomme, ‘Doctrinairen en progressisten tijdens de 19de eeuw’ in: A. Verhulst
en H. Hasquin (Eds.), Het liberalisme in Belgi.e: tweehonderd jaar geschiedenis (Brussels: 1989), pp. 201–208.
23
C. Beyaert and Viscount du Bus de Warnaffe, Le Congr"es national. Biographies des members du
Congr"es national et du gouvernement provisoire, 1830–1831 (Brussels-Paris: 1930). E. Witte, ‘‘De Belgische
radikalen: brugfiguren in de demokratische beweging (1830–1847)’’, Tijdschrift voor Geschiedenis, 90
(1977), p. 16.
24
On the influence of de Lammenais in Belgium: V. Viaene, Belgium and the Holy See from Gregory XVI
to Pius IX (1831–1859). Catholic Revival, Society and Politics in 19th-Century Europe (Brussels, 2001),
p. 64–76.
238
A. de Dijn / History of European Ideas 28 (2002) 227–245
that all sovereignty should be subject to justice. Otherwise, despotism threatened.
Until the law of God was restored in the world, this implied that power should be
expressive of the general will. ‘‘In the midst of the people,’’ Dehaerne preached to
the assembly, ‘‘a power should arise in accordance with the will of all, and protective
of individual liberties and rights in their most extensive form.’’ (see footnote 7,
pp. 215–219)
None of the other republicans, however, used a natural-law argumentation. They
fought the advocates of the monarchy on their own terms, attempting to prove that a
republic was better adapted to Belgian society than a monarchy. Several arguments
were adduced to prove the Belgians’ capability of self-government, which was seen as
a necessary condition for republican government. Had not the Belgians given proof
of their republican attitudes throughout history? Already in the Middle Ages,
Belgian cities and provinces had been able to wrest extensive liberties and privileges
from their rulers. That development had prepared the Belgian nation for selfgovernment.25 The smallness of the Belgian territory was a further argument in
favour of the republic. As Montesquieu had already pointed out, a republic had
more chances of success in a small nation than in a large state. If the number of
citizens remained limited, and they lived close to one another, the self-government of
the nation would be more easily realized.26 Last, the orderly and moderate character
of the Belgian nation was an important argument in favour of the republic. During
the revolution the Belgian population had proved to have enough vertu to be the
guardian of its own freedom. As Alexandre de Roubaulx, a republican despite his
noble descent, put it: ‘‘Have the dedication, courage and patriotism of the Belgians
been manifested so little these days that our detractors can still feign to ignore
them?’’ (see footnote 7, p. 227)
But the advocates of the republic did not just try to show that their preferred form
of government was better adapted to the characteristics of the Belgian nation than
their opponents had argued. The image of the republic depicted by the monarchists
in the National Congress, they argued, was hopelessly anachronistic. More
specifically, the republicans denied that collective poverty was a necessary
precondition for the success of a republican state. ‘‘I have heard it said that those
who are in favour of a republic are the builders of utopias,’’ Pierre Seron asserted,
‘‘but none of us wish to restore Athens, Thebes or Syracuse, or Sparta with its
poverty.’’ As the example of the newly founded republic of the United States
illustrated, a nation’s wealth did not necessarily have a corrupting influence.
A commercial nation could practise self-government while increasing its riches
almost unlimitedly (see footnote 7, pp. 195–198). Again, these arguments must be
understood in the context of the eighteenth-century debate on the republic. Some
political thinkers, of whom Montesquieu was one of the most prominent, had
discovered in commercial states an exception to the general rule of poverty as the
basis of a republic. Commerce, as Montesquieu argued in his Esprit des lois, fostered
an economic and industrious attitude in the population, which made it possible to
25
26
See count de Celles’ speech, Huyttens, Discussions du Congr"es National (vol. 1), p. 393–395.
See Delwarde’s speech, ibid. (vol 1.), pp. 242–243. Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book VII, Ch. 16.
A. de Dijn / History of European Ideas 28 (2002) 227–245
239
introduce a republican constitution, without having to impose a Spartan poverty
from above (see footnote 17, Book XX, Chapter 4).
