Henry More Smith: The Mysterious Stranger

<h2>CHAPTER VII.</h2> <p>After Sentence Smith Assumes Indifference to His Fate—Breaks Fastenings Again—His Marionette Family Described by Sheriff Bates—Tells Something of His Past History—His Case Considered by Supreme Court at Fredericton.</p> <div class='c008'> <ANTIMG class='drop-capi' src='images/ch7-capt.jpg' width-obs='100' alt='' /></div> <p class='drop-capi_8'> The business being ended, the prisoner was returned to his cell where he received his chains with willingness and apparent satisfaction; and the court adjourned without delay. The Attorney General, however, gave me to understand that the prisoner would not be executed immediately; and requested that I would observe his behavior, and inform him by letter the particulars of his conduct. The next morning I visited him, and observed to him that he was now under sentence of death, and he would be allowed only one pound of bread every day, with water, during the short time he had to live. That as soon as the death warrant was signed by the president, he would be executed, and that a short time only was left him to prepare for the dreadful event. But he paid no attention; patted his hands, sang and acted the fool as usual. One of his visitors being much surprised at his insensibility, observed to him, “Smith, it is too late for you to deceive any more; your fate is fixed now, and you had better employ your little time in making your peace with God, than to act the fool any longer.” On our next visit to the gaol, which was soon after, we found his Testament open, and a leaf turned down on the following passage—“If any man among you seemeth to be wise, let him become a fool, that he may be wise.” From this it would appear, that he either founded his pretended insanity on Scripture precept, or affected to do so; yet it cannot be supposed that he intended us to know what use he made of this Scripture, as he must have known that our conclusion would be that he was “more rogue than fool.”</p> <p>I kept him nine days on bread and water, during which time he manifested no sign of hunger, more than when fed with four times his allowance, and tore off every particle of his clothing, leaving himself entirely naked. After this time, I allowed him other provisions, and his subsequent behavior was briefly stated in a letter to the Attorney General, and afterwards, published in the “Royal Gazette.” The following is a true copy of the letter, as it appeared in that paper, July 11th, 1815:</p> <p>Copy of a letter from the High Sheriff of Kings County:</p> <p class='c013'><span class='sc'>Kingston</span>, June 26th, 1815—My Dear Sir—Having heard nothing from you since the late gaol delivery at Kings County, I beg leave to state to you some circumstances of the criminal, Henry More Smith, since his trial and sentence. After securing him with strong chains to his neck and legs, and with handcuffs, he continued beating the floor, hallooing day and night with little intermission, making different sounds; sometimes with jingling his chains, and sometimes without, apparently in different parts of the gaol, insomuch that the gaoler frequently sent for me, supposing he must be loose from his chains, which I conceived and frequently observed was impossible, being far beyond the power of human strength or invention, in his situation; but on the 24th of May, going into the gaol early in the morning, (after examining his chains at 2 o’clock the day before,) I found three links of his heaviest chains separated, and lying on the floor, being part of the chain without the staple. He continued in the same way until the 2nd of June, when we found the largest chain parted about the middle and tied with a string, which clearly proves that irons and chains are no security for him. I then put on a light chain, with which he has been ever since. I never discovered him at work at anything, but he frequently produced effigies or likenesses, very striking, representing his wife. He now produced an effigy of a man in perfect shape, with his features painted, and joints to all his limbs, and dressed him in clothes that he had made in good shape and fashion out of clothes he had torn off himself, (being now naked,) which was admired for its ingenuity. This he would put sometimes in one position and sometimes in another, and seemed to amuse himself with it, without taking the least notice of anything else; continuing in his old way hallooing, without any alteration, until the 13th, when the gaoler informed me that he refused to eat, and no doubt was sick. I went to see him every day—found he did not eat—all the bread and other provisions conveyed to him he gave to his effigy, strung on a string, and put in his hands. He lay perfectly still day and night, and took no notice of anything—would drink tea or milk, which I gave him twice a day for five days, he then refused to drink anything for two days, which made seven days that he ate nothing. In that time he began to speak—would ask questions, but would hold no conversation. But the