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Henry More Smith: The Mysterious Stranger

<h2>CHAPTER X.</h2> Seen in the Connecticut Prison by Sheriff Bates He Denies That He is Henry More Smith—After His Release from Prison He Robbed a Passenger in the Boston Coach—Visits Upper Canada as a Smuggler—Turns up as a Preacher in the Southern States—Is Arrested in Maryland for Theft—Possibly Finished His Career in Toronto. <div class='c008'> <ANTIMG class='drop-capi' src='images/ch10-capa.jpg' width-obs='100' alt='' /></div> After I arrived in New Haven, where I was put in possession of these particulars concerning him, no person was known in the United States who could identify him to be the noted Henry More Smith but myself. I was consequently requested, for the gratification of the public, to go to Simsbury Mines to see him. I had the curiosity to see how he conducted himself at Newgate, and proceeded to Simsbury, about fifty miles, for the purpose. On my arrival at Simsbury, I enquired of Capt. Washburn, the keeper of the prison, how Newman conducted himself. He answered that he behaved very well; that he heard that he was a very bad fellow, but he had so many that were worse he did not think anything bad in Newman. I further enquired of the keeper what account Newman gave of himself, and what he acknowledged to have been his occupation. His answer to these enquiries were, that he professed to be a tailor, if anything, but he had not been accustomed to much hard work, as he had always been subject to fits; that his fits were frightful, and that in his agony and distress he would turn round on his head and shoulders like a top, and he was so bruised and chafed with his irons in his convulsive agonies, that he had taken the shackles off his legs, so that now he had only one on one leg. This was as convincing to me as possible that he was my old friend Smith. The captain asked me if I had a wish to liberate him. I replied, my object was to ascertain whether he were a prisoner I had in my custody more than twelve months, and that if he were, he would know me immediately, but would not profess to know me. Accordingly, when he was brought into my presence in the captain’s room, he maintained a perfect indifference, and took no notice of me whatever. I said to him, “Newman, what have you been doing that has brought you here?” “Nothing,” said he, “I had an ear-ring with me that belonged to my wife, and a young lady claimed it and swore it belonged to her, and I had no friend to speak in favor of me, and they sent me to prison.” I then asked him whether he had ever seen me before. He looked earnestly upon me and said, “I do not know but I have seen you at New Haven, there were many men at court.” “Where did you come from?” His reply was, “I came from Canada.” “What countryman are you?” “A Frenchman, born in France.” He had been in London and Liverpool, but never at Brighton. “Was you ever at Kingston, New Brunswick?” He answered, “No, he did not know where that was,” with a countenance as unmoved as if he had spoken in all the confidence of truth. He appeared rather more fleshy than when at Kingston; but still remained the same subtle, mysterious being. I understood that he was the first that had ever effected an exemption from labor in that prison by or on any pretence whatever. He kept himself clean and decent, and among the wretched victims who were daily brought from the horrid pit in chains and fetters to their daily labor of making nails, William Newman appeared quite a distinguished character. So obtuse was he that he could not be taught to make a nail, and yet so ingenious was he, that he made a jew’s harp to the greatest perfection, without being discovered at work and without its being known until he was playing on it. It was in the city of New Haven that the author published the first edition of these Memoirs, being aware that here, where his character and unprecedented actions were perfectly known throughout the country, the publication of his doings at Kingston, and his career throughout the Provinces of New Brunswick and Nova Scotia would not only be desirable and acceptable, but would also be received with less scrupulousness, when brought, as it were, in contact with facts of a similar nature publicly known and believed. While these papers were being prepared for the press, a gentleman from Washington, Major McDaniel, on his return from Boston, boarded some time in the same house with me, that of Mr. Joseph Nichols, and having heard some details from me of his unprecedented character and actions in New Brunswick, and having also become acquainted with the facts relating to his imprisonment and escape, etc., in that place, could not repress his curiosity in going to see him, and requested me to accompany him at his own expense. He observed that it would be a high gratification to him, on his return to Washington, that he would not only have one of my books with him, but would also be able to say that he had personally seen the sheriff from New Brunswick that had written the book, and had seen the remarkable character in the prison of Newgate that had constituted the subject of the book, and also the prison of New Haven from which he escaped. Accordingly we set