Interior and Exterior Space in Tokugawa-Era Edo
Authors William H. Coaldrake and Constantine N. Vaporis would have had a difficult time finding more distinct methods with which to survey the physical structure of Edo during the reign of the Tokugawa bakufu. Coaldrake applies a top-down view that focuses on those in a position to build and regulate architecture on an extensive or monumental scale and cites classical texts along with surviving period documents, while Vaporis offers an interpretation of a single, though unique, primary document chronicling a specific slice of life of domainal samurai. It may seem circuitous to approach architecture in pre-modern Edo by examining the analyses of authors such as Coaldrake and Vaporis in that they address the subject from dissimilar as well as somewhat limited viewpoints. However, if we trace the causality between the two it is possible to construct a more robust and meaningful conception of architecture and urban space in Tokugawa era Edo than would be possible by studying them separately.
Coaldrake’s Edo is one of exteriors, displays and decrees with special attention paid to the sources and channels of authority. The only types of individuals mentioned in Architecture and Authority in Japan and “Edo Architecture and Tokugawa Law” are those mandating construction or a more ancient variety used for reference. More regularly he only alludes to actual personages and represents them generally as a position of sovereignty from which policy emanates. He observes that, “inseparable from the notion of authority itself is the role of ‘power to influence the conduct and action of others’,”1 and posits monumental architecture and the organization of space, particularly urban space, as the foremost physical manifestations of this power. Equating historical civilization with its most notable edifices such as the Athenian Acropolis and dynastic China with the palace city of Beijing,2 Coaldrake demonstrates how architectural production is not only the privilege and responsibility of those in power, to rule is in essence to build and vice versa. So pervasive are these ideas that they infiltrate language to give form to abstract concepts such as authority and influence. Indeed, literal translations of classical Japanese words for sovereign are ‘honorable gateway’ and ‘below the palace steps’. It should seem to be no coincidence that in the Edo period the gateway and palace are two of the most significant constructions representing affluence and authority. Looking at the utilization of this kind of monumental architecture together with urban space in Edo, Coaldrake characterizes the, “mutually congruent traditions,”3 of architecture and law in this era and their gradual shift from the authoritative to the practical.
Through the spectacle of symbolic constructions and referential iconography, the, “structuring of spatial relations in which human activity takes place,”4 and the regulation of non-governmental building practice the Tokugawa bakufu is able to represent its own authority and enforce the new societal hierarchy from which its authority is drawn. Built nearly from scratch, Edo gave the bakufu opportunity to reintroduce older ideas of urban arrangement as well as formulate new ones. In this first aspect Coaldrake describes the use of Edo itself as a symbol of Tokugawa hegemony and referencing maps of early Edo he finds geomantic allusions to Heian-kyo and earlier Chinese capitals. Powerful religious and courtly tradition make the gateway a deeply rooted indication of Japanese identity and the bakufu intuitively use the gateway as, “the most visible representation of status in their political order,”5 though the implementation of which changes drastically over time as discussed below. Growing out of the tradition of medieval castle towns rather than courtly capitals, though, the innovative spiral layout of Edo betrayed the consideration of defense in urban planning as well as facilitating social stratification in the most literal, spatial sense. Delineated through edicts informing strict segregation of the class strata together with an extensive gate system, the implementation of this hierarchy was perhaps the apex of harmony in Tokugawa law and architecture. The lingering influence of martial tradition is also present in how the tenshu, or castle keep, “assumed new authority as the symbolic centre of the governing order,”6 and indeed Edo’s tenshu was the largest ever built.
Far from a purely symbolic capital, however, Edo was the, “key instrument for the imposition and maintenance of bakufu control over the daimyo,”7 its mechanism hinging on sankin kotai, or the alternate attendance system that situated the capital city as the hub. This institution of this policy reinforces the subjugation of the daimyo and at the same time influences the tremendous growth of Edo, not only by bringing them into the capital every other year but also through the conscription of the daimyo for the construction of most of the city including Edo castle, their mansions and ceremonial gateways. This second aspect effectively drained the daimyo of resources and indicated their subordination to the bakufu, with sumptuary laws codifying authorized architecture and architecture that overstepped boundaries of appropriate status.
On the other hand the Tokugawa bakufu did have to compromise its authority with ephemerality, a recurrent theme in Japanese thought. The most dramatic catalyst of this is the Meireki fire of 1657, the aftermath of which brought significant policy change and, “signalled an end to the age of architectural grandeur,”8 as well as innovative congruence between law and architecture. Reconstruction in the wake of Meireki also demonstrated the altered disposition of authority through time; though Edo castle had already been rebuilt several times, authority by this time lay in the hands of a few powerful daimyo making the symbol of shogunal dominance anachronistic, and its reconstruction was ultimately abandoned. Tiling of roofs was also banned in order to promote reconstruction and the exclusive lift of the ban for daimyo in 1660 was, “an obvious move in view of the deep association of tiling with power and prestige, but totally irresponsible in terms of the safety of Edo citizens.”9 Various, and largely ineffective, other measures were prescribed for fire prevention until 1720 in likely the most ostensible example of discord between political concern and practical necessity, especially in contrast with more pragmatic remedies such as the widening of streets and relocation of temples, shrines, and daimyo estates further from Edo castle. Subsequently the ‘arbitrary will’ of authority became continually more accommodating of structural convention, as fire never ceased to be a devastating force in Edo and the maintenance of monumental forms could only be conducted in relation to the practicality of doing so. Coaldrake provides an example of this evolution in the architectural development of mon bansho, or gateway guardhouses. Prompted once again by fire, a 1772 edict considerably de-emphasized the size and embellishment of the gateways themselves and effectively, “promoted the bansho to symbolic significance.”10 This standardization of the style of status-demonstrative architecture was in effect not to curtail but to, “preserve the dignity of daimyo,”11 during economic stricture.
