Hostname: page-component-74656f9884-rdgjk Total loading time: 0 Render date: 2026-11-08T13:31:52.442Z Has data issue: false hasContentIssue false
  • English
  • Français

THE COMITÉ DE L'AFRIQUE FRANÇAISE, THE CHAD PLAN, AND THE ORIGINS OF FASHODA

Published online by Cambridge University Press:  20 April 2020

TREVOR WYN ROBERTS Open the ORCID record for TREVOR WYN ROBERTS [Opens in a new window]
Rights & Permissions [Opens in a new window]

Abstract

The Comité de l'Afrique française, founded in 1890, is often regarded as the epitome of colonial nationalism. On closer examination, however, the Comité and its signature policy, the Chad plan, can be shown to have acted as instruments of choice for financial and commercial lobbies with particular interests in the Congo. The Chad plan and its successor and complement, the Upper Nile policy, were primarily intended to advance the interests of King Leopold and his French sympathizers. The unavoidable clash with British strategic and commercial interests in the region that ensued helped to unleash the forces of nationalism and led, ineluctably, to the Fashoda crisis and the conquest of Chad.

Information

Type
Article
Information
The Historical Journal , Volume 64 , Issue 2 , March 2021 , pp. 310 - 331
Check for updates
Copyright
Copyright © Cambridge University Press 2020

In the autumn of 1890 a group of some thirty politicians, journalists, soldiers, academics, and a handful of businessmen came together to form the Comité de l’Afrique française. This organization was formed at a moment when the Partition of Africa was entering a new and accelerated phase with the signing of the Anglo-German Agreement and the Anglo-French Convention, which divided up large areas of East and West Africa between the European powers. Its proclaimed task was to ensure that France obtained its fair share of the spoils by joining its possessions in Algeria and Tunisia with those in West Africa and the Congo to form a unified African empire pivoting on Lake Chad.Footnote 1 It took some of its membership and, to a degree, its programme from the Geographical societies that had grown in popularity over the previous two decades.Footnote 2 It was the precursor of a number of other colonialist organizations, notably the Groupe colonial of the chamber of deputies formed two years later by Eugène Étienne with which it had several members in common. The creation of the Comité coincided with a shift in attitudes towards colonial expansion which, often regarded with suspicion by both Left and Right in the 1880s, now became part of the political mainstream.Footnote 3 This has persuaded historians, as well as contemporaries, to ascribe unusual importance to the activities of the Comité, though there is less unanimity over the means by which its influence was exercised. Accepted accounts of the Comité rely almost entirely on how it chose to project itself in its monthly Bulletin and in the propagandist narrative of its secretary general Hippolyte Percher (better known under his pen-name of Harry Alis).Footnote 4 The availability of new material, the Terrier papers in particular, permits a more balanced view of its activities. Seen alongside a fresh analysis of French policy in the Central Soudan, it suggests a need for a major reassessment of the Comité's role in the evolution of French African policy and the part played by nationalism in colonial expansion more generally.

I

The first historian of the Comité, who offers the perspective of an insider, puts forward two different explanations for its exceptional influence. On the one hand, he suggests that it gave a voice to broad currents of opinion which were increasingly favourable to colonial expansion and, on the other, that its own interventions in Africa set the agenda that government was eventually to follow.Footnote 5 It is worth examining these propositions in turn.

If the Comité was unable to resist taking credit for the growing popularity of colonial expansion, it was adamant at the same time that it was, first and foremost, a ‘comité d'action’ whose main business was the organization and funding of expeditions in Africa.Footnote 6 The evidence appears to bear this out: in its formative period, it spent almost twice as much on missions as it did on propaganda. It was certainly never a mass movement on the scale of its equivalents in Britain or Germany.Footnote 7 It was always well aware that it represented the view of a small minority and it was content, therefore, to preach to the converted, concentrating its drive for new subscribers on obvious targets such as members of Geographical societies, and soldiers and administrators serving in the colonies, and businessmen with North African connections.Footnote 8 On the rare occasions when it did attempt to reach out to a wider audience – by appealing to the national press for support or organizing conferences in the provinces – it did so with the aim of replenishing its coffers, exhausted by a third consecutive expedition to the Congo.Footnote 9 All the evidence indicates that the Comité's ability to influence government policy was not dependent on its ability to mobilize large sections of public opinion.

The second explanation, resting on the effectiveness of the Comité's direct intervention in Africa, is equally problematic. While congratulating itself on its ability to act where policy-makers were still hesitant to advance, it also insisted that it would always work ‘de concert avec le gouvernment’.Footnote 10 Its most significant intervention, the series of expeditions it mounted in the Congo between 1890 and 1891, would hardly have been possible without the financial and material assistance provided by government. It also formed an integral part of a wider programme initiated by the Colonial department aimed at linking together the disparate portions of the West African empire.Footnote 11 Later, the Comité went even further in acknowledging its limited role in support of official missions in the Niger Bend, whose political objectives must be left for government to determine.Footnote 12

How then is the exceptional influence of the Comité to be explained? One suggestion is that the Comité should be seen mainly as an ideological force taking up where the Geographical societies had left off by weaning nationalists from their traditional European bias, and their fixation with the Rhine frontier, to embrace the concept of a greater France overseas capable of standing alongside the British empire and the emerging continental superpowers. In this version of events, it was the structural weakness of the French political system, characterized by frequent changes of government and rapid turnover of ministers, that was the critical factor. This enabled ardent imperialists, taking advantage of the Comité's exceptional network of personal relationships, to impose their will on the less committed majority.Footnote 13 Before considering this hypothesis, it is useful to begin by establishing what sort of organization the Comité really was.

The Comité's own description of itself was unequivocal: it was a body of like-minded imperialists, ‘purement patriotique et absolument désintéressé’ et ‘étranger à toute préoccupation d'affaires’.Footnote 14 Support for this view can be drawn from the fact that comparatively few of its members had identifiable business interests.Footnote 15 However, this picture of the Comité as primarily a non-economic body should be treated with caution. In fact, the Comité included various representatives of the world of finance, railways, and shipping.Footnote 16 Several of its members, including the secretary general himself, also displayed a willingness to participate in commercial ventures like those attached to Lieutenant Mizon's expeditions to the Benue and were quite open about the fact that they expected a return on their investment.Footnote 17 It is also worth noting that almost one third of its members were affiliated to the Union libérale, a Republican club patronized by Orleanists and the Centre Left which constituted an independent, pro-business group in the chamber.Footnote 18

Moreover, the individual make-up of the Comité was hardly the most important consideration as it did not function in the least like a democracy. Its system of sub-committees was designed to provide technical advice rather than to make suggestions on policy.Footnote 19 In practice, its agenda was set by a triumvirate consisting of the president, Prince d'Arenberg, the secretary general, and the latter's employer, Georges Patinot, director of the Journal des Débats. Among these, Percher was clearly the driving force; Arenberg acted mainly as a figurehead, while Patinot's chief contribution was to bridge the gap between the two main factions making up the Comité. The general membership was called upon mainly to register decisions already reached in advance.Footnote 20

The dominance of these central figures also accounts for an obvious anomaly in the functioning of this organization. Though styling itself a committee for the whole of French Africa, its focus remained firmly on the Congo. Such an approach could be justified by the key position occupied by the Congo in the overall strategy of the Chad plan, but the reasons behind it went much deeper than this.Footnote 21 It was reflected, for example, in Percher's successful candidacy for the Conseil supérieur des colonies, representing the French Congo.Footnote 22 It was also apparent in the pages of the Bulletin where the viewpoint of the Congo administration was deliberately unrepresented. Considerable care had been taken when setting up the Comité to ensure that all colonial interest-groups were equally represented, ranging from Algerian generals and the soldiers of the Western Soudan, on the one hand, to West Coast traders and colonial administrators, on the other.Footnote 23 But, while the Bulletin dutifully covered a wide range of topics from military campaigns to parliamentary debates on the colonial budget, it reserved its direct advocacy for a limited number of topics, all of which were of especial concern to the Congo. Naturally it gave pride of place to its own missions to Lake Chad, but it also waged a long-running campaign for the creation of chartered companies and, a rather more low-key one, for a settlement of the dispute with Leopold on the Upper Ubangi. The one exception to this rule – its campaign for military action against the oases of Tuat, south of Algeria – was not really an exception at all as it, too, was linked directly to the Chad plan and to the implicit bargain struck between Étienne, at the Colonial department, and the two main interest-groups in the Congo.Footnote 24

