the Nile with the Khalif of the Mahdists, had acquired there a taste for
green trees, fine houses, and broad avenues. His palace had been
carefully constructed. The principal building, a rectangular white house
two stories high, surmounted by a terrace, opened northwards on to a
garden planted with palms and lemon-trees. The rooms were large and
comfortable, and from the second storey windows the Sultan could see not
only the whole of his palace and his capital, but also a vast panorama
over the surrounding plain, the valley of the Wadi El Ko, the mountains
of Kebkebia, and even the Djebel Marra, whose imposing mass can be seen
when the sky is very clear, more than 70 miles to the south-west. Other
houses, less sumptuous, but more original because local in style,
equally attract one’s notice in the interior of this palace, in which
one loses one’s self in a labyrinth of walls, courtyards, and
outbuildings. These houses are large round huts with simple clay walls,
but whose roofs, admirably thatched, are often connected by long wide
verandahs. These were the apartments of the princesses, light, roomy,
and comfortable. Ali Dinar’s æsthetic preoccupations have been rare
among Sudanese monarchs, but it must be admitted that in order to
embellish his palace and his capital he had all but ruined his kingdom,
reducing half the population to a sort of semi-slavery, filling his
harem with concubines, distributing his subjects’ cattle among his
favourites and the Arab merchants who brought him precious merchandise
and weapons and ammunition sent by the Senoussists. He dreamed of
extending his empire, and lent a too ready ear to the preachers of the
Holy War, who, under the ægis of the Grand Senoussi and the Grand Turk,
dreamed of driving French and British out of Africa. It was with him as
with so many other despots: he fell through pride. Had he shown more
wisdom and diplomacy he might well have been reigning still in Dar Four.
There would be many more things to say about El Fasher, but I have
already dallied too long over the pleasant memories left me by my
sojourn in that town. I beg to be excused inasmuch as, though I was
still 1700 miles from Cairo, I considered myself as having reached the
end of my journey. There only remained three weeks’ march with camels
that would bring me to the railway terminus at El Obeid across an
inhabited country not merely known but already organized; I must leave
the pleasure of describing it to one or another of the British officers
who have conquered and pacified it, and who know it better than I, who
passed through it too quickly to be able to study it as it deserves.
_From El Fasher to Cairo._—I left El Fasher in the evening of 21 July
1917, passing through Um Gedada and Dam Gamad to El Nahud, where I
arrived on August 4. I left again on the 6th, deeply touched by the
hearty welcome of the District Inspector, Major J. G. N. Bardwell. On
August 13, towards four in the afternoon, as I came within sight of El
Obeid, I heard for the first time in five years the whistle of a
locomotive, and its strident note was sweeter to my ears than the most
classical music, for it told me that I had at last reached the gate of
civilization; and the same evening, at dinner with His Excellency the
Governor of Kordofan, Mr. J. W. Sagar, the sight of the graceful and
charmingly dressed ladies who were present confirmed that delightful
impression.
The next day was a very busy one, for I had to discharge my native
escort, pay my camel-drivers, put in order, mend, and bring to the train
my numerous cases of instruments, collections, and documents, in order
to take on the Wednesday the bi-weekly train. I was only able to do so
thanks to the unwearied kindness of the Governor and of the Garrison
Commander, Major T. S. Vandeleur, D.S.O.
On August 15, at 7 o’clock in the morning, I took the train for
Khartoum. The faithful blacks who had come with me all the way from
Borkou were filled with gaping wonder at the sight of the long heavy
string of carriages moving by itself. His Excellency the Governor and
the Garrison Commander had come to the station to wish me a happy end to
my travels, and to see that I had everything I wanted. Let me be allowed
here to express once more my lively gratitude!
Then followed two long days in the train across the wide plains of
Kordofan, the crossing of the White Nile by a monumental bridge, then
the arrival on the Blue Nile at Sennar, where passengers were waiting
who had come from the Upper Nile; then Wad Medina in the afternoon, and
finally, in the middle of the night, Khartoum.
