Plan of Khartum

where a faithful band clustered about the dark-green standard of their leader and chanted defiance to the infidels till one by one they fell. The chief himself, unworthy object of this devotion, fled away on a swift dromedary some time before the last group of stalwarts bit the sand.

Despite the terrible heat and the thirst of his men, the Sirdar allowed only a brief rest before he resumed the march on Omdurman. Leaving no time for the bulk of the Dervish survivors to reach their capital, he pushed on at the head of Maxwell's brigade, while once more the shells of the gunboats spread terror in the city. The news brought by a few runaways and the sight of the Khalifa's standard carried behind the Egyptian ensign dispelled all hopes of resisting the disciplined Sudanese battalions; and, in order to clinch matters, the Sirdar with splendid courage rode at the head of the brigade to summon the city to surrender. Through the clusters of hovels on the outskirts he rode on despite the protests of his staff against any needless exposure of his life. He rightly counted on the effect which such boldness on the part of the chief must have on an undecided populace. Fanatics here and there fired on the conquerors, but the news of the Khalifa's cowardly flight from the city soon decided the wavering mass to bow before the inscrutable decrees of fate, and ask for backsheesh from the victors.

Thus was Omdurman taken. Neufeld, an Austrian trader, and some Greeks and nuns who had been in captivity for several years, were at once set free. It was afterwards estimated that about 10,000 Dervishes perished in the battle; very many died of their wounds upon the field or were bayoneted owing to their persistence in firing on the victors. This episode formed the darkest side of the triumph; but it was malignantly magnified by some Continental journals into a wholesale slaughter. This is false. Omdurman will bear comparison with Skobeleff's victory at Denghil Tepé at all points.

Two days after his triumph the Sirdar ordered a parade opposite the ruins of the palace in Khartum where Gordon had met his doom. The funeral service held there in memory of the dead hero was, perhaps, the most affecting scene that this generation has witnessed. Detachments of most of the regiments of the rescue force formed a semicircle round the Sirdar; and by his side stood a group of war-worn officers, who with him had toiled for years in order to see this day. The funeral service was intoned; the solemn assembly sang Gordon's favourite hymn, "Abide with me," and the Scottish pipes wailed their lament for the lost chieftain. Few eyes were undimmed by tears at the close of this service, a slight but affecting reparation for the delays and blunders of fourteen years before. Then the Union Jack and the Egyptian Crescent flag were hoisted and received a salute of 21 guns.

The recovery of the Sudan by Egypt and Great Britain was not to pass unchallenged. All along France had viewed the reconquest of the valley of the upper Nile with ill-concealed jealousy, and some persons have maintained that the French Government was not a stranger to designs hatched in France for helping the Khalifa[418]. Now that these questions have been happily buried by the Anglo-French agreement of the year 1904, it would be foolish to recount all that was said amidst the excitements of the year 1898. Some reference must, however, be made to the Fashoda incident, which for a short space threatened to bring Great Britain and France to an open rupture.

On September 5, a steamer, flying the white flag, reached Omdurman. The ex-Dervish captain brought the news that at Fashoda he had been fired upon by white men bearing a strange flag. The Sirdar divined the truth, namely, that a French expedition under Major (now Colonel) Marchand must have made its way from the Congo to the White Nile at Fashoda with the aim of annexing that district for France.

Now that the dust of controversy has cleared away, we can see facts in their true proportions, especially as the work recently published by M. de Freycinet and the revelations of Colonel Marchand have thrown more light on the affair. Briefly stated, the French case is as follows. Mr. Gladstone on May 11, 1885, declared officially that Egypt limited her sway to a line drawn through Wady Haifa. The authority of the Khedive over the Sudan therefore ceased, though this did not imply the cessation of the Sultan's suzerainty in those regions. Further, England had acted as if the Sudan were no man's land by appropriating the southernmost part in accordance with the Anglo-German agreement of July I, 1890; and Uganda became a British Protectorate in August 1894. The French protested against this extension of British influence over the Upper Nile; and we must admit that, in regard to international law, they were right. The power to will away that district lay with the Sultan, the Khedive's claims having practically lapsed. Germany, it is true, agreed not to contest the annexation of Uganda, but France did contest it.

