The revolutionists in Holland had not followed the example of the French
in abolishing the Lord. All denominations received full freedom of
worship, and, faithful to an old tradition, the meetings of the assembly
were invariably opened with prayer. As an ideal text for this daily
supplication one of the members of the assembly offered the following
invocation, short and much to the point: "O Lord, from trifling,
dilly-dallying, and procrastination save us now and for ever-more.
Amen."
Posterity seconds this motion.
The temple of national liberty became an elocution institute where
beribboned and besashed members idled their time away making heroic
speeches for the benefit of some ancestral Buncomb County.
Let us be allowed to use a big word--the Psychological Moment. The
leaders of the revolution had allowed this decisive moment to go by, and
the day came when they were to pay dearly for their negligence. If,
immediately after the flight of the Prince in the first glory of
victory, they had dared to declare the old order of things abolished, if
they had trusted themselves sufficiently to abrogate the union of
Utrecht, to annul the provincial sovereignty and destroy the old power
of the provincial Estates, they could, assisted by the French armies,
have transformed the old republic into a new united nation. But a
century of vacillation and indecision had ill prepared them for such a
decisive step. The Amsterdam Patriots, trained in the energetic school
of a commercial city, wanted to go ahead and draw the consequences of
their first act. But the other cities had not dared to go as far as
that. And now, after a year of hesitation, it was too late. Radicalism
was no longer fashionable. The old conservative spirit momentarily
subdued, but by no means dead, had had three hundred and sixty-five days
in which to regain its hold on the mass of the people. Incessantly,
although guardedly, the conservatives kept up their agitation against a
united country. "Unity merely means the leadership of Holland." This
became the political watchword of all those who were opposed to the
Patriots. "Unity will mean that our dear old sovereign provinces will
have to take orders from some indifferent official in The Hague. Unity
will mean that we all shall pay an equal share in the country's expenses
and that Holland, with its majority of 400,000 inhabitants, will pay no
more than the smallest province." And with all the stubbornness of people
defending a losing cause, the old regents fought this terrible menace of
a united country. They fought it in the market-place and in the rustic
tavern. They offered resistance in every town hall and in the national
assembly. Every question which entered the assembly (and questions and
bills and decrees entered this legislative body by the basketful) was
looked at from this one single point of view, was discussed with this
idea uppermost in people's minds, and finally was decided in a way which
would work against the unity of the country and the leadership of
Holland. The acts of the national assembly fill eight large quartos; the
decrees issued by the national assembly fill twenty-three. Certainly
here was no lack of industry. Every imaginable question was touched upon
by this enthusiastic body of promising young statesmen. Every
conceivable problem, however difficult, was discussed with ease and
eloquence. The separation of Church and State, something which has
baffled statesmen for many centuries, was number one upon the new
program. The sluices of oratory were opened wide. Each member in turn
came forward with his observations. Nor did he confine himself to a few
words directed to the Speaker of the assembly. No--a speech to the
entire nation, to say the very least--a speech divided and subdivided in
paragraphs like a Puritan sermon and delivered in the most approved
pulpit style, sacred gestures, nasal twang, and all. At times, such as
when the clown of the assembly (appropriately named Citizen Chicken)
went forth to talk down the rafters of the ancient building, the Speaker
tried to put a stop to the overflow of eloquence.
But the speakership was a movable office. Every two weeks the entire
assembly changed seats and elected a new Speaker. By voting for the
right kind of man (from their point of view) the loquacious majority
could always arrange matters in such a way that their stream of babbling
oratory was kept unchecked. In August, after a lengthy debate, the
separation of Church and State was made a fact. Immediately thereupon a
law was passed giving the franchise to the Jews. Eighty thousand
citizens of the Hebrew persuasion now obtained the right to vote.
Another grave problem, agitated for more than fifty years, was the
creation of a national militia. Theoretically everybody was in favour of
it. In practice, however, most Hollanders would rather dig ditches than
play at soldier. The definite abolition of the uncountable mediæval
feudal rights which in the year 1795 covered the country in a most
complicated maze then came in for prolonged discussion.
Most painful of all, because most disastrous to the pockets of the
people, was the question of what should be done with the East India
Company. This ancient institution, threatened for several years with
bankruptcy, must in some way be provided for. While finally the problem
of a new system of national finances, satisfactory to all the provinces,
was to engage the discordant attention of the assembly.
[Illustration: THE SPEAKER OF THE ASSEMBLY WELCOMING THE FRENCH
MINISTER]
In some of these important matters decisions were actually reached.
Others were discussed in endless tirades, full of repetition and
reiteration. If the point at issue was too obscure to be clearly
understood by the majority of the members, it was usually referred to
the commission on the constitution, which as some sort of superior being
was expected to solve all difficulties satisfactorily at some vague
future date. Or, better still, it was put upon the table until that
happy day when the constitution should actually have become a fact, and
when a regular parliament, elected along strictly constitutional lines,
should have been called together. This famous committee on the
constitution was supposed to meet in executive session, but, not unlike
the executive sessions of another renowned body of legislators, the
discussions which had taken place during the morning and afternoon were
generally known among the newspaper correspondents the same evening. And
those among them who had maintained hopes of a united fatherland must
have been sorely disappointed when week after week they reported the
proceedings of the secret sessions and noticed how the little
constitution under the tender care of its federalistic guardian was
being clothed with a suit of a most pronounced federal hue, cut after a
pattern designed by the most provincial of political tailors. On the
10th of November, 1796, the little infant constitution was first
presented to the admiring gaze of the national assembly. The federalists
were delighted. The unionists denounced it as the work of traitors, of
disguised Orangemen, of reactionaries of the very worst sort.
Undoubtedly the unionists and the Patriots had a right to be angry.
This new constitution was a mere variation of the old republican theme
of the year 1576, the year of the union of Utrecht. The Stadholdership
was abolished. The executive power was now invested in a council of
state consisting of seven members. The old Estates General was
discontinued. In its place there was to appear an elected parliament
consisting of two chambers and provided with legislative powers. The old
provinces were abolished, but under the new name of departments they
retained their ancient sovereignty and remained in the possession of all
their old rights and prerogatives. That was all.
The political clubs were furious. The Jacobins rattled the knives of
imaginary guillotines. The gallery of the assembly became filled with
wild-eyed patriots. The assembly, somewhat frightened by the popular
storm of disapproval, burst forth into speech and talked for eleven
whole days to prove that really and truly this constitution was not a
return to the old days, that it was most up-to-date and promised to the
country a new and brilliant future. Then, when this oratory did not
appease the popular anger even after fully two thirds of the members had
favoured the occasion with their personal observations, the assembly
gave in and solemnly promised to do some more trimming. Back the little
constitution went to its original guardians, who were reinforced by ten
other members and who had special instructions to put the child into a
newer and more popular garb. This process of rejuvenation took six
months. The committee of twenty-one did its best, but old traditions
proved to be too strong. On the 30th of May, 1797, the national assembly
by a large majority adopted the federalistic constitution and at once
sent it to the electors for their final decision. Two years of work of
enormous expense and sore defeat had gone by. As a result the assembly
had produced a constitution which did not remove a single one of the
faults of the former system of government, but added a few new ones. In
August the session of the first national assembly was closed. Three
weeks later the constitution was presented to the sovereign people for
their consideration. Of those entitled to vote almost three fourths
stayed at home. Of the remaining one hundred and thirty thousand voters
five out of every six declared themselves against the constitution. The
noes had it.