II

More significant clues about the true nature of the Comité are provided by the circumstances surrounding its birth. The official account, which has found its way into the history books, is misleading in several important respects. It was not, as is so often repeated, founded in response to the Partition.Footnote 25 The Anglo-German treaty was the pretext rather than the reason for the Comité's existence. As Percher himself acknowledges, its origins go back one year earlier to preparations for an expedition to Lake Chad led by Paul Crampel. His mission was paid for by a handful of wealthy individuals, most of whom went on to become members of the Comité.Footnote 26 At this juncture, it was not Partition that was at the forefront of the African agenda but a realization that King Leopold II's plans for exploiting the Congo were gathering real momentum.Footnote 27 These plans were not confined to the construction of a railway from Matadi, linking Stanley Pool to the coast. He was also making preparations for a major expedition, starting from the Upper Ubangi, in pursuit of his long-held ambition to push the conventional boundaries of his Congo Free State at least as far as the Egyptian Sudan.Footnote 28

Percher also attempted to take personal credit for the formulation of the Chad plan, ascribing his new-found enthusiasm for Africa to his close friendship with Crampel, who had recently returned from a successful first exploration in the Congo.Footnote 29 More relevant in this respect was his relationship with Léon Tharel, a prominent Parisian cloth merchant, who had long-standing connections with the Congo, having forged a close association with Marius Daumas, the leading French trader in the region.Footnote 30 Percher, after a misspent youth as an unsuccessful novelist and boon companion of Maupassant, was anxious to make up for lost time by seeking his fortune in Paris. A provincial from a humble background, he was still only thirty-two years old. He was energetic, highly ambitious, brimful of self-confidence with a ready pen and a complete absence of scruples. In addition to his prominent position on the Journal des Débats, he also acted as secretary general of the Union libérale and was currently engaged in setting up his own news agency to rival Havas.Footnote 31 It was entirely in character that he should seek to profit by placing his talents at the disposal of Tharel, an inveterate colonial speculator.Footnote 32

It was probably through his relationship with Tharel that the meeting between Percher and Crampel was arranged. The latter was recently returned from the Congo. Crampel had gone out there two years earlier as private secretary to the Commissaire général in the hope of making his name as an explorer.Footnote 33 Frustrated by Pierre Savorgnan de Brazza's failure to deliver on his promises, he made common cause with his numerous enemies in the colony. Chief amongst these were Louis Mizon, serving as a naval lieutenant on the south Atlantic station and Noel Ballay, Brazza's deputy in the colony. Both men had taken part in the earliest French exploration of the Congo and were resentful that Brazza had reaped the rewards for their joint efforts, being lionized by the public at home and given responsibility for the Congo with the prestigious title of Commissaire général.Footnote 34 Brazza had also incurred the enmity of Daumas, who harboured grudges dating back to the early days of exploration and was currently engaged in a bitter dispute over the closure of the river Ogowé to commerce, in which Ballay had taken the latter's part.Footnote 35 Once Crampel had been granted his exploration, with Ballay's support, his discoveries were made an excuse for renewed attacks on Brazza's authority.Footnote 36

Crampel's exploration lent some support to Mizon's long-standing obsession with a hypothetical tributary of the Ubangi that, approaching the coast north of Gabon in the vicinity of the Rio Benito, could provide an alternative route into the interior. It had the added advantage of being free of tariff restrictions as it lay outside the conventional basin of the Congo river.Footnote 37 On this basis, Tharel, together with Mizon, submitted a proposal for a territorial concession on the Haut-Benito which was received with every sign of approval by the Colonial department.Footnote 38 It is virtually certain, therefore, that when Crampel approached Étienne, through the good offices of Mizon and Ballay, it was with this project in mind rather than the much more ambitious mission to Lake Chad that he was eventually accorded – a fact that Crampel implicitly acknowledges in the official correspondence.Footnote 39

III

Étienne's support for an expedition to Chad is not hard to understand: as an oranais and as a representative of the Algerian railway companies, he was a natural supporter of the transsaharien railway scheme. If this far-fetched project was to make sense, it required the over-arching, imperial architecture that the Chad plan was specifically designed to provide. The fact that Crampel, on reaching Lake Chad, planned to crown his achievement by returning home across the Sahara merely underlines the connection between these two ideas.Footnote 40 However, Étienne's relationship with the Haut-Benito group was not purely transactional in this narrow sense. There were other reasons, apart from the Algerian connection, why he was anxious to launch Crampel's expedition and to foster the alliance of interests that was to take concrete shape in the Comité. By 1889, there was already a history going back nearly a decade of involvement by French financiers and politicians in plans for building a railway in the Congo. Originally, it took the form of competition with Leopold's rival project, but the advantages of co-operation were increasingly evident to both sides. Étienne's Gambettist colleagues, such as Maurice Rouvier, had featured prominently in combinations of this nature.Footnote 41 Brazza had been aware, almost from the outset, that backstairs influences of this kind represented the chief obstacle to his plans for the development of the French Congo.Footnote 42

Étienne's complicity with Leopold and his allies in France is demonstrated by his handling of the Congo railway issue in 1889. He was a prominent member of la bande gambettiste, notorious for its venality even by the lax standards of the Third Republic. He was accused by his political opponents of becoming rich in a suspiciously short space of time.Footnote 43 When he embarked on his second term as undersecretary for the Colonies, Brazza's latest proposal for beginning work on the Niari-Kouilou scheme, which offered an alternative route to the navigable Congo, was one of the first items on his desk.Footnote 44 This scheme was, of course, in direct competition with Leopold's plans for the Matadi railway which, after numerous delays, were beginning to take shape following a vote in the Belgian parliament authorizing financial support for the project.Footnote 45 Étienne's initial response was to put Brazza in touch with Albert Christophle, director of the Crédit foncier, to arrange the setting up of a company to undertake preliminary engineering work. Brazza appears to have taken this offer at face value, but Étienne was acting in bad faith from the outset.Footnote 46 He was already confident of the allegiance of Christophle, a business associate, while other potential investors had business ties to supporters of the king.Footnote 47 Although Étienne agreed with Brazza on the wisdom of co-operating with Leopold, their understanding of what this should mean could not have been more different: Brazza was proposing an equitable share of the benefits, while what Étienne had in mind was effectively a sell-out to Belgian interests.Footnote 48 After keeping Brazza in suspense for the best part of a year, Étienne finally pulled the plug on the scheme in June of 1890. His excuse was that Christophle had failed to raise sufficient capital, but Étienne himself had deliberately engineered this outcome by imposing stringent conditions on potential investors.Footnote 49 Immediately afterwards, Étienne attempted to rush his fellow ministers into accepting a highly suspect arrangement, involving French financiers who already had seats on the board of Leopold's railway company, that amounted to a take-over in everything but name.Footnote 50

Étienne's championing of the Chad plan was inspired by the same determination to put Leopold's interests first, as he exhibited in his handling of the railway issue. Crampel's original project had the backing of the Haut-Benito clique but, after it had undergone its metamorphosis into a mission to Lake Chad, it was in quite a different direction that Étienne turned for support. Money for the mission came from a handful of wealthy individuals. According to the Bulletin, their generosity was motivated by patriotism alone. In fact, most had ties to Leopold or connections with financial institutions involved in earlier schemes for a Congo railway.Footnote 51 The immensely rich Comte Greffulhe, deputy and president of the Jockey Club, had family and banking links with Belgium and a direct line to the Brussels court, where his sister-in-law was the favourite lady-in-waiting to the queen.Footnote 52 By far the largest contribution came from the Paris Rothschilds, one of the king's private bankers, and recently investors in his railway company.Footnote 53 According to Percher, it was his employer, Patinot, who provided an introduction to these august figures, but it seems likely that Étienne's influence was decisive in this respect as well.Footnote 54 All of these contributors went on to become founder members of the Comité. The only exceptions were the Rothschilds, who chose to remain in the background while continuing to donate to its funds. The president of the Comité was the somewhat colourless Arenberg who owed his position to the influence of Greffulhe, his brother-in-law. Acting in this semi-honorific capacity, he served with suitable distinction and was duly rewarded with shareholdings in several Congolese companies and the presidency of the Suez Canal Company.Footnote 55