‘‘In short,’’ Louis Delwarde summarized the arguments of the republicans, ‘‘I
believe that a republic is the only type of government where one can find economy;
that this type of government is more suited to our customs than the constitutional
regime; and that the situation of our country is suitable for it.’’ (see footnote 7,
p. 242) Republicans and monarchists alike, despite their violent polemic, were in
fact speaking more or less the same language. The republican discourse was equally
inspired by Montesquieu’s pragmatic conservatism. Like the advocates of a
monarchical constitution, they attempted to convince the National Congress that
the republic was the most suitable form of government, not always and everywhere,
but in the given circumstances and in a Belgian context. Both parties, however,
differed in their interpretation of those given circumstances. According to the
monarchists, republican self-government was made impossible by the average
citizen’s lack of public virtue. Their opponents, on the other hand, attempted to
prove that the Belgian nation was eminently suited for such self-government.
4. For or against the senate
A few weeks after the admission of the monarchy, the National Congress started
debating the pros and cons of a senate.27 The choice between a bicameral or
unicameral system was perceived as no less fundamental than the question whether
Belgium would become a republic or a monarchy. During the debate, it became clear
that most participants had a preference for the bicameral system. Yet dissension on
this matter was greater than it had been on the question of monarchy, a substantial
number of representatives declaring themselves openly against a senate. The final
vote of December 15, 1830, confirmed the division within the National Congress.
Although most members voted for the senate, the majority was not as overwhelming
as it had been in the case of the monarchy. About one third of the representatives
were opposed to the introduction of bicameralism. Among them were influential
politicians who would continue to play an important role in Belgian politics, such as
Charles de Broucke" re, the powerful mayor of Brussels.28 Related to the opposition
against a senate was a more fundamental intellectual problem. In the course of the
discussions, it became clear that most members of the National Congress considered
traditional justifications for the bicameral system to be no longer applicable in
nineteenth-century Belgium.
27
Concerning the debate on the bicameral system in the National Congress: F. Stevens, ‘Een belangrijke
fase in de wordingsgeschiedenis van de Belgische grondwet: de optie voor een tweekamerstelsel’, Belgisch
Tijdschrift voor de Nieuwste Geschiedenis, 12 (1981), pp. 641–661. More recently De geschiedenis van de
Belgische senaat (1831–1995) was published by: V. Laureys, M. Van den Wijngaert, L. Franc-ois e.a (Tielt:
1999).
28
Huyttens, Discussions du congr"es national (vol. 1), p. 501. For de Brouck"ere’s speech against
bicameralism: p. 426–428.
A. de Dijn / History of European Ideas 28 (2002) 227–245
240
In some respects, the debate between the advocates and opponents of a senate
relied on the same arguments used during the discussion of the form of government.
According to some members of the National Congress, the lack of public virtue
amongst the Belgian public in general, and their representatives in particular,
made the institution of a senate no less necessary than a monarchy. Without a
senate, the egoism of the citizens, their proclivity to prefer their own interests to the
public good, could induce dangerous conflicts between the executive and the
representatives. The corporate spirit that usually dominated in such an assembly
could easily divert the representatives’ loyalty from the state in general to their own
caste. It was feared they would seek out conflicts with the executive in order to
strengthen their own position. A second, more moderate chamber, which could play
a mediating role between the crown and the commons, was therefore seen as an
indispensable element in the Belgian political system.29
On the other hand, some feared that the executive would succeed in making a
single chamber completely dependent on its will. Through its monopoly on positions
and honours, government could use the greed and ambition of the representatives to
corrupt them. Thus, parliament would become a pawn in the hands of the crown,
instead of an independent body. In a long and eloquent speech, Pierre van Meenen
gave expression to this apprehension. Although a former Jacobin, van Meenen was
not very sanguine about the public-spiritedness of the average citizen. The patriotism
aroused by the Revolution in the population at large would ebb away eventually, he
warned. Undoubtedly, this would result in an equal decline in the public-spiritedness
of the nation’s representatives. Most representatives would start preferring their own
petty interests to the public good and after a while they would be completely
engrossed by their pursuit of honours and positions. Like a fever, ‘‘the mania of
distinctions’’ would spread, van Meenen predicted. ‘‘Then, one becomes negligent
of one’s political duties, during elections one is corrupted, one gives way to the spirit
of faction—in a word one thinks of one’s own interests rather than of the public
interest.’’ (see footnote 7, pp. 429)
Opponents of the senate objected to these arguments. In the moderate disposition
of Congress itself, they found a perfect example to press home their criticism of the
bicameral system. If the restraining function of a senate had been deemed
unnecessary during the framing of the constitution, why would it be needed for
regular legislative work? Belgians preferred peace and order, and the natural bon sens
of the population made the danger of conflicts between crown and chamber unlikely.
