The Spell of Japan

by Isabel Anderson

HIDEYOSHI'S HOUSE AND GARDEN.

The approach to the Gosho Palace, once the abode of the mikados, is not very attractive, leading through a bare, flat park. Our interest was soon aroused, however, by the sight of one of the six gates of the palace, through which we drove, following the grey wall with its stripes of white and its tiles showing the sixteen-petalled chrysanthemums—both emblems of royalty. Another gate, perhaps a little smaller than the first, brought us to the immediate entrance. The building is comparatively new, the old palace having been destroyed by fire in 1854, but it is very large, covering an area of twenty-six acres.

Two officials greeted us at the inner gate, and, after politely asking us to remove our shoes, conducted us down the long, narrow corridor to what were probably waiting-rooms. There were three of these, decorated in sepia. From here we were led through another corridor, past the room with a dais at one end for the higher nobility, where the courtiers used to dine off the flat, red lacquer tables, to the Seiryoden—the Pure and Cool Hall—a room used for religious festivals, with marvellously coloured birds painted upon its walls. This hall received its name from a small stream of clear water which runs through a sluiceway near-by. Opening from this is a courtyard in which grow two clumps of bamboo, named centuries ago for the two ancient Chinese kingdoms, Kan and Go—Kan-chiku and Go-chiku.

To the right of the Seiryoden is a room which is reserved for special audiences, called Shishinden, or Mysterious Purple Hall. In the centre of this is a platform on which stands the throne, a great chair inlaid with mother-of-pearl. It is covered by a canopy of pale fawn-coloured brocade with outer drapings of red and purple, and is guarded by the two sacred dogs. The walls of this room are painted in panels representing Chinese sages, the panels being copies of the originals, which were painted in 888 a. d. and afterward destroyed by fire. Leading from the courtyard into the hall is a flight of fifteen steps, corresponding in number to the grades into which officials of government were divided. The higher order stood on the upper step, and so on down to those who were obliged to stand in the court. On one side of the steps is a wild orange tree named Ukon-No-Tachibana, and on the other a cherry tree, Sakon-No-Sakura.

From this hall we passed through more galleries, and through one particularly beautiful chamber with decorations of wild geese in sepia. At the end of a corridor, making a turn to the left, we came to some more waiting-rooms, decorated in blue and white—the most heavenly blue, surely pieces of the sky brought down from the kingdom of the gods by the first illustrious ruler! Here tea and cigarettes were offered us, and we were glad to rest and enjoy the view of the landscape garden with its miniature lake and islands on which were temples and twisted trees.

From this room we passed through more corridors to the entrance, where we bowed to our guide, put on our shoes, and departed, with a feeling of having been soothed and rested by the beautiful simplicity and solemnity of the Gosho Palace.

Once more out in the sunshine, we drove through the park into the streets of the city and on to the Nijo Castle. This palace, formerly belonging to the shoguns, dates from the early part of the seventeenth century. Its splendid iron-bound gates are fine specimens of Japanese architecture and carving. It is much more resplendent than the Mikado's palace, having been built in a spirit of rivalry to show the superior wealth and power of the Shogun. We were received here in the same cordial manner as at the Gosho, and after removing our shoes were taken into a small antechamber, which had two superb doors made of the cryptomeria tree with bronze studdings and hinges. Then followed a series of rooms, the first of which was set aside for the samurai and decorated with tigers with intent, awful eyes, crouching, rampant, even flying, on a background of glorious gold.

From these we passed into the rooms used by the daimyos, and on from room to room, every apartment having its golden setting, which was so rich and mellow with age that we seemed to be breathing in the creamy softness of it. In each of these suites were secret closets, where guards were stationed in olden times, unseen by the assembly. One chamber with its paintings of pine-trees was very attractive in its simplicity; the next delighted us with remarkable carvings; the following one, with its cherry blossoms and its ceiling, so pleased the late Emperor that he had it copied for the banquet-room of his palace in Tokyo. Still another apartment, with its bamboo decorations, rivalled those we had seen before, while the last one had a pathetic touch with its poor little cold and starving sparrows.

One door of especial note showed a heron, wet, cold and miserable, standing on the gunwale of a boat. The grain of the wood had been skilfully used by the artist to represent a rainstorm. The door had unfortunately been much damaged by vandalism during the régime of the Kyoto prefecture in 1868.

From a long series of rooms radiant with sunshine we entered others which had the moonlight for their setting—all so beautiful that it is difficult to express one's admiration. From this suite we were led finally back to the entrance once more, arriving there bewildered by the vast number of rooms, the length of the corridors, and the splendour of all that we had seen.