The Republic also entered a protest against the Anglo-Congolese Convention of May 12, 1894, whereby, in return for the acquisition of the right bank of the Upper Nile, England ceded to the Congo Free State the left bank[419]. That compact was accordingly withdrawn, and on August 14, 1894, France secured from the Free State the recognition of her claims to the left bank of the Nile with the exception of the Lado district below the Albert Nyanza. This action on the part of France implied a desire on her part to appropriate these lands, and to contest the British claim to the right bank. In regard to law, she was justified in so doing; and had she, acting as the mandatory of the Sultan, sent an expedition from the Congo to the Upper Nile, her conduct in proclaiming a Turco-Frankish condominium would have been unexceptionable. That of Britain was open to question, seeing that we practically ignored the Sultan[420] and acted (so far as is known) on our own initiative in reversing the policy of abandonment officially announced in May 1885. From the standpoint of equity, however, the Khedive had the first claim to the territories then given up under stress of circumstances; and the Power that helped him to regain the heritage of his sires obviously had a strong claim to consideration so long as it acted with the full consent of that potentate.

The British Cabinet, that of Lord Rosebery, frankly proclaimed its determination to champion the claims of the Khedive against all comers, Sir Edward Grey declaring officially in the debate of March 28, 1895, that the despatch of a French expedition to the Upper Nile would be "an unfriendly act[421]." We know now, through the revelations made by Colonel Marchand in the Matin of June 20, 1905, that in June 1895 he had pressed the French Government to intervene in that quarter; but it did little, relying (so M. de Freycinet states) on the compact of August 14, 1894, and not, apparently, on any mandate from the Sultan. If so, it had less right to intervene than the British Government had in virtue of its close connection with the Khedive. As a matter of fact, both Powers lacked an authoritative mandate and acted in accordance with their own interests. It is therefore futile to appeal to law, as M. de Freycinet has done.

It remained to see which of the two would act the more efficiently. M. Marchand states that his plan of action was approved by the French Minister for the Colonies, M. Berthelot, on November 16, 1895; but little came of it until the news of the preparations for the Anglo-Egyptian Expedition reached Paris. It would be interesting to hear what Lord Rosebery and Sir Edward Grey would say to this. For the present we may affirm with some confidence that the tidings of the Franco-Congolese compact of August 1894 and of expeditions sent under Monteil and Liotard towards the Nile basin must have furnished the real motive for the despatch of the Sirdar's army on the expedition to Dongola. That event in its turn aroused angry feelings at Paris, and M. Berthelot went so far as to inform Lord Salisbury that he would not hold himself responsible for events that might occur if the expedition up the Nile were persisted in. After giving this brusque but useful warning of the importance which France attached to the Upper Nile, M. Berthelot quitted office, and M. Bourgeois, the Prime Minister, took the portfolio for foreign affairs. He pushed on the Marchand expedition; so also did his successor, M. Hanotaux, in the Méline Cabinet which speedily supervened.

Marchand left Marseilles on June 25, 1896, to join his expeditionary force, then being prepared in the French Congo. It is needless to detail the struggles of the gallant band. After battling for two years with the rapids, swamps, forests, and mountains of Eastern Congoland and the Bahr-el-Ghazal, he brought his flotilla down to the White Nile, thence up its course to Fashoda, where he hoisted the tricolour (July 12, 1898). His men strengthened the old Egyptian fort, and beat off an attack of the Dervishes.

Nevertheless they had only half succeeded, for they relied on the approach of a French Mission from the east by way of Abyssinia. A Prince of the House of Orleans had been working hard to this end, but owing to the hostility of the natives of Southern Abyssinia that expedition had to fall back on Kukong. A Russian officer, Colonel Artomoroff, had struggled on down the River Sobat, but he and his band also had to retire[422]. The purport of these Franco-Russian designs is not yet known; but even so, we can see that the situation was one of great peril. Had the French and Russian officers from Abyssinia joined hands with Marchand at Fashoda, their Governments might have made it a point of honour to remain, and to claim for France a belt of territory extending from the confines of the French Congo eastwards to Obock on the Red Sea.

As it was, Marchand and his heroic little band were in much danger from the Dervishes when the Sirdar and his force steamed up to Fashoda. The interview between the two chiefs at that place was of historic interest. Sir Herbert Kitchener congratulated the Major on his triumph of exploration, but claimed that he must plant the flag of the Khedive at Fashoda. M. Marchand declared that he would hoist it himself over the village. "Over the fort, Major," replied the Sirdar. "I cannot permit it," exclaimed the Major, "as the French flag is there." A reference by the Sirdar to his superiority of force produced no effect, the French commander stating that if it were used he and his men would die at their posts. He, however, requested the Sirdar to let the matter be referred to the Government at Paris, to which Sir Herbert assented. After exchanging courteous gifts they parted, the Sirdar leaving an Egyptian force in the village, and lodging a written protest against the presence of the French force[423]. He then proceeded up stream to the Sobat tributary, on the banks of which at Nassar he left half of a Sudanese battalion to bar the road on that side to geographical explorers provided with flags. He then returned to Khartum.

