# Dramatic Moments in American Diplomacy/Chapter Six

​Napoleon Steals Louisiana from the "Prince of Peace" and Organizes an Invasion of America Out of His Victorious Armies Led by Marshal Victor of the "Terrible Regiment"—Thomas Jefferson, Pacifist, Turns a Political Somersault—Rufus King Holds a Momentous Conference in London—Robert Livingston Throws a Challenge in the Face of a Great Conqueror—Napoleon in His Bath-Tub Makes History—James Monroe Goes to Purchase a Town and Returns with a Kingdom—America Saved by the British Fleet.
Through the streets of Paris passed the splendid detachment of a victorious army to the roll of exultant drums. From balconies and towers bright banners were flung to the breeze. Along the quais and boulevards the excited populace cheered and sang and danced. They were drunk with the ​delight of a world composed entirely of fabulous deeds and the wildest dreams of conquest and adventure. At every tavern could be found some veteran of forty battles, some humble Hannibal, equal to the mightiest of mythical heroes, telling his Odyssy. He fascinated the company with stories of the loot of cities and the flight of armies; the pageantry and treasures of the ancient kingdoms and the mysterious deserts laid at his feet in his incredible journeys. Fired to a frenzy by visions of destiny and glory more magnificent than ever conceived by Alexander, every child in France was parading his yard with a wooden sword and a white cockade, while his father packed his haversack and burnished his blade in pure delight of the coming argosy.
An empire was to be added to the diadem. And old grenadiers shook with anguish for fear they might be left behind in the expedition. For it was to be led by a tiger of a man, the fury of whose onsets left even Masséna petrified with astonishment and admiration. ​A bloody and furious man in combat, but one cool and calculating in council. A master of artillery, taught by the one great master. To wit, a commander of Toulon, Laon, Dego, La Favorita; a hero of Rivoli, the conqueror at Mantua, leader of the "Terrible Regiment," veteran of Lodi and Areola; in short, a captain of men, Victor Perrin, a Marshal of France.
The ships were at the shore. And it may interest the pacifists of Milwaukee to know that their beautiful neighbourhood was the objective of this crusade. New Orleans, the broad basin of the Mississippi, the fair fields of Kansas, the margins of the Great Lakes, and then eventually Canada and the Citadel of Quebec—these constituted no idle dream in the minds of the scalers of the Alps and the conquerors of Venice.
The danger that threatened the United States at this moment was the greatest it has ever faced. Napoleon Bonaparte's restless ambition, stirred by the recollection of the ​former power of France in America had conceived the idea of reclaiming the ancient discoveries of La Salle and striking at England through the valleys of the great river. He was setting forth upon the operation, which Theodore Lyman says justly and emphatically belonged to the first class of profound comprehensive plans. He had at his command the finest army in the world. To dream even that our hasty lines of volunteers could meet this super-soldier and his veterans of twenty victorious pitched battles would be ridiculous. For a few months of his extraordinary reign he was at peace with the world, and had under his orders the combined fleets of France and Spain to transport his stores and his army.
He was to make his landing at New Orleans. This in itself would have been simple enough, much as it might infuriate this country. For New Orleans belonged ostensibly to Spain, but really to him. He was coming under colour of title. But more to the point, from a military point of view, he would be ​landing where he already had possession, and could meet with no opposition.
The United States was in an uproar. The more so that they did not know what to expect. For while the soldier prepared to strike, he employed a professional liar, an inscrutable and double-faced poker player named Talleyrand, to temporize and conceal his intentions. This gentleman, who held the position of Minister for Foreign Affairs, acted accordingly.
At the time this scheme was concocted, New Orleans, including both banks of the Mississippi for some miles, as well as the coast of the Gulf of Mexico to Florida, and the entire country west of the river, belonged to Spain. This was in the year 1800. Although it belonged to Spain without a question, the hardy frontiersmen west of the Blue Ridge had determined to seize it, willy-nilly, and the government at Washington, albeit an ultra-democratic and pacific administration, was obliged to take the same view. They were straining every nerve to buy New Orleans, or make some ​sort of Bryanite compromise that would keep the Westerners from invading the town. They were not in such a fearful hurry, because any one could see that Spain was on the decline, and would lose the territory sooner or later from pure senility and impotence.
