The people of the young Republic of the United States were greatly
astonished, in the summer of 1803, to learn that Napoleon Bonaparte,
then First Consul of France, had sold to us the vast tract of land known
as the country of Louisiana. The details of this purchase were arranged
in Paris (on the part of the United States) by Robert R. Livingston and
James Monroe. The French government was represented by Barbe-Marbois,
Minister of the Public Treasury.
The price to be paid for this vast domain was fifteen million dollars.
The area of the country ceded was reckoned to be more than one million
square miles, greater than the total area of the United States, as the
Republic then existed. Roughly described, the territory comprised all
that part of the continent west of the Mississippi River, bounded on the
north by the British possessions and on the west and south by dominions
of Spain. This included the region in which now lie the States of
Louisiana, Arkansas, Missouri, Kansas, parts of Colorado, Minnesota, the
States of Iowa, Nebraska, South Dakota, North Dakota, Wyoming, a part
of Idaho, all of Montana and Territory of Oklahoma. At that time, the
entire population of the region, exclusive of the Indian tribes that
roamed over its trackless spaces, was barely ninety thousand persons,
of whom forty thousand were negro slaves. The civilized inhabitants
were principally French, or descendants of French, with a few Spanish,
Germans, English, and Americans.
The purchase of this tremendous slice of territory could not be complete
without an approval of the bargain by the United States Senate. Great
opposition to this was immediately excited by people in various parts
of the Union, especially in New England, where there was a very bitter
feeling against the prime mover in this business,--Thomas Jefferson,
then President of the United States. The scheme was ridiculed by persons
who insisted that the region was not only wild and unexplored, but
uninhabitable and worthless. They derided “The Jefferson Purchase,” as
they called it, as a useless piece of extravagance and folly; and, in
addition to its being a foolish bargain, it was urged that President
Jefferson had no right, under the constitution of the United States, to
add any territory to the area of the Republic.
Nevertheless, a majority of the people were in favor of the purchase,
and the bargain was duly approved by the United States Senate; that
body, July 31, 1803, just three months after the execution of the treaty
of cession, formally ratified the important agreement between the two
governments. The dominion of the United States was now extended across
the entire continent of North America, reaching from the Atlantic to the
Pacific. The Territory of Oregon was already ours.
This momentous transfer took place one hundred years ago, when almost
nothing was known of the region so summarily handed from the government
of France to the government of the American Republic. Few white men had
ever traversed those trackless plains, or scaled the frowning ranges of
mountains that barred the way across the continent. There were living in
the fastnesses of the mysterious interior of the Louisiana Purchase many
tribes of Indians who had never looked in the face of the white man.
Nor was the Pacific shore of the country any better known to civilized
man than was the region lying between that coast and the Big Muddy, or
Missouri River. Spanish voyagers, in 1602, had sailed as far north as
the harbors of San Diego and Monterey, in what is now California;
and other explorers, of the same nationality, in 1775, extended their
discoveries as far north as the fifty-eighth degree of latitude. Famous
Captain Cook, the great navigator of the Pacific seas, in 1778, reached
and entered Nootka Sound, and, leaving numerous harbors and bays
unexplored, he pressed on and visited the shores of Alaska, then called
Unalaska, and traced the coast as far north as Icy Cape. Cold weather
drove him westward across the Pacific, and he spent the next winter at
Owyhee, where, in February of the following year, he was killed by the
natives.
All these explorers were looking for chances for fur-trading, which was
at that time the chief industry of the Pacific coast. Curiously enough,
they all passed by the mouth of the Columbia without observing that
there was the entrance to one of the finest rivers on the American
continent.
Indeed, Captain Vancouver, a British explorer, who has left his name
on the most important island of the North Pacific coast, baffled by the
deceptive appearances of the two capes that guard the way to a noble
stream (Cape Disappointment and Cape Deception), passed them without a
thought. But Captain Gray, sailing the good ship “Columbia,” of Boston,
who coasted those shores for more than two years, fully convinced that a
strong current which he observed off those capes came from a river, made
a determined effort; and on the 11th of May, 1792, he discovered and
entered the great river that now bears the name of his ship. At last
the key that was to open the mountain fastnesses of the heart of the
continent had been found. The names of the capes christened by Vancouver
and re-christened by Captain Gray have disappeared from our maps, but
in the words of one of the numerous editors(1) of the narrative of the
exploring expedition of Lewis and Clark: “The name of the good ship
‘Columbia,’ it is not hard to believe, will flow with the waters of the
bold river as long as grass grows or water runs in the valleys of the
Rocky Mountains.”
(1) Dr. Archibald McVickar.
It appears that the attention of President Jefferson had been early
attracted to the vast, unexplored domain which his wise foresight was
finally to add to the territory of the United States. While he was
living in Paris, as the representative of the United States, in 1785-89,
he made the acquaintance of John Ledyard, of Connecticut, the well-known
explorer, who had then in mind a scheme for the establishment of a
fur-trading post on the western coast of America. Mr. Jefferson proposed
to Ledyard that the most feasible route to the coveted fur-bearing lands
would be through the Russian possessions and downward somewhere near to
the latitude of the then unknown sources of the Missouri River, entering
the United States by that route. This scheme fell through on account of
the obstacles thrown in Ledyard’s way by the Russian Government. A few
years later, in 1792, Jefferson, whose mind was apparently fixed on
carrying out his project, proposed to the American Philosophical Society
of Philadelphia that a subscription should be opened for the purpose of
raising money “to engage some competent person to explore that region in
the opposite direction (from the Pacific coast),--that is, by ascending
the Missouri, crossing the Stony (Rocky) Mountains, and descending the
nearest river to the Pacific.” This was the hint from which originated
the famous expedition of Lewis and Clark.
But the story-teller should not forget to mention that hardy and
adventurous explorer, Jonathan Carver. This man, the son of a British
officer, set out from Boston, in 1766, to explore the wilderness north
of Albany and lying along the southern shore of the Great Lakes. He was
absent two years and seven months, and in that time he collected a vast
amount of useful and strange information, besides learning the language
of the Indians among whom he lived. He conceived the bold plan of
travelling up a branch of the Missouri (or “Messorie”), till, having
discovered the source of the traditional “Oregon, or River of the West,”
on the western side of the lands that divide the continent, “he would
have sailed down that river to the place where it is said to empty
itself, near the Straits of Anian.”
By the Straits of Anian, we are to suppose, were meant some part of
Behring’s Straits, separating Asia from the American continent. Carver’s
fertile imagination, stimulated by what he knew of the remote Northwest,
pictured that wild region where, according to a modern poet, “rolls the
Oregon and hears no sound save his own dashing.” But Carver died without
the sight; in his later years, he said of those who should follow his
lead: “While their spirits are elated by their success, perhaps they may
bestow some commendations and blessings on the person who first pointed
out to them the way.”