If in Coaldrake’s investigations we discover the ideological cost of preserving the sankin kotai system with its inherent social division, review of Vaporis’ article “A Tour of Duty: Kurume Hanshi Edo Kinban Nagaya Emaki” makes apparent the human cost of this program. Vaporis’ investigation is restricted somewhat chronologically by the principal consideration of only a single documentary source and thematically by the subject therein, but through the placement of the paintings and accompanying scroll in a larger physical and historical framework as a preface to the document itself we obtain a more complete view of the interior relationship of domainal retainers and the surrounding architecture.
The paintings depict a composite of daily life within a daimyo compound roughly between 1839 and 1840, though it is evident that the accompanying text at least was created decades later in the reference to the former rather than present domain of Kurume. This could account for the intermingling of nostalgia and tedium in the tone of the writing. Those depicted are Edo kinban mono, retainers on duty in Edo, of a fairly large domain of 210,00 koku and thus have considerable status but also trivial authority over their own lives within the sankin kotai system. It is their duty to stay with their lord in Kurume as well as during his time in Edo, and his fortunes, or misfortunes, are theirs. Some of the effects of sankin kotai on retainers can be drawn from a letter written by a retainer of the Tosa domain to his lord who was protracting his return to the provinces. Bound to both their provincial home and their lord in Edo they are able to lead neither normal married lives or sever their ties, resulting in lives that are in essence put on hold while on duty in Edo. Permitted leave only several times a month, excluding official errands, retainers of daimyo in Edo found themselves confined primarily to the domainal estate. Within that limitation they were able to actively engage in culture through a multitude of intellectual, educational and martial activities, though the monotonous tenor of domainal life is palpable. It is important to recall the events of April 5, 1839 as the circumstances effecting painting 11: The daimyo Arima Yorinori is denied routine leave back to the Kurume domain and ordered to stay on in Edo for two more years, necessitating that his retainers also remain in Edo. This backdrop that Vaporis provides works to logically frame the account but performs mainly as a preface to the essence of the document itself.
While the literary value of the text accompanying the paintings may be negligent it does imbue the paintings with a certain sentimental quality by juxtaposing the pleasures of life in Edo with its hardships and also elaborates on the retainer’s interactions with space. Recalling the view from the barracks he places the account clearly as one on the inside looking out. This is especially true in his description of his own garden, upon which he gazes in painting 3. Surrogate of the natural enjoyment of the provincial sphere, Toda employs a more urban temperament in tending his garden. Arranged seashells invoke the shore and a miniature landscape along with small trees allows him to escape to a daydream of remote mountains. Also included in the text are poems authored by various retainers of this domain and the repeated theme of coolness lends a sensory dimension to the paintings.
Already unique in their rendering of the perspective of interior space, these are the, “only paintings to depict the living quarters of domainal samurai in Edo,”12 The depiction of and interaction with interior architectural space characterizes the series thematically as confining and monotonous and highlights the difference of harmony and disharmony within that space. The first way this is accomplished is the use of a perspective distinct from painting tradition of this era. Positioned on the inside looking out in all but one of the paintings this standpoint emphasizes the enclosing nature of the space itself and the authority that binds them to the space. Double layering is also cleverly used in four of the prints alternately blocking in or opening up the space whether they are down or up. In two of these instances an extended garden is positioned behind the flap while the other two depict the larger structure of the compound, showing barracks farther in from the street and the home of a long-term Edo-based retainer.
These simply depicted living quarters are host to the retainers interaction with and within the space. Furnishings are functional and primarily unornamented, though the spaces are decorated with a degree of freedom accorded to personal taste by their inhabitants and include scrolls, calligraphy, wall paintings and flower arrangements. In this context recreational activities are in the fore, including poetry competition, tea ceremony, playing go and archery but the overall emphasis lies in the socializing of the retainers and drinking. Toda remarks, “drinking to forget, I tip my sake cup.”13 Throughout these depictions there is an established harmony with the interior space with two notable exceptions. The first is found in painting 8, where Hiraki Kensai contemplates two women in the courtyard of the neighboring structure, the family of a retainer on long-term assignment in Edo. In the context of sankin kotai and the overwhelmingly male population on daimyo estates one can presume a longing for home and family. The second example is markedly different from the twelve other paintings in its depiction of drinking along physical destruction of architectural space, including the breaking of doors and smashing of sake bottles, brought on by despair over the prolongation of duty in Edo. It is significant to correlate the defiance of bakufu authority with the destruction of space and provides a direct link between compliance with Tokugawa law and proper conduct within its imposed architectural space.
From combining the viewpoints of these two authors a threefold comparison of architectural Edo emerges, the relation between bakufu authority and its accompanying structure, the agreement between this structure and practical necessity and the harmony of those vassals under Tokugawa rule with the physical space established by that authority.
Bibliography:
Coaldrake, William H. Architecture and Authority in Japan. London: Routledge, 1996.
(1) p. 5 (2) p. 3 (5) p. 196 (6) p. 136
Coaldrake, William H. “Edo Architecture and Tokugawa Law.” Monumenta Nipponica 36.3 (1981): 235-284.
(3) p. 235 (4) p. 238 (7) p. 240 (8) p. 269 (9) p. 257 (10) p. 279 (11) p. 281
Vaporis, Constantine N. “A Tour of Duty: Kurume Hanshi Edo Kinban Nagaya Emaki.” Monumenta Nipponica 51.3 (1996): 279-307.
(12) p. 280 (13) p. 299