The occasion for the launch of this new colonialist organization was well chosen: it coincided with the announcement of the Anglo-German treaty, which caused outrage among the public because of its cavalier disregard of French rights in Zanzibar, and some disquiet in more informed circles over its oblique references to Lake Chad.Footnote 56 Its vaunted claim to independent action cannot be taken at face value in view of Étienne's close involvement in its creation. There were, however, undoubted advantages for both sides in maintaining a certain distance from each other. The Comité liked to congratulate itself on its ability to take a long-term view of imperial interests by remaining above the political fray.Footnote 57 More pertinently, perhaps, it provided invaluable patriotic cover for private interests as well as an alternative power-base for politicians whose ministerial careers were often cut short by the frequent changes of government characteristic of the Third Republic. After relinquishing his post early in 1892, Étienne, for example, was able to use the platform provided by the Comité and the Groupe colonial to bind his successor to the policies he had championed in office.Footnote 58

IV

In itself, the Matadi railway had little to do with Lake Chad but there were good reasons for backers of this project to support Crampel's expedition. If the railway was a precondition for the success of his Congolese enterprise, it by no means represented the sum total of Leopold's African ambitions. Far from remaining content with the limits prescribed for the Congo Free State at the Berlin Conference, these extended far beyond to include all of the Egyptian Sudan. This is evident from his enthusiastic support, and eventual hijacking of, the Emin Pasha Relief Expedition two years earlier.Footnote 59 At this very moment, he was negotiating in London for British recognition of his claims on the west bank of the Nile at the same time as preparing to launch a major expedition towards the Upper Nile from his base on the Upper Ubangi.Footnote 60

Until now, the French advance along the Ubangi had kept pace with the Congo Free State. Reconnaissance had reached as far north as Bangui, where the river turned sharply to the east, and a post had been established facing a Congolese one on the opposite bank. Beyond this point, where the Ubangi divided between the M'Bomu and the Uele, delimitation of the French and Congolese spheres was still a matter of dispute owing to the ambiguity of the 1887 delimitation treaty.Footnote 61 These two rivers also offered the most promising route towards the Bahr al-Ghazal and the Upper Nile. If Leopold was to realize his Sudanese dream, it was vital for him to gain exclusive control of this area. By diverting French expansion to the north, the Chad plan represented an essential element in the king's overall African strategy.

For Leopold and his French allies, the utility of the Chad plan was measured by its ability to divert ambitions from the Upper Ubangi and tie up financial and material resources in the attempt to attain Lake Chad. Whether or not French expeditions succeeded in realizing their ambitions was a matter of secondary importance so long as both government and the public remained committed to the Chad plan and the achievement of a unified African empire. This was the inspiration behind Étienne's celebrated ‘perpendicular’ speech in the chamber in May, the first public airing of the Chad plan. It also explains his determination to ensure that the treaty negotiated with Britain a few months later recognized an Algerian hinterland extending as far as Lake Chad. To consolidate his achievement, he also persuaded the cabinet to approve a series of official missions co-ordinated with those of the Comité, in order to make a reality of these ambitions on the ground.Footnote 62 The formation of a new committee in the autumn, dedicated to achieving the Chad plan, represented the culmination of his efforts on Leopold's behalf.

The relationship between the Algerian railway lobby and the Chad plan conforms to a similar pattern. What the lobby was concerned to establish was the imperial framework required to justify a military occupation of Tuat through which the railway would pass. The acquisition of a credible terminus for the line was also an important objective but one it was prepared to forgo if necessary, as Étienne's readiness to drop French claims on Bornu (the richest portion of the Central Soudan) demonstrates.Footnote 63 The railway lobby's eventual disenchantment with the lack of progress on the ground and its decision to concentrate its efforts on Tuat merely reflects its existing scale of priorities.Footnote 64

The calculation of the Haut-Benito group, the second component of the Congo lobby, could hardly have been more different. From its standpoint, the Chad plan had little appeal as an abstract, imperial formula: what it valued far more were the opportunities it offered to secure commercial rights to large tracts of territory on the cheap. Its interests were not confined to the Haut-Benito concession, but extended to the entire region north of the 4th parallel, portrayed by Percher in glowing terms as ‘une sorte d'Eden, remarquablement fertile’ only awaiting the stimulus of French capital endowed with ‘concessions intelligentes, sinon chartes souveraines’ enabling it to exploit its ‘richesses incalculables’.Footnote 65 The Haut-Benito group had coalesced in reaction against Brazza's refusal to give free rein to commercial interests in the Congo. Daumas and Tharel were quick to seize the opportunity to make common cause with Étienne in opposition to the Niari-Kouilou scheme as a means of undermining Brazza's position.Footnote 66 They saw the creation of the Comité and its ability to dispatch missions to the Congo as a necessary preliminary to the establishment of a chartered company in which they could expect to play a leading part.Footnote 67

The Comité's failure to establish a foothold in the basin of Lake Chad meant that such expectations remained unfulfilled. Daumas found consolation in the grant of a territorial concession on the Upper Ogowé, to which Brazza had grudgingly assented.Footnote 68 Tharel's attention, meanwhile, was increasingly focused elsewhere. The expedition up the Lower Niger and the Benue entrusted to Mizon in September 1890 had been a hybrid operation from the start. His official mission, funded by Étienne with the objective of attaining Lake Chad, was accompanied by a trial commercial venture set up by Tharel and supported by members of the Comité, many of whom expected a return on their investment. When Mizon returned to the Benue in 1892, it was formally constituted as the ‘Compagnie française de L'Afrique centrale’ set up on the basis of Mizon's optimistic reports. The explorer's determination to forge alliances with riverain states like Adamawa was driven in part by a desire to obtain commercial advantages. The resulting clash with Britain and the Niger Company only underlines the unreliability of the Haut-Benito group as a strategic partner and its potential to divert attention from the fundamentals of the Chad plan in favour of subsidiary issues like the freedom of trade and navigation on the Lower Niger.Footnote 69

The possible divergence between commercial and strategic interests on the Benue serves as a reminder that, while the two factions making up the Congo lobby shared a common aim, their interests were not always perfectly aligned. There was, in fact, a degree of convergence: Patinot, for example, took a close interest in Tharel's commercial ventures, while the Rothschilds contributed generously to Mizon's second mission.Footnote 70 However, Daumas and Percher appeared disconcerted to discover a little late in the day where Étienne's true loyalties lay. From Daumas's perspective, Leopold and his network of monopoly Congolese companies presented an obvious threat to his own business interests. With Percher's assistance he waged a vigorous public campaign against the king's plan to levy import duties, which had been expressly outlawed under the Berlin Act. Leopold's subsequent decision to buy off Daumas's opposition by purchasing his assets on the Upper Congo eventually resolved this clash of interests, leaving the latter free to concentrate on the coastal region of Gabon and his more speculative ventures in the Chad basin.Footnote 71 Percher, who had been in Daumas's confidence from the outset, quickly followed suit by signing on as Leopold's paid agent in France. His decision was, perhaps, less significant than is commonly assumed: it did little more than confirm the subordinate position that the Haut-Benito group had always occupied within the Chad plan alliance.Footnote 72

