The Grim Event That Erased A Once-Powerful African City Almost Overnight

At one time, the fortifications of Benin City would’ve dwarfed even the Great Wall of China, stretching some 10,000 miles across modern-day Nigeria. And within their confines, a complex network of homes and public buildings was carved out of the impenetrable terrain. So how did such an extraordinary feat of urban planning simply disappear?

For centuries, Benin City served as a model metropolis: wealthy, productive, and safe. But it’d take just a single night for the capital of the Edo people to fall. And even though modern streets and houses have sprung up from the ashes, the grandeur of this forgotten empire will never be seen again.

Today, the great Benin City’s been reduced to a handful of artifacts in museums and private collections around the world. And even its great kings have fallen from the history books, relegated to the realm of obscure trivia for generations. This is the story of how an empire vanished into the jungle — and the grim incident that sealed its fate.

The roots of the Benin Empire stretch back almost 1,000 years, to when the Edo people of West Africa grew tired of their rulers. According to legend, they reached out to a nearby kingdom, requesting a prince to govern them instead. And under this leader, or Oba, a new era began.

At first, the Oba struggled to find his place among the Edo people, viewing them as difficult to govern. Still, he ensured that his son was educated in the ways of his subjects. And by the time that the crown was handed down, the new king ushered in a period of prosperity — from which an empire grew.

Lying at the heart of it all was the great metropolis known today as Benin City, which was the location of the royal palace. During the 15th century, Oba Ewuare I took the throne, and the focus of the empire shifted from conquering territories to building a modern state. As well as overseeing political reform, he constructed a capital grand enough to challenge its counterparts in Europe in every respect.

According to the 1974 edition of The Guinness Book of Records, the fortifications surrounding Benin City once constituted the biggest earthworks ever built by human hand. And a 1999 article in the New Scientist noted that they were “four times longer than the Great Wall of China, and consumed a hundred times more material than the Great Pyramid at Cheops.”

In fact, historians believe that the walls stretched far beyond Benin City itself to encompass hundreds of villages scattered across the surrounding region. Covering an area of around 2,500 square miles, they would’ve taken the Edo people a staggering 150 million hours to complete — a feat of engineering impressive even today.

And the walls were far from the only notable thing about Benin City. In 1485 the Portuguese came to West Africa, moving eastwards from Guinea in search of new lands to conquer and exploit. Imagine their shock, then, when they stumbled upon a great metropolis in the heart of the jungle, bigger in scale than even their own capital.

“Great Benin, where the king resides, is larger than Lisbon; all the streets run straight and as far as the eye can see,” Lourenco Pinto, a Portuguese captain, wrote in 1691. “The houses are large, especially that of the king, which is richly decorated and has fine columns. The city is wealthy and industrious. It is so well governed that theft is unknown and the people live in such security that they have no doors to their houses.”

At a time when cities such as London were awash with vice, poverty, and crime, this jungle kingdom must’ve seemed all the more impressive. According to those early European explorers, it was a place of peace and prosperity; a tight-knit community ruled over by a bureaucratic central power. The people, it seems, were honest and good, and the streets and homes kept tidy and clean.

From the palace at the center, a series of 30 broad avenues stretched out, each equipped with drainage and grassed areas where animals could graze. And from these, a network of side streets branched off into the distance. According to some modern experts, the symmetry reflected in the city planning suggests a familiarity with what’s called fractal design.

“When Europeans first came to Africa, they considered the architecture very disorganized and very primitive,” Ron Eglash, a professor at the University of Michigan, told The Guardian in 2016. “It never occurred to them that the Africans might have been using a form of mathematics that they hadn’t even discovered yet.”

Perhaps the most notable thing about Benin City’s architecture, though, was the ornate decoration of its public and private buildings. According to one explorer, the red clay walls of the dwellings would be polished until they took on a mirror-like sheen. And at every turn, carvings, bronze reliefs, and sculptures lined the streets.

In fact, Benin City was famed as a center for the arts. Here, the work of craftsmen was highly valued, and nobles paid high prices in return for their wares. As a result, complex techniques such as lost-wax casting were perfected, and the Edo people became known for their unique style.

Impressed by what they saw, the Europeans came to view Benin City as a kingdom to do business with, rather than conquer. As they exported resources such as pepper and ivory, they developed relationships with the local artisans as well. And before long, the Edo people found themselves at the heart of a booming trade network.

At its peak, the Benin Empire stretched all the way from the Niger River to modern-day Lagos, covering approximately 20 percent of what’s now Nigeria. And Benin City stood at the center of it all — an architectural marvel unrivaled even in modern times. So why can no trace of this sprawling metropolis be seen today?

Well, historians believe that things started to go wrong at the beginning of the 19th century, when internal conflicts broke out within the Oba’s family. As the power of the ruling class weakened, the previously peaceful kingdom descended into a series of civil wars. And slowly, both the economy and bureaucracy of this once-great empire began to crumble.

As that instability increased, British forces were also focusing on West Africa. Seeking control of this valuable territory, they succeeded in annexing Lagos, which brought them closer than ever to the borders of the Benin Empire. But even in the face of such military might, the Oba refused to succumb to foreign rule.

From the 1880s onwards, territories across Africa fell one by one to the Europeans. But the Benin Empire stubbornly resisted — a cause of great frustration for the foreign invaders. And before long, the reports of a civilized city replete with art and culture faded away, replaced by stories of a wild and savage land.

