Africa has been a hotbed of conflict for the last century. As the colonial regimes of the Old World
withered, the shadow of the Cold War enveloped the continent. Vast natural resources were discovered,
and weapons proliferated, providing the means for idealists and renegades to take power for
themselves. This is Untangling Africa, and in this episode, we’re stepping back to the very
beginning of the 20th century to tell a tale of obsession, insanity, and one man’s search
for a chair. This is the Third Ashanti War, otherwise known as the War of the Golden Stool.
This little-known war was fought in what’s now Ghana between British colonial forces and their
allies, and a union of Asante chiefs. The latter were led by a mighty king,
Prempeh I, who was known as the Asantehene. The Asante royal household traces its lineage back
to the first Asantehene, named Osei Kofi Tutu I, and his close spiritual advisor Okomfo Anokye.
Together, Tutu and Anokye forged an alliance of forest tribes and took over swathes of territory.
Their kingdom became an empire and, much like the rulers of old Europe, they symbolised their
conquest and right to rule with a literal seat of power. The Asante throne was the
Golden Stool—a wooden chair covered with gold and symbolising the power, wealth, and prestige
of the Asante people. It was also a sacred object, believed to house the spirit of Asante nationhood,
similar to how the Declaration of Independence symbolises the spirit of a United States
free from foreign domination. And while it was called a stool, it was not for sitting on. It
was something to be venerated, looked after, and preserved for special state occasions.
British businessmen, military adventurers, and missionaries arrived in Ashanti in the
early 1800s. It was impossible to miss the vast amount of gold being exported from the region,
as well as the vast amount of weapons enterprising Dutch arms dealers were shipping in.
Just like nearly every other culture in history, the Asante often sold captured
enemy soldiers into slavery after fighting wars of expansion. This was nothing new for the region,
but it brought them into conflict with the British, who, after the loss of tax revenue
from the North American slave plantations as a result of the American Revolution,
now championed the abolitionist cause. They fought three small conflicts with the rapidly growing
Ashanti Empire between 1806 and 1816, and, despite significant advantages, managed to lose all three.
The resulting embarrassment led to more military investment in the region, and within a few years,
the British were back in force. They fought no less than four additional wars against the
Ashanti Empire for control over the region and its valuable gold mines and plantations, though their
stated objectives were to end slavery and civilise the supposedly barbarous natives. Collectively,
these complex engagements are known as the Anglo-Ashanti Wars. But it was the last conflict,
the so-called War of the Golden Stool, that really takes the cake for ridiculousness.
Sir Fredrick Hodgson was made the colonial secretary of the British Gold Coast colony,
which bordered the Ashanti Empire, in 1888. Under his authority, British military forces expanded
with recruits from elsewhere in the empire. A battalion of Sikhs arrived from northwestern India
alongside African soldiers from modern-day Nigeria and the Central African Republic. These men had no
loyalty to the Asante, and while they were looked down on by their often-racist British officers,
they were considered tough fighters. They were bolstered with brand new
Maxim machine guns and 75-millimetre field guns from the foundries of Europe.
With his ranks swollen and his new guns oiled, Hodgson planned to march right into the Ashanti
capital of Kumasi and demand total capitulation. He gave his colleague, Colonel Sir Francis Scott,
command, and in 1895, the redcoats and their local allies marched to war.
King Prempeh I ordered his subjects not to resist the British advance,
as he believed he could work out a diplomatic solution to the crisis. [Text: Prempeh I wanted
to send a delegation to London and work out a solution monarch-to-monarch.] Scott,
on the other hand, refused to negotiate. His men looted all they could from the Ashanti capital,
carting off thousands of gold items, and clapped Prempeh I in irons. The king was exiled to
Seychelles alongside several other local leaders who Hodgson felt were politically unreliable.
Then things began to unravel for the British. Hodgson had tasted Ashanti gold
and now hungered for more. This hunger would eventually consume him.
Despite facing no resistance, the British expeditionary force under Scott’s command
suffered over 50% casualties due to disease.
Eighteen of the incapacitated men died, including Queen Victoria’s son-in-law,
Prince Henry of Battenberg. This news brought the Ashanti issue to the Houses of Parliament,
and Hodgson was ordered to stop embarrassing the Crown and sort things out once and for all.
For Governor Hodgson, there was only one solution. He had heard rumours of an object
of great power and significance buried somewhere deep in the Ashanti heartland: the Golden Stool.
Supposedly, it was made of pure gold, and whoever sat upon it commanded the total and undying
loyalty of the Asante people. Hodgson became interested. Then fixated. Then obsessed. The
hunt for the Golden Stool became his very reason for being. He offered a massive cash reward for
information concerning its whereabouts, and his soldiers swept through villages looking for clues.
When a young boy appeared at the governor’s residence claiming to know the Golden Stool’s
location, Hodgson leapt at the chance. A force was dispatched, and the child led them some 125
miles into Ashanti territory. Twice he ran off and told locals what Hodgson was after,
but they were slow to believe him. The boy was well known among the Asante as a lunatic.
The expedition returned without the legendary prize,
and Hodgson was furious. Clearly, a task so important as securing the Golden Stool
couldn’t be left to his underlings. He’d have to find it himself.