V

Since 1890, Étienne had done everything within his power to enable the Congo Free State to steal a march on the Upper Ubangi; he had won acceptance for the Chad plan, acted as midwife to the Comité, and assisted its expeditions in the Congo. He also left instructions for Brazza, who up until this point had been kept in the dark, to lend these missions every assistance.Footnote 73 What may not have been anticipated was the swiftness of the Commissaire-général's riposte. Crampel's departure, following the campaign of denigration Brazza had endured whilst on leave in Paris, left him no option. He could be in little doubt that the Comité and its programme of expeditions presented an existential threat and would prove the prelude to the dismemberment of his colony.Footnote 74 On the principle that attack was the best means of defence, he launched his own drive on Chad from a base on the Sangha river. He justified his move by reference to the long-standing French policy of hemming in the German colony of Cameroun, though his intentions clearly went well beyond this limited objective.Footnote 75 After initial operations on the Upper Sangha encountered unexpected difficulties, Brazza took personal charge. Remaining absent for long periods in the bush and beyond the reach of metropolitan control, he left the Colonial department to speculate about his real intentions.Footnote 76 His actions aroused predictable hostility on the Comité's part but, although Étienne did what he could to limit his activities to the defence of the Cameroun frontier, he had no incentive to countermand a policy that was in fact furthering Leopold's interests by monopolizing financial and military resources that might otherwise have been deployed on the Upper Ubangi.Footnote 77

The result was an erosion of the French position on the Upper Ubangi. The advance post at Les Abiras had to be temporarily abandoned while other outposts remained isolated amidst hostile populations stirred up by Leopold's agents, who were left to range unchecked over the disputed territory above the 4th parallel.Footnote 78 Colonialists as a whole viewed this situation with equanimity, regarding it as a sacrifice necessary for the achievement of the Chad plan. Percher in the Bulletin and in his numerous interventions with ministers and officials drew the logical conclusion that France must settle with Leopold on the best terms available.Footnote 79 Brazza, meanwhile, continued to prioritize his activities on the Upper Sangha, seemingly with the approval of the Colonial department although Jamais, Étienne's successor, made a half-hearted effort to redirect him to the Ubangi on the grounds that the success of the Chad plan was already assured.Footnote 80 His complacency was not shared by the Quai d'Orsay which complained that the obsession with Chad had left it with virtually no cards to play in the delimitation talks that resumed in the spring. Foreign minister, Alexandre Ribot, was unable, however, to persuade the cabinet to take a firm line with the king, falling back instead on Jamais's suggestion of arbitration.Footnote 81

VI

From its inception, the Chad plan had been a manufactured issue, a tactical expedient rather than a legitimate strategic imperative. It had also proved more difficult to deliver than anticipated, as the under-manned expeditions of the Comité and the Congo administration struggled to make headway amidst the complexities of the political situation on the ground. Rather than commit further resources, French policy-makers were inclined to let diplomacy take its course, particularly once it became clear that neither the British nor the Germans presented an imminent threat to the success of the Chad plan.Footnote 82 The relative lack of urgency with which the issue was beginning to be viewed is insufficient, however, to explain why, from mid-1892 onwards, the Chad plan lost its usefulness as the principal excuse for French inactivity on the Upper Ubangi. Instead, in what was in many ways a reversal of previous policy, new arguments began to be put forward advocating not simply settlement of the frontier issue but active co-operation with the Belgians. This was seen as a means of advancing French claims to the Bahr el-Ghazal, the former province of the Egyptian Sudan that gave access to the Upper Nile.

The reason for this about-turn – which was to transform the Upper Ubangi from a matter of minor concern to one of particular interest to policy-makers and usher in the issue of the Upper Nile – is to be found in Brussels and London rather than Paris. Ever since the failure of his most recent attempt to gain recognition for his claims on the west bank of the Nile, Leopold had been seeking new means of ramping up the pressure on London. As it had failed to respond to his warnings about French designs on the Upper Nile, the king set about giving them more substance by acting through his sympathizers in France.Footnote 83 Accordingly, Percher was instructed by his paymasters to make the case for direct co-operation with the Belgians by lobbying ministers and publishing articles in the Bulletin, adding a potential expedition to the Upper Ubangi organized by the Comité for good measure.Footnote 84

Leopold was fully aware of what he was doing by introducing this new element into the debate. The link between the Upper Nile and the Egyptian issue was already a commonplace of imperial strategists. Brazza, for instance, was prone to embellishing his routine dispatches with cryptic references to ‘pourparlers au sujet de concessions réciproques dans le règlement de la question égyptienne’ as the probable consequence of a French incursion on the Upper Nile. This connection was, of course, the reason why French statesmen had refrained from recognizing British claims to the Upper Nile arising out of the Anglo-German treaty of 1890.Footnote 85 By playing on deep-seated resentment over the British occupation of Egypt, Leopold was clearly hoping to fan the flames of French nationalism.

Leopold made his move as soon as talks on the frontier resumed in the autumn. Throughout the preceding summer, Percher had systematically worked the Paris ministries while trying to induce Étienne to throw his weight behind the campaign. Although he failed to persuade him to mobilize the Groupe colonial on its behalf, it was probably no coincidence that the Gambettist newspaper La République française went out of its way at this moment to underline the connection between the frontier issue and the Egyptian Sudan.Footnote 86 In October, in an attempt to break the deadlock in the negotiations, the Belgian side put forward a complicated scheme, involving territorial leases and military co-operation, that amounted to nothing less than a partition of the west bank of the Upper Nile between the two parties. At the end of December, just as a deal appeared to have been struck, it was abruptly repudiated by Ribot without any explanation.

A satisfactory explanation for this volte-face has yet to be put forward, but without one it is difficult to make sense of the new French policy towards the Upper Nile that took shape just one month later. The documents themselves offer few clues and none of the explanations that have been advanced carry much conviction. It appears unlikely, for instance, that Ribot was perturbed at the prospect of parliamentary criticism of the territorial concessions he had been forced to make: unless its Anglophobia was aroused, the public took little interest in far-away colonial disputes.Footnote 87 A suggestion that diplomats like Gabriel Hanotaux, the chief French negotiator, may simply have lost their nerve at the audacity of Leopold's proposition carries more weight: the perils of an open-ended anti-British alliance with Leopold, who was already suspected of double-dealing, hardly needed pointing out.Footnote 88 Yet the decision was likely to have been finely balanced: the opportunity to find a key to the intractable issue of Egypt was a temptation few diplomats would have been able to resist, let alone the vain and touchy Hanotaux who had a keen appreciation of his own abilities.Footnote 89 His post-mortem on the negotiations betrays a sense of relief at the commitment he had so narrowly avoided but is also tinged with regret at the opportunity that had slipped through his fingers.Footnote 90 It is doubtful also that mere diplomats would have been allowed a final say in a matter of such concern to influential political players.

An alternative explanation, for which Louis Monteil provides the only source – that Étienne was behind Ribot's withdrawal – is probably nearer the mark, though not for the reasons that are usually put forward.Footnote 91 Étienne was anything but a disinterested imperialist. His position as Leopold's point-man in France was always a delicate one. He was constantly having to walk a tightrope, being careful to maintain his distance from Percher whose pro-Belgian sympathies were no longer a secret.Footnote 92 In normal circumstances, he might have risked colluding with the king, but these were no longer normal times; the Panama scandal, involving allegations that deputies had taken bribes in return for political favours, had just broken; Maurice Rouvier, Étienne's mentor and fellow Gambettist, who had a past history of collaboration in Leopold's railway project, was directly in the firing line.Footnote 93 With Leopold once again in the frame, the risks of advocating co-operation with the king were too great to contemplate. The sequence of events speaks for itself; in mid-December, Ribot, who had assumed the premiership in an attempt to limit the political fall-out, was on the verge of reaching agreement; on 3 January, he abruptly withdrew his support; a week later, he was forced to reshuffle his cabinet, purging those, including Rouvier, deemed to be compromised in the Panama affair.Footnote 94

