The Gothic Age of American Drinking: Texas in the 19th Century
Drinking and Beverages in Nineteenth-Century Texas. L. Mencken called the years between the American Revolution and the Civil War the ... View MoreThe Gothic Age of American Drinking: Texas in the 19th Century
Drinking and Beverages in Nineteenth-Century Texas. L. Mencken called the years between the American Revolution and the Civil War the "Gothic Age of American drinking," and Texas embodied the frontier excesses of the age. In 1840, British traveler Francis Sheridan remarked about Texas, "The passion for erecting grog shops supersedes the thirst of religious worship & Temples wherein to exercise it, for though we find every town plentifully supplied with Pot-Houses...we see neither a church or signs of building one." Many Texans came from hard-drinking Anglo-Saxon ancestors. They faced a life of rural hardship, tedium, and a diet of meat preserved by heavy salting. They also believed in the medicinal properties of alcohol. Moreover, people were often skeptical about drinking water, for in many cities and towns, the water was often polluted. Selective readers of the scriptures "took their Bible straight, especially where it said: `Give strong drink unto him that is ready to perish, and wine unto those that be of heavy hearts'" (Prov. 31.6). A traveler visiting Texas in 1837 claimed that the climate encouraged drinking. In 1838, Houston, one of the major "centers of vice," had forty-seven establishments for selling intoxicating drinks. The records at the clerk's office of Fort Bend County reveal that between 1838 and 1846, more licenses were issued for the sale of wines and liquors than for all other businesses combined. Many Texas frontier drinking establishments were elaborate, especially in the larger cities. Ferdinand von Roemer, a German traveler in Texas, described such a place in Houston in the early 1840s: "Upon passing through large folding doors, one stepped into a spacious room in which stood long rows of crystal bottles on a beautifully decorated bar. These were filled with divers kinds of firewater. Here also stood an experienced barkeeper in white-shirt sleeves, alert to serve to the patrons the various plain as well as mixed drinks." In contrast to fine establishments, a popular spot in Austin, Spicer's Tavern, was made of logs covered with pine boards for the walls and rough-hewn pine planks for the floors." Drinking had its unwritten laws. One visitor noted, "Nothing was regarded as a greater violation of established etiquette than for one who was going to drink not to invite all within a reasonable distance to partake, so that Texians, being entirely a military people, not only fought but drank in platoons." Many women took pride in their homemade wines and cordials, but indulged with discretion. Most grogshops worked on a cash-only basis, and when times were hard, they were forced to close.
The most common nineteenth-century drink was whiskey, sometimes called the "American wine." The liquor often took on the name of the region where lt was produced; bourbon, easily the most popular, came from Bourbon County, Kentucky. In addition to bourbon, Texas stores advertised a wide variety of liquors. In 1838, A. G. Compton's store on Main Street in Houston was selling "cognac, champagne, brandy, gin, Jamaica and Santa Cruz rum, Irish, Scotch and rye whiskey, claret, port, Madeira wine, hock, Burgundy, gold and pale Sherry, and London brown stout." In the better hotels, fancy drinks were available at twenty-five cents each, including many we would recognize today-mint julep, gin sling, apple toddy, and a cocktail described as "a stimulating liquor composed of spirits, sugar, water, and bitters." Other drinking establishments offered very elaborate drinks with even more interesting names. According to British traveler William Bollaert the drinks offered by a Galveston hotel in the 1840s included "Tip and Ty, I.O.U., Moral Suasion, Pig and Whistle, Silver top, Poor man's punch, Jewett's fancy, Deacon, Stone Wall, Siphon, Smasher, Floater, Negus, and Mulled wines." In the early nineteenth century, Texans also drank fermented home-brews such as persimmon beer and potato beer. Later, Germans introduced lager brewing, and by the 1860s, the Menger Brewery, at the time San Antonio's largest industrial concern, employed ten skilled Germans and brewed 8,000 gallons of beer annually.
