Part 9

Whatever occurred after this belongs simply to the making of a bargain. The mind of Napoleon had acted. It is not easy, perhaps, to differentiate the influences that led to such action, but it is not difficult to measure them. In writing the Minister of Marine, Talleyrand explained that "the empire of circumstances, foresight of the future, and the intention to compensate by an advantageous arrangement for the inevitable loss of a country which was going to be put at the mercy of another nation--all these motives have determined the Government to pass to the United States the right it had acquired from Spain over the sovereignty and property of Louisiana." In brief, Napoleon's sale of Louisiana, as explained by the Minister of Foreign Affairs, disposed of a country which he would inevitably lose whenever war occurred with England. This was the argument Livingston had been urging for three months, with evident effect. Had he been less earnest or dramatic, Napoleon's purpose might not then have exploded into an order to sell. The American Minister knew he was dealing with a man guided by such an implacable hatred of England, that when he was not fighting her openly, he was plotting against her secretly; that his one purpose, his one hope, his great ambition, was her conquest. In his argument, therefore, Livingston dangled before him a picture to feed his hatred--a picture of Trinidad and Louisiana forming a base from which England might drive Spain from Florida, command the islands of the Gulf, and receive into its ports the riches of the West Indies and the treasures of Mexico. Thus, Livingston's presence becomes a great factor in the sale. It took six months to communicate with the United States, but only six days to do business with the man who was pressing the sale upon him. If more time had elapsed, the sudden decision might have been changed with equal suddenness, for Napoleon, aside from his inconstancy, had cause to shrink from his intended action. It meant the violation of a sacred pledge to Spain, the death of Talleyrand's pet colonial policy, the certain disgust, sooner or later, of the French people, and a hot quarrel with Lucien and Joseph Bonaparte, his brothers.

In the negotiations that followed Livingston ventured to offer twenty million francs, and Marbois finally suggested sixty millions, with payment of the American claim to the amount of twenty millions more. Thus ended the historic midnight conference during which the bargain was practically made. "It is so very important," wrote Livingston, "that you should be apprised that a negotiation is actually opened, even before Mr. Monroe is presented, in order to calm the tumult which the news of war will renew, that I have lost no time in communicating it. We shall do all we can to cheapen the purchase, but my present sentiment is that we shall buy."

Considering the extent of the purchase and the danger of delay, Livingston would have been justified in closing the bargain then and there. Had he known the action of Lucien Bonaparte, who had secured the cession from Spain, and of Joseph's insincerity, upon whom he even depended to help along the negotiation, he might well have taken counsel of his fears; but the great real estate dealer enjoyed driving a good bargain, and so he argued and held aloof, professing that the United States "had no disposition to extend across the river;" that they "would be perfectly satisfied with New Orleans and the Floridas;" that they "could not give any great sum for the purchase;" that "it was vain to ask anything so greatly beyond our means;" that "true policy would dictate to the First Consul not to press such a demand," since "he must know the payment of such a sum would render the present government unpopular." He minimized the importance of the deal, describing West Florida as "barren sands and sunken marshes," and New Orleans as "a small town built of wood, of about seven thousand souls," a territory "only valuable to the United States because it contained the mouths of some of their rivers," going so far as to venture a prophecy that "an emigrant would not cross the Mississippi in a hundred years;" yet, throughout weeks of dickering, he never surrendered his purpose to buy whether the price be cheapened or not.

His anxiety was greatly increased by the disclosure of Monroe's commission, since it contained power only to treat for lands on the east side of the Mississippi. "It may, if things should take a turn favorable to France," he wrote Madison, April 17, "defeat all we may do, even at the moment of signing. . . . You will recollect that I have been long preparing this government to yield us the country above the Arkansas, . . . and I am therefore surprised that our commission should have entirely lost sight of the object."

Livingston's fears proved groundless, and the dickering went on until April 29, when Marbois' original figures were accepted sixty million francs to France, and twenty million francs to American claimants; in all, fifteen million dollars. Three days later, on May 2, 1803, the treaty was signed.

It is not surprising that Livingston felt proud and happy. Other treaties of consequence had been negotiated by Americans--the treaty of alliance with France, the treaty of peace with England, and Jay's treaty of 1795; but none was more important than Livingston's. Besides, it was unparalleled in the field of diplomacy, since Louisiana cost, comparatively, almost nothing.

