by Jon Kukla
According to accepted international law, Louisiana’s existing laws remained in force until the United States altered them. Jefferson intended to “introduce the trial by jury in criminal cases, first,” followed by “habeas corpus, the freedom of the press, freedom of religion etc. as soon as can be.” Thereafter, as each passing year drew “their laws and organization to the mould of ours by degrees,” Jefferson expected the inhabitants of Louisiana to “ripen for receiving these first principles of freedom” so that “Congress may from session to session confirm their enjoiment of them.”6
On the premise that the inhabitants of Louisiana stood “in nearly the same relation to us as if they were a conquered country,” as Republican William Eustis put it, the administration proposed an interim government with all powers vested in a governor and legislative council appointed by the president. “The government laid down in this bill is certainly a new thing in the United States,” he admitted, “but the people of this country differ materially from the citizens of the United States.” Because they were accustomed to Spain’s authoritarian rule and unfamiliar with self-government, “the approach of such a people to liberty must be gradual.” Although many in Jefferson’s own party expressed serious misgivings, the administration was prepared to “countenance the principle of governing by despotic systems” until the inhabitants of Louisiana were ready, “in due time, [to] receive all the benefits of citizens.” Senator William Plumer, the separatist from New Hampshire, was appalled. Jefferson’s plan for the administration of Louisiana was “an act of practical tyranny,” he wrote. “It is a Colonial system of government—It is the first the United States have established—It is a bad precedent—The U. S. in time will have many colonies—precedents are therefore important.”7
Jefferson’s first choice as paternal despot for the children of Louisiana was South Carolina senator Thomas Sumter, a staunch Virginia-born Jeffersonian who had earned his reputation and the rank of general in the bitter guerrilla warfare in the Carolinas during the Revolution. Youthful at seventy—Sumter died a full twenty-eight years later just shy of his ninety-eighth birthday—the Palmetto State’s legendary Game-Cock was “as perfect in all points as we can expect,” Jefferson confided to Madison. “Sound judgment, standing in society, knolege of the world, wealth, liberality, familiarity with the French language and having a French wife.”8 When General Sumter decided to remain in the Senate, Jefferson’s thoughts turned to his old friend the marquis de Lafayette and then to James Monroe—neither of whom could be enticed to take up residence in the isle of Orleans.
William Charles Cole Claiborne by E. B. Savary. Born in Sussex County, in the heart of Southside Virginia, in 1775 and schooled at Richmond Academy and briefly at the College of William and Mary, W. C. C. Claiborne began his political apprenticeship at fifteen as a clerk in the office of John Beckley, clerk of the House of Representatives and Jeffersonian political organizer. As a congressman from Tennessee, Claiborne held the state’s vote for Jefferson in the contested presidential election of 1800 and was rewarded with the appointment as territorial governor of Mississippi in May 1801 and governor of the Orleans Territory after the Louisiana Purchase. Initially, Claiborne’s ignorance of French and conviction “that the people of Louisiana are not prepared for Representative Government” won him few friends. In time, however, his marriage to a Louisianian, his compassionate response to the Cuban refugees from St. Domingue in 1809–1810, and his prompt suppression of the Pointe Coupée slave revolt of 1811 won him a decisive victory over the native Jacques Villeré in the 1812 election for the first governor of the State of Louisiana. Ineligible for reelection, Governor Claiborne was named to the United States Senate in January 1817 but died on November 23 before taking his seat. (Courtesy Louisiana State Museum)
In time, however, the president lowered his sights and found two men whose combined talents—and immediate availability—sufficed. For the civil administration of Louisiana, Jefferson turned to another scion of old Virginia, twenty-nine-year-old former congressman William Charles Cole Claiborne. Born in Virginia and trained by the Republican organizer and clerk of the House of Representatives John Beckley, young Claiborne’s political loyalty was equal to Sumter’s. As a congressman during the Burr-Jefferson presidential deadlock of 1801, Claiborne had held the Tennessee vote for Jefferson, and as the current governor of the Mississippi Territory he was close at hand and familiar with the situation in Louisiana. Only his youth, limited experience, and complete ignorance of French and Spanish were drawbacks. In case a show of force proved necessary, Jefferson backed Claiborne with forty-seven-year-old General James Wilkinson, who commanded American troops in the southwest and whose talents for intrigue were multilingual. Wilkinson’s assignment was temporary, and Claiborne’s post remained an interim appointment until January 17, 1806. Nevertheless, subject only to instructions from Jefferson and Congress, Claiborne held nearly dictatorial powers over the Louisiana territory and its populace, whose language he did not speak, and whose society he did not comprehend.9
“Two trees that the Mississippi River carried along with it down to the Gulf of Mexico brushed the sides of our ship this morning,” Pierre Clement Laussat noted in his journal on Wednesday, March 9, 1803, as the thirty-two-gun Surveillant crossed the Tropic of Cancer and carried him toward New Orleans—the sole remnant of Napoleon’s intended expedition for the subjugation of Louisiana. After weathering a fierce storm that drove them back out to sea for ten days, the brig finally crossed the bar of the Mississippi on Sunday, March 20. As the Surveillant made its way upriver, its frequent stops for meals or the occasional night spent ashore gave Laussat opportunities to talk with French residents. “I am patiently awaited in New Orleans,” Laussat wrote.