The sequel is well known. Lord Salisbury's Government behaved with unexpected firmness, asserting that the overthrow of the Mahdi brought again under the Egyptian flag all the lands which that leader had for a time occupied. The claim was not wholly convincing in the sphere of logic; but the victory of Omdurman gave it force. Clearly, then, whether Major Marchand was an emissary of civilisation or a pioneer of French rule, he had no locus standi on the Nile. The French Government before long gave way and recalled Major Marchand, who returned to France by way of Cairo. This tame end to what was a heroic struggle to extend French influence greatly incensed the major; and at Cairo he made a speech, declaring that for the present France was worsted in the valley of the Nile, but the day might come when she would be supreme.

It is generally believed that France gave way at this juncture partly because her navy was known to be unequal to a conflict with that of Great Britain, but also because Franco-German relations were none of the best. Or, in the language of the Parisian boulevards: "How do we know that while we are fighting the British for the Nile valley, Germany will not invade Lorraine?" As to the influences emanating from St. Petersburg contradictory statements have been made. Rumour asserted that the Czar sought to moderate the irritation in France and to bring about a peaceful settlement of the dispute; and this story won general acceptance. The astonishment was therefore great when, in the early part of the Russo-Japanese war, the Paris Figaro published documents which seemed to prove that he had assured the French Government of his determination to fulfil the terms of the alliance if matters came to the sword.

There we must leave the affair, merely noting that the Anglo-French agreement of March 1899 peaceably ended the dispute and placed the whole of the Egyptian Sudan, together with the Bahr-el-Ghazal district and the greater part of the Libyan Desert, west of Egypt, under the Anglo-Egyptian sphere of influence. (See map at the end of this volume.)

The battle of Omdurman therefore ranks with the most decisive in modern history, not only in a military sense, but also because it extended British influence up the Nile valley as far as Uganda. Had French statesmen and M. Marchand achieved their aims, there is little doubt that a solid wedge would have been driven through north-central Africa from west to east, from the Ubangi Province of French Congoland to the mouth of the Red Sea. The Sirdar's triumph came just in time to thwart this design and to place in the hands that administered Egypt the control of the waters whence that land draws its life. Without crediting the stories that were put forth in the French Press as to the possibility of France damming up the Nile at Fashoda and diverting its floods into the Bahr-el-Ghazal district, we may recognise that the control of that river by Egypt is a vital necessity, and that the nation which helped the Khedive to regain that control thereby established one more claim to a close partnership in the administration at Cairo. The reasonableness of that claim was finally admitted by France in the Anglo-French agreement of the year 1904.

That treaty set the seal, apparently, on a series of efforts of a strangely mixed character. The control of bondholders, the ill-advised strivings of Arabi, the armed intervention undertaken by Sir Beauchamp Seymour and Sir Garnet Wolseley, the forlorn hope of Gordon's Mission to Khartum, the fanaticism of the Mahdists, the diplomatic skill of Lord Cromer, the covert opposition of France and the Sultan, and the organising genius of Lord Kitchener--such is the medley of influences, ranging from the basest up to the noblest of which human nature is capable, that served to draw the Government of Great Britain deeper and deeper into the meshes of the Egyptian Question, until the heroism, skill, and stubbornness of a few of her sons brought about results which would now astonish those who early in the eighties tardily put forth the first timid efforts at intervention.

FOOTNOTES:

[407] Wingate, Mahdism, pp. 228-233.

[408] England in Egypt, by Sir Alfred Milner, pp. 145-153.

[409] For the Sudan in this period see Wingate's Mahdism; Slatin's Fire and Sword in the Sudan; C. Neufeld's A Prisoner of the Khalifa.

[410] See articles by Dr. E. J. Dillon and by Jules Simon in the Contemporary Review for April and May 1896. Kassala was handed over to an Egyptian force under Colonel Parsons in December 1897. The Egyptian Sudan, by H. S. L. Alford and W. D. Sword (1898).

[411] Sudan Campaign, 1896-97, by "An Officer," p. 20.

[412] Ibid, p. 54.

[413] The Downfall of the Dervishes, by E. N. Bennett, M.A., p. 23.

[414] The Egyptian Sudan: its Loss and Recovery, by H. S. L. Alford and W. D. Sword, ch. iv.

[415] Some accounts state that the Lancers had no scouts, but "an officer" denies this (Sudan Campaign, 1896-99, p. 198).

[416] The general opinion of the army was that the charge of the Lancers "was magnificent, but was not war." See G.W. Steevens' With Kitchener to Khartum, ch. xxxii.

[417] See Mr. Winston Churchill's The River War, vol. ii. pp. 160-163, for the help given by the Lincolns.