out from Newgate, and my friend had the satisfaction of seeing the noted Henry More Smith, now William Newman. On our leaving him, I said to him, “Now, Smith, if you have anything you wish to communicate to your wife, I will let her know it.” He looked at me and said, “Sir, are you going to the Jerseys?” “Why do you think your wife is there?” “I hope so; I left her there,” was his reply, and that with as much firmness and seeming earnestness as if he had never before seen my face. After I had left him and returned to New Haven, and furnished the printer with this additional sketch, and had the Memoirs completed, one of the books was shown to him, which he perused with much attention and replied with seeming indifference that there never was such a character in existence, but that some gentleman travelling in the United States had run short of money, and had invented that book to defray his expenses! Immediately after he had read the Memoirs of his own unparalleled life and actions, and pronounced the whole a fiction, as if to outdo anything before recited of him, or attributed to him, he added the following remarkable feat to the list, already so full of his singular and unprecedented actions. In the presence of a number of young persons, and when there was a fine fire burning on the hearth, he affected to be suddenly seized with a violent convulsive fit, falling down on the floor and bounding and writhing about as if in the most agonizing suffering. And what constituted the wonder of this masterpiece of affectation was, that in his spasmodic contortions his feet came in contact with the fire, and were literally beginning to be roasted, without his appearing to feel any pain from the burning. This circumstance confirmed the belief in the bystanders that the fit was a reality; and he did not miss his aim in showing off his spasmodic attack, which was indeed done to the life. He was consequently exempted from hard labor, and was permitted to employ himself in any trifling occupation he chose, or in making jew’s harps, pen-knives, knives of various descriptions, and rings, in the mechanism of which he displayed much original talent and characteristic ingenuity. Many persons, from mere curiosity, purchased among the rest may be instanced the case of two young men, who very much admired his small pen-knives, and proposed purchasing two of them on condition of his engraving his name on the handles of them. He immediately engraved, with perfect neatness, “Henry More Smith,” on one side of one of them, “William Newman,” on the other side, and on the other knife he engraved, “Mysterious Stranger.” These knives were kept by their owners as curiosities, and many persons were much gratified by seeing them. One of them was sometime after brought to Kingston, and I myself had the gratification of seeing the name of my old domestic engraved on the handle. Under the indulgent treatment he received in Newgate, he became perfectly reconciled to his situation, manifesting no desire to leave it. “Contentment” he said, “is the brightest jewel in this life, and I was never more contented in my life.” Consequently he never attempted any means of escape. After the period of his imprisonment was up, and he had received his discharge, he left with the keeper of the prison a highly finished pocket-knife, of moderate size, the handle of which contained a watch, complete in all its parts, keeping time regularly. And what excited much wonder in reference to this ingenious and singularly curious piece of mechanism, was the fact that he had never been found at work on any part of the watch or knife, and yet there was no doubt in the minds of those who saw it that it was in reality the production of his own genius, and the work of his own hands. For this information I was indebted to a gentleman named Osborne, who resided in the neighbourhood, and who stated that he had seen the watch and knife himself, and that it was regarded by all as a most wonderful piece of ingenuity. He left Simsbury decently apparelled, and with some money in his pocket, and in possession of some articles of his own handiwork. He directed his course eastward, and was seen in Boston; but for some time nothing particular or striking was heard of him. The first thing concerning him, that arrested public attention, was published in the Boston Bulletin, and which came under my own eye: Beware of Pickpockets!—As the stage coach, full of passengers, was on its way to this city a few evenings since, one of the passengers rang the bell, and cried out to the driver to stop his horses, as his pockets had been picked of a large sum of money since he entered the coach; and at the same time requested the driver would not let any of the passengers get out of the coach; it being dark, until he, the aforesaid passenger, should bring a light in order to have a general search. This caused a general feeling of pockets among the passengers, when another passenger cried out that his pocket-book had also been stolen. The driver did as directed until the gentleman who first spoke should have time to have procured a lamp, but whether he found it or not remained quite uncertain. But no doubt he found the light he intended should answer his purpose, as he