VII

Exactly a month later, the first steps were taken by Théodore Delcassé to prepare an expedition to the Upper Nile led by commandant Monteil. The assumption is usually made, in view of the new undersecretary's more combative stance, that this represented a departure in French policy towards the Upper Nile.Footnote 95 In one sense, this is true: Delcassé's decision represented the first overt challenge to British pretensions in the region, but the continuities are no less striking. Despite the collapse of the agreement, Percher continued to make the case for action on the Upper Nile. In early February, he began raising the alarm about a British advance from Uganda and prompted Arenberg to suggest a second mission from Abyssinia to join forces with Monteil. His offer was welcomed by Jules Develle, a new and inexperienced foreign minister, who was a personal friend of Étienne, whose advice he was always ready to follow on African matters.Footnote 96

The choice of Delcassé as the man to take charge of this new initiative is also significant. Though yet to make his mark in office, he was already known as a passionate opponent of the British occupation of Egypt and as someone who wore his patriotism on his sleeve.Footnote 97 In this respect, he was the ideal candidate to head up a policy which was outwardly belligerent in approach but was designed nevertheless to serve Leopold's long-term interests. It was merely the tactics that had changed, with Monteil rather than the king cast in the principal role on the Upper Nile. Certainly, the choice of Delcassé came with its own risks; he was obviously independent-minded and not in the least inclined to act as Leopold's patsy. If anything, he proved an over-enthusiastic pupil, encouraging President Carnot's fanciful scheme for building a dam on the Upper Nile as a means of pressure on the British in Egypt, while enthusiastically welcoming the idea of a second mission from Abyssinia to join forces with Monteil.Footnote 98 His apparent willingness to contemplate the use of force against the Congolese on the Upper Ubangi (‘régler sur place’) also caused alarm bells to ring in Brussels, prompting Étienne to re-insure himself by encouraging the Groupe colonial to back Delcassé's stand.Footnote 99 But, as wiser heads had anticipated, and as Monteil himself was shortly to insist, it was self-evident that an expedition that risked the hostility of Congolese forces camped on its lines of communication stood little chance of reaching the Upper Nile. In the event, Delcassé himself was reduced to seeking a private arrangement with Leopold on the frontier issue, through Percher's good offices.Footnote 100

The protracted delay to Monteil's departure, caused by the need to reach agreement on the frontier and by a change of occupancy at the Colonial department, allowed time for news of the mission to leak out. In London, it was taken as read that Monteil was destined for the Upper Nile where, at present, there was nothing in place to oppose him.Footnote 101 The outcome of London's predicament – no doubt one that the king had anticipated – was the Anglo-Congolese Agreement of May 1894 granting him his coveted leases on the west bank of the Nile as a means of blocking the French advance.Footnote 102 What might have been anticipated as the ultimate triumph for both Leopold and his French sympathizers turned out to be a disaster for both sides. The announcement of the treaty put Leopold's allies in a difficult position. The Bulletin was muted in its response, placing the blame on the failure of French negotiators to strike a deal with the king when it was still possible.Footnote 103 They may still have intended to brazen things out, but news of the treaty aroused such hostility in France that this was no more than a forlorn hope. It is difficult to decide whose misjudgement was the greater. Both Leopold and Étienne had a history of gambling successfully against the odds but, on this occasion, they had overreached themselves. The king's error, as Lord Rosebery pointed out, was to try to act the great power in Africa while remaining a second-rate one in Europe.Footnote 104 His Achilles heel proved to be his reliance on serving Belgian officers to command his troops in the Congo. The prospect of armed clashes with French forces on the Ubangi could hardly fail to bring the sensitive issue of Belgian neutrality to the fore. Leopold's vulnerability was ruthlessly exposed by Hanotaux, who had a point to prove. By August, the king was forced to capitulate, surrendering his leases on the Upper Nile and accepting a frontier on the Upper Ubangi more favourable to France.Footnote 105

Étienne's miscalculation was equally grave: his was a failure to anticipate that public opinion, normally indifferent to colonial affairs, was likely to react very differently when its Anglophobia was aroused and national prestige was at stake. It was the supporters of Leopold, after all, who had gone out of their way to insist on the connection between the Upper Nile and the Egyptian question.Footnote 106 No government that tamely accepted the national humiliation that the treaty implied was likely to survive in office. Both Étienne and Percher took refuge in ostentatious displays of patriotism; the latter reinvented himself as a champion of a British evacuation of Egypt, while it was Étienne who pronounced the fateful verdict on the Anglo-Congolese treaty in the chamber, ‘Messieurs, c'est la question égyptienne qui s'ouvre devant vous.’Footnote 107

VIII

The spell cast by Étienne and the Comité over the conduct of African policy since 1890 was now broken, notwithstanding the fact the lobby continued to work closely with Leopold where this was still possible.Footnote 108 It was responsible, for example, for the demise of the French company set up in 1893 to develop the Niari-Kouilou route which was brought under Belgian control a few years later with the assistance of the Rothschilds.Footnote 109 But although the king clung tenaciously to his Sudanese dream, after the debacle of the Anglo-Congolese treaty co-operation on the broader aspects of African strategy remained strictly taboo.

The declining fortunes of the Congo lobby were also mirrored by the diminished status of the Comité. Its glory days, when it had appeared to set the African agenda, were now only a fading memory, a development hastened by the death of Percher and Patinot in the first half of 1895.Footnote 110 The two years that followed exhibited a sharp decline in the amount of money the Comité raised and the number of meetings it held.Footnote 111 After 1894, its contribution was largely restricted to the support of official missions in the Niger Bend. The one exception to this rule, the major expedition to Chad it was preparing to mount at the end of 1896, lacked any well-defined political aims until it was commandeered by the government as part of its new strategy in the region. As an organization in search of a role, the Comité fell by default into the orbit of the ‘soudanais’ who made use of its prestige and connections to further their own agenda of military conquest. By the end of the century, the Comité had completed its transformation into a club for armchair imperialists that, for the majority of its members, it had perhaps always been. While captain Jean-Baptiste Marchand, Monteil's replacement as commander of the Upper Nile expedition, took its unconditional support for granted, the Bulletin, far from waging a public campaign on his behalf, remained largely silent about the progress and ultimate aims of his mission.Footnote 112

The main lines of policy towards Lake Chad and the Upper Nile had been laid down since 1890 by Étienne and the Comité. What followed, after the collapse of the Anglo-Congolese Agreement, though dramatic in its dénouement and far reaching in its effects, was something in the nature of an epilogue. Marchand's mission, for example, was no more than a continuation of the one earlier entrusted to Monteil. This is not to suggest that Fashoda was now inevitable. For one thing, the British decision to undertake the reconquest of the Egyptian Sudan could not have been anticipated; nor was it beyond the wit of diplomacy to reach a face-saving compromise in the form of a self-denying ordinance on the Upper Nile like the one the two sides came close to agreeing in the autumn.Footnote 113 Nevertheless, the damage had been done by the Anglo-Congolese treaty and was made worse by the Grey Declaration of the following year, which publicly warned France off the Upper Nile. In these circumstances, the easier option for the government was to continue the Marchand mission rather than face accusations of bowing to British pressure.Footnote 114 This tendency was reinforced by the short-termism inherent in the political system, which meant that responsibility could always be passed on to the incoming ministry. None of this, however, precluded the long periods of metropolitan neglect experienced by Marchand or continuing uncertainty about the precise aims of his mission.Footnote 115

In the same way, the outcome of the Chad plan exhibits a slide into confrontation with Britain and unintended consequences in Africa. Although it was not originally intended as an overtly anti-British programme, it eventually became one. This was largely due to Mizon's unauthorized escapades on the Benue and new complications in the Niger Bend following the conquest of Dahomey that led to a near breakdown of Anglo-French relations in Africa. Furthermore, well-intentioned hints that forbearance on the Upper Nile might be rewarded with concessions in West Africa back-fired, convincing policy-makers in Paris that these disputes were intertwined and that British and French policies were on a collision course in Africa. Its public commitment to the Chad plan also meant that the government in Paris had given a serious hostage to fortune. Earlier, its future had seemed secure, particularly after the conclusion of the Franco-German protocol in 1894, confirming French access to Lake Chad from the south and blocking further encroachment by Britain from the west. Governments no longer saw any urgency in enforcing claims through effective occupation. Its confidence was shaken at the end of 1896, however, by the ominous coincidence of Kitchener's continuing march down the Nile and military preparations by the Niger Company to strengthen its position in the area of Lake Chad. These developments were interpreted in Paris as foreshadowing a British pincer-movement that threatened to overrun the flimsy Chad barrier and shatter the cherished dream of a united French empire in Africa. In this dire emergency, reinforcements were hastily assembled to reinforce their position on the ground, precautions that were redoubled after Marchand's confrontation with Kitchener at Fashoda. French fears were only finally laid to rest by the Additional Declaration of March 1899, demarcating respective spheres in the Central Soudan. Reassurance came too late, however, to prevent a French conquest of Chad in 1900: having assembled military forces to counter an imaginary British threat, Paris proved incapable of controlling its local agents, resulting in the acquisition of further unprofitable areas of colonial empire.