Temperance Movement
Like their United States counterparts, Texans were ardent coffee drinkers, and coffee was probably the most indispensable nonalcoholic beverage in Texas. By 1838, Houston merchants were offering coffee at fifty cents a pound. When it was not available, a substitute was made of parched corn, wheat, or okra seeds. Tea was also consumed, although not as widely as coffee. Apparently, chocolate drinks were also popular in Texas. Even with the availability of nonalcoholic beverages, Texans were serious drinkers, and drunkenness was common. A Texas newspaper editorialized on the illness resulting from drinking and noted that "the graveyard held scores of young men who died from intemperance." Perhaps in response to this problem, in 1839, the first meeting of a Texas temperance society was held in Houston, and ninety-eight "drunkards" signed pledges. Whatever its goals and motivation, however, the temperance movement did not become a social and political force until the late nineteenth century, when prohibition was becoming a national movement that set the stage for increased moonshining and bootlegging.
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Juan Seguin Betrayed Hero of the Texas Revolution
Juan Nepomuceno Seguín (1806-1890) was a Tejano soldier in the Texas Revolution, commissioned as a captain of cavalry by Stephen F. Austin, later a c... View MoreJuan Seguin Betrayed Hero of the Texas Revolution
Juan Nepomuceno Seguín (1806-1890) was a Tejano soldier in the Texas Revolution, commissioned as a captain of cavalry by Stephen F. Austin, later a colonel under General Sam Houston, participated in the Siege of Béxar in 1835, served as a messenger from the Alamo in 1836, and fought alongside Sam Houston at the decisive Battle of San Jacinto on 21 April 1836.
Even so, after the revolution was won and the Republic of Texas established, Seguín's contributions were forgotten quite quickly as Anglo-American colonists – many newcomers who had contributed nothing to the cause of Texas independence – distrusted and mistreated Tejano citizens, including Seguín. He was forced to flee his home in San Antonio de Béxar due to death threats in 1842, and he would later serve under his former enemy, General Antonio López de Santa Anna, in the Mexican-American War of 1846-1848.
He died in Mexico in 1890 was buried in Nuevo Laredo, but his remains were moved to Texas in 1974 so that he could be part of the bicentennial celebrations of 1976, interred in the town that bears his name, Seguin. That honor came a little too late, however, and did more for the politicians of the time and Texas' public image than for Seguín. And, unfortunately, Seguín's story is only the best-known of the many Tejanos who fought for an independent Texas Republic but were denied any recognition for their efforts until over 100 years later.
Early Life
Juan Seguín was born in San Antonio de Béxar, province of Tejas, New Spain, on 27 October 1806 to Juan José María Erasmo Seguín and María Josefa Becerra Seguín, who would later have another son. Seguín received no formal education but was homeschooled, as both his parents were literate and placed a high value on reading and writing.
In 1825, at age 19, Seguín married María Gertrudis Flores de Abrego, daughter of a wealthy and prominent father, and they would have ten children. Supported by his in-laws, Seguín was elected to public office as an alderman in 1828 and became mayor of San Antonio de Béxar in 1833.
Seguín was eager to join the Texas Revolution, which initially was a fight to return Mexico to the Federalist form of government.
Mexico had won its independence from Spain in 1821, and Seguín and his family supported the new Federalist administration and the Constitution of 1824. In 1834, President Antonio López de Santa Anna abolished the Constitution of 1824 and established the Centralist Republic of Mexico, rescinding the rights that citizens of the country's districts had become used to.
Seguín was aware that the Anglo-Americans in Tejas (Texas) were as resentful of this as the native Tejanos and that, even before Santa Anna's actions, had been defying Mexican officials in events such as the Anahuac Disturbances in April 1832 and July 1835. He would also have met James Bowie (later an active participant in the Texas Revolution) sometime after 1828, and certainly after 1831, when Bowie married María Ursula de Veramendi, daughter of the prominent Juan Martín de Veramendi, who would have traveled in Seguín's same social circles.