I stayed a week in Khartoum, where I was the guest of the Civil
Secretary, Feilden Pasha, and Dr. P. S. Crispin, Director of the Medical
Service. It was an enchanting week that I spent in that pearl of the
Sudan, which is already visited by many a tourist, so great was the
consideration shown me by my hosts and by the high officials and
officers of the capital.
I left Khartoum on August 24, arrived in Cairo in the morning of the
28th, and on the 30th had the honour of being presented at Alexandria by
the French Diplomatic Agent to His Excellency the British High
Commissioner in Egypt, Sir Reginald Wingate.
As there was no boat ready to start for France, I was able to satisfy my
impatience to see an up-to-date fighting front by a visit to the British
front lines opposite the Turkish trenches which at that time defended
Gaza. Then, returning to Alexandria, I embarked for Malta. From there I
reached Syracuse, and thence, by Messina, Naples, Rome, and Modane, I
arrived on 1 October 1917 in Paris, and from there a few weeks later I
joined the French front.
=10. Conclusions.=
_Geographical Results._—In the course of this lengthy statement I have
set forth in their respective places the principal geographical results
obtained during the last five years of my stay in Central Africa; but it
will perhaps be convenient to group them in a separate paragraph.
In the first place, the great geographical problem of ancient fluvial
communication between the basins of the Chad and the Nile is definitely
solved; the mountainous barrier encircles the basin of the Chad from the
Toummo Mountains on the north to the Djebel Marra on the south-east,
passing through the massif of Tibesti, the plateau of Jef-Jef, the
tablelands of Erdi and Ennedi, the hills of Zagawa, and the mountains of
western Dar Four.
In the second place, the lowest altitudes of the Chad basin are found in
the plains of the low-lying region situated to the north-east of Lake
Chad, which we have designated as “the Lowlands of the Chad.” The lowest
altitude, of 160 metres (about 520 feet), was found in the ancient lake
of Kirri, at a distance of about 250 miles from Lake Chad.
It is towards this low-lying zone that all the great valleys of the
hydrographic system of the Western Sahara seem to converge. It is to be
presumed that, such being the conditions, the tracing of a hypsometric
curve of 250 or 260 metres of altitude (that is to say, slightly
superior to that of the actual Chad) would fix the limits, in the region
of the Chad, the Lowlands of the Chad, and Borkou, of the ancient
Central African lake zone, the existence of which is proved by the
agreement of the geological, topographical, ichthyological,
malacological, and other observations made in these regions in the
course of the last twenty years. Are we to see in the remains of this
former Caspian of the Sahara the Chelonide marshes of the geographers of
the ancient world? To do so would not be altogether unreasonable if it
be taken into account that, so far as I am aware, there is not to be
found in the south-west of the Lybian desert any other low-lying region
combining conditions so favourable to the existence of a vast zone of
lake or marsh.
Again, if we bear in mind certain local traditions declaring that
towards the beginning of the nineteenth century native navigators were
able to go in boats from the Chad to the Lowlands of the Chad by the
Bahr el Ghazal (an assertion that the present appearance of Lake Kirri,
recently dried up, makes sufficiently probable), one may conclude that
until the early centuries of the Christian era this low-lying and now
completely waterless region of the lowlands of the Chad may have been a
great zone of lakes and marshes dotted with sandy or rocky
archipelagoes.
Other facts may equally be noted in corroboration of this hypothesis.
Firstly, the numerous layers of shells of river molluscs and the large
quantity of fish-bones to be met with there: among the latter a fragment
of a skull and vertebræ examined by M. J. Pellegrin, which he thought
were to be attributed to a Nile perch (_Lates Niloticus_, L.) of about 6
or 7 feet in length (in the _Comptes Rendus de l’Académie des Sciences_,
tome 168, No. 19, p. 963. Séance de 12 May 1919); and the discovery of
an elephant skeleton in a region where neither grass nor water is any
longer to be found. Attention might also be drawn to the rock-drawings
of Yarda, where hippopotami are represented among horses, camels, dogs,
and ostriches; or to the numerous ruins of settled villages found all up
and down, especially where the Bahr el Ghazal falls into the Djourab.
