L. Of C.
"HOLLANDER."
ROBERT R. LIVINGSTON,
The Author of the Louisiana Purchase.
Hon. D. S. Alexander.
After signing the treaty ceding Louisiana to the United States, Robert R. Livingston declared it the noblest work of his life. If one may not assent to this enthusiastic statement of the speaker, who had been a member of the committee to draft the immortal Declaration of Independence, it is easy to admit that his work stands next in historical importance to the treaty of 1783, which recognized American independence. It added half an empire to our domain, and, a century later, gave Edward Everett Hale opportunity to speak of Livingston as "the wisest American of his time," since "Franklin had died in 1780."
When Livingston signed the Louisiana treaty he was fifty-six years of age, tall and handsome, with an abundance of hair already turning gray, which fell in ringlets over a square, high forehead, lending a certain dignity that made him appear as great off the bench as he did when gowned and throned as Chancellor. In the estimation of his contemporaries he was one of the most gifted men of his time, and the judgment of a later age has not reversed their decision. He added learning to great natural ability, and brilliancy to profound thought, and although so deaf as to make communication with him difficult, he came very near concealing the defect by his remarkable eloquence and conversational gifts. Benjamin Franklin called him "the Cicero of America." His love for the beautiful attracted Edmund Burke. It is doubtful if he had a superior in the State in the knowledge of history and the classics, and in the study of science Samuel L. Mitchell alone stood above him. He lacked the creative genius of Hamilton, the prescient gifts of Jay, and the skill of Aaron Burr to marshal men for selfish purposes; but he was at home in debate with the ablest men of his time, a master of sarcasm, of trenchant wit, and of felicitous rhetoric. It is likely that he lacked Kent's application. But of ninety-three bills passed by the legislature from 1778 to 1801, a period that spans his life as Chancellor, and which were afterward vetoed by the Council of Revision, Livingston wrote opinions in twenty-three, several of them elaborate, and all revealing capacity for legislation. In these vetoes he stood with Hamilton in resisting forfeitures and confiscations; he held with Richard Morris that loyal citizens could not be deprived of lands, though bought of an alien enemy; he agreed with Jay in upholding common law rights and limiting the death penalty; and he had the support of George Clinton and John Sloss Hobart in disapproving a measure for the gradual abolition of slavery, because the legislature thought it politically expedient to deprive colored men of the right to vote who had before enjoyed such a privilege.
In the field of politics, Livingston's search for office did not result in a happy career. So long as he stood for a broader and stronger national life his intellectual rays flashed far beyond the horizon of most of his contemporaries, but the joy of public life was clouded when he entered the domain of partisan politics. His mortification that someone other than himself was appointed Chief Justice of the United States Supreme Court, made Hamilton's funding system, especially the proposed assumption of State debts, sufficient excuse for becoming an anti-federalist, and had he possessed those qualities of leadership that bind party and friends by ties of unflinching service, he might have reaped the reward that his ambition so ardently craved; but his peculiar temper unfitted him for such a career. Jealous, fretful, sensitive, and suspicious, he was as restless as his eloquence was dazzling, and when, at last, he became the anti-federalist candidate for governor in 1798, in opposition to John Jay, the campaign ended in deep humiliation. His candidacy was clearly a dash for the Presidency. He reasoned, as every ambitious New York statesman has reasoned from that day to this, that if he could carry the State in an off year, he would be needed, as the candidate of his whole party, in a Presidential year. This reasoning reduces the governorship to a sort of springboard from which to vault into the White House, and although only one man in a century has performed the feat, it has always figured as a popular and potent factor in the settlement of political nominations. George Clinton thought the Presidency would come to him, and Hamilton inspired Jay with a similar notion; but Livingston, sanguine of better treatment, was willing, for the sake of undertaking it, voluntarily to withdraw from the professional path along which he had moved to great distinction.
The personal qualities which seemed to unfit Livingston for political leadership in New York did not strengthen his usefulness in France. It was the breadth of view which distinguished him in the formation of the Union that brought him success as a diplomat. With the map of America spread out before him he handled the Louisiana problem as patriotically as he had argued for a stronger national life, and when, at last, he signed the treaty, he had forever enlarged the geography of his country.
As the American minister to the court of Napoleon, Livingston reached France in November, 1801. President Jefferson had already heard a rumor of the retrocession of Louisiana by Spain to France, and had given it little heed. He had cheerfully acquiesced in Spain's occupation of New Orleans, and after its retrocession to France he talked pleasantly of securing West Florida through French influence. "Such proof on the part of France of good will toward the United States," he wrote Livingston, in September, 1801, "would contribute to reconcile the latter to France's possession of New Orleans." But when, a year later, a French army, commanded by Leclerc, Napoleon's brother-in-law, had devastated St. Domingo and aroused the hostility of American merchants and ship-masters by his arbitrary treatment, Jefferson sensed the danger of having Napoleon for a next-door neighbor on the Mississippi. In a moment his tone changed from one of peace to a threat of war. "The cession of Louisianan to France," he declared, in a letter to Livingston, April 16, 1802, "works most sorely on the United States. There is on the globe one single spot, the possessor of which is our natural and habitual enemy. It is New Orleans. France, placing herself in that door, assumes to us the attitude of defiance. The day that France takes possession of New Orleans fixes the sentence which is to restrain her forever within her low-water mark. It seals the union of two nations, who in conjunction can maintain exclusive possession of the ocean. From that moment we must marry ourselves to the British fleet and nation."