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.