On March 25 1900, Hodgeson arrived in Kumasi with a guard of Nigerian Hausa soldiers.
The Asantehene recognised the British monarchy’s prestige and received Hodgson as a royal emissary,
with heralds and a choir singing God Save The Queen. But Hodgson could barely contain himself.
He could feel the Golden Stool’s presence. It had to be here. After the fanfare had died down,
he launched into a tirade. Red-faced and shouting, Governor Hodgeson demanded:
“Where is the Golden Stool? I am the representative of the Paramount Power.
Why have you relegated me to this ordinary chair? Why did you not take the opportunity
of my coming to Kumasi to bring the Golden Stool for me to sit upon?”
The Asante dignitaries were outraged. This was akin to Hodgson demanding to amend the Declaration
of Independence with his favourite crayon. The only response to such an offense could be war.
The war council met in secret that night, and the 60-year-old grandmother of exiled King Prempeh I
delivered a rousing speech. She declared: “[In the old days, no foreigner could have
dared to speak to a chief of the Ashanti in the way the Governor spoke to you chiefs this morning.
Is it true that the bravery of the Ashanti is no more? I cannot believe it!
If you, the men of Ashanti, will not go forward,
then we will. We, the women, will. We will fight till the last of us falls in the battlefields.”
Muskets were primed and loaded. Volunteers were numerous. This was a war of national liberation.
Three days later, the boy who claimed to know the location of the Golden Stool returned to
Hodgson’s residence. Again, Hodgeson sent out a search party. It was led by Captains
Armitage and Leggett with a 50-strong Hausa guard. In typical British colonial fashion,
they employed local porters to lug their stuff, including a writing desk, wooden chairs,
and a pile of fine china, through the jungle. The boy eventually led the men into a village where
he claimed the Golden Stool was hidden, though he didn’t know exactly where. Captain Armitage
tried to literally whip information out of some local children, and when that didn’t work,
ordered holes to be dug at random. After three hours of work, the boy remembered
the Golden Stool was elsewhere and led half of the British force on a trek through the forest.
When he finally admitted he didn’t know the stool’s location, the force returned to the
village, only to find it surrounded by a company of musket-wielding Asantes.
Totally surrounded, the British officers fell back on their training. They ordered a table
and chairs to be set up, and sat down for tea. Tins of butter and condensed milk were
unpacked with china cups and saucers. Blowing steam over a freshly made cup of Indian Blend,
the British officers ignored the Asante presence and engaged in polite conversation.
Possibly unaware that interrupting afternoon tea may have serious ramifications, the Asantes
opened fire. Lead balls smashed the tableware and wounded both British officers. The Hausas
dragged them into a house before returning fire, and both sides exchanged shots into the night.
The next morning, the force abandoned much of their gear, including the broken tea set,
and escaped to Kumasi, where the rest of the British were still holed up. Sensing the charged
atmosphere after Hodgson’s speech, they had turned an office block into a small fortress.
When Armitage and Leggett returned, they found a force of 500 well-armed men,
most of whom were Hausas, surrounded and besieged by Asantes.
A 1,000-man-strong relief force was thrown together at short notice on the
British-held coast. Under the command of Major Willcocks, this motley crew of British regulars,
volunteers, and militia from all over the empire battled
through Ashanti territory to lift the siege and save Hodgson’s men.
They did it, but fighting the Asantes on their home turf
cost them dearly. Just over 1,000 regulars became casualties due to fighting and disease.
Even when stricken with jungle fever, the Yoruba and Hausa volunteers proved tough and
dependable. Without them, the British had no hope of maintaining their hold on the region.
Reporting on the war in parliament, Liberal member Charles Scott commented: “We entered
upon this war and seemed to stumble and blunder along without any adequate preparation,
and we were only extricated from it by the extraordinary gallantry of the soldiers.”
Exact casualty figures aren’t known for the Asante side,
but they likely numbered around 2,000 military and twice that many civilians.
When the fighting died down, Asante chiefs were arrested and examples were made of them,
but the British had no real control over the Ashanti hinterland.
Hodgson refused to give up on the Golden Stool and began building a
force go to back out as soon as possible, but he was stopped. The British government
had spent the modern equivalent of 21 million pounds on the war and gained nothing from it.
Parliament Member, and later WWI-era Prime Minister, David Lloyd George said:
“The fact was that the quest of the Golden Stool was something like the quest of the Holy Grail.
Sir F. Hodgson said that if he could only get possession of the Golden Stool
he would be able to govern the country for all time.” But he never found it. He died in 1912,
while the Golden Stool remained hidden until its accidental discovery by road workers in 1921.
In 1924, King Prempeh I returned from his long exile in Seychelles to his throne in Ashanti.
While still technically ruled by Britain, Ashanti maintained its independence for years to come.
Today it retains special status inside Ghana.
But what do YOU think? What drove Hodgson to obsess over the location of the Golden Stool?
Without him, do YOU think the British and Ashanti would have gone to war again?
What on Earth possessed those officers to sit down for tea
in the middle of a battle? Let us know in the comments!