Perhaps Livingston's pride was only equaled by Jefferson's surprise. A mother is usually prepared for the coming of the baby that is to enlarge and illuminate her home. Its clothes are ready, the nursery is furnished, and everything is waiting its advent; but President Jefferson was unprepared for the Louisiana Purchase. It was so entirely unsought on his part that he had given the subject no consideration until half an empire came tumbling upon him like a great meteor out of the midnight sky. At first, he thought he would cede a part of it to the Indians in exchange for their holdings on the east side of the Mississippi, and "shut up all the rest from settlement for a long time to come." "I have indulged myself in these details," he writes James Dickinson, August 9, 1803, "because the subject being new it is advantageous to interchange ideas on it and to get our notions all corrected before we are obliged to act upon them." Then he raised the question of a constitutional amendment. "I suppose Congress must appeal to the nation for an additional article to the constitution approving and confirming an act which the nation had not previously authorized," he wrote Senator Breckenridge of Kentucky. "The constitution has made no provision for our holding foreign territory, still less for incorporating foreign nations into our Union. The Executive in seizing the fugitive occurrence which so much advances the good of their country have done an act beyond the constitution."

When such views reached France, Livingston hurried off several letters to Jefferson, assuring him "that were the business to do over again it would never be done. They think we have obtained an immense advantage over them. Though the appearance of war had some influence, it had much less than is ascribed to it. I know from a faithful source that the Spanish government has made the most serious remonstrances against the cession of Louisiana, and that it is now well understood that, if any additional clause of ratification should be introduced by the United States, this government would profit of the circumstance to annul the whole work."

Jefferson did not need a further hint. "I wrote you on the 12th inst. on the subject of Louisiana and the constitutional provision which might be necessary for it," he says to Senator Breckenridge. "A letter just received yesterday shows that nothing must be said on that subject which may give a pretext for retreating, but that we should do _sub silentio_ what shall be found necessary. Be so good, therefore, as to consider that part of my letter confidential. It strengthens the reason for desiring the presence of every friend of the treaty on the first day of the session. Perhaps you can impress this necessity on the Senators from the western States by private letter."

President Jefferson was a strict constructionist. He did not believe the constitution gave Congress power to acquire additional territory; he dreaded the concentration of power in the executive, and perhaps his teachings did more than all other men to inspire the popular mind with that dread; but when he discovered that the time required to secure a constitutional amendment, exciting, as it would, a long debate in Congress, might defeat the Louisiana Purchase by arousing French feeling against its sale, he did not hesitate to bury his constitutional convictions, and to force through Congress the necessary ratification. Nor did he ever attempt any defense of his inconsistency save that the welfare of the nation demanded such action. Thomas Jefferson was not afraid of being inconsistent. To a great soul this is not weakness. There are ages that are creative. At such times two classes of men are prominent and needed--one shackled to traditions, the other guided by visions. Thomas Jefferson belonged to the latter. In 1776 the American people not only broke the bonds binding them to old England, but forged other bonds which would bind them to a new political, social and industrial order, and of those who hammered these new ties into harmony with the longing and aspirations of men, Thomas Jefferson stands among the foremost Fathers. He got his light from within. He believed in the people, in the government which they had accepted, and with Gladstonian enthusiasm he sought to lead the one and mould the other along lines of stability; but when theory and idealism ran counter to practice and experience, he did not hesitate to adopt the practical and let theory wait. This is the secret of his action in 1803. To cling to an abstract principle would lose an appreciable blessing to his country, and so he let go the abstract principle. This is the inconsistency of a great statesman, the contradictoriness of genius.

But commendable as was the part of Thomas Jefferson in that great transaction, it must not conceal the truth of history. He was not even the promoter, much less the author of the Purchase. His mind was intent upon a present need, a single spot, instant relief, made necessary by the fierce demand of a frontier people claiming a depot of deposit. It was Robert R. Livingston who had the vision.

The distinguished Chancellor, however, did not prove as careful and painstaking a lawyer as he was bold and successful as a diplomatist, for in drawing the claims convention, he neglected to include all claims, estimated their total much too low, omitted a rule of apportionment, and, most grievous of all, left the final decision as to what claims should be selected for payment to the French government. This was the rock that wrecked him. The legitimate claims of American citizens amounted to many millions, but Livingston fixed the limit at three and three-quarters millions, and compelled claimants to secure settlement through the corrupt Talleyrand and his rascally agents, who took one-half for their services. Livingston thought he had drafted the convention "with particular attention," and Monroe, who thought differently, tried his hand with no better success; then Marbois turned it to the advantage of the Frenchmen. The Americans needed a careful lawyer.

The scandal growing out of this convention deepened and cankered until Livingston quarreled with the American Claims Commissioners, excited remonstrances from the British government, and nagged the United States consul at Paris into charging him not only with blind and insatiable vanity, with hints of corrupt and criminal motives, but with "imbecility of mind."