did not make his appearance in any other light. However the passenger who really lost his pocket-book, which, although it did not contain but a small amount of money, thinks he shall hereafter understand what is meant when a man in a stage coach calls out thief, and that he will prefer darkness rather than light, if ever such an evil joke is offered to be played with him again. As he was continually changing his name, as well as his place, it was impossible always to identify his person, especially as few persons in the United States were personally acquainted with him. The difficulty of recognizing him was not a little increased also by the circumstances of his continually changing his external appearance; and the iniquitous means by which he could obtain money and change of apparel, always afforded him a perfect facility of assuming a different appearance. In addition to these circumstances also, as a feature of character which no less contributed to the difficulty of identifying him, must be taken into account his unequalled and inimitable ease in affecting different and various characters, and his perfect and unembarrassed composure in the most difficult and perplexing circumstances. To the identity and eccentricity, therefore, of his actions, rather than to our knowledge of the identity of his person and name, we must depend, in our future attempts to trace his footsteps and mark their characteristic points. On this ground, therefore, there is not the shadow of a doubt that the robbery committed in the stage coach, and that the originality of the means by which he carried off his booty pointed with unhesitating certainty to the noted character of our narrative. After this depredation in the coach, with which he came off successful, it would appear that he bended his course in disguise through the States of Connecticut and New York, assuming different characters and committing many robberies undiscovered and even unsuspected for a length of time, and afterwards made his appearance in Upper Canada in the character of a gentleman merchant from New Brunswick with a large quantity of smuggled goods from New York, which he said was coming on after him in wagons. These, he said, he intended to dispose of on very moderate terms, so as to suit purchasers. Here he called upon my brother, Augustus Bates, Deputy Postmaster, at Wellington Square, head of Lake Ontario, and informed the family that he was well acquainted with Sheriff Bates at Kingston, and that he called to let them know that he and his family were well. He regretted very much that he had not found Mr. Bates at home, and stated that he was upon urgent and important business and could not tarry with them for the night, but would leave a letter for him. This he accordingly did, properly addressed, and in good handwriting; but when it was opened, and its contents examined, no one in the place could make out the name of the writer, or read any part of the letter! It appeared to have been written in the characters of some foreign language, but it could not be decyphered. This was another of his characteristic eccentricities, but his intention in it could not be well understood. He did not appear to make himself particularly known to the family, nor to cultivate any further acquaintance with them, but proceeded thence to the principal boarding house in the town and engaged entertainments for himself and thirteen other persons, who, he said, were engaged in bringing on his wagons, loaded with his smuggled goods. Having thus fixed upon a residence for himself and his gang of wagoners, he then called upon all the principal merchants in the town, on pretence of entering into contracts for storing large packages of goods, and promising to give great bargains to purchasers on their arrival, and in some instances actually received money as earnest on some packages of saleable goods, for the sale of which he entered into contracts. It may be remarked, by the way, that he wrote also in an unknown and unintelligible hand to the celebrated Captain Brant, the same as he had written to Mr. Bates, but with what view was equally mysterious and unaccountable. Notwithstanding his genteel and respectable appearance, there was a singularity in his manner and conduct which, with all his tact and experience, he could not altogether conceal, and hence arose some suspicions as to the reality of his pretensions. These suspicions received confirmation, and were soon matured into the reality of his being a genteel imposter, from the fact that the time for the arrival of his wagons was now elapsed, and that they were not making an appearance. At this juncture, when public attention and observation were directed to the stranger to observe which way the balance would turn, an individual named Brown, who had formerly resided in New Brunswick, and moved with his family to Canada, coming into contact with the gentleman, recognized him from a certain mark he carried on his face to be the far-famed Henry More Smith, whom he had seen and known when in gaol at Kingston. This report passing immediately into circulation, gave the imposter a timely signal to depart, without waiting for the arrival of his wagons and baggage, and without loss of time he took his