At the court of Spain was a crafty and clever rascal named Godoy, who boasted the title of "The Prince of Peace." He was the favourite of the Queen, and had control of the tiller of state, the King being little better than a nincompoop, and as helpless as a ward in chancery. When Napoleon made one of his dynamic decisions to secure Louisiana, it was to this bounder that he made his proposition. It was an offer to buy. Very much the same sort of proposition the Standard Oil is credited with having made in its palmy days: "You'll take what I give you, for your health."
What he offered was the Kingdom of Etruria for the Royal Spanish Duke of Parma and one of Talleyrand's celebrated promises that France would not sell Louisiana to any one ​else. That the Kingdom of Etruria belonged to the Duke of Tuscany, and that Talleyrand's promises were an international joke made no difference to Napoleon. The Prince of Peace squirmed and stalled. John Adams, who knew everything, and wrote it in his diary, says he was as cool and adroit as a picador manœuvring before a maddened bull. He bribed Lucien Bonaparte, the First Consul's brother, who had been sent to close the deal. He put off the signing of the deed by every subterfuge known to diplomacy. Napoleon knew how to handle this. Whatever he was, he was not a bluffer. His next dispatch was in his most masterful style:
"It is at the moment when the First Consul gives such strong proofs of his consideration for the King of Spain and places a prince of his house upon the throne which is fruit of the victories of French arms, that a tone is taken toward the French Republic such as might be taken with impunity toward the Republic of San Marino."
​This, from a man whose cannon balls invariably followed his dispatches, was too much for the Prince of Peace. He had the deed made without delay, and delivered, as agreed, in the greatest secrecy. Needless to add that the Duke of Parma never got his kingdom, and that the other promise was never even noticed thereafter.
Napoleon then notified Decrès, his Minister of Marine, that his intention was to take possession of Louisiana in the shortest possible time, and gave orders as follows:
"Let me know the number of men you think necessary, both infantry and artillery. Present me a plan for organizing the colony, both military and civil, for works, fortifications, etc. Make a map of the coast from St. Augustine to Mexico, and a geographical description of the different counties of Louisiana, with resources of each."
He then sent 10,000 men and a famous general to subdue the Island of Santo Domingo for a base and, as we have seen, began ​mobilizing a splendid corps under Marshal Victor for the main event.
Meanwhile, we had as minister in Paris one of the ablest of the galaxy of Revolutionary stars. Robert R. Livingston, of the famous New York family, was of ambassadorial calibre second to none. He began to suspect this transfer. He knew at all events that some dangerous intrigue was in the air. He wrote to James Madison, Secretary of State, on January 13, 1802:
"By the secrecy and duplicity practised relative to this object, it is clear to me that they apprehend some opposition on the part of America to their plans.
"There never was a government where less could be done by negotiations than here. There are no people, no legislature, no counsellors. One man is everything. * * * He seldom asks advice and never hears it unasked. His ministers are mere clerks, and his legislature and counsellors parade officers."
There it is. Historically it is small wonder ​we are throwing our weight against the Hohenzollerns. Since the beginning of the Republic the one-man despotism has been incessantly planning our destruction in secret. It is now our final determination to be rid of predatory powers that consult neither parliaments nor peoples, and apart from the principles involved, hard historical experience has shown us that it is only from such as these that our democratic government and our peaceful country is endangered. Napoleon was the first. The Kaiser is the last. But there were many in between, of whom, more hereafter.
Thomas Jefferson was President. Passionately followed by many, and hated with fury by others from that day to this, he was the founder of the great school of government of which Woodrow Wilson is the latest exponent. The careers of the two men in the presidential chair bear a striking resemblance.
In domestic affairs Jefferson was the devoted champion of "the plain people," whose ambition to translate the simple philosophy of ​Christian justice and fair dealing into legislative enactment was the more startling to entrenched "special privilege" because with all his democratic convictions he rode a pusillanimous Congress with an iron bit and cruel spurs.
In foreign affairs he believed with the pacifists that armies and navies were useless. He also held the opinion, derived from his dislike of their manners, that the English were a people to be rude to. Otherwise his idea of diplomacy consisted of sympathy for the French Revolution and an uneasy conscience with regard to his impossible Spanish-American neighbours.
He was unable to reconcile their haughty unreasonableness, his constituent's warlike intentions, and his own earnest desires for the "rule of reason."
