Henry Sanford’s Relationship with Africa

While most Floridians know Henry Sanford (1823-1891) for the town of the same name, few are familiar with his ties to Africa.

While Sanford descended from a long line of Connecticut industrialists and land speculators, he was always looking for underdeveloped territories further and further out. First, he focused heavily on Western railroads, before continuing into the South. However, in 1841, he set his sights even further out into Europe-where he would come to spend much of his time. 

Despite being decidedly American, Sanford had what it took to fit in overseas. He gained quite a bit of diplomatic experience for someone so young–first becoming Secretary of the American Legation in St. Petersburg, Russia, then acquiring this position only a year later in Frankfurt, Germany. By 1849 and 1853, he held a position in the Paris Legislation that eventually led to becoming American Minister, where he negotiated the first Franco-American postal convention. 

Not only was Sanford able to acquire positions of power, his inherited fortune helped him to blend in with the European aristocrats–which horrified his mother, who found it hypocritical that he criticized Europe’s system of aristocracy while being openly accepted into their circle. That said, hypocrite or not, these connections would later serve him well when working with King Leopold II of Belgium.

While still maintaining a presence in Belgium, Sanford returned to America in 1870. He established the first sizable commercial orange groves in our state of Florida–and his eponymous town two years later. Despite having been a tour de force in Europe’s politics during his prime, Sanford had far less luck claiming a Florida Senate seat. This was because he had tried to separate the Republican platform in postbellum Florida from the black community (which, as the party of Lincoln, would’ve been a grave mistake in 1872). 

This wasn’t the only gaffe he had made–when he listened to his father’s sound advice in years past, his investments allowed him to grow his wealth, but as he became more and more susceptible to get-rich-quick projects, he ended up losing riches quickly to the point where he was forced to liquidate his holdings by the late 1870s. It was in this eleventh hour that King Leopold offered a bolt-out-of-the-blue African project that could change everything for Sanford. 

While profit was of course a compelling reason, Sanford was an idealist at heart. He wasn’t purely venal-just as he had learned fighting for the Union during the Civil War, he needed a cause to take up. The king had chosen Africa for his imperialistic plan, and he was gathering his committee. But for Sanford, there was just one itsy bitsy drawback…he knew nothing about Africa.

Sir Bartle Frere, representing the English-speaking community on the International Commission of the Association, had resigned in 1877, pushing Sanford to his spot. Despite his lack of experience, he chose to stay. All those years hobnobbing with the lords and ladies of Europe had taught him many things…except, worryingly, King Leopold II’s true nature. Sanford (and, in all honesty, many others) had always assumed the king was a humanitarian and philanthropist, one who was very good at doing good. Unfortunately, he was anything but–King Leopold II wanted Africa for his own selfish purposes. 

Sanford, still unaware that Leopold’s humanitarian efforts were largely apocryphal, wanted the United States to support these efforts. Not only did he genuinely believe the project could do good for Africa, but because the Congo could (at least in his mind) also provide America with some commercial opportunities as well. Having done so much to secure the Belgian association’s place in the Congo, Sanford sought investment opportunities there. However, knowing him, it wasn’t just about the money-he truly believed he could change American enterprise forever.

That said, if it looks too good to be true, it probably is…especially when someone like Leopold is involved. Not only was the blatant obstruction of state officers among the enterprise’s hindrances, but the king’s Congo agents had thwarted his half-empty promises to Sanford in the field. American investors wanted little to do with it. King Leopold was a deserter. The purported answer to Sanford’s financial troubles had left his own pockets empty once more while Belgian industries flourished. Even the king himself was hemorrhaging his own personal fortune. 

In addition, Western Europe had been cracking down on slavery, and Sanford (the U.S. delegate on the Brussels Anti-Slavery Conference of 1889) championed a gradual replacement by legitimate commerce to end the inhumane practice for good. Leopold offered a solution to his failing project-levy a ten percent import duty on all merchandise. If not, then the Congo State would fall into French hands. Sanford, bitter and jaded about his own failure in the Congo, refused. He’d worked tirelessly to get Leopold’s benefit for his country, so why tax entry for American products? And if Leopold would only listen to Sanford’s economic reform suggestions, he could easily fix this without additional taxes. 

As it turned out for King Leopold, ending slavery was never about the African people-it was merely a diversion to further his own schemes (not to mention that British missionary George Grenfell caught Leopold’s men purchasing slaves behind his back!) As comprehension of the king’s horrific true nature dawned, Sanford had to do something. All those years of meeting the right people, making the right connections, and for what? Leopold’s tax would mean no American trade, so Sanford had to be defiant to the end. 

The ten percent tax had been signed into law. Sanford did accept the Brussels Act, which aimed to restrict or prevent trade of slaves, guns, and liquor, but by its ratification in February 1892, he had been dead for nearly a year. Five days before his passing on May 21, 1891, Sanford had written to the Belgian Ambassador in D.C. that King Leopold’s policies had turned everything he had worked so hard for into a cruel, sick joke. That was because Sanford truly believed in Leopold’s supposed mission-American trade, the opportunity for black Americans to return to their homeland (helping to solve race issues at the time), and the support of an alleged philanthropic king-but Leopold never believed in him. 

That said, Sanford’s life came to a bittersweet end. While he never saw his hopes come to fruition, at the very least he never saw what happened during the later years of Leopold’s Congo state–and beheld what kind of monster he really was.