A significant factor behind French imperial expansion was the relative ease with which economic pressure-groups were able to push government into confrontation with European rivals in areas where, for strategic or commercial reasons, Britain was unwilling to give ground. Nationalism, however, was a comparatively late-comer to the party, being as much a result as a cause of colonial expansion. It was only once the public in both Britain and France were persuaded that national prestige was at stake that nationalism took over as the driver of Partition. The Comité is also best understood within this chronological framework. It was not required to invent a new imperial ideology, a task already accomplished by the Geographical societies. Formed at the mid-point of France's expansionist trajectory, when interest-groups were beginning to consolidate their influence, the Comité's main function was to act as a front-organization for these emergent colonial lobbies. By institutionalizing their influence in ways less open to criticism and less subject to the vagaries of party politics, the Comité proved exceptionally effective at maximizing its influence on policy. An opportunity to foster a populist version of colonial nationalism was presented by the Fashoda crisis and the polarization of opinion brought about by the Dreyfus Affair. By now, however, the Comité was too much a part of the establishment and too beholden to business interests to venture down this path.

Footnotes

This article is published posthumously given the circumstances which Olga Roberts, the daughter of the deceased author, has laid before the journal. Contact details: roberts.olga@gmail.com.

References

1 Bulletin du Comité de l'Afrique française (BCAF), Jan. 1891, pp. 1–2.

2 Brunschwig, H., Mythes et réalités de l'impérialisme colonial français, 1871–1914 (Paris, 1960), pp. 23–9, 119–20Google Scholar; Aldrich, R., Greater France: a history of French overseas expansion (Basingstoke, 1996), pp. 103–5CrossRefGoogle Scholar.

3 Hanotaux, G. and Martineau, A., eds., Histoire des colonies françaises et de l'expansion de la France dans le monde, iv (Paris, 1931), pp. 437–8Google Scholar; Kanya-Forstner, A. S., ‘The French “Colonial Party”: its composition, aims and influence, 1885–1914’, Historical Journal, 14 (1971), pp. 99–128, at pp. 99–100Google Scholar; Aldrich, Greater France, pp. 100, 122–3.

4 Alis, H., A la conquête du Tchad (Paris, 1891) and Nos Africains (Paris, 1894)Google Scholar. The best accounts of the Comité are given in Brunschwig, Mythes et réalités, and Kanya-Forstner, ‘French “Colonial Party”’. The latter makes some use of new materials but does not fundamentally challenge accepted views.

5 Hanotaux and Martineau, eds., Histoire des colonies, iv, pp. 437–8. This volume was written by Auguste Terrier, Percher's brother-in-law who took over the running of the Comité in 1895.

6 Alis, Nos Africains, pp. 552–3; Percher to (Arenberg), 27 July 1890, Institut de France, Fonds Terrier (FT) 5892; BCAF, Jan. 1895, pp. 2–3; ibid., Jan. 1897, pp. 2–3.

7 Kanya-Forstner, ‘French “Colonial Party”’, p. 105; Ganiage, J., L'expansion coloniale de la France sous la Troisième République (Paris, 1968), p. 24Google Scholar. The Comité had no more than 4,000 ‘adhérents’ while the membership of the Deutsche Koloniale Gesellschaft ran into the tens of thousands.

8 A. Dyé to Terrier, 15 Sept. 1896, FT 5897; Service de propagande, 18 May 1894, ibid. 5893.

9 BCAF, Sept. 1891, pp. 6–8; J. Reinach to Percher (1891), FT 5892; Arenberg to Percher, 11 Oct. 1891, ibid. 5891.

10 Percher to Arenberg, 27 July 1890, FT 5892; Percher to Étienne, 10 July 1890, cited in Alis, Conquête du Tchad, p. 120.

11 Roberts, T. W. ‘The trans-Saharan railway and the politics of imperial expansion’, Journal of Imperial and Commonwealth History, 43 (2015), pp. 438–62, at p. 448CrossRefGoogle Scholar.

12 BCAF, Dec. 1895, pp. 345–6.

13 Kanya-Forstner, ‘French “Colonial Party”’, pp. 126–7; Ganiage, Expansion coloniale, pp. 11–26.

14 BCAF, Jan. 1891, p. 1; Alis, Conquête du Tchad, pp. 120, 257–8.

15 Brunschwig, Mythes et réalités, pp. 118–19; Kanya-Forstner, ‘French “Colonial Party”’, pp. 104–5.

16 Aynard, for example, was a Lyon banker and a director of the PLM railway. Péreire represented an important industrial and railway dynasty and Charles Roux the leading importer of palm-oil was on the board of the Compagnie transatlantique and the Société marseillaise.

17 Bischoffsheim to (Percher), 27 July 1890, FT 5895; Permezel to Percher, 14 Aug. 1890, ibid. 5895; Loreau to Percher, 10 Aug. 1890, ibid. 5892; Berger to Percher, 5 Nov. 1893, ibid. 5891.

18 de Loménie, E. Beau, Les responsabilités des dynasties bourgeoises (2 vols., Paris, 1947), ii, pp. 196–6Google Scholar. Percher served as secretary general. Other members were Aynard, Berger, Crouan, Greffulhe, Leroy-Beaulieu, Loreau, Péreire, Templier, and De Vogüé.

19 BCAF, Apr. 1891, p. 1.

20 Arenberg to Percher, 3 Sept. 1891, FT 5891; (Percher), séance du 5 Juillet (1894), ibid. 5893; BCAF, Mar. 1895 (Percher's obituary); ibid., Aug. 1895 (Patinot's obituary).

21 Programme d'action (1891), FT 6012.

22 BCAF, Oct. 1892, p. 8.

23 Ibid., Jan. 1891, p. 2 (list of members).

24 Ibid., 1891–5, passim.

25 Hanotaux and Martineau, eds., Histoire des colonies, iv, pp. 437–8; Brunschwig, Mythes et réalités, p. 116; Kanya-Forstner, ‘French “Colonial Party”’, p. 103.

26 BCAF, Jan. 1891, pp. 1–3; ibid., June 1892, p. 3; Alis, Conquête du Tchad, p. 85.

27 Voies de communication du Congo français, n.d., Archives Nationales, Section Outre-Mer (ANSOM) Gabon-Congo xii 19/e; Notes sur les intérêts politiques et économiques (1889), in Rabut, E., Brazza Commissaire Général, Le Congo Français, 1886–1897 (Paris, 1989), doc. 137Google Scholar.

28 Sanderson, G., England, Europe and the Upper Nile (Edinburgh, 1965), pp. 89, 94Google Scholar; Stengers, J., ‘Une facette de la question du Haut-Nil: le mirage soudanais’, Journal of African History, 10 (1969), pp. 599–622, at pp. 616–18CrossRefGoogle Scholar.

29 Alis, Conquête du Tchad, pp. 70, 124–5.

30 (Note) n.d. FT 6007. Percher's Agence Dalziel had offices next door to Tharel on rue Notre Dame des Victoires in Paris.