Texas Revolution 1835
When the Texas Revolution began at the Battle of Gonzales (2 October 1835), Seguín was eager to join the cause, which initially was a fight to return Mexico to the Federalist form of government and restore the Constitution of 1824. Seguín had proved himself a capable commander in spring 1835 when leading a company of militia, and, after Gonzales, Stephen F. Austin, Commander of the Army of the People, commissioned him a captain. Scholar James Donovan comments:
[A] valuable addition [to the Texian cause] was twenty-eight-year-old Juan Seguín, whose father, Erasmo, was a good friend of Stephen Austin's and a former Béxar alcalde [mayor. Erasmo Seguín was one of the town's most prominent citizens, and he had raised his children in a cultured, liberal atmosphere; both men were staunch federalists, and Juan had recently returned from skirmishing with centralist troops near Monclova…The handsome young Seguín brought with him a company of thirty-seven other mounted Tejanos.
Seguín and his men served as scouts and guides for Austin as they advanced on San Antonio de Béxar in October 1835. Mexican General Martín Perfecto de Cos had earlier moved his troops from Goliad to San Antonio and, when the Texians moved against his former position at the Battle of Goliad (10 October 1835), hoping to kidnap Cos, they found only a garrison of 50 soldiers who surrendered.
Austin knew that the decisive blow to Mexican military authority would be at San Antonio, and so he had Seguín and his men go before the Texian forces to scout positions and lead the army by the best route. Seguín participated in the Battle of Concepción (28 October 1835), led by James Bowie and James W. Fannin, and also in the Siege of Béxar (12 October to 11 December 1835). The siege ended with Cos' surrender and, as a central aspect of the terms, he led what was left of his army out of Texas and back to Mexico.
Horsemanship & The Alamo
For many Texians, the victory at the Siege of Béxar meant the end of the Texas Revolution, and so they went home. Colonel James C. Neill, who had been left to hold the Alamo after Cos left, did not believe this – and neither did General Sam Houston, who had been elected to command the regular army in November 1835.
Houston sent James Bowie, with 30 men, to remove all ordnance and anything else of value from the Alamo, and then destroy it to keep it from again becoming a Mexican stronghold. Bowie and Neill both felt the Alamo should be held, not destroyed, as it would serve as a first line of defense when Santa Anna returned to try to retake Texas.
Prior to this, Seguín had been approached by Stephen F. Austin to teach his Anglo-American Texas Rangers how to "ride like a Mexican." Austin had formed the Texas Rangers as a volunteer force in 1823 to protect his colonists against Native American attacks. Scholar Stephen L. Hardin writes:
That process of cultural adaptation transformed the force and rendered the Texas Rangers unique. Presently, it was observed that a Texas Ranger could "shoot like a Tennessean, ride like a Mexican, and fight like the Devil!" yet that could not have been claimed before 1835. Anglo-Americans had to be taught how to ride like Mexicans. Comrades such as Juan Seguín and Placido Benavides proved excellent instructors.
In January 1836, Seguín and his men arrived at the Alamo in response to the calls from Bowie and Neill for reinforcements. In early February, more men responded to the call, including Lt. Colonel William Barret Travis and frontiersman and former Congressman, David Crockett of Tennessee.
On 11 February, Neill left to deal with family problems and turned over command to William Barret Travis. Travis, a regular army officer, was much younger than James Bowie, commanding the volunteers, and so a dispute arose as to who would lead the garrison. When put to a vote, Bowie won – and then celebrated his victory by getting drunk and causing mayhem in town – but, once he sobered up the next day, he agreed that he and Travis would co-command.
Neither Travis nor Bowie – nor Houston, for that matter – believed that Santa Anna would arrive in San Antonio until the spring and so, although requests had been sent out for reinforcements and supplies, and work on strengthening the walls of the Alamo had continued, they were surprised when the banners and lances of the Mexican army under General Santa Anna appeared in Béxar on 23 February 1836.
Juan Seguín (by this time, a cavalry colonel), his men, and many others then in San Antonio de Béxar took refuge in the Alamo. Seguín was present for part of the 13-day siege of the Alamo until he was sent out to ask for help, possibly on 28 February. In a letter by Seguín from 1890, he describes the circumstances:
Travis resolved to name a messenger to proceed to the town of Gonzales and ask for help, thinking that Sam Houston was then at that place. But, as to leave the fortification at such a critical moment was the same as to encounter death, Santa Anna having drawn a complete circle of iron around the Alamo, no one would consent to run the risk, making it necessary to decide the question by putting it to a vote; I was the one elected.