[418] See an unsigned article in the Contemporary Review for Dec. 1897.

[419] Parl. Papers, Egypt, No. 2 (1898), pp. 13-14.

[420] The Earl of Kimberley's reply of Aug. 14, 1894, to M. Hanotaux, is very weak on this topic. Parl. Papers, Egypt, No. 2 (1898), pp. 14-15.

[421] Ibid. p. 18.

[422] Marchand l'Africain, by C. Castellani, pp. 279-280. The author reveals his malice by the statement (p. 293) that the Sirdar, after the battle of Omdurman, ordered 14,000 Dervish wounded to be éventrés.

[423] Parl. Papers, Egypt, No. 2 (1898), p. 9; No. 3 (1898), pp. 3-4.

CHAPTER XVIII

The period since the year 1870 has for the most part witnessed the operation of the last and the least romantic of these so-called civilising efforts. The great age of African exploration was then drawing to a close. In the year 1870 that devoted missionary explorer, David Livingstone, was lost to sight for many months owing to his earnest longing peacefully to solve the great problem of the waterways of Central Africa, and thus open up an easy path for the suppression of the slave-trade. But when, in 1871, Mr. H. M. Stanley, the enterprising correspondent of the New York Herald, at the head of a rescue expedition, met the grizzled, fever-stricken veteran near Ujiji and greeted him with the words--"Mr. Livingstone, I presume," the age of mystery and picturesqueness vanished away.

A change in the spirit and methods of exploration naturally comes about when the efforts of single individuals give place to collective enterprise[424], and that change was now rapidly to come over the whole field of African exploration. The day of the Mungo Parks and Livingstones was passing away, and the day of associations and companies was at hand. In 1876, Leopold II., King of the Belgians, summoned to Brussels several of the leading explorers and geographers in order to confer on the best methods of opening up Africa. The specific results of this important Conference will be considered in the next chapter; but we may here note that, under the auspices of the "International Association for the Exploration and Civilisation of Africa" then founded, much pioneer work was carried out in districts remote from the River Congo. The vast continent also yielded up its secrets to travellers working their way in from the south and the north, so that in the late seventies the white races opened up to view vast and populous districts which imaginative chartographers in other ages had diversified with the Mountains of the Moon or with signs of the Zodiac and monstrosities of the animal creation.

The last epoch-marking work carried through by an individual was accomplished by a Scottish explorer, whose achievements almost rivalled those of Livingstone. Joseph Thomson, a native of Dumfriesshire, succeeded in 1879 to the command of an exploring party which sought to open up the country around the lakes of Nyassa and Tanganyika. Four years later, on behalf of the Royal Geographical Society, he undertook to examine the country behind Mombasa which was little better known than when Vasco da Gama first touched there. In this journey Thomson discovered two snow-capped mountains, Kilimanjaro and Kenia, and made known the resources of the country as far inland as the Victoria Nyanza. Considering the small resources he had at hand, and the cruel and warlike character of the Masai people through whom he journeyed, this journey was by far the most remarkable and important in the annals of exploration during the eighties. Thomson afterwards undertook to open a way from the Benuë, the great eastern affluent of the Niger, to Lake Chad and the White Nile. Here again he succeeded beyond all expectation, while his tactful management of the natives led to political results of the highest importance, as will shortly appear.

These explorations and those of French, German, and Portuguese travellers served to bring nearly the whole of Africa within the ken of the civilised world, and revealed the fact that nearly all parts of tropical Africa had a distinct commercial value.

This discovery, we may point out, is the necessary preliminary to any great and sustained work of colonisation and annexation. Three conditions may be looked on as essential to such an effort. First, that new lands should be known to be worth the labour of exploitation or settlement; second, that the older nations should possess enough vitality to pour settlers and treasure into them; and thirdly, that mechanical appliances should be available for the overcoming of natural obstacles.

Now, a brief glance at the great eras of exploring and colonising activity will show that in all these three directions the last thirty years have presented advantages which are unique in the history of the world. A few words will suffice to make good this assertion. The wars which constantly devastated the ancient world, and the feeble resources in regard to navigation wielded by adventurous captains, such as Hanno the Carthaginian, grievously hampered all the efforts of explorers by sea, while mechanical appliances were so weak as to cripple man's efforts at penetrating the interior. The same is true of the mediaeval voyagers and travellers. Only the very princes among men, Columbus, Magellan, Vasco da Gama, Cabot, Cabral, Gilbert, and Raleigh, could have done what they did with ships that were mere playthings. Science had to do her work of long and patient research before man could hopefully face the mighty forces and malignant influences of the tropics. Nor was the advance of knowledge and invention sufficient by itself to equip man for successful war against the ocean, the desert, the forest, and the swamp. The political and social development of the older countries was equally necessary. In order that thousands of settlers should be able and ready to press in where the one great leader had shown the way, Europe had to gain something like peace and stability. Only thus, when the natural surplus of the white races could devote itself to the task of peacefully subduing the earth rather than to the hideous work of mutual slaughter, could the life-blood of Europe be poured forth in fertilising streams into the waste places of the other continents.