departure from Canada, by the way of Lake Erie, through the Michigan Territory, and down the Ohio to the Southern States. With his proceedings during this course of his travels we are entirely unacquainted; therefore the reader must be left to his own reflections as to his probable adventures as he travelled through this immense tract of country. There is no reason for doubt, however, that he had by this time, and even long before, become so confirmed in his iniquitous courses that he would let no occasion pass unimproved that would afford him an opportunity of indulging in the predominant propensity of mind which seemed to glory in the prosecutions of robberies and plunder, as well as in the variety of means by which he effected his unheard of and unprecedented escapes. After his arrival in the Southern States, we are again able to glean something of his life and history. While he was yet in the gaol at King’s county, it will be remembered that he said he had been a preacher, and that he should preach again, and would gain proselytes; and now his prediction is brought about, for under a new name, that of Henry Hopkins, he appeared in the character of a preacher in the Southern States! And what wonder? For Satan himself is transformed into an angel of light. Here, even in this character he was not without success, for he got many to follow and admire him; yet deep as his hypocrisy was, he seemed to be fully sensible of it, although his conscience had become seared, and was proof against any proper sense of wrong. He acknowledged that he had been shocked to see so many follow him to hear him preach, and even to be affected under his preaching. Our source of information does not furnish us with any of the particulars which marked his conduct while itinerating through the South in his newly assumed character; yet general accounts went on to say that he had, for a length of time, so conducted himself that he gained much popularity in his ministerial calling, and had a considerable number of adherents. However, this may have been the case for a length of time, yet as the assumption of this new character could not be attributable to any supernatural impulse, but was merely another feature of a character already so singularly diversified, intended as a cloak under which he might, with less liability to suspicion, indulge the prevailing and all controlling propensities of his vitiated mind, it was not to be expected, with all the ingenuity he was capable of exercising, that he would long be able to conceal his real character. Accordingly, some misdemeanor, which we have not been able to trace, at length disclosed the hypocrisy of his character, and placed him before his deluded followers in his true light. It would appear, whatever might have been the nature of his crime, that legal means were adopted for his apprehension, and that in order to expedite his escape from the hands of justice, he had seized upon a certain gentleman’s coach and horses and was travelling in the character of a gentleman in state, when he was overtaken and apprehended in the State of Maryland. Here he was tried and convicted, and sentenced to seven years imprisonment in the state prison in Baltimore, which, from the nature of the climate, was generally believed would terminate his career. The particulars of this adventure I received in the city of New York in 1827, where I took much pains to obtain all possible information concerning his proceedings in the Southern States while passing under the character of a preacher. In 1833 it so happened that I had occasion to visit the city of New York again, when I renewed my enquiries concerning him, but to no effect; no sources of information to which I had access yielded any account of him, and the most rational conjecture was that he either terminated his course in the state prison at Baltimore, or that one day, should he outlive the period of his confinement and be again let loose upon the peace of society, some fresh development of his character would point out the scene of his renewed depredations. In this painful state of obscurity I was reluctantly obliged to leave the hero of our narrative on my return from New York. Another year had nearly elapsed before any additional light was thrown upon his history; but in an unexpected moment, when the supposition of his having ended his career in the prison at Baltimore was becoming fixed, I received, by the politeness of a friend, a file of the <cite>New York Times</cite>, one of the numbers of which contained the following article, bringing our adventurer again full into view in his usual characteristic style: “Police Office—robbery and Speedy Arrest: A French gentleman from the South, (so represented by himself), who has for a few weeks past under the name of Henry Bond, been running up a bill and running down the fare, at the Francklin House, was this afternoon arrested at the establishment on the ungentlemanly charge of pillaging the trunks of lodgers. Since his sojourn a variety of articles had disappeared from the chambers of the hotel, and amongst the rest about two hundred dollars from the trunk of one gentleman. No one, however, had thought of suspecting the French gentleman, who was also a lodger, until