The agents of the Spanish government are behaving like a moribund people. The Anglo-Americans in general are furious; [while] those in the West shall be ours.
“We must,” he added ominously, “foster this diversity of feelings and interests.”
At three o’clock on Saturday afternoon, March 26, Laussat and his family landed a few miles below New Orleans, and within an hour they were “greeted with salvos by the artillery from the forts” as their carriage approached the governor’s gate. That evening Laussat met the aging Spanish governor, Manuel Juan de Salcedo, and they attended mass together the next morning. At Salcedo’s dinner Sunday afternoon, “toasts were raised to the respective governments” and “the rounds of drinks were endless.” Laussat was exuberant as he jotted down his thoughts at the close of his first full day in New Orleans. “Here we are in our new country, our new home, in the midst of new duties,” he beamed. “All Louisianans are Frenchmen at heart!”10
Endless rounds of drinks may have contributed a little, but Laussat’s good spirits on that Sunday evening late in March were possible only because he had been out of touch since December, when he had left General Claude Perrin Victor’s troops and ships behind at Hellevoetsluis. During his long carriage ride to the port of La Rochelle, his long wait for a break in the weather, and his long voyage across the Atlantic, Laussat “dreamed constantly of reform, improvement, and new establishment.” As Napoleon’s colonial prefect for Louisiana he
hoped to spend six or eight years in an administration that… at least doubled the population and agriculture of the country and tripled or quadrupled its trade, thus leaving behind a lasting and honorable memorial.
“Every day I congratulated myself,” Laussat wrote, “for having so well estimated the resources of the colony.” He was utterly enchanted by the city of New Orleans, its inhabitants, its air.11
Laussat enjoyed the luxury of wearing “merchandise of a superior quality … imported from India, England, and France.” He found society and culture “as developed here” as in Paris. The people were
far more frank, docile, and sincere than in Europe. They are pleasant and very polite, and they give a general impression that delights…. There is a great deal of social life; elegance and good breed
ing prevail throughout…. There are numerous hairdressers and all sorts of masters—dancing, music, art, fencing, etc. All the people in New Orleans love to read. There are no book shops or libraries, but books are ordered from France.12
Above all, “Louisianans are Frenchmen at heart!” Except that the first consul of France was experiencing a change of heart about Louisiana.