most extraordinary, the most wonderful and mysterious of all, is that in this time he has prepared, undiscovered, and at once exhibited the most striking picture of genius, art, taste, and invention, that ever was, and I presume ever will be produced by any human being placed in his situation, in a dark room, chained and handcuffed, under sentence of death, without so much as a nail of any kind to work with but his hands, and naked. The exhibition is far beyond my power to describe. To give you some faint idea, permit me to say, that it consists of ten characters—men, women and children—all made and painted in the most expressive manner, with all the limbs and joints of the human frame—each performing different parts; their features, shape and form, all express their different offices and character, their dress is of different fashions, and suitable to the stations in which they are. To view them in their stations, they appear as perfect as though alive, with all the air and gaiety of actors on the stage. Smith sits in his bed by the side of the gaol, his exhibition begins about a foot from the floor, and compasses the whole space to the ceiling. The uppermost is a man whom he calls his tamborine player, or sometimes Dr. Blunt, standing with all the pride and appearance of a master musician; his left hand akimbo, his right hand on his tamborine, dressed in suitable uniform. Next him, below, is a lady genteely dressed, gracefully sitting in a handsome swing; at her left stands a man, neatly dressed, in the character of a servant, holding the side of the swing with his right, his left hand on his hip, in an easy posture, waiting the lady’s motion. On her right hand stands a man genteely dressed, in the character of a gallant, in a graceful posture for dancing. Beneath these three figures, sits a young man and a young woman (apparently about fourteen,) in a posture of tilting, at each end of a board, decently dressed. Directly under these stands one whom he calls Bonaparte, or sometimes the father of his family; he stands erect, his features are prominent, his cheeks red, his teeth are white and set in order, his gums and lips red, his nose shaded black, representing the nostrils; his dress is that of the harlequin. In one hand he holds an infant, with the other he plays or beats music; before him stand two children, apparently three or four years old, holding each other by the hand, in the act of playing or dancing, which, with a man dressed in fashion, who appears in the character of a steward, sometimes in one situation, and sometimes in another, makes up the show, all of which you have in one view. Then commences the performance.</p> <p class='c013'>The first operation is from the tamborine player, or master, who gives two or three single strokes on his tamborine, that may be heard in any part of the house, without moving his body. He then dances gracefully a few steps, without touching his tamborine; the lady is then swung two or three times by the steward; then the gallant takes a few steps; then the two below tilt a few times in the most easy, pleasant manner; then the two children dance a little, holding each other by the hand; after this, Smith begins to sing or whistle a tune, to which they are to dance, at which the tamborine strikes, and every one dances to the tune, with motion, ease, and exactness not to be described. Many have been the observations of spectators; amongst them, an old German observed that, “when he was starving the seven days, he was making a league with the devil and that he helped him.” All acknowledged with me, that it exceeds anything they ever saw or imagined. His whole conduct from the first has been, and is, one continued scene of mystery.</p> <p class='c013'>He has never shown any idea or knowledge of his trial or present situation; he seems happy; his irons and chains are no apparent inconvenience; contented like a dog or monkey broke to his chain; shows no more idea of anything past, than if he had no recollection.</p> <p class='c013'>He, in short, is a mysterious character, possessing the art of invention beyond common capacity. I am almost ashamed to forward you so long a letter on the subject, and so unintelligible; I think, if I could have done justice in describing the exhibition, it would have been worthy a place in the “Royal Gazette,” and better worth the attention of the public than all the wax-work ever exhibited in this Province.</p> <div class='lg-container-r c014'> <div class='linegroup'> <div class='group'> <div class='line'>I am with all respect, Dear Sir,</div> <div class='line in8'>Your Humble Servant,</div> <div class='line in28'><span class='sc'>Walter Bates</span>.</div> </div></div> </div> <div class='lg-container-l c014'> <div class='linegroup'> <div class='group'> <div class='line'>To <span class='sc'>Thomas Wetmore</span>, Esquire, Attorney General.</div> </div></div> </div> <p class='c013'>“P.S.—Wednesday, the 28th.