Colonel Travis opposed my taking this commission, stating that, as I was the only one that possessed the Spanish language and understood Mexican customs better, my presence in the Alamo might become necessary in case of having to treat with Santa Anna. But the rest could not be persuaded, and I must go.
I was permitted to take my orderly, Antonio Cruz, and we left at eight o-clock at night after having bid good-bye to all my comrades, expecting certain death. I arrived safely in the town of Gonzalez, and obtained at once a reinforcement of thirty men, who were sent to the Alamo.
Sources disagree on whether Seguín sent the famous 32 volunteers from Gonzales to the Alamo, and he seems to have first headed for Goliad to guide Colonel Fannin's troops to San Antonio, but there is general agreement that Houston ordered Seguín to remain in or around Gonzales until he arrived. On the morning of 6 March 1836, Santa Anna ordered a full assault on the Alamo, and it was quickly taken. All the defenders were killed in the Battle of the Alamo, and any who survived were executed afterwards, including David Crockett.
San Jacinto & Victory
On 11 March, two Tejanos from San Antonio (Andres Barcena and Anselmo Vergara) – known by Seguín and instructed to remain there to report on the status of the Alamo – arrived in Gonzales to report on its fall. Houston, recently arrived, accused them of being spies, relaying false information, and had them arrested.
On 13 March, Susanna Dickinson, the wife of Almaron Dickinson, artillery commander at the Alamo, and Joe, the slave of William B. Travis, arrived to confirm the report that the Alamo had fallen and there were no survivors. Houston ordered Gonzales burned, and an immediate retreat, initiating what is known as the Runaway Scrape, in which colonists fled east to escape the anticipated advance of Santa Anna.
If Seguín had not held against Sesma, there would have been no army to have later won at the Battle of San Jacinto.
Juan Seguín and his men were posted as rearguard, defending the fleeing Anglo-Americans and Tejanos from a possible attack. When Houston reached the Colorado River, Mexican General Sesma was close behind, and Seguín's command held them back while Houston and the fleeing colonists crossed over. If Seguín had not held against Sesma, there would have been no army to have later won at the Battle of San Jacinto.
Houston fled from Santa Anna across Texas but finally established a firm field of battle near the San Jacinto River. By this time, news of the Goliad Massacre of 27 March had reached Houston, and that, coupled with the deaths at the Alamo, enraged the Texian army. Hardin writes:
All were anxious to avenge the deaths of those who had fallen at the Alamo and Goliad. Among them, Juan Seguín led a detachment of about nineteen Tejanos. Their presence in the line of battle was all the more impressive because they had been excused from combat duty. Since the execution of Fannin and his men [at Goliad], animosity against Mexicans – all Mexicans – had run high. Houston was fearful that, in the heat of battle, his vengeful rowdies might not pause to make distinctions…the general ordered Seguín's company to stay and guard the baggage.
Seguín angrily reminded Houston that not all his men were with him. Some had fallen at the Alamo. Besides, all his soldiers hailed from the Béxar area and, until Santa Anna and his army were driven out of Texas, they could not return home. Seguín steadfastly asserted that his men had more reason to hate the santanistas [supporters of Santa Anna] than anyone in Texas and wanted in on the kill.
"Spoken like a man!" Houston exclaimed. But he insisted on one precaution: the Tejanos must place a piece of cardboard in their hatbands to identify them. Consequently, with the distinctive cardboard insignia in place, they advanced upon the enemy with the rest of the army.
Houston won the Battle of San Jacinto in 18 minutes. The provisional government of Texas had declared independence on 2 March and, with this victory, was able to announce the birth of the Texas Republic.
Life After Revolution
After the victory at San Jacinto, Seguín was sent back to San Antonio to accept the surrender of General Juan Andrade on 4 June 1836 and then served as the city's military commander through 1837, overseeing the burial of the remains of those who died at the Alamo. According to Seguín:
The remains of those who died in the Alamo were burned by order of General Santa Anna, and the few fragments I ordered were deposited in an urn. I ordered the sepulcher opened in San Antonio's cathedral next to the altar, that is, in front of the two railings but very near the steps.