The wilful and unpredictable character of some nations (this was an implicit
reference to France) could make a second chamber necessary. But that was not the
case in Belgium, Franc-ois van Snick argued. If only the National Congress would
discard armchair learning and take the realities of the Belgian national character into
account, the unsuitableness of a senate would undoubtedly become clear:
Gentlemen, let us close for the moment all our books: let us reduce the voices of
those authors, no matter how imposing they are, to silence during our debates: let
29
See Masbourg’s speech, ibid. (vol. 1), p. 459.
A. de Dijn / History of European Ideas 28 (2002) 227–245
241
us look only at ourselves, at our customs, as gentle as they are simple, at our
habits, pervaded of calm and moderation; that need of order and rest which has
made itself felt here, even during those times of the greatest popular exaltation;
and soon the question will be decided, soon we will be convinced that a first
chamber will be nothing but a mechanism that is always superfluous, and often
dangerous in our political organisation. (see footnote 7, p. 398)
Superfluous and even dangerous: this harsh judgement must be understood in the
light of the eighteenth-century discussion on the bicameral system. To many
eighteenth-century thinkers, inspired by the English example, the most perfect
constitution was a mixed government, in which power was shared by king,
aristocracy and commons. The balance of power between those three forces was seen
as a guarantee against the danger of despotism, since each body would act as a check
on the other.30 Montesquieu had greatly contributed to this view with his
enthusiastic description of the British constitution in Book XI of the Esprit des
lois. Although his famous remarks on the distribution of powers introduced a new
and more functional classification (legislative, executive and judicial), the older
theory of balance was referred to as well. In free states, Montesquieu argued, every
man should be able to govern himself, so that the legislative power should be
exercised by the people itself or, if this was impossible, by the whole of the
population, through its representatives. However, an aristocracy, distinguished by
birth, riches and honour, existed in every nation. Without a separate representation,
communal liberty would mean slavery for them, because most of the legislature’s
resolutions would be against their interests. Therefore, they should be allowed to
form a separate corps to curb the people’s undertakings if necessary (see footnote 17,
Book XI, Ch. 6).
According to the senate’s opponents, however, this theory of balance was no
longer applicable in a nineteenth-century context. Instituting separate representation
for the aristocracy, they argued, was not just an infringement of the principle of
equality before the law, it was also unnecessary. Today’s aristocrats no longer had
special interests to defend. Although the existence of a bicameral system in England
made sense from a historical perspective, the evolution of society over time had made
it obsolete. In the view of Stanislas Fleussu, a lawyer with an interest in history, the
participation of an aristocracy in most known limited monarchies should be seen as a
lingering effect of feudalism. During the feudal period, lords and barons had usurped
specific rights and privileges which the rest of the population lacked. Therefore, they
had been given separate representation, even when the feudal state had been replaced
by a monarchical government. During the French Revolution, however, feudalism
and all its remains had been abolished, so that now ‘‘the aristocratic element among
us existed in nothing more than in the names of some ancient families’’. This would
make it absurd, Fleussu argued, to create a separate representative body to defend
the particular interests of the aristocracy. The nation was now one, no longer divided
30
An interesting survey of the discussion on mixed government, focused on England: C.C. Weston,
English constitutional theory and the House of Lords 1556–1832 (New York, 1970).
A. de Dijn / History of European Ideas 28 (2002) 227–245
242
into different classes, and that unity should be reflected in a unified national
representation (see footnote 7, vol. 1, pp. 435–440).
These arguments proved difficult to answer. Although a greater proportion of the
advocates of the senate belonged to the landowning classes (18%, against 3% of its
opponents), this was not translated into a more pro-aristocratic attitude.31 During
debates, it became clear that very few members of the National Congress subscribed
to the image of a dual society as sketched by Montesquieu.32 By voting for a senate,
it was asserted, they certainly did not wish to create a separate representation for the
aristocracy. Like the chamber of representatives, the senate would have to represent
the nation as a whole, both noble and non-noble members of the National Congress
agreed. Fear of an aristocracy, count de Baillet argued, was without foundation in
Belgium. In no other country had such a complete fusion of classes taken place.
Today, aristocrats and commoners were sufficiently enlightened to understand they
had no reason to be enemies, having most of their interests in common. Objections to
a senate on the grounds that it would turn into a selfish aristocratic body, Baillet
concluded, were therefore baseless (see footnote 7, pp. 395–398).