As the Oda grew ever more isolated, some claim, he turned to the practice of human sacrifice in order to cement his power. And that just added fuel to the fire, allowing the European press to paint Benin City as a place of violent barbarism, its people desperate to be saved.

Then, in January 1897 the British consul James Robert Phillips led troops into Benin City. Apparently, his goal was to remove the Oba and install a government more sympathetic to the colonialists’ aims. But the Edo people found out about this plan and attacked the raiders before they could reach their destination.

With Phillips’ group dead, the British sought revenge. Under the leadership of Sir Harry Rawson, some 1,200 men marched from Lagos, laying siege to Benin City. For ten days, the Oba and his followers defended their capital, with fighting breaking out in the streets. But on February 21, 1897, they were forced to admit defeat.

Having conquered the city at last, the British proceeded to set it on fire, razing the capital to the ground. But first, they looted its grand buildings, taking the wealth of the Edo people for themselves. And in the chaos, many priceless treasures weren’t properly documented, eventually being sold off to private collectors and museums around the world.

According to reports, some of the artifacts stolen from Benin City were passed to the British Foreign Office, which sold them on for a tidy profit. Others wound up in the collections of foreign firms. Over time, many of the artworks were lost or destroyed, and the legacy of this once-great empire gradually dispersed.

In the aftermath of the attack, the Oba fled into the jungle along with his chiefs and remaining followers. Some six months later, though, he returned — only to be exiled to the city of Calabar. With the king gone, a new city eventually emerged from the ashes of the old.

Decades later, in 1914, the exiled Oba passed away and his son, Eweka II, inherited the title. And eventually, he returned to his father’s city, reconstructing the palace that’d once stood at its heart. And this wasn’t the only element of the lost empire that he sought to recreate.

From the 1930s onwards, Eweka II dedicated himself to one goal: retrieving the Edo treasures that’d been scattered across the globe. And ever since, his successors have continued that campaign. Chief among the missing artifacts are the Benin Bronzes — a collection of metal plaques torn from the walls of the lost city.

According to reports, these ornate bronzes transformed the European view on African art. After all, if these civilizations were as primitive as had been believed, how could they produce such beautiful works? Given this significance, then, it’s hardly surprising that some of the pieces have wound up on display in the world’s greatest museums.

Today, the British Museum in London contains some 700 of the Benin Bronzes — the largest single collection in the world. The Pitt Rivers Museum in Oxford, England, has more than 300, and the Weltmuseum in Vienna boasts around 200. Across the Atlantic, institutions in cities such as New York, Philadelphia, and Los Angeles also have numerous artifacts on show.

But the tide’s slowly turning. In 2020 France agreed to repatriate more than 25 artworks looted from Benin City in 1892. And the following year, the German government decided to follow suit. It plans to return more than 1,000 pieces kept in collections across the country.

Later, in March 2022 it was announced that the Smithsonian National Museum of African Art, located in Washington, D.C., plans to return most of its Benin Bronzes to Nigeria. And in the wake of this agreement, pressure mounted on other American institutions to do the same. So far, though, the British Museum has resisted calls to repatriate its own collection.

In 2025, reports state, Benin City officials hope to launch the Edo Museum of West African Art, with the repatriated bronzes taking center stage. If successful, the project will provide the clearest insight yet into a city that vanished from history more than a century ago. But in the meantime, visitors to this part of Nigeria often remain unaware that they’re standing on the ruins of a great kingdom.

In fact, the story of the lost Benin City doesn’t even appear in any local guidebooks. And today, just a single house is perhaps all that remains of the forgotten empire. Standing in the Obasagnon neighborhood, this property, built around a courtyard, is believed to date back to the late 19th century, constructed not long before the British invasion.

With its ornate carvings, pillars, and central basin, the building — dubbed Chief Enogie Aikoriogie’s house — matches descriptions of the architecture that once filled the ancient city. But now, it stands alone. And aside from the scattered Benin Bronzes, it may be the only surviving relic of the Edo people’s great kingdom.

But what of the great walls that once surrounded Benin City — some of the most impressive earthworks that the world’s ever seen? According to Pearce, vast fortifications dating back 1,000 years were discovered in Southern Nigeria as recently as 1994. And while these specific ruins belonged to a different kingdom, they hint at the secrets that might yet emerge from the jungle.

Could a section of Benin City’s towering walls be lying somewhere in the undergrowth, just waiting to be discovered? Well, according to reports, chunks of the old structure have already been repurposed by locals, who’ve used them in the foundations of new buildings. And even today, developers are said to demolish any ancient ruins that stand in their way.

If the remains of Benin City can be, at least partially, recovered and preserved, what would that mean for its modern residents? Speaking to The Guardian, a local bemoaned, “Imagine if this monument was in England, U.S.A., Germany, Canada, or India? It would be the most visited place on Earth, and a tourist mecca for millions of the world’s people. A money-spinner worth countless billions in annual tourist revenue.”

Without treasures such as the Benin Bronzes, though, any attempt to recreate the great city would likely be lackluster at best. So will institutions such as the British Museum return them to their rightful owners, helping to right the wrongs committed 100 years ago? Or will this remain a forgotten kingdom, destined to languish in obscurity for evermore?