Early American Literature

I finished this book with mixed feelings. On one hand, the picture Crane paints of colonial America in the 1730s—of adultery and murder, but also unhappy marriages, deceit, sexually transmitted diseases, sloppy apothecaries, compulsive consumerism, attempts to circumvent the law, and the possible repercussions of racy novels and gruesome newspaper accounts—is rich and often unexpected, and given Crane’s unparalleled knowledge of the specific, on-the-ground dynamics of Newport, Rhode Island, you cannot help but keep turning pages. This is precisely the kind of microhistory that can keep readers, even undergraduates, riveted. Benedict Arnold, the Revolutionary traitor, makes an appearance or two, although the book primarily focuses on his grandfather, from whom he got his name. On the other hand, however, the author returns repeatedly to two lines of analysis that simply appear anachronistic, as I will show. Nor are those interpretations occasional. They thread through the narrative pervasively and with language that has the author insisting on their significance in understanding the main characters’ motivations. As much as I found this book compelling, I ultimately found those interpretations unavoidable and regrettable.

The Poison Plot centers on the Revolutionary traitor’s grandfather, also named Benedict Arnold, whose wife may have tried to murder him during the winter of 1738–39. After about fourteen years of marriage, Mary Ward Arnold was unhappy. She had engaged in affairs with other men and, at one point, had received medical treatment for gonorrhea—as had one of her lovers, Walter Motley, who lodged in the Arnolds’ home. She had racked up debts on her husband’s accounts, especially preferring to purchase expensive, luxurious fabrics from local importers. As her husband reached his midfifties and his health began to decline, her behavior became more flagrant. Thus, when Benedict suffered violent vomiting after eating an egg dram that Mary had prepared—symptoms that looked to the doctor like a case of poisoning—many looked to Mary as the culprit. Benedict lingered for several months after the event, which relieved his wife of [End Page 510] murder charges, but during that time he successfully obtained a divorce in a petition that laid out his many grievances against her. Even after the divorce, Mary seemed to thrive. She returned to her home colony of Connecticut, where she remarried twice, despite being a divorcée and an accused poisoner.

Crane explores the world the Arnolds inhabited and Mary’s behavior as adulterer and alleged poisoner—and what she reveals is delightful. Her first chapter on the town of Newport in the 1730s offers incredible detail and describes a grittier world than is usually conveyed in works on colonial America. We get familiar scenes: churches, schools, tall ships in the harbor, and hardworking artisans, but we also get wind of pirates on trial, counterfeiters, widespread adultery, and a booming trade in locks and latches for a populace increasingly concerned about theft. News about criminals filtered in from other colonies as well. If Mary Arnold really was as conniving as The Poison Plot suggests, she certainly had good company in her adopted town.

“But how to tell the story?” Crane asks in the preface, mulling the myriad ways of laying out the case’s details alongside her historian’s interpretations (xi). She elects to reveal the most trenchant details up front, so the book reveals no big twists or dramatic revelations (though it nevertheless reserves a few surprises). Rather, the book proceeds in three major parts, moving from the center of the story outward in concentric circles, from a scrutiny of the several major figures to a larger group of ancillary characters and subjects (such as Newport’s doctors and apothecaries, and the topic of adultery within the legal framework of coverture). By the time we finish the slim, readable book, we have touched on numerous details regarding accusations of attempted murder, the complexities of illegitimate children and their place in families, the extent to which...