In short, the Belgian founding fathers were of the opinion that modern-day
Belgian society was characterized by a state of equality. This was seen to be the result
of a (long) historical process of societal change. Originally, they agreed, the social
structure of most European nations had been characterized by an opposition of
interests between the aristocracy and the people. Only in modern times had this
opposition been effaced. Changes in landholding structures were usually pointed to
as the main engine of equalization. An aristocracy in the true sense of the word, it
was argued, could exist only with primogeniture. Allowing the concentration of
substantial tracts of land in the hands of a few families, the right of primogeniture
was the nobility’s material basis. In nineteenth-century Belgium, however, ownership
of land was as volatile as moveable property. As a result, contemporary society was
composed of one class only: the middle class. As Matthieu Leclercq put it:
That class, which is conventionally referred to as the middle class, embraces, and
in consequence, represents, all interests, because they all originate from it, return
to it, and are dominated, regulated by it: the great fortunes, because today they
are based exclusively on hard work, because today they are born from the middle
class, to be absorbed into it again when death has divided the family property; the
small fortunes, because having been formed by industrious labourers, they grow
and come to belong to this class, to which, for lack of another name, the inexact
denomination of middle class has been given. (see footnote 7, pp. 477–478)
In this respect, the views of the Belgian founding fathers showed a remarkable
similarity with the central tenets of the French doctrinaires, the instigators and main
beneficiaries of the July Revolution. In the 1820s, Franc-ois Guizot, Royer-Collard
31
Stevens, ‘Een belangrijke fase in de wordingsgeschiedenis van de Belgische grondwet: de optie voor
een tweekamerstelsel’, pp. 654–657.
32
With some notable exceptions: see for instance the interesting speech by P. Devaux: Huyttens,
Discussions du Congr"es National (vol. 1), pp. 467–469.
A. de Dijn / History of European Ideas 28 (2002) 227–245
243
and other doctrinaires had written numerous pamphlets and brochures, arguing that
an age-old struggle between aristocracy and the people had been settled in favour of
the latter at the time of the French Revolution. This had given dominant power to
the middle classes, the most enlightened section of the people.33 The July Revolution
only seemed to confirm these views. Many saw the revolution first and foremost as a
victory over the aristocratic interest. Next to the deposition of Charles X, the
abolition of the hereditary Chambre des pairs in favour of a meritocratic chamber
had been its most visible result. This had convinced Alexis de Tocqueville, one of the
most perspicacious political observers of his time, that the increase in social equality
was an inevitable tendency in Western European societies. As he pointed out in his
De la d!emocratie en Am!erique, the ‘‘equality of conditions’’ increased every day, so
that ‘‘that same democracy which reigns in the American societies, seems to me to be
advancing to power at a rapid pace in Europe’’.34 The debates in the Belgian
National Congress show that, together with revolutionary unrest, these ideas had
spread outside of France as well.
But if a senate’s function was not to protect aristocratic interests, what function
should it have? Advocates of the bicameral system appealed to different
‘modernized’ versions of the balance theory to explain the necessity of a senate.
A peculiar position was taken by Jean-Baptiste Nothomb. In his view, it was not the
old landed aristocracy who would be in need of the senate’s protection. The equality
of all Belgian citizens before the law had made the opposition between the
aristocracy and the people unimportant. However, there were still two different
classes in society: labourers and capitalists. According to Nothomb, a bicameral
system was necessary to prevent conflicts between the two groups. Not just their
economic, but their political interests as well, were in stark opposition. On the one
hand, the capitalist minority would attempt to use the political power provided by
their enormous wealth to the detriment of the rest of the population. On the other
hand, the danger existed that the labourers would try to shake off this yoke, aspiring
to the same power. ‘‘Those who buy labour constitute for me the modern
aristocracy, those who sell it, the democracy. I give to each his place, I accord to each
the right to be represented, I transport this duality into the institutions’’ (see footnote
7, pp. 425).
Most proponents of a senate, however, rejected every suggestion of inequality.
Some claimed a senate was necessary to protect the rights of minorities in general,
without pointing to specific social groups. Benjamin Constant’s Re!flexions sur
les constitutions et les garanties, reprinted in his Cours de politique constitutionelle
(1818–1820) was often quoted by members of the National Congress as a source of
this idea.35 Constant had argued that a unicameral system always confronted the
minority with a majority, to the detriment of the former. In a bicameral system,
33
A. Craitu, ‘Between Scylla and Charybdis: The ‘Strange’ Liberalism of the French doctrinaires’,
History of European Ideas, 24 (1998) pp. 250–251.