—This morning I found he added to his works a drummer, placed at the left of his tamborine player, equal in appearance, and exceeding in performance; beats the drum with either hand, or both occasionally, in concert with the tamborine, keeping time with perfect exactness; sometimes sitting, at others standing or dancing. He had also, in the most striking manner, changed the position of his scene. The lady above described to be sitting so gracefully in her swing, with so many attendants and admirers, is now represented sitting in a dejected posture, with a young infant in her arms; her gallant has left her, and is taking the young girl before described, about fourteen, by the hand, with an air of great gallantry, leading her, and dancing to the tune with perfect exactness, representing more than can be described. On viewing this an old Scotchman observed,—‘Some say he is mad, others he is a fool; but I say he is the sharpest man I ever saw; his performance exceeds all I have ever met with, and I do not believe he was ever equalled by man.’ This evening, a gentleman from Boston, having heard the above description, came to see the performance, and declared he could say, as the Queen of Sheba did, that ‘the half had not been told.’”</p> <p>To this the editor of the “Gazette” adds the following remarks:</p> <p class='c013'>“We have given an entire copy of the above letter, which has excited our astonishment, and will, probably, that of every other person who has not seen the exhibition and performance described in it. Those who are acquainted with the sheriff, know him to be incapable of stating falsehoods, or attempting in any way to practice a deception, and will, of course, give credit to the statement of facts, wonderful as they may appear to be, which he has made.”</p> <p>The Supreme Court, in July, being about to be held in Fredericton, and feeling anxious to know the fate of the prisoner, I attended for this purpose; and having ascertained from the Attorney General that his destiny would not be fatal, I returned again to Kingston, when the gaoler informed me that the first night I had left Kingston, Smith had drawn the staple of the chain that was about his neck, and had so concealed them both that they could not be found; and the glass in the brick wall was broken at the same time; but that the chain could not have gone through that way, as the outside glass in the window was whole; that the room and every other part of the gaol had been thoroughly searched; but neither the chain nor staple could be found; neither could it be imagined how he broke the glass, as it was far beyond the reach of his chains. On my entering the jail, Smith said to me, “The devil told my drummer, if I did not put that chain out of the way, you would certainly put it about my neck again;” that he hated it, and had murdered it and put it under the dirt; but he feared he should have no peace till he raised it again. I then told him he must raise it again, and if he behaved himself well I would not put it about his neck again. The next morning the chain was seen lying on the jail floor; but where or by what means he concealed it, could never be found out. I then took off his handcuffs, and gave him water to wash himself. I also gave him a clean shirt and a jacket, and a young man who was present gave him a black handkerchief, which he put about his neck and seemed much pleased; and said if he had a fiddle, or any instrument of music, he could play for his family to dance; if he had a set of bagpipes, he could play on them very well, and that if we gave him wood and leather, he would make a set. He was offered a fife, which he handled in a clumsy way; but he said he believed he could learn to play on it. He paid the boy for it, and then took the fife, and would play any tune either right or left handed. I then told him if he would behave well I would not put his handcuffs on that day. He replied that he would then have his family in good order for my ball; but he observed that when he put one hand to anything the other would follow as though the handcuffs were on. We gave him some materials that he wanted, and then left him; this was the 17th of July. On the 18th we found him busily employed with his family, making improvements for the ball. I gave him pen, ink, and paint, and many articles for clothing, &amp;c.</p> <p>All his figures were formed of straw from his bedding, curiously entwined and interwoven. The colouring he had used before was his own blood, and coal which he got from a piece of burnt timber in the jail; and their first clothing was made from his own torn clothes. He now began to talk more coherently and accounted for the broken glass. He said to me,—“My drummer cried out for more air;” his family stood so thick about him. “Well,” said I “tell me how to get more air and I will go to work at it. He told me to make a strong whisp of straw, long enough to reach the glass and break it, which I did, and then after undoing the whisp put the straw in my bed again.” He continued improving his family, by dressing and painting them all anew, and by adding to their number. He said there was a gentleman and lady