31 Auriant, ‘Un ami de Maupassant, Harry Alis’, FT 5892; BCAF, Mar. 1894; Percher to Chavannes, 6 May 1892, cited in Stengers, J., ‘Aux origines de Fachoda: l'expédition Monteil’, Revue Belge de Philologie et d'Histoire (RBPH), 36 (1958), pp. 436–50CrossRefGoogle Scholar, ibid., 38 (1960), pp. 366–404, 1040–65, at p. 381. See also Percher to Mme Daumas (who was attempting to blackmail him over his secret Belgian connections), 25 Dec. 1894, FT 5891. ‘Comme je n'ai jamais commis de ma vie un acte qui ne soit pas parfaitement honorable, je ne crains aucun papier, petit ou grand.’

32 Tharel was director of the Syndicat du Laos, Syndicat du Soudan and the Compagnie française de l'Afrique centrale, among others. He was also president of the Société d’économie industrielle et commerciale (SEIC), an investment forum for an association of Parisian businessmen of which Percher was a member while holding shares in the two African enterprises.

33 Dictionnaire de biographie française (Paris, 1951)Google Scholar, entry for Crampel.

34 Coquery-Vidrovitch, C., Brazza et la prise de possession du Congo: la mission de l'Ouest-Africain, 1883–1885 (Paris, 1969), pp. 99–100Google Scholar; Ballay to Colonial department (Colonies), 28 Jan. 1888, cited in Blanchard, M., ‘Français et Belges sur l'Oubangai (1890–1896)’, Revue d'histoire des colonies, 37 (1953), pp. 1–36, at pp. 34–5CrossRefGoogle Scholar; Alis, Conquête du Tchad, p. 121.

35 Coquery-Vidrovitch, Brazza, pp. 193–4; (Note) n.d. FT 6007; Daumas to Colonies, 25 Mar. 1890, in ibid., doc. 117.

36 Mizon, Discours prononcé le 5 Mars 1890 au Congrès Colonial National, FT 6007.

37 Ibid.; Mizon, note, 22 Oct. 1884, cited in Coquery-Vidrovitch, Brazza, pp. 412–26.

38 Tharel to Étienne, 2 June 1890, ANSOM Gabon-Congo xv 15; Rapport, 6 Nov. 1890, ibid.

39 Crampel to Étienne, 12 Mar. 1890, ANSOM Missions 5. ‘Ce projet prouve combien j'ai compris vos leçons et comme je suis prêt à exécuter votre politique.’ Ballay and Mizon were known personally to Étienne.

40 Roberts, ‘Trans-Saharan railway’, pp. 441–4.

41 Roberts, T. W., ‘Republicanism, railway imperialism and the French empire in Africa, 1879–1889’, Historical Journal, 14 (2011), pp. 401–20, at pp. 409–10, 413–16CrossRefGoogle Scholar.

42 Brazza to Chavannes, 7 Oct. 1889, Bibliothèque Nationale: Nouvelle Acquisitions Françaises (BN n.a.fr.), Chavannes papers 12807; Chavannes, C. De, Le Congo français: ma collaboration avec Brazza, 1886–1894 (Paris, 1937), pp. 208–10Google Scholar.

43 Roberts, ‘Republicanism, railway imperialism’, p. 407; BN n.a.fr., Mémoires politiques de Bernard Lavergne, 14636 vol. iii p. 476.

44 Brazza to Colonies, 13 Dec. 1888, in Rabut, Brazza, doc. 114.

45 Ibid.; Cornet, R., La bataille du rail (Brussels, 1947), pp. 154–7Google Scholar. What follows is a revised version of the interpretation given in Roberts, ’Trans-Saharan railway’, p. 404.

46 Brazza to Colonies, 20 Apr. 1889, ANSOM Gabon-Congo xii 19/a; Étienne to Christophle, 4 May 1889, ibid.; Brazza to Chavannes, 2 May 1889, BN n.a.fr., Chavannes papers 12807.

47 Brazza to Chavannes, 7 Oct. 1889, BN n.a.fr., Chavannes papers 12807; Christophle was associated with Étienne in the Chemins de fer du Sud, while Soubeyron and Fould were directors of the Rothschild-controlled Nord railway.

48 Étienne to Brazza, 20 Apr. 1889, cited in Blanchard, ‘Français et Belges’, p. 31 n. 1; Brazza, note, 12 Dec. 1889, Rabut, Brazza, doc. 137; Étienne to Christophle, 4 May 1889, ANSOM Gabon-Congo xii 19/a.

49 Brazza to Chavannes, 2 Aug. (1889), BN n.a.fr., Chavannes papers 12807; Chavannes, Congo français, pp. 201–3, 208–9; Christophle to Étienne 2 June 1890 + enclosure, ANSOM Gabon-Congo xv 15. Étienne stipulated that individuals rather than institutions were permitted to invest and many of the former were connected to Tharel's SEIC.

50 Étienne to Jules Roche (private and confidential), 9 July 1890, ANSOM Gabon-Congo xv 15; same to same, 9 July 1890, ibid.; Bunua-Varilla to Colonies, 13 July 1890 + enclosure, ibid. Significantly, one of the concessionaries, Philippe Bunua-Varilla, was De Lesseps's right-hand man in the Panama Canal Company.

51 BCAF, Jan. 1891, pp. 1–3; Alis, Conquête du Tchad, p. 85. Patinot was a director of De Lesseps's Suez Canal Company, while Aynard had close banking connections with the Société de dépôts.

52 Painter, George, Marcel Proust (2 vols., London, 1977), i, pp. 138–40Google Scholar. Greffulhe was one of the models for Proust's Duc de Guermantes.

53 Stengers, J., ‘Leopold II and the Association Internationale du Congo’, in Forster, S., Mommsen, W., and Robinson, R., eds., Bismarck, Europe and Africa (Oxford, 1988), p. 235Google Scholar; Cornet, Bataille du rail, pp. 152–4. Edmond de Rothschild contributed 20,000 fr. and Gustave a similar amount.

54 Alis, Conquête du Tchad, p. 85.

55 Dolisie to Chavannes, 24 Feb. 1894, BN n.a.fr., Chavannes papers 12808; Painter, Proust, i, p. 87.

56 Roberts, ‘Trans-Saharan railway’, p. 445.

57 BCAF, Jan. 1891, p. 1; ibid., Feb. 1891, p. 5; Alis, Nos Africains, p. 510.

58 Roberts, ‘Trans-Saharan railway’, p. 450.

59 Stengers, ‘Le mirage soudanais’, pp. 608–20; Sanderson, Upper Nile, pp. 34–6, 88–9.

60 Sanderson, Upper Nile, pp. 90–4.

61 Ibid., pp. 122–4; Stengers, , ‘Aux origines de Fachoda’, RBPH, 38 (1960), pp. 367–9Google Scholar.

62 Roberts, ‘Trans-Saharan railway’, p. 445. Étienne suggested that most of Africa to the west of a line between Tunisia and the French Congo would form part of the French empire.

63 Ibid., pp. 443–7.

64 Ibid., p. 480.

65 Alis, Conquête du Tchad, pp. 210–12.

66 Mizon, Discours, FT 6007; Alis, Conquête du Tchad, pp. 193–9.

67 Percher, Rapport au nom de la commission d'exploration, 16 Dec. 1890, FT 6010.

68 Coquery-Vidrovitch, C., ‘Les idées économiques de Brazza et les premières tentatives de compagnies de colonisation au Congo français, 1885–1898’, Cahiers d’Études Africaines, 5 (1965), pp. 57–82, at pp. 76–9CrossRefGoogle Scholar; Brazza to Chavannes, 12 Jan. 1892, BN n.a.fr., Chavannes papers 12807.

69 Roberts, ‘Trans-Saharan railway’, pp. 132–45.

70 Bischoffsheim to (Percher), 27 July 1890, FT 5895; Alis to (Daumas), 16 Feb. 1892, ibid. 5892; BCAF, Sept. 1892, pp. 2–3.