Today, these remains are encased in a marble sarcophagus at the entry to the San Fernando Cathedral in San Antonio, but there is no way of knowing if that casket actually contains, as it claims to, the remains of Bowie, Crockett, and Travis.
Betrayal & Mexico
After independence, Sam Houston was elected the first president of the Texas Republic, and Seguín was elected as senator in 1837. In 1839, Seguín was honored when a town 30 miles (48 km) east of San Antonio was named for him, and in 1841, he was again mayor of San Antonio.
More and more Anglo-Americans began to swarm into Texas after 1837, buying up land and, generally, mistreating and mistrusting Tejanos. In 1842, less than ten years after his heroic efforts in the cause of Texian independence, owing to his response to an assault from Mexico, Seguín was suspected of colluding with Mexican operatives to retake Texas, although he had only tried to defend the territory against the assault by General Rafael Vásquez.
In April 1842, Seguín resigned as mayor following death threats from Anglo-American settlers claiming he was a traitor who was trying to hand Texas back to Mexico. He went to Mexico to live near one of his sons and later served in the army under Santa Anna in the Mexican-American War.
Conclusion
Seguín returned to Texas in 1848 and built a house adjoining his father's property. He served as justice of the peace between 1852 and 1854 and, in 1858, wrote and published his memoirs. He returned to Mexico shortly afterwards, living near his son in Nuevo Laredo, and died there of natural causes on 27 August 1890.
The contributions of Tejanos to the Texas Revolution were almost completely ignored in the early years of the Texas Republic and only came to be recognized in the latter part of the 20th century. Juan Seguín's story epitomizes the many others who faithfully served the cause of Texian independence but were later relegated to second-class citizens, persecuted, had their lands stolen, and were driven from their homes by Anglo-Americans.
In 1974, as noted, Seguín's remains were taken from Nuevo Laredo and re-interred at Seguin, Texas, in preparation for the United States bicentennial celebration of 1976. A great monument was erected over his grave with a grand statue of Seguín atop. This gesture became part of an initiative that has gained momentum since: honoring the many Tejanos whose contributions to the independence of Texas were forgotten after victory was won.
Bibliography
Davis, W. C. Three Roads to the Alamo. Harper Perennial, 1999.
Donovan, J. The Blood of Heroes: The 13-Day Struggle for the Alamo. Back Bay Books, 2013.
Edmondson, J. R. The Alamo Story: From Early History to Current Conflicts. TwoDot, 2022.
Groneman, B. Eyewitness to the Alamo. Lone Star Books, 2017.
Haley, J. Sam Houston. University of Oklahoma Press, 2002.
Hardin, S. L. & Zaboly, G. S. Texian Iliad: A Military History of the Texas Revolution. University of Texas Press, 1996.
What sparked the Great New Orleans Fire?
March 21, 1788 — The Great New Orleans Fire today blew through 856 of the 1,100 structures in New Orleans, Louisiana (aka: New Spain). The blaze spanned the s... View MoreWhat sparked the Great New Orleans Fire?
March 21, 1788 — The Great New Orleans Fire today blew through 856 of the 1,100 structures in New Orleans, Louisiana (aka: New Spain). The blaze spanned the south central Vieux Carré from Burgundy to Chartres Street, and nearly touched the Mississippi Riverfront buildings.
The Good Friday blaze began about 1:30 p.m. at the home of Army Treasurer Don Vincente Jose Nuñez, at 619 Chartres Street, corner of Toulouse — less than a block from Jackson Square. But because the fire started on a holy day, priests refused to allow church bells to be rung as a fire alarm. Within five hours, it had consumed almost the entire city as it was fed by a strong wind from the southeast.
The fire destroyed virtually all major buildings in the then-city (which is now known as the French Quarter), including the church, municipal building, army barracks, armory, and jail. Colonial Governor Esteban Rodríguez Miró set up tents for the homeless.
Within six years, Colonial officials had replaced the wooden buildings with masonry structures that had courtyards, thick brick walls, arcades, and wrought iron balconies.
However, on December 8, 1794, another 212 buildings were destroyed in the “Great New Orleans Fire of 1794.” Rebuilding continued in Spanish style, and much of the French-style architecture that once was prominent disappeared from the city.