The latter half of the eighteenth century promised for a brief space to inaugurate such a period of expansive life. The close of the Seven Years' War seemed to be the starting point for a peaceful campaign against the unknown; but the efforts of Cook, d'Entrecasteaux, and others then had little practical result, owing to the American War of Independence, and the great cycle of the Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars. These in their turn left Europe too exhausted to accomplish much in the way of colonial expansion until the middle of the nineteenth century. Even then, when the steamship and the locomotive were at hand to multiply man's powers, there was, as yet, no general wish, except on the part of the more fortunate English-speaking peoples, to enter into man's new heritage. The problems of Europe had to be settled before the age of expansive activity could dawn in its full radiance. As has been previously shown, Europe was in an introspective mood up to the years 1870-1878.

Our foregoing studies have shown that the years following the Russo-Turkish War of 1877-8, brought about a state of political equilibrium which made for peace and stagnation in Europe; and the natural forces of the Continent, cramped by the opposition of equal and powerful forces, took the line of least resistance--away from Europe. For Russia, the line of least resistance was in Central Asia. For all other European States it was the sea, and the new lands beyond.

Furthermore, in that momentous decade the steamship and locomotive were constantly gaining in efficiency; electricity was entering the arena as a new and mighty force; by this time medical science had so far advanced as to screen man from many of the ills of which the tropics are profuse; and the repeating rifle multiplied the power of the white man in his conflicts with savage peoples. When all the advantages of the present generation are weighed in the balance against the meagre equipment of the earlier discoverers, the nineteenth century has scant claim for boasting over the fifteenth. In truth, its great achievements in this sphere have been practical and political. It has only fulfilled the rich promise of the age of the great navigators. Where they could but wonderingly skirt the fringes of a new world, the moderns have won their way to the heart of things and found many an Eldorado potentially richer than that which tempted the cupidity of Cortes and Pizarro.

In one respect the European statesmen of the recent past tower above their predecessors of the centuries before. In the eighteenth century the "mercantilist" craze for seizing new markets and shutting out all possible rivals brought about most of the wars that desolated Europe. In the years 1880-1890 the great Powers put forth sustained and successful efforts to avert the like calamity, and to cloak with the mantle of diplomacy the eager scrambles for the unclaimed lands of the world.

For various reasons the attention of statesmen turned almost solely on Africa. Central and South America were divided among States that were nominally civilised and enjoyed the protection of the Monroe Doctrine put forward by the United States. Australia was wholly British. In Asia the weakness of China was but dimly surmised; and Siam and Cochin China alone offered any field for settlement or conquest by European peoples from the sea. In Polynesia several groups of islands were still unclaimed; but these could not appease the land-hunger of Europe. Africa alone provided void spaces proportionate to the needs and ambitions of the white man. The opening of the Suez Canal in 1869 served to bring the east coast of that continent within easy reach of Europe; and the discoveries on the Upper Nile, Congo, and Niger opened a way into other large parts. Thus, by the year 1880, everything favoured the "partition of Africa."

Rumour, in the guise of hints given by communicative young attaches or "well-informed" correspondents, ascribes the first beginnings of the plans for the partition of Africa to the informal conversations of statesmen at the time of the Congress of Berlin (1878). Just as an architect safeguards his creation by providing a lightning-conductor, so the builder of the German Empire sought to divert from that fabric the revengeful storms that might be expected from the south-west. Other statesmen were no less anxious than Bismarck to draw away the attention of rivals from their own political preserves by pointing the way to more desirable waste domains. In short, the statesmen of Europe sought to plant in Africa the lightning-conductors that would safeguard the new arrangements in Europe, including that of Cyprus. The German and British Governments are known then to have passed on hints to that of France as to the desirability of her appropriating Tunis. The Republic entered into the schemes, with results which have already been considered (Chapter XII.); and, as a sequel to the occupation of Tunis, plans were set on foot for the eventual conquest of the whole of the North-West of Africa (except Morocco and a few British, Spanish, and Portuguese settlements) from Cape Bon to Cape Verde, and thence nearly to the mouth of the River Niger. We may also note that in and after 1883 France matured her schemes for the conquest of part, and ultimately the whole, of Madagascar, a project which reached completion in the year 1885[425].