"I considered the claims convention as a trifle compared with the other great object," he explained to Madison, "and as it had already delayed us many days, I was ready to take it under any form." He was clearly right in the comparative importance of the treaty and the convention, but after Marbois had reserved to the French government the right of final decision in each case, Livingston was inexcusable in omitting a rule of apportionment, since it excluded all claimants except the favored few whom the corrupt Frenchman selected because of their willingness to divide.

But the poisoned arrow that entered deepest into Livingston's soul was the robbery of his laurels. His successful negotiation of the treaty, putting him into the class from which Presidents were then drawn, won him the dislike of Jefferson, the distrust of Madison, and the jealousy of Monroe, who, considering him a rival, carefully concealed whatever would reflect credit upon him. His dispatches to Madison became a sealed book in the Department of State; his letters to Jefferson were not suffered to shadow the President's halo; his work, practically completed before Monroe's arrival in Paris, did not reach the eye or the ear of the American people. The great achievement filled the air, rejoicing the country as no other event since the treaty of peace with England, but little praise came to Livingston. The public gave Monroe credit for the treaty, and Livingston discredit for the claims convention. When, finally, Monroe admitted that his part in the negotiation amounted to nothing, he also encouraged the belief that Livingston did as little. It is impossible to say, of course, just what influenced Napoleon to give Marbois the order of April 11. It was not war, for war did not come until a year later; it was not money, for the Prince of Peace would have given more; it was not anger at Spain, for no real cause then existed; it was not fear of England, for Bonaparte did not fear an enemy he expected to crush; it was not St. Domingo, for Leclerc's failure already belonged to the past, with Corsica and Egypt. Perhaps Napoleon himself could not have given the real reason. But, however this may be, the fact is deeply embedded in history that Livingston was the first American to suggest the acquisition of that then vast and dimly outlined country which has been known for over a hundred years as the Louisiana Purchase--stretching west and northwest of the Mississippi, above the winding Arkansas, beyond the waters of the Missouri, across plains and flower-covered prairies to the far-away Rockies, where the Yellowstone leaps from its hiding, and snow-clad summits pierce a summer's sky.

THE BIRTH AT MOREAU OF THE TEMPERANCE REFORMATION.

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By Dr. Charles A. Ingraham.

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History concerns itself chiefly with the fiats of kings, the councils of cabinets, the enactments of legislatures, the processes and results of diplomacy and the issues of war. Upon the pages of the world's annals appears the magnificent pageantry of the past, as with silken banners and silver trumpets dominion proudly passes in perpetual review. Thus, as the historian animates his chapters with those dramatic, intellectual and heroic elements which abound in the court, the statehouse and upon the field of battle, the high spirit of chivalry is encouraged and an intelligent patriotism is promoted. But how fares it with that company of men and women who, frequently in obscure places and by unpretentious methods, have in the realms of discovery, invention and ethics, also advanced the prosperity and happiness of society? It must be admitted that they are too often neglected and that the fruitful lessons which their lives have to communicate remain too generally unappropriated. This paper, diverging somewhat from the beaten highway of history, has for its purpose, to rescue from threatened oblivion the memory of a noble man and the record of his monumental work.

A few months since, while attending a convention held in one of the churches of Easton, the discussion having turned to the subject of temperance, I remarked that it might be proper to state that we were congregated not far from the place where the world's first temperance society had its birth. I was afterward surprised and gratified to learn that in that very neighborhood Dr. Clark, its founder, had dwelt when a young man engaged in the study of medicine. Not being of a superstitious turn, I have dismissed from my mind the notion that his shade was at my elbow prompting me to introduce him to the audience. My interest having been revived, I consulted the leading reference books with the result of discovering that, while they all were in substantial agreement as to Dr. Clark having established the initial temperance association at Moreau in 1808, there were no biographical accounts of him, nor details concerning the history of the organization. This, for so great an event and institution, struck me as being a very remarkable omission. My curiosity to learn more was now stronger than ever, and the centennial anniversary of the formation of the association being near, I resolved to unearth, if possible, the full history of the society and the life of its founder. Being utterly in the dark as to any authority upon the subject, I made known my desire for information through the medium of newspapers circulating in the historic townships, and with gratifying results.