Lastly, it may be mentioned that on the platform of certain rocks in
Borkou may be found great cemeteries that a native chief attributes to a
completely vanished race of “black Christians.” But our researches
revealed to us no trace or vestige of Christian religion, perhaps
because we could not devote enough time to them.
A third important result has been to reveal the geographical form of
important mountain masses like Tibesti and Ennedi, hitherto shown in a
very imperfect fashion on the maps of Africa, and the existence of
another important massif called that of Erdi, connecting the two above
mentioned. Moreover, the information we received permits us to reveal to
geographers the existence in the centre of the Lybian desert of yet
another mountain mass, the Djebel El Aouinat, situated about 150 miles
south-east of the oasis of Koufra, and of which the altitude probably
exceeds 4000 feet.
A fourth interesting result has been the precise determination of the
difference of longitude Paris-Faya by direct hearing of the wireless
time-signals of the Eiffel Tower. Numerous rectifications of the
positions attributed to various important points have resulted, the most
notable being that which throws more than 50 miles to the N.N.W. the
positions attributed by Nachtigal to Bardaï, the peak of Toussidé, the
valley of Zouar, etc.
A fifth important result is furnished by the discovery in northern
Borkou of the _Harlania Harlani_, which authorizes us to affirm the
Upper Silurian age of all the sandstone sedimentary formations of
Tibesti, Erdi, and Ennedi.
A sixth point will also, no doubt, be remarked by geographers: from the
peak of Toussidé that dominates the north-west of the Tibestian massif
to the Djebel Marra overlooking the plains of south-western Dar Four,
that is to say, for more than 800 miles in a straight line, numerous
hypsometric determinations have been effected which modify—sometimes by
several thousand feet—the altitudes of the chief summits of the mountain
chain that separates the basin of the Chad from that of the
Mediterranean: in Tibesti, Toussidé, 10,700 feet instead of 8200, Emi
Koussi, 11,200 feet; in Ennedi, the plateau of Erdébé, 4300 feet; in
Tama, the peak of Niéré, 4700 feet; in Dar Four, the peak of Dourboullé,
7200 feet, the Djebel Marra, 9800 feet instead of 6000. These figures
are given merely as an indication subject to the rectifications that
will follow the revision now proceeding of the summary calculations
rapidly effected during my journey.
Lastly, the establishment of the geographical liaison between the Niger,
the Chad, and the Nile, by a chain of astronomical positions determined
with very satisfactory exactitude, constitutes a seventh result, all the
more interesting in that it will permit the drawing up of four sheets of
the international map of the world, thanks to the 10,000 kilometres of
surveys traced by my collaborators and myself during this long
expedition.
From this geographical liaison allow me to pass to another kind of
liaison and say a few words on a subject I have particularly at heart,
and which is the conclusion not only of this five years’ journey but
also of all the journeys I have had the opportunity of making in Central
Africa since the beginning of the twentieth century,—I mean the
importance, I will even say the necessity, of Franco-British
collaboration in the great work of African civilization.
When I first set foot on the Dark Continent, in 1896, tropical and still
mysterious Africa was a subject of discussions and rivalries between
French and British colonials; but at the present time twenty years of
fruitful emulation have ended in a definite and final division of our
various possessions, and it seems to me that henceforth Africa is
destined to be the tangible pledge of the union of our two countries.
I believe that in England as in France a considerable number of
thoughtful men hold that it is above all to the African continent that
we must look in a very large proportion for the supply of raw material
and foodstuffs that we need. The question is whether it is more to the
advantage of France and England to co-operate as closely as possible in
developing these vast and practically unworked regions, or whether it is
preferable for them to pursue this object separately, each country
limiting its means of action to its own sphere of influence.
For my part, I hold that the answer is not doubtful: our two countries
should unite their resources for a loyal collaboration in this essential
work, so as to assure its complete success as rapidly as possible. I
know that the problem is no very simple one; but have we not solved
harder ones in the course of these last years, when for both our
countries the question was “to be or not to be”? And since it would
appear that the great and formidable economic struggle that is beginning
on the morrow of the victory is destined to be as keen, if not keener,
than the military struggle, it seems to me that the hearty, loyal, and
complete union of our efforts can alone assure us of success.
