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.
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.”
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:
Copy of a letter from the High Sheriff of Kings County:
KINGSTON, 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.
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.
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.
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.
I am with all respect, Dear Sir,
Your Humble Servant,
WALTER BATES.
To THOMAS WETMORE, Esquire, Attorney General.
“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.’”
To this the editor of the “Gazette” adds the following remarks:
“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.”
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.
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