coming from France to attend his ball, and all of them must perform well. With the money he received from visitors, many of whom I have known to give him a dollar for one exhibition, he purchased calico enough for a curtain or screen. In front of the partition stood all his family which he continued to improve and increase, until he said they were all present and were coming to the ball; and about the 10th August completed his show for exhibition. The whole consisted of twenty-four characters, male and female, six of which beat music in concert with the fiddle, while sixteen danced to the tune; the other two were pugilists; Bonaparte with his sword fighting an Irishman with his shillelah. His musicians were dressed in their proper uniform; some were drummers, some were tamborine players, and some were bell-ringers. In the centre stood his dancing master, with his hat, boots and gloves on. In an advanced station stood an old soldier in Scotch uniform, acting as sentinel, while Smith himself stood before them, his feet under the curtain, playing a tune on the fiddle, to which they would all dance or beat in perfect harmony with the music—the one half on the right to one part of the tune, and the other half on the left to the other part, and then all together as regular and as natural as life. The dancing master with his right hand and foot with one part, and his left hand and foot with the other, and then with the whole together, with the utmost ease, to any tune that was played. So ingenious, and I may say, so wonderful was the exhibition, that it is impossible to do justice to its description; and numbers of persons from different parts came to indulge their curiosity by witnessing the performance, and all expressed their astonishment in terms the most unqualified. Doctor Prior, a gentleman from Pennsylvania, was among the number of visitors. He told me that he had spent most of his time in foreign parts, travelling for general and literary information, and had made it a point to examine all curiosities, both natural and artificial, and that having heard much of an extraordinary person I had in prison, he came for the express purpose of seeing him and his exhibition. Having viewed his person and every part of his performance, he was pleased to say that he had travelled through all the continent of America, and a great part of Europe, but had never met anything the equal of what he there saw performed and that he certainly should not fail to insert a notice of it in the journal of his travels and observations.</p> <p>Another gentleman, Dr. Couglen, from Ireland, who had been surgeon in His Majesty’s service both by land and sea, came also to visit our prisoner, and see his extraordinary exhibition, and after having viewed it occasionally for several days, while he remained at Kingston, declared that he had lived in England, Ireland and Scotland; had been in France and Holland and through a great part of Europe; had been at Hamburg and other places famous for numerous exhibitions of various kinds, but had never met with any that in all respects equalled what he there saw exhibited. The doctor then belonging to the Garrison at St. Andrews, having heard, while at Head Quarters, from the Attorney General, an account of this extraordinary character, took his tour from Fredericton by way of Kingston, for the express purpose of satisfying his curiosity, and seeing for himself. When on entering the prison, Smith, seeing the doctor in regimentals, said to him with much good humor, “I suppose you are come here looking for deserters; there is my old drummer, I don’t know but he deserted from some regiment—the rest are all my family.” He seemed very much pleased with his new visitor, and readily exhibited every part of his performance, to the full satisfaction of the doctor, who expressed his astonishment in the most unqualified terms, and acknowledged that it far exceeded his anticipations.</p> <p class='c008'>August 13th—At evening we found that he had improved his Scotch sentinel by giving him a carved wooden head, finished with the natural features of a bold Highlander. This was the first of his carved work. He had also much improved his pugilists. Bonaparte, by some unlucky stroke, had killed the Irishman, and had taken off his head and hung it up at his right hand. A brawny old Scotchman had taken the Irishman’s place, and was giving the Corsican a hard time of it, knocking him down as often as he got up.