Ferdinand de Lesseps was seventy-four, world-famous, and certain. Suez had made him “the Great Frenchman”; Panama, he promised investors in 1880, would be easier — a sea-level cut of a mere 75 kilometres, done in eight years. Engineers who insisted the terrain demanded locks — among them, eventually, Gustave Eiffel — were overridden by the prophet of perseverance. Hundreds of thousands of small French savers, primed by a paid press, subscribed.

Panama was not sand; it was mountain, torrent, and vector. The Culebra Cut’s clays slid back into the excavation with each rainy season; the Chagres river rose ten metres in flood across the line of works. And the isthmus hosted yellow fever and malaria, whose cause — the mosquito — medicine had not yet established. Hospital gardens at Ancon stood pots of water under bedposts to stop ants: purpose-built mosquito nurseries beside the dying. Workers — the great majority Black labourers from the Caribbean, above all Jamaica and Barbados — died in thousands per year; engineers and their families died with them (chief engineer Jules Dingler lost his daughter, son, and wife to yellow fever and kept working). Across the French decade the toll is conventionally put at around 22,000 dead.

Collapse and scandal

By 1885 the sea-level dogma was quietly dying — Eiffel was hired to design locks in 1887 — but the money died faster. The company burned through a sum approaching twice Suez’s cost for perhaps two-fifths of the digging, kept afloat by ever-more-desperate bond issues, including a lottery loan that required parliamentary approval. When it failed in February 1889, some 800,000 French investors — famously the small rentiers, priests, and widows of provincial France — lost everything.

The approval, it emerged, had been bought. The Panama scandal of 1892-93 exposed systematic bribery of ministers, deputies, and newspapers by the company’s financiers; over a hundred parliamentarians stood accused, governments trembled, and the affair’s fixers — the Jewish financiers Jacques de Reinach (dead by probable suicide) and Cornelius Herz (fled) — handed France’s antisemites the conspiracy narrative they carried straight into the Dreyfus affair two years later. De Lesseps and Eiffel drew convictions (overturned on limitation grounds); “quel Panama!” entered French as the word for a bottomless corrupt fiasco. De Lesseps died senile in 1894, largely spared knowing.

The mosquito defeated

The Americans bought the wreckage in 1904 — having first assisted Panama’s secession from Colombia to get their treaty — and succeeded by inverting every French premise: a lock canal with the Chagres dammed into a working lake; and, decisively, William Gorgas’s mosquito campaign, applying the new insect-vector science of Ross and Reed with fumigation, screening, and oiled water until yellow fever was extinguished on the isthmus by 1906. The canal opened in August 1914 — a monument to engineering that had first required, as its foundation stone, a correct theory of disease. Even then, thousands more workers had died; the ocean-to-ocean ledger, French and American together, stands near 28,000.