The military occupation of Egypt by Great Britain in 1882 also served to quicken the interest of European Powers in Africa. It has been surmised that British acquiescence in French supremacy in Tunis, West Africa, and Madagascar had some connection with the events that transpired in Egypt, and that the perpetuation of British supremacy in the valley of the Nile was virtually bought by the surrender of most of our political and trading interests in these lands, the lapse of which under the French "protective" regime caused much heart-burning in commercial circles.

Last among the special causes that concentrated attention on Africa was the activity of King Leopold's Association at Brussels in opening up the Congo district in the years 1879-1882. Everything therefore tended to make the ownership of tropical Africa the most complex question of the early part of the eighties.

For various reasons Germany was a little later than France and England in entering the field. The hostility of France on the west, and, after 1878, that of Russia on the east, made it inadvisable for the new Empire to give hostages to Fortune, in the shape of colonies, until by alliances it secured its position at home and possessed a fleet strong enough to defend distant possessions. In some measure the German Government had to curb the eagerness of its "colonial party." The present writer was in Germany in the year 1879, when the colonial propaganda was being pushed forward, and noted the eagerness in some quarters, and the distrust in others, with which pamphlets like that of Herr Fabri, Bedarf Deutschland Colonien? were received. Bismarck himself at first checked the "colonials," until he felt sure of the European situation. That, however, was cleared up to some extent by the inclusion of Italy in the compact which thus became the Triple Alliance (May 1882), and by the advent to office of the pacific Chancellor, de Giers, at St. Petersburg a little later. There was therefore the less need officially to curb the colonising instinct of the Teutonic people. The formation of the German Colonial Society at Frankfurt in December 1882, and the immense success attending its propaganda, spurred on the statesmen of Berlin to take action. They looked longingly (as they still do) towards Brazil, in whose southern districts their people had settled in large numbers; but over all that land the Monroe Doctrine spread its sheltering wings. A war with the United States would have been madness, and Germany therefore turned to Polynesia and Africa. We may note here that in 1885 she endeavoured to secure the Caroline Islands from Spain, whose title to them seemed to have lapsed; but Spanish pride flared up at the insult, and after a short space Bismarck soothed ruffled feelings at Madrid by accepting the mediation of the Pope, who awarded them to Spain--Germany, however, gaining the right to occupy an islet of the group as a coaling station.

Africa, however, absorbed nearly all the energy of the German colonial party. The forward wing of that party early in the year 1884 inaugurated an anti-British campaign in the press, which probably had the support of the Government. As has been stated in chapter XII., that was the time when the Three Emperors' League showed signs of renewed vitality; and Bismarck, after signing the secret treaty of March 24, 1884 (later on ratified at Skiernevice), felt safe in pressing on colonial designs against England in Africa, especially as Russia was known to be planning equally threatening moves against the Queen's Empire in Asia. We do not know enough of what then went on between the German and Russian Chancellors to assert that they formed a definite agreement to harry British interests in those continents; but, judging from the general drift of Bismarck's diplomacy and from the "nagging" to which England was thenceforth subjected for two years, it seems highly probable that the policy ratified at Skiernevice aimed at marking time in European affairs and striding onwards in other continents at the expense of the Island Power.

The Anglophobes of the German press at once fell foul of everything British; and that well-known paper the Kölnische Zeitung in an article of April 22, 1884, used the following words:--"Africa is a large pudding which the English have prepared for themselves at other people's expense, and the crust of which is already fit for eating. Let us hope that our sailors will put a few pepper-corns into it on the Guinea coast, so that our friends on the Thames may not digest it too rapidly." The sequel will show whether the simile correctly describes either the state of John Bull's appetite or the easy aloofness of the Teutonic onlooker.

It will be convenient to treat this great and complex subject on a topographical basis, and to begin with a survey of the affairs of East Africa, especially the districts on the mainland north and south of the island of Zanzibar. At that important trade centre, the natural starting point then for the vast district of the Great Lakes, the influence of British and Indian traders had been paramount; and for many years the Sultan of Zanzibar had been "under the direct influence of the United Kingdom and of the Government of India[426]." Nevertheless, in and after 1880 German merchants, especially those of Hamburg, pressed in with great energy and formed plans for annexing the neighbouring territories on the mainland.