If the imagination could describe what our senses enable us to feel from sight and touch, reason itself would recoil in horror, and it is no easy matter to say whether the sight of an entire city in flames was more horrible to behold than the suffering and pitiable condition in which everyone was involved. Mothers, in search of a sanctuary or refuge for their little ones, and abandoning their earthly goods to the greed of the relentless enemy, would retire to out-of-the-way places rather than be witnesses of their utter ruin.
Fathers and husbands were busy in saving whatever objects the rapidly spreading flames would permit them to bear off, while the general bewilderment was such as to prevent them from finding even for these a place of security. The obscurity of the night coming on threw its mantle for a while over the saddening spectacle; but more horrible still was the sight, when day began to dawn, of entire families pouring forth into the public highways, yielding to their lamentations and despair, who, but a few hours before, had been basking in the enjoyment of more than the ordinary comforts of life.
The tears, the heartbreaking sobs, and the pallid faces of the wretched people mirrored the dire fatality that had overcome a city, now in ruins, transformed within the space of five hours into an arid and fearful desert. Such was the sad ending of a work of death, the result of seventy years of industry.
— Governor Esteban Rodríguez Miró (1744 – June 4, 1795), summarizing the suffering that occurred during the Great New Orleans Fire of 1788. The Spanish army officer was the governor of the Spanish American provinces of Louisiana and Florida. He was one of the most popular of the Spanish governors, largely because of his prompt response to the 1788 fire that devastated New Orleans.
Scopes Trial, Aka: Monkey Trial, Scopes Monkey Trial
Date: July 10, 1925 - July 21, 1925
Location: Dayton, Tennessee, United States... View MoreScopes Trial, Aka: Monkey Trial, Scopes Monkey Trial
Date: July 10, 1925 - July 21, 1925
Location: Dayton, Tennessee, United States
Key People: William Jennings Bryan Clarence Darrow Arthur Garfield Hays
Christian fundamentalism
Scopes Trial (July 10–21, 1925, Dayton, Tennessee, U.S.), a highly publicized trial (known as the “Monkey Trial”) of a Dayton, Tennessee, high-school teacher, John T. Scopes, charged with violating state law by teaching Charles Darwin’s theory of evolution. The trial’s proceedings helped to bring the scientific evidence for evolution into the public sphere while also stoking a national debate over the veracity of evolution that continues to the present day.
In March 1925, the Tennessee legislature had passed the Butler Act, which declared unlawful the teaching of any doctrine denying the divine creation of man as taught by the Bible. World attention focused on the trial proceedings, which promised and delivered confrontation between fundamentalist literal belief and liberal interpretation of the Scriptures. William Jennings Bryan led for the prosecution, and Clarence Darrow for the defense.
Jury selection began on July 10, and opening statements, which included Darrow’s impassioned speech about the constitutionality of the Butler law and his claim that the law violated freedom of religion, began on July 13. Judge John Raulston ruled out any test of the law’s constitutionality or argument on the validity of evolutionary theory on the basis that Scopes, rather than the Butler law, was on trial. Raulston determined that expert testimony from scientists would be inadmissible.
The trial’s climax came on July 20, when Darrow called on Bryan to testify as an expert witness for the prosecution on the Bible. Raulston moved the trial to the courthouse lawn, citing the swell of spectators and stifling heat inside. Darrow’s cross-examination challenged Bryan on various biblical stories and the validity and practicality of their literal interpretation. Bryan responded by claiming that Darrow’s “only aim was to cast slurs on the Bible.” With Raulston limiting the trial to the single question of whether Scopes had taught evolution, which he admittedly had, Scopes was convicted and fined $100 on July 21. On appeal, the state Supreme Court upheld the constitutionality of the 1925 law but acquitted Scopes on the technicality that he had been fined excessively.
In the trial’s aftermath, Tennessee prevented the teaching of evolution in the classroom until the Butler Act’s repeal in 1967. Additionally, the state legislatures of Mississippi and Arkansas passed their own bans on the teaching of evolution in 1926 and 1928, respectively, which also lasted for several decades before being repealed.