_The Trans-Sudanese._—It is an axiom henceforth beyond argument that the
utilization of the riches running to waste in Tropical Africa cannot be
seriously taken in hand until an adequate system of railways is
constructed. Allow me, in bringing this lecture to an end, to explain
what seems to me the most rational way of conceiving the general
programme of the African railways north of the equator.
In the first place, we must endow Africa with a great transcontinental
line from west to east, destined to ensure rapid communication between
the different French and British colonies bordering on the Sudan. I have
proposed for this railway the name “Transsudanese” (_Comptes Rendus_ of
the Academy of Sciences, vol. 169, p. 418. Sitting of 1 September 1919
(Gauthier Villars, Paris)); and its main lines, roughly indicated by the
natural features of Africa, and following the 13th degree of north
latitude, should include the following points:—
(_a_) Dakar and Konakry, starting-points on the Atlantic Ocean;
(_b_) Ouagadougou, Sokoto, Kano, Fort Lamy, Khartoum, crossing the
French Sudan, British Nigeria, the French territory of the Chad, and the
Anglo-Egyptian Sudan;
(_c_) Port-Sudan and Djibouti, termini on the Red Sea.
Secondly, along this “Transsudanese” would be formed junctions at the
most suitable points, with local branch lines from the different French
and British colonies that succeed one another along the Atlantic coast
from the mouth of the Senegal to that of the Congo.
Thirdly, this railway system would be connected with the Mediterranean
ports—on the east by the Nile valley railway from Khartoum to Cairo; on
the west by a French “Transsaharian,” starting from the great bend of
the Niger and connecting with the railway systems of Tunis, Algeria, and
Morocco, and at some future time with that of Europe by a tunnel under
the Straits of Gibraltar, or simply by train-ferry.
Among the many reasons urgently in favour of the construction of the
Transsudanese, I will confine myself to stating what seems to me the
most important and perhaps the least known, the question of labour. For
it is generally agreed that the opening up of Tropical Africa cannot be
undertaken without the large co-operation of black labour. Now, for long
years to come four-fifths of that labour will have to be supplied by the
Sudanese populations, much less wild and much less indolent than the
great majority of the coast populations, and consequently better fitted
to lend useful aid to European enterprises. This Sudanese population,
which may be estimated at some fifteen millions at the lowest count, is
spread over more than a million square miles (4000 miles from west to
east from the Atlantic to the Red Sea, and 250 to 300 miles from north
to south, between the 11th and the 15th degrees of north latitude).
To recruit workmen scattered over such vast distances and convey them
without loss of time to the points where European enterprises are ready
to employ them, it is evident that an unbroken line of railway must pass
through the total length of the inhabited zone—that is to say, of
Sudanese Africa. And it is of supreme importance that this railway
should not have to take into account the political frontiers of the
various colonies passed through, and that its one concern should be to
traverse the regions in which the population is densest.
Such is one of the main considerations that fix the choice of the
itinerary and bring me to the conclusion that the Transsudanese—a work
of general interest in Africa, and more particularly a work of specially
Franco-British interest—ought to be undertaken without delay, and pushed
forward as actively as may be by the cordial co-operation of France and
Great Britain.
These remarks do not apply to the local railways of the different
colonies, though they may be expected to participate largely in the
traffic of the Transsudanese, either by carrying down the products of
the interior to the ports of the coast or by giving access to the
regions in need of development, and in which Sudanese labour will be
required. I am of opinion that these railways, limited as they are to
the particular territories of the several colonies whose economic
development they ensure, should continue to be constructed and managed,
as hitherto, by the colonies they serve: those colonies should bear the
expense of such local lines by their own financial resources, or by
those placed at their disposal by the mother-country.
As for the Transsaharian, destined to connect the railways of North
Africa (Morocco, Algeria, Tunis) with those of the Niger basin, I have
had the opportunity of saying in another place that it has become a
vital necessity of French colonial policy in Africa—a necessity that the
great war has proved to demonstration. For this reason I hold that its
construction should be regarded as a work of strictly national interest.