Their energy was in strange contrast to the lethargy shown by the British Government in the protection of Anglo-Indian trade interests. In the year 1878 the Sultan of Zanzibar, who held a large territory on the mainland, had offered the control of all the commerce of his dominions to Sir W. Mackinnon, Chairman of the British-India Steam Navigation Company; but, for some unexplained reason, the Beaconsfield Cabinet declined to be a party to this arrangement, which, therefore, fell through[427]. Despite the fact that England and France had in 1862 agreed to recognise the independence of the Sultan of Zanzibar, the Germans deemed the field to be clear, and early in November 1884, Dr. Karl Peters and two other enthusiasts of the colonial party landed at Zanzibar, disguised as mechanics, with the aim of winning new lands for their Fatherland. They had with them several blank treaty forms, the hidden potency of which was soon to be felt by dusky potentates on the mainland. Before long they succeeded in persuading some of these novices in diplomacy to set their marks to these documents, an act which converted them into subjects of the Kaiser, and speedily secured 60,000 square miles for the German tricolour. It is said that the Government of Berlin either had no knowledge of, or disapproved of, these proceedings; and, when Earl Granville ventured on some representations respecting them, he received the reply, dated November 28, 1884, that the Imperial Government had no design of obtaining a protectorate over Zanzibar[428]. It is difficult to reconcile these statements with the undoubted fact that on February 17, 1885, the German Emperor gave his sanction to the proceedings of Dr. Peters by extending his suzerainty over the signatory chiefs[429]. This event caused soreness among British explorers and Indian traders who had been the first to open up the country to civilisation. Nevertheless, the Gladstone Ministry took no effective steps to safeguard their interests.

In defence of their academic treatment of this matter some considerations of a general nature may be urged.

The need of colonies felt by Germany was so natural, so imperious, that it could not be met by the high and dry legal argument as to the priority of Great Britain's commercial interests. Such an attitude would have involved war with Germany about East Africa and war with France about West Africa, at the very time when we were on the brink of hostilities with Russia about Merv, and were actually fighting the Mahdists behind Suakim. The "weary Titan"--to use Matthew Arnold's picturesque phrase--was then overburdened. The motto, "Live and let live," was for the time the most reasonable, provided that it was not interpreted in a weak and maudlin way on essential points.

Many critics, however, maintain that Mr. Gladstone's and Lord Granville's diplomatic dealings with Germany in the years 1884 and 1885 displayed most lamentable weakness, even when Dr. Peters and others were known to be working hard at the back of Zanzibar, with the results that have been noted. In April 1885 the Cabinet ordered Sir John Kirk, British representative at Zanzibar, and founder of the hitherto unchallenged supremacy of his nation along that coast, forthwith to undo the work of a lifetime by "maintaining friendly relations" with the German authorities at that port. This, of course, implied a tacit acknowledgment by Britain of what amounted to a German protectorate over the mainland possessions of the Sultan. It is not often that a Government, in its zeal for "live and let live," imposes so humiliating a task on a British representative. The Sultan did not take the serene and philosophic view of the situation that was held at Downing Street, and the advent of a German squadron was necessary in order to procure his consent to these arrangements (August-December 1885.)[430]

The Blue Book dealing with Zanzibar (Africa, No. 1, 1886) by no means solves the riddle of the negotiations which went on between London and Berlin early in the year 1885. From other sources we know that the most ardent of the German colonials were far from satisfied with their triumph. Curious details have appeared showing that their schemes included the laying of a trap for the Sultan of Zanzibar, which failed owing to clumsy baiting and the loquacity of the would-be captor. Lord Rosebery also managed, according to German accounts, to get the better of Count Herbert Bismarck in respect of St. Lucia Bay (see page 528) and districts on the Benuë River; so that this may perhaps be placed over against the losses sustained by Britain on the coast opposite Zanzibar. Even there, as we have seen, results did not fully correspond to the high hopes entertained by the German Chauvinists[431].

In the meantime (June 1885) the Salisbury Cabinet came into office for a short time, but the evil effects of the slackness of British diplomacy were not yet at an end. At this time British merchants, especially those of Manchester, were endeavouring to develop the mountainous country around the giant cone of Mt. Kilimanjaro, where Mr. (now Sir) Harry Johnston had, in September 1884, secured some trading and other rights with certain chiefs. A company had been formed in order to further British interests, and this soon became the Imperial British East Africa Company, which aspired to territorial control in the parts north of those claimed by Dr. Peters' Company. A struggle took place between the two companies, the German East Africa Company laying claim to the Kilimanjaro district. Again it proved that the Germans had the more effective backing, and, despite objections urged by our Foreign Minister, Lord Rosebery, against the proceedings of German agents in that tract, the question of ownership was referred to the decision of an Anglo-German boundary commission.

Lord Iddesleigh assumed control of the Foreign Office in August, but the advent of the Conservatives to power in no way helped on the British case. By an agreement between the two Powers, dated November 1, 1886, the Kilimanjaro district was assigned to Germany. From the northern spurs of that mountain the dividing line ran in a north-westerly direction towards the Victoria Nyanza. The same agreement recognised the authority of the Sultan of Zanzibar as extending over the island of that name, those of Pemba and Mafia, and over a strip of coastline ten nautical miles in width; but the ownership of the district of Vitu north of Mombasa was left open[432]. (See map at the close of this volume.)