this morning, when, unfortunately for him, his face was recognized by a gentleman who knew him to have been in the state prison at Baltimore. However, on searching him, which he readily complied with, not one cent of the money could be found either upon his baggage or his person; but in lieu thereof, they found him possessed of a large number of small keys, through which, no doubt, he found means of disposing of any surplus of circulating medium, whereupon his quarters were changed to Bridewell until the ensuing term of General Sessions.” Here he remained in confinement until the period of his trial came round, when, for want of sufficient evidence to commit him to the state prison, he was thence discharged, and the next account we hear of him brings him before our view under the name of Henry Preston, arrested in the act of attempting to rob the Northern Mail Coach, as will appear by the following article extracted from the <cite>Times</cite>: Police Office, Monday, Feb. 22nd, 1835—Just as this office was closing on Saturday evening, a very gentlemanly looking man, decently dressed, calling himself Henry Preston, was brought up in the custody of the driver and guard of the Northern mail stage who charged him with an attempt to rob the mail. The accusers testified that within a short distance of Peekskill they discovered the prisoner about a hundred yards ahead of the stage, and on approaching nearer they saw him jump over a fence, evidently to avoid notice. This, of course, excited their suspicion, and they kept an eye to the mail which was deposited in the boot. In the course of a short time the guard discovered the rat nibbling at the bait, and desiring the driver not to stop the speed of the horses, he quietly let himself down and found the prisoner actively employed loosening the strap which confines the mail-bag! He was instantly arrested, placed in the carriage and carried to town free of expense. Having nothing to offer in extenuation of his offence, Mr. Henry Preston was committed to Bridewell until Monday for further investigation. Police Office, Monday morning—This morning, Henry Preston, committed for attempting to rob the Northern Mail, was brought up before the Sitting Magistrates, when the High Sheriff of Orange county appeared and demanded the prisoner, whose real name was Henry Gibney, as a fugitive from justice? He stated that the prisoner was to have been tried for grand larceny, and was lodged in the House of Detention at Newburgh, on Thursday, under care of two persons—that in the course of the night he eluded the vigilance of his keepers, escaped from confinement, and crossed the river on the ice, and had got down as far as Peekskill where he says he attempted to get on top of the stage that he might get into New York as soon as possible. By order of the judges the prisoner was delivered up to the sheriff of Orange County, to be recognized there for his trial for the offence with which he was originally charged, at the next general session of the Supreme Court. But before the time came round he had, as on most former occasions, contrived to make his escape, and directed his course towards Upper Canada. Of the particular manner of his escape, and his adventures on his way through to Canada we can state nothing with certainty; but like all his previous movements, we may hazard the conjecture that they were such as would do the usual honor to his wretched profession. Yet, with all his tact, he could not always escape the hands of justice; and hence his course is not unfrequently interrupted, and his progress impeded by the misfortunes of the prison. It is owing to this circumstance that we are enabled to keep pace with him in Upper Canada, where we find him confined in the gaol of Toronto under the charge of burglary. For this information the writer is indebted to his brother, Mr. Augustus Bates, residing in Upper Canada. From his letter, dated 4th August, 1835, we make the following extract, which will point out the circumstances which have guided us in endeavoring to follow up the history of the Mysterious Stranger to the present time: Dear Brother—I now sit down to acknowledge the receipt of a number of your letters, especially your last by Mr. Samuel Nichols, in which you mentioned that you were writing a new edition of ‘More Smith.’ I have to request that you will suspend the publication until you hear from me again. There is a man now confined in Toronto gaol who bears the description of More Smith, and is supposed to be the same. Many things are told of him which no other person could perform. I will not attempt to repeat them, as I cannot vouch for their truth. From current reports I was induced to write to the sheriff, who had him in charge, requesting him to give me a correct account of him. I have not heard from the sheriff since I wrote; perhaps he is waiting to see in what manner he is to be disposed of. Report says the man is condemned to be executed for shop-breaking—he wishes the sheriff to do his duty; that he had much rather be hanged than sent to the penitentiary. Many are the curious stories told of him, which, as I said before, I will not vouch for. Should the sheriff write to me, his information may be relied on. Several communications