Throughout the spring and early summer of 1803, grumblings about Spain’s closing of the Mississippi receded as rumors of an American takeover gained currency. “The fluctuations of the political thermometer in this respect,” Laussat wrote in his memoirs, “were indicated by the greater or lesser eagerness with which people sought me—and that eagerness was on the decline.” Laussat kept up a brave front, however, assuring French inhabitants that the rumors were fabrications somehow linked to the end of Jefferson’s first term as president—all the while complaining in letters to French officials (as late as August 17) that he had heard nothing from France since March. Be careful what you wish for—the next day’s mail brought from Louis André Pichón in Washington official news of the sale of Louisiana, followed immediately by the letters from François Barbé-Marbois and Denis Decrès, minister of the marine and colonies. It was all true, Laussat finally admitted, “leaving me only the regret of a year of idleness, of a useless migration by my family to the New World, and of many expenses, troubles, and fruitless inconveniences.”13
In the face of Spain’s protests against Napoleon’s sale of Louisiana, neither French nor American officials could be sure that the Spanish officials in New Orleans would transfer the territory peacefully. Uncertainty heightened tensions in the city, which often flared into violent confrontations at social events, especially at dances, even after the transfer of Louisiana to the United States. To keep the peace, municipal officials enforced a strict sequence at public balls: “two rounds of French quadrilles, one round of English quadrilles … and one round of waltzes.” In his memoirs Laussat recounted an evening of threats and fisticuffs that might have been filmed at Rick’s in Casablanca. This particular fracas began when some Americans wanted to dance another English quadrille, and it ended with
General Wilkinson inton[ing] the “Hail Columbia,” accompanied by the music of his staff, then “God Save the King,” then huzzas. The French, on their side, sang “Enfants de la Patrie, Peuple français, peuple de fréres,” and shouted “Vive la République!” It was an infernal brawl. After this cabaret scene, Claiborne and Wilkinson, escorted by Americans and the band, returned to their homes.
Eventually the Americans arranged a “reconciliation banquet” to assuage hard feelings aroused by this skirmish in what Laussat called a “war of esteem”—but not before the American consul, Daniel Clark, “let it be rumored around that ‘until two or three Frenchmen have been hanged, we will not rule over this country.’”14
At 11:45 on Wednesday morning, November 30, 1803, Pierre Clement Laussat set out from his house in the faubourg Marigny just outside the downriver wall of the city, accompanied on foot by a party of sixty Frenchmen. From the river, the brig Argo fired a salute as the procession moved toward the large crowd gathered at the Place d’Armes and the Cabildo. Spanish troops stood at attention on one side of the square, the colonial militia on the other, and “the drums rolled in front of the guardroom when [he] passed.”15
Pierre Clement Laussat governed Louisiana for three weeks before he signed the documents transferring the province to the United States on December 20, 1803. His departure from New Orleans was complicated by the resumption of warfare between France and Great Britain. Selling his library and its incriminating bookplates and inscriptions, Laussat slipped out of New Orleans in April 1804 using an American passport with the fictitious name Peter Lanthois. Laussat went on to serve as prefect of Martinique from 1804 to 1809 and prefect of Guiana from 1819 to 1823, when he retired to his native Pau, published his memoirs, and died in 1831. (Courtesy Library of Virginia)
The Sala Capitular of the Cabildo, now part of the Louisiana State Museum in New Orleans, was the site of the major transfer ceremonies of the Louisiana Purchase from Spain to France on November 30 and from France to the United States on December 20, 1803. (Courtesy Louisiana State Museum)
As Laussat entered the meeting room on the second floor known as the Sala Capitular, “the commissioners of His Catholic Majesty came midway across the room to meet me.” Governor Salcedo, “an impotent old man in his dotage,” took his seat in an armchair with Laussat to his right and the marqués de Casa Calvo, “a violent man who hated the French,” to his left. Laussat presented his credentials and the order from Carlos IV authorizing the transfer of Louisiana to Napoleons representative. After Casa Calvo formally announced that any Spanish subjects who chose to stay in Louisiana were, “from that moment on, rightfully released from their oath of allegiance,” Governor Salcedo presented Laussat with a silver tray bearing the keys to Fort St. Charles and Fort St. Louis.16
Struggling to his feet, the aging governor then yielded the middle chair to Laussat. The documents of cession were read aloud in Spanish and French. “We signed and affixed the seals,” Laussat recalled,
then we rose and went out on the side of the balconies of the city hall. Upon our appearance, the Spanish flag, which had been flying atop the flagstaff, was lowered, and the French flag raised. The company of grenadiers of the Spanish Regiment of Louisiana went forward to take the Spanish flag, and the Spanish troops filed off after it in double time.