On the whole, the skill which dispossessed a sovereign of most of his rights, under a plea of diplomatic rearrangements and the advancement of civilisation, must be pronounced unrivalled; and Britain cut a sorry figure as the weak and unwilling accessory to this act. The only satisfactory feature in the whole proceeding was Britain's success in leasing from the Sultan of Zanzibar administrative rights over the coast region around Mombasa. The gain of that part secured unimpeded access from the coast to the northern half of Lake Victoria Nyanza. The German Company secured similar rights over the coastline of their district, and in 1890 bought it outright. By an agreement of December 1896, the River Rovuma was recognised by Germany and Portugal as the boundary of their East African possessions.

The lofty hopes once entertained by the Germans as to the productiveness of their part of East Africa have been but partially realised[433]. Harsh treatment of the natives brought about a formidable revolt in 1888-89. The need of British co-operation in the crushing of this revolt served to bring Germany to a more friendly attitude towards this country. Probably the resignation, or rather the dismissal, of Bismarck by the present Emperor, in March 1890, also tended to lessen the friction between England and Germany. The Prince while in retirement expressed strong disapproval of the East African policy of his successor, Count Caprivi.

Its more conciliatory spirit found expression in the Anglo-German agreement of July 1, 1890, which delimited the districts claimed by the two nations around the Victoria Nyanza in a sense favourable to Great Britain and disappointing to that indefatigable treaty-maker, Dr. Peters. It acknowledged British claims to the northern half of the shores and waters of that great lake and to the valley of the Upper Nile, as also to the coast of the Indian Ocean about Vitu and thence northwards to Kismayu.

On the other hand, Germany acquired the land north of Lake Nyassa, where British interests had been paramount. The same agreement applied both to the British and German lands in question the principle of free or unrestricted transit of goods, as also between the great lakes. Germany further recognised a British Protectorate over the islands held by the Sultan of Zanzibar, reserving certain rights for German commerce in the case of the Island of Mafia. Finally, Great Britain ceded to Germany the Island of Heligoland in the North Sea. On both sides of the North Sea the compact aroused a storm of hostile comment, which perhaps served to emphasise its fairness[434]. Bismarck's opinion deserves quotation:--

Zanzibar ought not to have been left to the English. It would have been better to maintain the old arrangement. We could then have had it at some later time when England required our good offices against France or Russia. In the meantime our merchants, who are cleverer, and, like the Jews, are satisfied with smaller profits, would have kept the upper hand in business. To regard Heligoland as an equivalent shows more imagination than sound calculation. In the event of war it would be better for us that it should be in the hands of a neutral Power. It is difficult and most expensive to fortify[435].

The passage is instructive as showing the aim of Bismarck's colonial policy, namely, to wait until England's difficulties were acute (or perhaps to augment those difficulties, as he certainly did by furthering Russian schemes against Afghanistan in 1884-85[436]), and then to apply remorseless pressure at all points where the colonial or commercial interests of the two countries clashed.

The more his policy is known, the more dangerous to England it is seen to have been, especially in the years 1884-86. In fact, those persons who declaim against German colonial ambitions of to-day may be asked to remember that the extra-European questions recently at issue between Great Britain and Germany are trivial when compared with the momentous problems that were peacefully solved by the agreement of the year 1890. Of what importance are Samoa, Kiao-chow, and the problem of Morocco, compared with the questions of access to the great lakes of Africa and the control of the Lower Niger? It would be unfair to Wilhelm II., as also to the Salisbury Cabinet, not to recognise the statesmanlike qualities which led to the agreement of July 1, 1890--one of the most solid gains peacefully achieved for the cause of civilisation throughout the nineteenth century.

Among its many benefits may be reckoned the virtual settlement of long and tangled disputes for supremacy in Uganda. We have no space in which to detail the rivalries of French and British missionaries and agents at the Court of King M'tesa and his successor M'wanga, or the futile attempt of Dr. Peters to thrust in German influence. Even the Anglo-German agreement of 1890 did not end the perplexities of the situation; for though the British East Africa Company (to which a charter had been granted in 1888) thenceforth had the chief influence on the northern shores of Victoria Nyanza, the British Government declined to assume any direct responsibility for so inaccessible a district. Thanks, however, to the activity and tact of Captain Lugard, difficulties were cleared away, with the result that the large and fertile territory of Uganda (formerly included in the Khedive's dominions) became a British Protectorate in August 1894 (see Chapter XVII).