71 Alis to Reinach, 28 Mar. 1892, BN n.a.fr., Reinach papers 13527; Daumas to Percher, 20 Apr. 1891, FT 5891; Alis to (Daumas), 16 Feb. 1892, ibid. 5892; Leopold to Thys, 15 Apr. 1891, cited in Cornet, Bataille du rail, pp. 195–6; BCAF, May 1892, p. 2. Daumas obtained a seat on the board of the Société anonyme Belge.

72 Stengers, , ‘Aux origines de Fachoda’, RBPH, 38 (1960), pp. 383–8Google Scholar; Sanderson, Upper Nile, pp. 137–8.

73 Alis, Conquête du Tchad, p. 85; Colonies to lieutenant-governor, 9 Apr. 1890, ANSOM Missions 5.

74 Mizon, Discours, FT 6007; Alis, Conquête du Tchad, pp. 193–9, 210–12.

75 Brazza to Fourneau (12 Sept. 1890), ANSOM Gabon-Congo iii 13/a; Brazza to Colonies (tel.), received 2 Oct. 1890, ibid. Missions 24. The frontier had only been agreed up to 2°14’ North.

76 Brazza to Colonies, 25 Nov. 1891, ANSOM Gabon-Congo iii 13/d; Étienne to governor, 14 Jan. 1892, ibid. Gabon-Congo i 39/b; Chavannes to Colonies. 19 Feb. 1892; ibid. 39/a.

77 Alis to (J.-L. Deloncle), 15 Feb. 1891, ANSOM Missions 5, ‘Qu'on nous laisse agir au-delà de 4° nord. Nous nous en chargions’; Étienne to Chavannes, 9 Jan. 1892, ibid.; Chavannes to Colonies, 6 Aug. 1891, ibid. Gabon-Congo i 39/a.

78 Sanderson, Upper Nile, pp. 123–7.

79 BCAF, May 1892, pp. 8–10; ibid., Oct. 1892; Alis to foreign minister, Affaires Étrangères: Mémoires et Documents (AEMD) Afrique 132; Percher to Jamais, n.d. enclosed Percher to Étienne, 4 Dec. 1892, FT5891.

80 Brazza to Colonies, 8 Apr. 1893, ANSOM Gabon-Congo iii 13/d; Colonies to governor (tel.), 29 Sept. 1892; ibid. i 40/b.

81 Jamais to Ribot, 4 Aug. 1892, Affaires Étrangères (AE) Ribot papers 4; Nisard to Ribot, 5 Aug. 1892, ibid.; Ribot to Hanotaux, 2 Aug. 1892, AE Hanotaux papers 28.

82 The Niger Company failed to secure a treaty in Bornu while Berlin had indicated it was not seeking to block access to Lake Chad from the south.

83 Stengers, , ‘Aux origines de Fachoda’, RBPH, 38 (1960), pp. 370–1Google Scholar; Sanderson, Upper Nile, pp. 97–100.

84 Sanderson, Upper Nile, pp. 141–2; Stengers, , ‘Aux origines de Fachoda’, RBPH, 38 (1960), pp. 384–90Google Scholar; Alis to foreign minister, 11 May 1892, AEMD Afrique 132; BCAF, May 1892, pp. 8–10; ibid., Oct. 1892, pp. 2–3.

85 Brazza to Colonies, 18 Apr. 1891, ANSOM Gabon-Congo i 37/a; Stengers, , ‘Aux origines de Fachoda’, RBPH, 36 (1958), p. 441CrossRefGoogle Scholar.

86 Percher to Étienne, 4 Dec. 1892 + enclosures FT 5891; République française, 6 Dec. 1892.

87 Sanderson, Upper Nile, pp. 131–3; Stengers, , ‘Aux origines de Fachoda’, RBPH, 38 (1960), pp. 372–8Google Scholar.

88 Stengers, , ‘Aux origines de Fachoda’, RBPH, 38 (1960), pp. 378–83Google Scholar.

89 Journal de Hanotaux, 8 Dec. 1892, AE Hanotaux papers 1. ‘C'est peut-être le premier pas fait par la France vers la reprise de l'Egypte.’ Hanotaux was one of the models for Proust's M. De Norpois.

90 Hanotaux, Note très confidentielle (31 Jan. 1893), ibid. 3.

91 Stengers, , ‘Aux origines de Fachoda’, RBPH, 38 (1960), pp. 376–7Google Scholar.

92 Ibid., p. 389.

93 Chapman, G., The Third Republic of France: the first phase, 1871–1894 (London, 1962), pp. 309–12CrossRefGoogle Scholar; Roberts, ‘Republicanism, railway imperialism’, pp. 413–14; Sanderson, Upper Nile, p. 135. In 1887, Rouvier's attempt to get approval for a lottery loan for Leopold's railway had been voted down in the chamber amidst allegations of bribery and corruption.

94 Chapman, Third Republic, pp. 313–14.

95 Stengers, , ‘Aux origines de Fachoda’, RBPH, 36 (1958), pp. 432–41, 443–4CrossRefGoogle Scholar.

96 Percher to Janssen, 8 Feb. 1893, cited in ibid., 38 (1960), pp. 391–2; BCAF, Feb. 1893, p. 6; Develle to Étienne, 18 Apr. 1893, BN n.a.fr. Étienne papers; Monteil to Colonies, 6 Oct. 1893, Archives Nationales. Monteil papers 5.

97 Andrew, C., Théophile Delcassé and the making of the Entente Cordiale (London, 1968), pp. 11, 19, 21–4CrossRefGoogle Scholar.

98 Sanderson, Upper Nile, p. 144; Stengers, , ‘Aux origines de Fachoda’, RBPH, 36 (1958), pp. 445–8CrossRefGoogle Scholar.

99 Stengers, , ‘Aux origines de Fachoda’, RBPH, 38 (1960), p. 394Google Scholar; BCAF, June 1893, pp. 13–14; ibid., Aug. 1893, pp. 4–5.

100 Stengers, , ‘Aux origines de Fachoda’, RBPH, 38 (1960), pp. 396–9Google Scholar; Sanderson, Upper Nile, pp. 146–9; Note écrite de la main de M. Delcassé, 13 Sept. 1893, FT 5891.

101 Stengers, , ‘Aux origines de Fachoda’, RBPH, 38 (1960), pp. 403–4Google Scholar; Sanderson, Upper Nile, pp. 145–51, 163.

102 For the Anglo-Congolese Treaty, see Sanderson, Upper Nile, pp. 162–4.

103 Janssen to Alis, 27 May 1894, FT 5892; BCAF, June 1894, pp. 54–63.

104 Sanderson, Upper Nile, p. 187.

105 Stengers, , ‘Aux origines de Fachoda’, RBPH, 38 (1960), pp. 1045–65Google Scholar.

106 BCAF, Jan. 1895, pp. 3–4.

107 Paul Révoil to Hanotaux, 28 Dec. 1894, AE Hanotaux papers 28; BCAF, Mar. 1895, pp. 65–7; ibid., July 1894, pp. 82–91.

108 Unless otherwise indicated, the narrative in this section is based on T. W. Roberts, ‘Railway imperialism and French advances towards Lake Chad, 1890–1900’ (Ph.D. diss., Cambridge, 1973).

109 Le Châtelier to Chavannes, 8 Jan. 1895 (extract), BN n.a.fr. Chavannes papers 12809; Dolisie to Colonies, 20 Apr. 1895, in Rabut, Brazza, doc. 144; Coquery-Vidrovitch, ‘Idées économiques de Brazza’, pp. 67–72.

110 Percher was killed in a duel provoked by accusations of pro-Belgian leanings.

111 BCAF, 1895–6, subscription and attendance records.

112 Kanya-Forstner, ‘French “Colonial Party”’, p. 112.

113 Sanderson, Upper Nile, pp. 191–206, 213–14.

114 Hanotaux, G., Le partage d'Afrique: Fachoda (Paris, 1909), pp. 106–8Google Scholar. ‘Le cabinet…avait-il même le choix? Les choses étant engages…personne en France eût-il admis un pareil recul?’

115 Michel, M., La Mission Marchand, 1895–1899 (Paris, 1972), pp. 24–5, 36–58CrossRefGoogle Scholar.