When he received the intelligence from Livingston that Napoleon had secretly purchased the Middle West and the mouth of the Mississippi he turned a political and philosophical somersault. Those who supposed, because ​he was patient and tolerant that he was weak, or because he was mistaken that he had to be consistent, were given a shock. He called for 80,000 volunteers. He began to build his navy. He saw and acted upon the one obvious and constant proposition in our whole diplomatic history. Which was—and is—that the only force on earth that prevented our humiliation at will was the navy of Great Britain. And he forgot all about his "no alliance" shibboleth, and his antipathy to the snug little island.
The historian says that he attempted to gain Louisiana by intimidation and guile. And adds that "when Bonaparte was the one to be frightened and Talleyrand the one to be hoodwinked, the naïveté of the proceedings becomes rather ludicrous."
The only reason this view was ever adopted has been that our chroniclers have been loath to grant the inestimable obligation we were under to the English. It was not a bluff that Jefferson made even though birds were still ​roosting in the pines that were to make his navy, and 80,000 soldiers were still on paper. He made a threat—and a threat so powerful that even Napoleon might think twice before he defied it.
But first he had recourse to London. From Rufus King, at that capital, he obtained the artillery for his defence. King informed him that Mr. Addington, then Secretary for Foreign Affairs, had frankly stated that in case a war should happen, it would be one of England's first steps to take New Orleans. He made it very plain that they would not keep it, but that they would give it to the United States. He concluded that America could rest assured that nothing should be done injurious to her interests.
So Mr. Jefferson, armed with the control of the Atlantic, and the guns of his brother, began a diplomatic duel with the Young Conqueror. He sent James Monroe to Paris on March 8, 1803, with instructions to buy New ​Orleans. So much for the rule of reason. His intimidation was conveyed in another document, by no means either naïve or ludicrous. It said:
"If the French Government, instead of friendly arrangements or views, should be found to meditate hostilities, or to have formed projects, which will constrain the United States to resort to hostilities, such communications are then to be held with the British Government, as will sound its dispositions and invite its concurrence in the war. * * *"
A later dispatch of Jefferson's shows that the eternal struggle against despotism is not new, and that it is no novelty to find the Anglo-Saxon shoulder to shoulder with America in the cause:
"From the moment that France takes possession of New Orleans * * we must marry ourselves to the British Fleet and Nation. We must turn all our attention to a maritime force, * * and having formed and connected together with a power which may render ​reinforcements of her settlement here impossible to France, make the first cannon which shall be fired in Europe the signal for the tearing up of any settlement she may have made, and for holding the two continents of America in sequestration for the common purposes of the United British and American Nations."
But at this point the analogy between the Kaiser and Napoleon ends. The Little Corporal made his decisions like lightning. But if they were wrong, like lightning he reversed them. And it didn't take him three years to find out his mistakes.
Let us now return to Paris, where the expeditionary legion was expected hourly to start, and where a popular assembly was pointing with pride to a great new dominion.
For a moment, that bright morning of April 7th, all was quiet on the Place de la Concorde. Ministers had an hour's breathing spell. Pages might yawn behind the statuary. The brilliant-coated guards might stand at ease, and couriers, booted and spurred, snatch ​a drink and a kiss at the Sign of the Dead Rat. An unwonted calm pervaded the ancient palace of the wicked Catherine de Médicis. For the Great Napoleon was taking his bath.
If I am obliged to introduce this incomparable soldier, this astute diplomat, this "Prince of Adventurers," clad in no greater majesty than water pearly and aromatic with salts and perfumes, it is not my fault. It is there that history discovers him, disclosing for the first time high reasons of state why the Conqueror of the World will not face T. Jefferson and his four frigates drawn up in dry-dock in the interests of Universal Peace.
There was a scratch on the door. It was his valet Rustan's signal. The door opened, and in went two brothers of the bathing Consul. They were Lucien and Joseph. They had heard some rumour that Louisiana was to be deserted. They rushed up in the name of the Chamber of Deputies to forbid the alienation of the people's territory. Ensued a scene not only illuminating the diplomatic contest under ​review, but instructive of the arbitrary methods which were at once Napoleon's grandeur and his curse:
"After some preliminary discussion Joseph at last broke in quite brusquely:
"'Well, you say nothing about your famous plan.'
"'Yes,' said the First Consul, * * * 'only take note, Lucien, I have made up my mind to sell Louisiana to the Americans. * * *'
"'* * * But it is too unconstitutional.'