Still, a glance at the map will convince the observer of the profit that
will accrue to the British West African colonies, especially when it
becomes possible to cross from Europe to Africa without the
inconvenience of a sea-passage. I have often been met by the objection
that the Transsaharian “will not pay”; that it will be almost
exclusively a strategic railway, very laborious to construct, and very
costly to keep in working order. Such is not my opinion. The
Transsaharian, once the junction effected with the Transsudanese, will
connect two exceedingly rich regions—the Africa of the Arab and Berber
races and Black Africa. Between these regions a considerable commercial
traffic will arise, which will have an influence as great or even
greater than that of the Transsudanese itself on the economic
development of Africa; its receipts per kilometre will be as large if
not larger than those of the most favoured of the railways running from
the colonies along the coast inland towards the Sudan, for the
Transsaharian will be the direct means of penetration into the richest
regions of tropical Africa, not only from North Africa, but also from
the whole of Western Europe.
=1871-1919=
May I say one word about Tibesti and Borkou, and so conclude? Half a
century ago, when Nachtigal, after exploring the Tibesti, came to the
shores of Lake Chad, before setting out again to complete his work by
the exploration of Kanem and Borkou, he learnt by letters from Tripoli
the victories that his native country of Germany had won over France.
And again, when he returned to Europe after four long years of absence,
he found that peace had been made two years earlier, and that our
provinces of Alsace and Lorraine had become part of Germany and were
called the Reichsland; France, humiliated, was just finishing the
payment to the conqueror of the milliards that were to hasten the
liberation of her territory.
By a striking example of the way in which history sometimes repeats
itself, but with a difference, war was once more forced on France by
Germany at a moment when French explorers had just set foot in Borkou
and Tibesti in order to rectify, revise, and complete the unfinished
work of the German explorer! And the joy that filled the heart of
Nachtigal when he returned to Europe to find his country triumphant, and
her borders widened with the spoils of war, swells in our hearts to-day!
For it is Germany now that knows the humiliation of paying milliards to
obtain the liberation of her own territory, while the tricolour floats
over Metz and Strasburg, and watch indeed is kept, but to other music,
on the Rhine!
From this parallel, may I venture to conclude that in her treasure-house
of colonial jewels France may well find a place for arid Borkou and the
barren Tibesti. For would it not seem that they are, in some sort,
talismans, and that when Gaul and German grapple on the banks of the
great river that was set by nature and destiny to hold them apart,
Fortune, that wayward goddess, shall give victory to whichever country
has a son exiled in those mysterious regions, seeking, by rock and
desert, new ways across their ancient sand?
[_Translated from the French by W. G. Tweedale, M.A., Oxon._]
Before the paper the PRESIDENT said: It is a special pleasure to us to
welcome here this evening that well-known French explorer and
geographer, Colonel Tilho. We had been long hoping to have the pleasure
of receiving him and of hearing an account of his recent journeys from
1912 to 1917, but owing to the press of official business he was not
able to come here in the summer, and it is only by the greatest good
fortune, and by the exercise of a little tactful pressure upon the
different Governments, that he has been able to be present this evening.
This is not the first occasion upon which he has been before the
Society. He gave us a most interesting paper about ten years ago, so
that he is not a stranger, and we are very glad to welcome him again.
What he will describe to us this evening will be his journeys in Central
Africa and the French Sudan between the years 1912 and 1917; and it was
for the valuable work which he did during those journeys and for his
general contribution to geographical knowledge that we awarded him, two
years ago, our Patron’s Gold Medal. I have, therefore, very great
pleasure in introducing Colonel Tilho to you and asking him now to
address us.
_Colonel Tilho then gave in French a summary of the paper printed above,
and a discussion followed._
The PRESIDENT (after the paper): Sir Henry McMahon, who was High
Commissioner in Egypt during part of the war, is present here, and we
shall be very glad if he will kindly make some observations in regard to
Colonel Tilho’s interesting lecture.