John Brown Warns the Congress about Traitorous Benedict Arnold – and No One Listens
In December of 1776, Col. John Brown of Pittsfield, Mass., made an allegation against Connecticut’s Gen. Benedict A... View MoreJohn Brown Warns the Congress about Traitorous Benedict Arnold – and No One Listens
In December of 1776, Col. John Brown of Pittsfield, Mass., made an allegation against Connecticut’s Gen. Benedict Arnold so shocking it seemed ridiculous.
During the attack on Fort Ticonderoga, Arnold had “made a treasonable attempt to make his escape . . . to the enemy,” Brown said. He claimed Arnold had to be arrested to prevent his flight.
Col. Benedict Arnold, before his promotion to general
John Brown
For a junior officer to be blackening the reputation of an American hero – for that’s what Arnold was at the time – seemed shameful. What’s more, Arnold had disciplined Brown for rifling the bags of British officers captured at Fort Ticonderoga and plundering them.
Brown included the allegation in a long list of grievances he sent to Gen. Horatio Gates. They could easily seem simple retaliation. Congress took up the complaints and, for the most part, cleared Arnold of wrongdoing. But Brown persisted.
In the winter of 1776 and 1777, he printed and distributed a handbill warning of Benedict Arnold’s character. “Money is this man’s God, and to get enough of it he would sacrifice his country,” he wrote. But with Arnold’s heroic efforts at Ticonderoga, Valcour Island, Quebec and Saratoga, Brown’s harping on Arnold’s character fell largely on deaf ears.
Three long years later, the patriots finally discovered Arnold’s treachery trying to sell out his country. Historians have long debated exactly what drove Arnold to this rash act. He complained about being passed over for promotion at one point, left behind by others. And the war cost him tremendously, as he dipped into his personal funds to support his troops.
American Hannibal
Further, Arnold didn’t do well with the bureaucratic side of military life. Though a good warrior – soldiers called him the American Hannibal – he was a horrible accountant. He frustrated Congress with his refusal to track expenses or account for materials. This latter flaw left him open to charges of stealing and using the war for his personal gain. But the losses he incurred paying for his men’s supplies exceeded whatever he might have stolen.
British soldiers shot him twice in the leg, which left him with a permanent limp. And his wife had died while he served his country.
“Having made every sacrifice of fortune and blood, and become a cripple in the service of my country, I little expected to meet the ungrateful returns I have received from my countrymen; but as Congress has stamped ingratitude as a current coin, I must take it,” Arnold fumed in a letter to George Washington.
Yet Washington, Jefferson, and other founding fathers had praised him and offered their gratitude. And Arnold, who remarried during the war, continued getting appointments from Washington – first as military governor in Philadelphia and then as commander of the fort at West Point.
Why John Brown?
So how did Brown, a country lawyer from western Massachusetts, see the traitor in the making when others did not?
He had known Arnold longer.
Brown’s sister married Benedict Arnold’s cousin, giving him familiarity with his background. Arnold grew up in Norwich, Conn. His chances for higher education at Yale College were dashed because his drunkard father had squandered the family’s money.
Brown, however, did attend Yale and, while in New Haven, became familiar with Arnold’s reputation. Though the truth of Arnold’s early life in business has become clouded by efforts to smear him in his later years, Brown had a firm opinion that Arnold was not an ethical nor an honest man.
By the time of the Revolution, Arnold had regained his fortune and home (which his father had lost). But Brown didn’t believe the leopard could change his spots.
Hoping to appease Arnold’s ambition, Washington gave Arnold command of the fort at West Point, but by then the general was hopelessly soured on the American cause. He famously tried to sell out to British Major John Andre and surrender the fort for £20,000. Andre was hanged when the plot was discovered, and Arnold changed sides, leading British troops in battles in Connecticut and Virginia.
As for Brown, he most likely never had the satisfaction of knowing his charges about Arnold were proven right. Historians will never know for certain what prompted Brown to make his allegations — jealousy or something more concrete.
Arnold was discovered as a traitor on September 25, 1780. Brown died in fighting in the town of Stone Arabia in upstate New York on October 17, ambushed. He most likely never learned of Arnold’s final treason.