"These precise words were then thundered forth, according to Lucien Bonaparte's account:
"'Constitution! Unconstitutional! Republic! National Sovereignty! Great words—fine phrases! Do you think you are still at the Club of St. Maximin? We are past that, you had better believe. Parbleu! You phrase it nobly. Unconstitutional! It becomes you well. Sir Knight of the Constitution, to talk that way to me. * * * Go on—go on. That's quite too fine a thing to be cut short, Sir ​Orator of the Clubs. But at the same time take note of this, you and Monsieur Joseph, that I shall do just as I please; that I detest without fearing them—your friends the Jacobins, not one of whom shall remain in France if, as I hope, things continue to rest in my hands—and that, in fine, I snap my fingers at you and your national representation.'"
If this is illuminating in showing the gentle democratic nature of the gentleman we had to deal with, another passage of the same conversation settles definitely why he proposed to relinquish this kingdom:
"'It was certainly worth while,' urged Napoleon, 'first, to sell when you could what you were certain to lose. For the English, who have seen the Colony given back to us with great displeasure, are aching for a chance to capture it, and it will be their first coup de main in case of war. * * * You see our land forces have fought and will fight victoriously against all Europe. But as to the sea, my dear fellow, you must know that there we have ​to lower the flag—we and all the powers on the continent. America perhaps some day——; but I'll not talk of that. The English navy is and long will be too dominant; we shall not equal it.'"
So it appears that the First Consul was entirely of Jefferson's opinion. And that Jefferson was quite right in his violent determination not to have him as a neighbour, that is, if bland contempt for parliaments and constitutions was one sign of a citizen undesirable in Montana, then as now.
Napoleon had one kind of intelligence seldom granted to those of intrenched authority—whether political or financial. He could see the storm coming, and could yield in time with grace and enthusiasm. Talk had no interest for him.
So he called in the Marquis de Barbé-Marbois, one-time Minister to the United States and jerked out some of his pithy phrases at him:
"I know the worth of Louisiana. * * * I ​have recovered it on paper through some lines in a treaty; but I have hardly done so when I am about to lose it again. The English * * * have already twenty vessels in the Gulf of Mexico. They swagger over those seas as sovereigns. * * * The conquest of Louisiana will be easy if they will only take the trouble to descend upon it, * * * even a short delay will leave me nothing but a vain title to transmit to those Republicans, whose friendship I seek. Irresolution and deliberation are no longer in season. It is not only New Orleans I will cede; it is the whole colony without reservation. * * * I direct you to negotiate this affair with the envoys of the United States * * * have an interview this very day with Mr. Livingston. * * * I want 50,000,000 francs, and for less than that sum I will not treat."
It now developed upon Livingston and James Monroe, who had been sent to collaborate with him, to conduct this momentous project with Barbé-Marbois. They had ​instructions to buy New Orleans. They had the British Fleet up their sleeves. But those who presume that our ambassadors have been an ornamental and negligible quantity in the fate of this country would do well to observe that these men, weeks away from home, took upon themselves the purchase of this great territory without a scrap of orders. The details of these ambassadorial contests always have a great interest.
Livingston describes the opening thus: "While he (Monroe) and several other gentlemen were at dinner with me, I observed the Minister of the Treasury walking in my garden. * * * While we were taking coffee he came in, and after being some time in the room, we strolled into the next room, when he told me * * * that he thought I might have something particular to say to him, and had taken the first opportunity to call on me."
We have the advantage of Livingston as the great international bargain began. The beginning was ingenious enough, considering ​that Barbé-Marbois had Napoleon's order to sell without delay. But Livingston and Monroe didn't know that. And they proceeded to the point and "stated the consequence of any delay on this subject, as it would enable Britain to take possession, who would readily relinquish it to us."
Barbé-Marbois countered with his version of Napoleon's conversation. He reported the First Consul to have said: "Well, you have charge of the treasury, let them give you one hundred million, and pay their own claims and take the whole country."
Right then and there, to all intents and purposes, this tremendous matter determining the destiny of our country was as good as settled. The commissioners knew that they had won. The negotiations now descended from the plane of battle and wars and dynasties into a first-rate bargain-counter dispute as to price. Monroe determined to go as far as 50,000,000 francs on his own responsibility. He offered forty.
​On April 30th, 1803, the convention was signed. James Monroe and Robert R. Livingston had been sent to buy a town. They brought back a kingdom richer than Babylon and broader than France. The price was 60,000,000 francs, and the assumption by the United States of the then existing claims of Americans against France for depredations on the high seas.
From the great champion of Continental tyranny in the Nineteenth Century had been wrung the training ground whence in the Twentieth were to come armies to help deal the final blow to that same kind of tyranny.