</p> <p>Next day at noon I called to see him; he had been fiddling remarkably well, and singing very merrily; but on my entering I found him busily employed at carving a head which was to take Bonaparte’s place, for that bold Scotchman would overpower him soon. He observed that carving was a trade in England, and that he did not expect to do so well at it before he made the trial; and further remarked that a man did not know what he could do until he set about it; and that he had never failed in anything he undertook. He said he had never seen any such show in England as that he was now working at; that he had only dreamed of his family, and had the impression that he must “go to work” and make them all; that if he did, it would be better with him, and if he did not, it would be bad with him; that he had worked ever since, by night and by day, and had not quite completed them yet; that there were a shoemaker and a tailor that had not come yet for want of room; that he should make room if he did not go away; that he had been here until he had become perfectly contented, and “contentment,” he said “was the brightest jewel in his life;” and that he never enjoyed himself better than he did at present with his family.</p> <p>In the evening I went in to see him again; and as my curiosity to know the origin of so singular a character was greatly excited, I hoped that the present would have proved a favorable opportunity to draw some information from him; but he cautiously and studiously avoided answering any questions relative to his previous life, and affected not to understand what I said to him.</p> <p>Sometimes he would talk very freely, and in a prophetic strain, of his future destiny. He said he knew he was going away from home, and that he should find enemies; every one who knew him would be afraid of him, and look upon him with distrust and horror. That occasionally he was distressed in his sleep with all kinds of creatures coming about him. Great hogs and all kinds of cattle and creeping things, snakes and adders, frogs and toads, and every hateful thing. That he would start up from sleep and walk about the prison; then lie down and get asleep, and be annoyed with them again. That he would sit up and talk to his family, and sometimes take his fiddle and play to amuse himself, and drive away these dreary hours of night. He said these snakes and adders he could read very well; that he knew what they all meant, and could understand something concerning the others; but that these frogs and toads coming together he could not understand; only that he knew he was to leave this place and go on the water, and that he could see as clearly as he saw me standing before him, that he should find enemies, and everybody would be afraid of him; but he would hurt no one; that he should find trouble, and have irons on him, but that they should come off again; that the crickets came and would get upon his children and would sing among them; that he liked to hear them; that his mother told him he must not hurt them, they were harmless, and that he must not hurt anybody.</p> <p>His mother, he continued to say, always gave him good advice; but he had done that which he ought not to have done, and had suffered for it; but he forgave all his enemies. The Lord says, if you would ask forgiveness of Him, forgive thy brother also. We cannot expect forgiveness except we repent and forgive our enemies. The word of God is plain; except you forgive your brother his trespasses, neither will your Heavenly Father forgive you when you ask of him. All men are sinners before God; watch, therefore, and pray that ye enter not into temptation. I watch here and pray with my family night and day; they cannot pray for themselves. But I shall not stay long; he could go to sea as supercargo of some vessel, or he could get his living with his family as a show in any country but England, and he had never seen such a show in England; that he had never enjoyed himself better than with his family at present. He did not care for himself so long as his family looked well; he would be willing to die, and he should like to die here rather than go among his enemies; but he believed he had one friend in England, old Willie, if he is yet alive; he was always his friend, and he should like to go and see him. And he had one sister, he said, in England, that he wanted to see; she played well on the pianoforte, and he himself could play on it also. She was married to a lieutenant in the army but he was promoted to be captain now. If he could he would go to see her in England, where he had friends.</p> <p>He also said that he had an uncle in Liverpool, a merchant. Then looking earnestly upon me, he said, “My name is not Smith—my name is Henry J. Moon. I was educated in Cambridge College, in England. I understand English, French and Latin well, and can speak and write five different languages.” He also said he could write any hand as handsome or as bad as I ever saw. He said he had five hundred pounds in the Bank of England, which was in the care of Mr. Turner, and that he wished to have his wife get it, as he did not know where he should go; but he knew he should meet with trouble; yet he did not fear what man could do to him, for he could but kill him, and he should like to die here. After hearkening to these incoherent observations for a length of time, without being able to obtain an answer to any question I put to him, I left him for that time.</p> <div class='figcenter id001'> <ANTIMG src='images/endchap7-pg109.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /></div> <div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />