* * * * *
_Architecture, Arts, and Manufactures._
The construction of the ornamental architecture of Coomassie reminded me
forcibly of the ingenious essay of Sir James Hall, (in the Edinburgh
Philosophical Transactions,) tracing the Gothic order to an
architectural imitation of wicker work. The drawings will serve to shew
the various and uncommon character of their architectural ornaments,
adopted from those of interior countries, and, confessedly, in no degree
originating with themselves.
In building a house, a mould was made for receiving the swish or clay,
by two rows of stakes and wattle work, placed at a distance equal to the
intended thickness of the wall; as two mud walls were raised at
convenient distances, to receive the plum pudding stone which formed the
walls of the vitrified fortresses in Scotland. The interval was then
filled up with a gravelly clay, mixed with water, with which the outward
surface of the frame or stake work was also thickly plastered, so as to
impose the appearance of an entire thick mud wall. The houses had all
gable ends, and three thick poles were joined to each; one from the
highest point, forming the ridge of the roof, and one on each side, from
the base of the triangular part of the gable; these supported a frame
work of bamboo, over which an interwoven thatch of palm leaves was laid,
and tied with the runners of trees, first to the large poles running
from gable to gable, and afterwards, (within,) to the interlacing of the
bamboo frame work, which was painted black and polished, so as to look
much better than any rude cieling would, of which they have no idea; a
small part appears in the houses in the drawing of Adoom-street (No. 9.)
The pillars, which assist to support the roof, and form the proscenium
or open front, (which none but captains are allowed to have to their
houses) were thick poles, afterwards squared with a plastering of swish.
The steps and raised floor of these rooms were clay and stone, with a
thick layer of red earth, which abounds in the neighbourhood, and these
were washed and painted daily, with an infusion of the same earth in
water; it has all the appearance of red ochre, and from the abundance of
iron ore in the neighbourhood, I do not doubt it is.
The walls still soft, they formed moulds or frame works of the patterns
in delicate slips of cane, connected by grass. The two first slips (one
end of each being inserted in the soft wall) projected the relief,
commonly mezzo: the interstices were then filled up with the plaster,
and assumed the appearance depicted. The poles or pillars were sometimes
encircled by twists of cane, intersecting each other, which, being
filled up with thin plaster, resembled the lozenge and cable ornaments
of the Anglo-Norman order; the quatre-foil was very common, and by no
means rude, from the symmetrical bend of the cane which formed it. I saw
a few pillars, (after they had been squared with the plaster) with
numerous slips of cane pressed perpendicularly on to the wet surface,
which being covered again with a very thin coat of plaster, closely
resembled fluting. When they formed a large arch, they inserted one end
of a thick piece of cane in the wet clay of the floor or base, and
bending the other over, inserted it in the same manner; the entablature
was filled up with wattle work plastered over. Arcades and piazzas were
common. A white wash, very frequently renewed, was made from a clay in
the neighbourhood. Of course the plastering is very frail, and in the
relief frequently discloses the edges of the cane, giving however a
piquant effect, auxiliary to the ornament. The doors were an entire
piece of cotton wood, cut with great labour out of the stems or
buttresses of that tree; battens variously cut and painted were
afterwards nailed across. (See drawing, No. 5.) So disproportionate was
the price of labour to that of provision, that I gave but two tokoos for
a slab of cotton wood, five feet by three. The locks they use are from
Houssa, and quite original; one will be sent to the British Museum.
Where they raised a first floor, the under room was divided into two by
an intersecting wall, to support the rafters for the upper room, which
were generally covered with a frame work thickly plastered over with red
ochre. I saw but one attempt at flooring with plank, it was cotton wood
shaped entirely with an adze, and looked like a ship’s deck. The windows
were open wood work, carved in fanciful figures and intricate patterns,
and painted red; the frames were frequently cased in gold, about as
thick as cartridge paper.
What surprised me most, and is not the least of the many circumstances
deciding their great superiority over the generality of Negroes, was the
discovery that every house had its cloacæ, besides the common ones for
the lower orders without the town. They were generally situated under a
small arch way in the most retired angle of the building, but not
unfrequently up stairs, within a separate room like a small closet, (see
drawing No. 3.) where the large hollow pillar also assists to support
the upper story: the holes are of a small circumference, but dug to a
surprising depth, and boiling water is daily poured down, which
effectually prevents the least offence. The rubbish and offal of each
house was burnt every morning at the back of the street, and they were
as nice and cleanly in their dwellings as in their persons.
[Illustration: ODUMATA’S SLEEPING ROOM.
_No. 5._]
[Illustration: _Drawn by T. E. Bowdich Esqr._
_No. 6._
INNER SQUARE of APOOKOOS HOUSE.
_Published Decr. 2, 1818, by John Murray, Albemarle Street._]
[Illustration: THE OLDEST HOUSE in COOMASSEE.
_No. 3._]
[Illustration: _Drawn by T. E. Bowdich Esqr._
_No. 4._
PART of the QUARTERS of the MISSION.
_Published Decr. 2, 1818, by John Murray, Albemarle Street._]
Drawing No. 3, is one of the oldest houses in Coomassie, inherited by
the unfortunate Bakkee, and part of the quarters of the Mission. Its
comparative rudeness is evident.
No. 4, is a more modern part of the same house, being one side of a
small area about 15 feet square, allotted to the chief officer of the
Embassy. These areas are all distinct, and a house consists of an
indefinite number of them, some 36 feet square, with several long
courts. In paying a visit to a principal man, the state was to detain us
some minutes at the door of each area, as he generally received us in
the innermost. The figure is one of the King’s body guards, which have
been described before. The figures are introduced to shew the proportion
of the buildings, and to give some idea of the costume.
No. 5, is the exterior of a bed room of Odumata’s, which is one side of
an oblong area in a very retired angle of his house, about 25 feet by 8.
The cloth suspended to the left of the door on the top of the steps,
hides the bloody stools which are in the recess. The small gallery in
front of the upper room is only wide enough for one person to walk in.
The recess and small room below accommodate confidential slaves. The bed
room was very small, about 8 feet square, but being hung round with a
variety of gold and silver ornaments, had a very rich appearance. The
bed is generally about 5 feet high, and composed entirely of large silk-
cotton pillows piled one above another. The King of Gaman, we were
assured, had steps of solid gold to ascend to his bed. A man wearing a
crier’s cap, is playing the sanko.
No. 6, is a perspective view of the entrance area to Apokoo’s house; the
fourth side is an open fronted building like those on the right and left
for attendants to wait in, and for the hearing of palavers. The opposite
closed side is a bed room. The figure is playing the bentwa (see Music.)
[Illustration: PART of a PIAZZA in the PALACE.
_No. 7._]
[Illustration: _Drawn by T. E. Bowdich Esqr._
_No. 8._
PART of a PIAZZA in the PALACE.
_Published Decr. 2, 1818, by John Murray, Albemarle Street._]
[Illustration: _Drawn by T. E. Bowdich Esqr._
_No. 9._
PART of ADOOM STREET.
_Published Decr. 2, 1818, by John Murray, Albemarle Street._]
[Illustration: _Drawn by T. E. Bowdich Esqr._
_No. 10._
THE KINGS SLEEPING ROOM.
_Published Decr. 2, 1818, by John Murray, Albemarle Street._]
No. 7, is a part of a piazza, which lines the interior of the wall
secluding the palace from the street. The piazza is 200 yards long, and
inhabited by captains and other attendants on the King; above is a small
gallery. Piles of skulls, and drums ornamented with them, are frequent
in this piazza. The figure is a common soldier of Ashantee, his belt
ornamented with red shells, and stuck full of knives.
No. 8, is the upper end of the piazza, which is more ornamented, and
appropriated to the superior captains, who have each a suite of rooms,
marked by the small doors under the piazza. A woman is dancing whilst a
man plays the flute and rattle.
No. 9, is a view of part of Adoom-street: each open front denotes the
residence of a captain, being used for talking palavers, receiving
strangers, observing or superintending customs, and evening recreation.
The dwelling is entered by the small door at the side, which generally
leads through a narrow passage or court to a large area like No. 6, and
thence by various intricate ways to smaller and more retired areas like
No. 4 and No. 5. A fetish woman has just quitted the centre house; she
has on a white cloth, and various pieces of rich silk are hanging round
her girdle, her breasts are confined with a scarf, a fillet encircles
her head, in each hand she waves a horse’s tail, and she continues
yelling and swinging round and round until she is quite stupified. A
weaver and loom are on her right, and a market woman under her shed on
the left.
No. 10, is the exterior of the King’s bed room, being one side of an
inner area, about 30 feet square. The stunted silk-cotton and the
manchineal tree are fetish or sacred, as are the white and red rags at
the top of the pole, and the small brass cups supported by the forked
sticks. The colored bags hanging over the round doors (the chequering of
which is in relief,) contain Moorish charms. The carving of the left
hand window is cased in silver, of the right hand, in gold. The two men
are playing at Worra. The King made frequent enquiries about the
architecture of England, of which we gave him some idea by drawings. He
was very fond of referring to a project ascribed to Saï Cudjo, and which
he declared he would carry into effect directly the Gaman war was over.
This was to build a house for his own immediate residence, roofed with
brass pans, beaten into flat surfaces, and laid over an ivory frame work
appearing within. The windows and the doors to be cased in gold, and the
door posts and pillars of ivory. Whether the Moors originated or
encouraged this extravagance by the descriptions in their tales, for
some of the stories of the Arabian Nights were commonly in their mouths,
or whether it was the scheme of his own disposition, prone to
magnificence and novelty, the King dwelt ardently on the intention, and
by their frequent conversations on the subject, his chiefs appeared
scarcely less anxious for the execution than himself. He meditated great
improvements and embellishments in his capital, on his return from the
war, when it was intended that every captain should be presented with an
extraordinary sum out of the public treasury, for adorning or enlarging
his house. The ruined streets between Asafoo and Bantama were to be
rebuilt, and the six or seven small crooms between Coomassie and
Baramang, (the King’s country residence,) were to be pulled down, and
the inhabitants to occupy a wide street to extend from the city to that
croom. This was the darling design of the King; he had already made a
sound, broad, and almost direct road, and numerous labourers were
continuing to bring it as near as possible to a straight line.
The Ashantee loom is precisely on the same principle as the English; it
is worked by strings held between the toes; the web is never more than
four inches broad. A weaver is represented in the drawing, No. 3, and a
small loom complete is amongst the articles for the British Museum. They
use a spindle, and not a distaff, for spinning, holding it in one hand,
and twisting the thread, (which has a weight at the end,) with the
finger and thumb of the other. The fineness, variety, brilliance, and
size of their cloths would astonish, could a more costly one be
exhibited; in the absence of which, that for the Museum will doubtless
be admired for the two first qualities, and for having precisely the
same appearance on both sides. I shall notice in the Chapter on Trade,
that the richest silks are unravelled to weave into them. The white
cloths, which are principally manufactured in Inta and Dagwumba, they
paint for mourning with a mixture of blood and a red dye wood. The
patterns are various, and not inelegant, and painted with so much
regularity, with a fowl’s feather, that they have all the appearance of
a coarse print at a distance. I have seen a man paint as fast as I could
write. There will be a very fair specimen in the British Museum, the
price of painting which was one ackie.
They have two dye woods, a red and a yellow, specimens of which I
brought down; they make a green by mixing the latter with their blue
dye, in which they excel; it is made from a plant called acassie,
certainly not the indigo, which grows plentifully on the Coast. The
acassie rises to the height of about two feet, and according to the
natives, bears a red flower, but the leaf is not small, fleshy, or soft,
nor is it pale or silvery coloured underneath; it is a thin acuminate
leaf about five inches long, and three broad, of a dark green.[95] I
regret to add, our best specimens of this plant perished in the
disasters of our march, and no drawing was made of it, as it bore no
flower in that season; it grows abundantly in the woods, and produces a
fast and beautiful colour without requiring a mordant. They gather a
quantity of the leaves, bruise them in a wooden mortar, and spread them
out on a mat to dry, this mass is kept for use, a proportion of it is
put into a pot of water and remains six days previous to immersing the
thread, which is left in six days, drying it once every day in the sun,
it is then a deep lasting blue colour. When a light blue is wished for,
the thread is only allowed to remain in the dye pot three days.
They excel in pottery, as the pipes for the Museum will shew; they are
rested on the ground when smoked; the clay is very fine, polished (after
baking) by friction, and the grooves of the patterns filled up with
chalk. They have also a black pottery which admits of a high polish.
The people of Dagwumba surpass the Ashantees in goldsmith’s work, though
the latter may be esteemed proficients in the art. The small articles
for the Museum, a gold stool, sanko, bell, jaw bone, and drum, are not
such neat specimens as I could wish; the man who made them having too
much costly work on hand for the King, to pay our trifles his wonted
attention; unfortunately too, he was committed to prison before they
were quite finished; however, they will give an idea. I weighed out
nineteen ackies and a half of gold dust for making these articles, one
third of an ackie was lost in melting, and five was the charge of the
goldsmith. We lost a beautiful silver pipe in the bustle. Bees wax for
making the model of the article wanted, is spun out on a smooth block of
wood, by the side of a fire, on which stands a pot of water; a flat
stick is dipped into this, with which the wax is made of a proper
softness; it takes about a quarter of an hour to make enough for a ring.
When the model is finished, it is enclosed in a composition of wet clay
and charcoal, (which being closely pressed around it forms a mould,)
dried in the sun, and having a small cup of the same materials attached
to it, (to contain the gold for fusion,) communicating with the model by
a small perforation. When the whole model is finished, and the gold
carefully enclosed in the cup, it is put in a charcoal fire with the cup
undermost. When the gold is supposed to be fused, the cup is turned
uppermost, that it may run into the place of the melted wax; when cool
the clay is broken, and if the article is not perfect it goes through
the whole process again. To give the gold its proper colour, they put a
layer of finely ground red ochre, (which they call Inchuma,) all over
it, and immerge it in boiling water mixed with the same substance and a
little salt; after it has boiled half an hour, it is taken out and
thoroughly cleansed from any clay that may adhere to it. Their bellows
are imitations of ours, but the sheep skin they use being tied to the
wood with leather thongs, the wind escapes through the crevices,
therefore when much gold is on the fire they are obliged to use two or
three pair at the same time. Their anvils are generally a large stone,
or a piece of iron placed on the ground. Their stoves are built of swish
(about three or four feet high) in a circular form, and are open about
one fifth of the circumference; a hole is made through the closed part
level with the ground, for the nozzle of the bellows. Their weights are
very neat brass casts of almost every animal, fruit, or vegetable known
in the country. The King’s scales, blow pan, boxes, and weights, and
even the tongs which hold the cinder to light his pipe, were neatly made
of the purest gold that could be manufactured.
Their blacksmith’s work is performed with the same sort of forge as the
above, but they have no idea of making iron from ore, as their interior
neighbours do. Their swords are generally perforated in patterns like
fish trowels; frequently they make two blades springing parallel from
one handle, which evince very fine workmanship. The needles and
castanets will only give some idea of their progress. The iron stone is
of a dark red colour, spotted with gray, and intermixed with what had
all the appearance of lava, they cut bullets out of it for the army,
when lead is scarce. I have brought some arrows of native iron. They
have no idea of making a lock like the people of Houssa and Marrowa.
They tan or dress leather in Ashantee, but they do this, and dye it, in
a very superior manner in Houssa and Dagwumba; see the sandals and
cushion in the British Museum, the former varied and apparently
stitched; doubting that there could be such stitching, I undid a part,
and discovered that they perforated the surface, and then stuck in the
fine shreds of leather. The curious will observe, that the patterns of
the stool cushion are all produced by paring the surface. They make
their soldiers belts and pouches out of elephant or pig skin, ornamented
with red shells. (See drawing, No. 7.)
Of their carpenter’s work the stool is a fair specimen, being carved out
of a solid piece of a wood called zesso, white, soft, and bearing a high
polish; it is first soaked in water. They sell such a stool for about
three shillings, in Accra or Fantee it would fetch twenty. The umbrella
is even more curious, the bird is cut almost equal to turning, and the
whole is so supple that it may be turned inside out. This, only a
child’s umbrella, is a model of the large canopies I have described in
the procession; I gave a piece of cloth value twenty shillings for it.
The sanko or guitar is also neatly made, and the chasteness and Etruscan
character of the carving is very surprising. The surface of the wood is
first charred in the fire, and then carved deep enough to disclose the
original white in the stripes or lines of the patterns.
Numbers of workmen are employed in breaking, rounding, and boring the
snail shells, as big as a turkey’s egg generally, and sometimes as large
as a conch. They are first broken into numerous pieces, then chipped
round, the size of a sleeve button, and afterwards bored with a bow and
iron style fixed in a piece of wood. Lastly they are strung, and
extended in rows on a log of wood, and rubbed with a soft and bluish
gray stone and water, until they become perfectly round.
Their pine apple thread is very strong, and is made from the fineness of
a hair to the thickness of whip cord, it bleaches to a beautiful
whiteness, and would answer for sewing any strong material, but, when
muslin is stitched with it, it is liable to be cut from the harshness.
The women frequently join their cloths, and ornament their handkerchiefs
with a zigzag pattern, worked with unravelled silks of different
colours. The fetish case is a specimen of their needle work, in the
manner of chain stitch.
[Footnote 95: It is a shrub with opposite leaves, no stipules, and
having a certain degree of resemblance to _Marsdenia suave-olens_ (the
indigo of Sumatra) but as the leaves are toothed in the acassie, it
probably does not belong even to the same natural order.]