My principal materials have been these: "The History of the Temperance Reformation," 1853, by Rev. Lebbeus Armstrong, a member of the society and intimately associated with Dr. Clark in the establishment of the same; "A History of Temperance in Saratoga County," 1855, by Judge William Hay; and an obituary by the late Dr. A. W. Holden, of Glens Falls, which appeared in the Messenger of that place in 1866. The last is an admirable elucidation of the life and character, to the closing day, of the great champion of temperance. The two physicians had been fellow townsmen, and evidently friends, if we may judge by the sympathetically appreciative manner with which Dr. Holden writes. Of the 408 pages of Armstrong's and of the 153 pages of Hay's book, but comparatively few are devoted to Dr. Clark and his work. The authors boast of him and his achievement, but, living yet in the dim light of his day, they were evidently unable to perceive fully the grandeur of the moral movement which he had inaugurated. Hence, their works are taken up mainly with discussions of the Maine liquor law, which then agitated much of the country. Armstrong's and Hay's books have become very rare, but copies of both may be found in the New York State library.

Among every people, in every age, intemperance has been recognized as an evil, and from ancient times a variety of means have been adopted to prevent or diminish its desolating influences. Royal decrees have gone forth commanding the rooting up of vineyards, and parliaments have legislated against it. The code of Draco even went so far as to visit the penalty of death upon the drunkard. The milder methods of moral suasion have, since the earliest recorded days, been with loving constancy declaimed in the ears of the people, but so imperative is the demand for strong drink that the cup continues in spite of all hindrances to hold dominion over multitudes of men.

But beyond all other peoples of the world in love of intoxicating beverages stand the Teutonic races, among whom it is said distilled liquors were first substituted for fermented drinks. The classic pages of Tacitus tell us of the unbridled license which the northern tribes of Europe gave to their appetites and of the scenes of drunken riot which characterized their social events. The chase, the battle and the feast were their delights, and when done with life, their ambition was to reside in the immortal hall of Valhalla. There, each day having fought before the palace, and with every trace of their wounds duly obliterated, they hoped to sit down daily to regale themselves with mead and meat. The convivial propensities of the Teuton have been inherited by the Anglo-Saxon race, and it cannot be denied that the English speaking people are among the heaviest drinking populations of the earth. Yet, the Germanic family of nations has done more for the advancement of civilization than perhaps any other race in history. It has emancipated and exalted woman, and hallowed the home, and fostered patriotism and religion. It has produced the greatest scholars, the most brilliant scientists and the profoundest philosophers. But among nations as among individuals, it is against the intellectually highly organized that the genius of alcohol particularly directs its malevolent arts.

The latter half of the 18th century saw England almost overwhelmed with drunkenness and its associated vices. In a sermon entitled, "On Dissipation," by John Wesley, published in 1788, he opens his discourse with this statement:

"Almost in every part of our nation, more especially in the large and populous towns, we hear a general complaint among sensible persons of the still increasing dissipation. It is observed to diffuse itself more and more in the court, the city and the country."

During the close of the same period this country was given over body and soul to the alluring power of inebriation. Intemperance was the rule rather than the exception, as it has become in our day. Occasions of birth, marriage and death were alike considered appropriate to the free indulgence in liquor, and all classes participated in the drinking, even clergymen joining in the convivialities with little or no forfeiture of dignity.

Social distempers, like those of the body, are accompanied by the agency of restoration. The sick man, debilitated and suffering from the violence of his symptoms, seeks his bed and calls his physician, thus placing himself in the most favorable attitude for recovery. Were it not for the realization of his distress, he might, in default of rest and medicine, hurry himself into the grave. So, within some of the more morally sensitive souls of the country, commenced to be experienced an unhappy sense of our degradation and depth of misery. Cries of warning and expostulation began to be heard in the land. One of these rose higher than the others, even echoing down through the years to our own time. It was that of Dr. Benjamin Rush, of Philadelphia. Standing in relation to Dr. Clark as of a voice crying in the wilderness, his work in the field of temperance merits more than a casual remark. It consists of but a small, thirty-two page pamphlet, but condensed in its limited proportions is a world of moral dynamite.

It bears the title: "An Inquiry Into the Effects of Ardent Spirits Upon the Human Body and Mind, With an Account of the Means of Preventing and of the Remedies for Curing Them," and was published in 1785. So great had been the salutary influence of this little treatise, that the centennial anniversary of its issue was duly celebrated at Philadelphia. It is not a profound essay; indeed, the wayfaring man, though a fool, may easily grasp its lucid ideas. Neither is it calculated to be very offensive to any class of readers, for it takes issue only with distilled liquors, recommending fermented beverages as substitutes. Moreover, the confirmed toper can read the pamphlet, not only without umbrage, but with interest; for there is an intensity, a directness of statement in its style which hold the reader, even to this day, with the simple art of its literary merit. Besides, there appears running through its pages a quaint humor, which no doubt had much to do with gaining its popularity throughout the length and breadth of the land.