Henry More Smith: The Mysterious Stranger

by Walter Bates

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, &c.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.