utmost freedom would be enjoyed by all who might consent to go, I understand that a secret move is on foot in London to induce our unsuspecting people in Canada to go to the West Indies, and that agents are already in Canada for that purpose.
The Reverend Josiah Henson is said to be one of these. [The italics are mine—B.G.] As my letter in the Times first brought this subject before the people, and fearing that some might be entrapped by this new movement, I take the earliest opportunity of warning all colored men to be on their guard how they enter into agreement, no matter with whom, white or colored, to go to the West India Islands, lest they find themselves again wearing the chains of slavery.
A movement that is concocted in secret, and that, too, by men, many of whom would place the chains upon the limbs of the emancipated people of the West Indies tomorrow if they could, and which is kept from the knowledge of the Abolitionists of this country should find no countenance with our oppressed people. He who has made his escape from the cotton, sugar and rice fields of the Southern States is ready to finish his life among the cold hills of Canada and if needs be to subsist upon the coarsest of food; but he is not willing to enter into a second bondage. Then I would say again beware lest you are entrapped by the enemy.
Yours for our people,
W. W. Brown
In his autobiography Henson makes no mention of any connection with those who wished to move the slaves from Canada to the Caribbean, and it may be assumed that, once he had returned to Canada, he made no real effort to persuade his people to go there. The agents and proprietors may very well have used his name in 1854, when they spoke to Brown, merely because they were sure that Henson was not in the country to refute them. But more probably he had been flattered by their company and had been seen with them in England. In any case, he did not in reality enjoy the necessary influence among the Canadian colored population to be able to sway them in any way. He does not seem ever to have been on friendly terms with the other men of his race who were prominent internationally or even nationally, for this letter from Brown contains the only reference to him in the mass of correspondence with the Anti-Slavery Society which has been published.
In the month of September, 1852, while he was still in Britain, there came two unwelcome reminders of his former life which obliged Josiah to cut short the pleasant days spent “in the company of the noblest men in England.” The first of these was the memory of his brother, who still remained in slavery. Josiah was dining at the house of a friend who kept a luxurious table, when suddenly a vision of his brother in chains seemed to appear before his eyes. The impression was so strong that he found himself obliged to push back his chair and rise from the table.
“What is the matter, Josiah? Has anything occurred to disturb your peace of mind?” asked his host.
“Come, come, Josiah. Do help yourself and make yourself at home,” said the other guests.
Josiah begged to be excused from eating his dinner on that day, for he had lost all appetite for the food which lay before him. He determined to make every effort to rescue his brother, of whom he had rarely thought until that moment, at the first opportunity which presented itself upon his return to America.
Very shortly after this incident he received a letter from his family, saying that his wife was extremely ill, and he immediately set sail for Canada.
[[ Soon after his arrival, Henson’s wife died, and he became entangled in the financial affairs at the Dawn Institute. Meanwhile, he arranged for American abolitionists to rescue his aged brother, which proved costly and difficult; he rewrote his life story to include his Canadian experiences and from the proceeds of the sale of the book, purchased his brother’s freedom. The flight to Canada of ex-slaves and freemen of color greatly increased after the Fugitive Slave Law of 1850, but the Dawn Institute was nearly bankrupt and compelled to accept a high-handed English agent as its administrator, who led them to ruin over the next decade. Unfortunately Henson made himself an ally of the Englishman, arousing ill-will around him, though he found new prestige as the model for Stowe’s hero in Uncle Tom’s Cabin, which was published in 1852 and became an instant bestseller. In 1858 he married a young free-born widow from Baltimore, with whom he had three more children. After years of mismanagement by the English agent, Henson succeeded in ousting him, entailing a protracted and costly lawsuit, which was at last dropped in 1871. By then the Dawn Institute no longer existed: many people had left the area and, with reconstruction after the Civil War, many more returned to the United States, cutting the black population of Canada by half. The land owned by the Dawn Institute was sold by a new board of trustees, who paid the colony’s debt and used the rest of the money to build a school, the Wilberforce Institute, in nearby Chatham. Henson remained on his farm near Dresden with his second family and grandchildren, though he was less popular in the community. Restless for the attention still to be had abroad by playing his role as the real-life Uncle Tom, he sailed for England again with his wife in 1876, where he toured the country appearing at churches, chapels, and public halls, and prepared a new edition of his autobiography; a copy was forwarded to Queen Victoria who received the Hensons in March 1877. The following winter, they traveled to Baltimore and Washington, where they visited President Hayes at the White House; in Maryland he saw how much had changed along the roads leading to the old Riley plantation (just twelve miles from the capital), which he found in complete disrepair, like old Mrs. Riley herself, now a “poor, fretful invalid.” ]]
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Henson died in his house near Dresden, Ontario, in May, 1883. The Dawn Institute no longer existed, and many of the families who had once lived there were scattered. His own family was gathered in the house, for everyone had been expecting for some time that the old man might die. Many of the children and grandchildren had come back to the farm from the United States where they had gone to live. Today they and their descendants live in Detroit, Buffalo, and Cincinnati.
After his death there were the unfortunate but only too common family disputes over the property and the division of the old man’s effects. His prized mementos, the signed portrait of Victoria, the gold watch, the music box which had been presented to Mrs. Henson, and the illuminated scrolls were carried off by the lucky or the insistent.
Today there are a dozen signs along the road to Dresden which point out the only place of interest in the surrounding countryside: UNCLE TOM’S GRAVE. The grave lies on a little knoll within sight of the winding river, bordered by the few tall trees which have not been cut down.
The monument stands in a small plot where not more than a dozen or two graves have been marked. Across the road is an older burying ground, full of broken headstones with illegible inscriptions, where cows break in to pasture. The Henson plot is more securely protected and there, beneath an imposing stone pillar, Josiah lies beside his second wife. The Masonic symbol is carved on the pillar’s base along with the following verse:
There is a land of pure Delight
Where Saints immortal reign;
Infinite day excludes the night
And pleasures banish pain.
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Today Beecher Henson is the oldest living member of the family who still resides in Dresden. He says, with some bitterness, that he does not know where any of the things which belonged to his grandfather are to be found. He farms a small piece of land, none of which was inherited from Josiah, and lives as a bachelor in a little cottage on the edge of town. People occasionally come to question him about the family history and leave with the impression that he knows more than he cares to tell. Beecher himself fosters the idea that there is some secret worth keeping, but very probably it is only a family matter, the peccadillo of a son or a dispute over the inheritance; something which is of greater importance to him than it would be to another.
The