from Upper Canada have reached us between the date of the letter from which the above extract is made and the present time, but none of them contained the desired information as to the particular fate of the prisoner, and the manner in which he was disposed of, until the 8th of September last, 1836. By a letter from Mr. Augustus Bates, bearing this date, it would appear that the prisoner had not been executed, but had been sentenced to one year’s confinement in the penitentiary. We make the following extract: “I give you all the information I can obtain respecting the prisoner enquired after. The gaoler, who is also the deputy sheriff, that had him in charge, says he could learn nothing from him; said he called his name Smith, that he was fifty-five years old, but denies that he was ever in Kingston, New Brunswick. The jailer had one of your books and showed it to him, but he denied any knowledge of it, and would not give any satisfaction to the enquiries he made of him. The sheriff says he believes the person to be the same mysterious stranger; that he was condemned and sentenced to the penitentiary for one year. His crime was burglary.” It would have afforded the writer of these Memoirs great satisfaction, and, no doubt, an equal satisfaction to the reader, had it been in his power to have paid a visit to Upper Canada that he might be able to state from his own certain and personal knowledge of the prisoner at Toronto, that he was indeed the self-same noted individual that was in his custody twenty-two years ago, and whom he had the gratification of seeing and recognizing subsequently at the Simsbury Mines, where he played off his affected fits with such art and consequent advantage. But although it is not in the writer’s power to close up his Memoir with so important and valuable a discovery—yet, keeping in view the characteristic features of the man—his professed ignorance of Kingston in New Brunswick—his denial of ever having seen the first edition of the Memoirs, and the care which he took to keep himself enveloped in mystery, by utterly declining to give any satisfactory information concerning himself; all these circumstances united, form a combination of features so marked as to carry conviction to the mind of the reader who has traced him through this narrative, that he is no other than the same mysterious Henry More Smith. There is another feature in the prisoner at Toronto that seems strangely corroborative of what we are desirous properly to establish, that is his age. He acknowledges to be fifty-five years of age, and although this would make him somewhat older than his real age, yet it fixes this point—that the prisoner at Toronto is well advanced in years, and so must the subject of our Memoirs be also. From information which we have obtained it seems that he has undergone his trial, and was committed to the penitentiary for a year’s confinement. Whether he found any means of effecting an exemption from labor in the penitentiary and then reconciling himself to his confinement, or whether he accomplished one of his ingenious departures, we are unable to determine. One thing however, is highly probable—that he is again going up and down in the earth in the practice of his hoary-headed villainy, except Power from on High has directed the arrow of conviction to heart; for no inferior impulse would be capable of giving a new direction to the life and actions of a man whose habits of iniquity have been ripened into maturity and obtained an immovable ascendancy by the practice of so many successive years. It must be acknowledged that there is an unprecedented degree of cleverness in all his adventures, which casts a kind of illusive and momentary covering over the real character of his actions, and would seem to engage an interest in his favor, (and this is an error to which the human mind seems remarkable pre-disposed when vice presents itself before us in all its cleverness), yet who can read his miserable career without feeling pained at the melancholy picture of depravity it presents? Who would have supposed that after his condemnation and sentence at Kingston, and his life, by an act of human mercy, given into his hands again, he would not have hastened to his sorrowing little wife, and with tears of compunction, mingled with those of joy, cast himself upon her neck and resolved by a course of future rectitude and honesty, to make her as happy as his previous disgraceful and sinful career had made her miserable. But ah! no. His release was followed by no such effects. Rendered unsusceptible for every natural and tender impression, and yet under the full dominion of the god of this world, he abandoned the intimate of his bosom, and set out single handed in the fresh pursuit of crime. There is, however, one redeeming feature which stands out among the general deformities of his character. In all the adventures which the history of his course presents to our view, we are not called upon to witness any acts of violence and blood; and it is perhaps owing to the absence of this repulsive trait of character that we do not behold him in a more relentless light. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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