This Week in Texas History
by BARTEE HAILE
News traveled slowly in Mexico’s largest province, but by Nov. 20, 1835 word began reaching the scattered settlements that the San Felipe Consultation had picked Henry Smith to be the first governor of Texas.
“Henry who?” was the puzzled reaction of many colonists, who found it hard to believe their representatives had passed over far better known figures like Stephen F. Austin and Sam Houston. Yet in the frantic opening phase of the struggle for independence, Smith’s untested leadership and sandpaper personality were preferred over the “Father of Texas” and the future “Hero of San Jacinto.”
It is possible his contemporaries presumed there was wisdom in his years, for at 51 he was an elder statesman in the insurrection. Both Austin and Houston were only 42 years old, and most influential colonists were even younger. But Henry Smith was living proof that men, unlike wine, do not necessarily improve with age.
The Kentuckian came to Texas in 1827 well in advance of the Anglo-American wave. A hard-headed advocate of separation from Mexico, he gained a reputation for militancy at the 1832 Battle of Velasco by sustaining a near-fatal wound.
With a creased skull as his badge of honor, Smith became a strident spokesman for the most zealous wing of the independence movement. At the November 1835 assembly in San Felipe, the loyal lobbying of allies like Branch T. Archer and John A. Wharton pushed him past more qualified candidates in the gubernatorial balloting.
Invariably described by contemporaries as “irascible,” Smith was a vainglorious character cursed with an inflated sense of self-importance. In his inaugural message to the Council, the legislative body selected at the Consultation, he declared himself “the supreme executive of the free and sovereign state of Texas.”
Council members must have winced at his embarrassing display of unbridled ego. As interim or provisional governor, Smith’s power was by no means unlimited, and public opinion was far from unanimous on which course the rebellion should take.
From the very beginning of his tumultuous term, Smith was veto happy. Stubbornly determined to establish his executive prerogative, he quashed nearly every act and recommendation of the Council. Although the disagreements were often petty, he was dead-set on domination.
A deeply rooted hostility toward Mexicans of all political persuasions caused a bitter New Year’s confrontation between Smith and the infuriated Council. Their debate over a suggested offensive against Matamoros degenerated into a test of wills that wrecked the temporary government.
The idea of taking the fight to Santa Anna strongly appealed not only to the Council but also to the overwhelming majority of Texans. Instead of waiting for the dictator to invade, why not cross the Rio Grande and throw the first punch?
An American-born refugee assured the Council that Mexican liberals by the thousands would welcome Texans as liberators. Dr. James Grant, whose personal agenda was the retrieval of his confiscated property, confidently predicted the combined might of the Anglo rebels and Santa Anna’s persecuted opponents would topple the tyrant in no time.
Gov. Smith and his commander-in-chief blasted the Matamoros plan but for diametrically different reasons. Denouncing each and every Mexican as treacherous and untrustworthy, Smith rejected the scheme as a recipe for disaster. Sam Houston, who did not share the governor’s rabid racial prejudice, cited the obvious military flaws of the ill-conceived adventure.
Backed into a corner, the Council impulsively went over Smith’s head. They endorsed the Matamoros action on Jan. 3, 1836 and in a truly bizarre twist, appointed three separate but supposedly equal field commanders to carry it out.
Smith retaliated by raking the Council over the coals and demanding that the body obey his edicts or dissolve. The Council responded by voting to impeach the governor, a rash move the legislators had not the power to enforce.
Smith called their bluff by simply standing his ground. Unable to remove him from office, the dazed deputies were up a creek and drowning in their own impotence. On Jan. 17 the demoralized Council failed to muster a quorum and by month’s end no longer bothered to meet.
Texans faced the grim challenges of February and March 1836 tragically crippled by a lack of civilian and military leadership. Smith remained governor in name only, a pathetic figurehead to whom no one paid the slightest attention. With the chain of command in chaos, the army was ripe for annihilation.
Destiny did not dictate the sacrifice of more than Texans at the Alamo and Goliad. If Henry Smith and the Council had not mistaken each other for the enemy, those precious lives might not have been wasted.
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