After escorting Salcedo and Casa Calvo to the head of the stairs—with “poor old Salcedo collapsing from decrepitude” and Casa Calvo sustaining “that calm and serene appearance which even the most second-rate politicians of his nation never lose”—Laussat descended to the Place d’Armes and addressed the militia. “In the name of the French Republic,” he intoned over the thunder of cannon salutes from the forts and the Argo,
I entrust these flags to you…. They are raised in your midst for the good of your country; they are here as they are in their native land. French blood is in the veins of most of you.
“The remainder of the day was one continuous holiday,” Laussat recalled, with a succession of dinners and parties, toasts and champagne, dancing and card playing that lasted through the night until seven o’clock the next morning.17
Laussat’s three weeks as prefect of Louisiana were filled with activity. His reenactment of the French Code Noir began a movement (which accelerated in the American period) toward stricter regulation of slaves and free blacks. Laussat also abolished the Spanish Cabildo, or governing council, and replaced it with a mayor and council system of municipal government—a step less significant for its impact on the machinery of municipal government than for changes in personnel, as Laussat replaced the entrenched Spanish officeholders with many Frenchmen and “some merchants, some Americans, and some experienced businessmen.” The abolition of the Cabildo delighted incoming interim governor Claiborne. The old “body was created on principles altogether incongruous with those of our Government,” Claiborne wrote, but “in their place I found a Municipality established … of approved characters, and well disposed toward the expected change of Government, and I therefore did not long hesitate to sanction the new arrangement.”18
The organization of the militia presented Laussat (as it would Claiborne) with “the thorniest article” of his short administration. Laussat supplanted the Spanish Regiment of Louisiana with independent companies of Frenchmen and Americans.19 He also provided for the preservation of public records and established a new volunteer fire company. Americans were quick to realize that Laussat’s most significant contributions to the Louisiana Purchase were his role in the peaceful transfer of the province from Spain to France and his assurance of a prompt transfer of authority to the president’s commissioners. Together these two achievements meant, as William C. C. Claiborne informed President Jefferson before leaving Fort Adams for New Orleans on December 8, “that no serious resistance would be made to the
surrender of Louisiana to the U.S.”20
Back in July, Jefferson and his cabinet had decided to “get the Spanish troops off as soon as possible,” and had put William C. C. Claiborne and two companies of troops at Fort Adams on alert. Meeting again on October 4, the cabinet had unanimously determined that “forcible poss[essio]n of N[ew] Orleans [would] be taken” if the Spanish refused to surrender the territory peacefully. On Sunday, December 4, Claiborne and Wilkinson rendezvoused at Fort Adams—on the Mississippi River thirty-eight miles south of Natchez—for their descent to New Orleans. Marching with them were two hundred militia volunteers from the Mississippi Territory and the fort’s garrison of regular troops, a total “force of between 450 and 500 Men.” Claiborne was confident that a “speedy consummation of the Negociation for Louisiana [was] likely to be accomplished without the effusion of Blood, or the further expenditure of public Treasure.”21
As Claiborne and Wilkinson approached the city, Daniel Clark, the American consul, reported that everything was quiet in New Orleans. With Britain and France at war again, however, he passed along worries about a possible disruption from another quarter. On Monday, December 12, a British officer from Kingston, Jamaica, informed Clark that twelve hundred French troops fleeing St. Domingue—remnants of Leclerc’s ill-starred expedition—had been captured by the British and taken to Jamaica. Eager “to get rid of the Expence and trouble of Keeping them,” the governor of Jamaica was taking advantage of the fact that New Orleans was now a French port and had loaded the troops in three Danish vessels that “were to sail in a very few days … for the Mississippi.” Clark was happy to report that when he informed Laussat of this development, the prefect “immediately gave orders that they should not be admitted” and began gathering provisions so that if they did arrive they could be sent somewhere else—anywhere but New Orleans. Half of Spain’s Louisiana garrison had already sailed, Clark reported, and the rest had already boarded “a sloop of War which sails to morrow.” The delicate political situation in New Orleans was thus compounded by temporary military vulnerability. “Every delay is a day of fear and suspense for the whole Country,” Clark wrote, “and you Cannot possibly make use of too much expedition to arrive and put an end to it.”22