34
A. de Tocqueville, De la d!emocratie en Am!erique. Premi"ere e!dition historico-critique, Eduard Nolla
(Ed.), pp. 3–16. (vol. 1, Paris, 1990).
35
For instance by Joseph Lebeau. Huyttens, Discussions du congr"es national (vol. 1), pp. 412–416.
244
A. de Dijn / History of European Ideas 28 (2002) 227–245
however, the majority of the second chamber would be confronted with a majority
in the senate, putting majority against majority.36 Another popular argument was
the proposition that a senate would give separate representation to the more
‘conservative’ powers in society, while the ‘progressive’ elements would be
represented in the chamber of representatives. Count Fe! lix de Merode, for example,
declared himself an advocate of a separate chamber for landed property, not because
they had different interests from the rest of the population, but because one could
expect from them ‘‘a more calm and careful zeal for the public interest’’ (see footnote
7, pp. 419).
During the debate on the composition of the senate, which occupied the National
Congress from 16 to 18 December 1830, the assembly’s disinclination to turn the
senate into a separate representation of the aristocracy became even more obvious.
The institution of a senate had been approved of after the first discussion, but there
was no agreement on the concrete form this additional chamber would take. In the
constitutional committee, E.C. de Gerlache had insisted on a hereditary senate, as
was the case in England.37 This choice, however, was rejected almost immediately in
the plenary session of the National Congress. In the course of the debate, it was
emphasized repeatedly that the senate should be composed differently from the
chamber, but without creating artificial distinctions within society. Eventually, it was
proposed to look for guarantees of a greater conservatism and moderation not in a
different electorate, but in the persons of the senators themselves. This meant that
the senate would be elected by the same voters as the chamber. The choice of
senators, however, would be limited by the imposition of high electoral taxes (while
the members of the chamber did not have such limitations). This proposition was
accepted with 136 votes against 40 (see footnote 7, p. 531).
5. Conclusion
In 1830, two crucial debates on the future form of government for the new Belgian
state took place in the National Congress. The political systems that were
defended—monarchy or republic, senate or unicameralism—were not primarily
judged on their intrinsic qualities. It was much more important to show that those
systems were in accordance with Belgian customs and habits than the propositions of
the opposite party. Like Solon, the National Congress did not aim to give the
Belgian nation the best possible laws, but a constitution most in conformity with the
existing order. Differing both from the abstract rationalism of the French
revolutionaries and the older common law tradition, this mode of thinking can be
described as a pragmatic conservatism. An important source of inspiration were the
36
B. Constant, Collection compl"ete des ouvrages publi!es sur le gouvernement repr!esentatif et la
constitution actuelle de la France, formant une espece de cours de politique constitutionelle (8 vols., Paris:
1818–1820), vol. 1, Esquisse de Constitution, IV.
37
W. van den Steene, De Belgische grondwetscommissie (oktober-november 1830). Tekst van haar notulen
en ontstaan van de Belgische grondwet (Brussels: 1963), p. 35, note 3.
A. de Dijn / History of European Ideas 28 (2002) 227–245
245
writings of Montesquieu. In his Esprit des lois, Montesquieu had proved that a
state’s stability necessarily depended on its adaptation to the given circumstances.
The Belgian National Congress also drew for concrete arguments on the Esprit des
lois. The discussion between republicans and monarchists proved to be greatly
influenced by the analysis Montesquieu had made eighty years before of the
advantages and disadvantages of both systems of government.
A new voice, however, emerged in the discussion of the bicameral system. The
Belgian revolutionaries displayed a very different appreciation of social conditions in
modern Western European nations from Montesquieu’s. In the aftermath of the
French Revolution, they had become convinced that the Western world was
characterized by an increase in social equality. This made it especially problematic to
legitimate the institution of a senate, traditionally seen as a representation for the
aristocracy. Attempts to differentiate in the origin of senate and chamber (and
therefore in their representative function) elicited strong protest in the National
Congress. The nation was now considered to be one, no longer divided into different
classes. Although before 1830, this view had already been defended by the French
doctrinaires, there is no doubt that the revolutions of 1830 did much to disseminate
it. Thus, the interest in societal change originating in Montesquieu’s political
relativism was translated into a rather optimistic view of society at the end of the
Restoration period. In the second half of the nineteenth century, however, this view
was increasingly contested. Especially after 1848, many political commentators
became convinced that Nothomb’s suggestion—capitalists turned into an aristocracy, labourers representative of the old democracy—was much closer to reality than
Leclercq’s view of a ‘middle class society’.