We dusted the sand off and headed in to “town” (what the locals call Honolulu). Iolani Palace was our destination; built in 1882, it was the home of the Hawaiian monarchy. I was excited to finally see the palace, after not seeing it on previous trips. The first residents were King Kalakaua (who ruled through 1891) and his wife. Then, Queen Liliuokalani, King Kalakaua’s sister and successor, lived there during her rule( 1891–1893).
We ascended the stairs at our appointed tour time and sat in church-like wooden pews on the back veranda of the house. Our guide, clad in a black and white Hawaiian muumuu, handed out our audio tour headsets and instructed us to don our booties. (Don’t worry; it was PG… you have to wear reusable denim booties over your shoes, or in my case, “slippers” (Hawaiian lingo for flip-flops). The audio tour was nicely paced, with an opportunity to learn more if you were particularly intrigued by particular rooms, which for me, were the great hall and music room.
The great hall was an impressive place to begin. My eyes darted around to the floral carpet, out the etched glass windows to the palms beyond, to the urns in each niche, the royal portraits on the wall—and did I mention the koa staircase?? The etched glass windows lent a Victorian mood (and reminded me of the etched glass windows of the Harry Ransom Center). Manufactured in England and etched in San Francisco, the scenes were decidedly not Hawaiian. It seemed to say “we’re world-travelers; welcome to our stately home.” And official state home it was; receptions, official business, imprisonment, and even funeral ceremonies occurred within its walls.
The throne room lived up to its name. To me, it imparted a regal aura; there was just a feeling in the room, despite the intervening years. It was lush red, with lace-lined red curtains, red fern carpeting, red upholstered chairs: the works. You could easily imagine King Kalakaua receiving guests in the space. Flanking the raised throne were ten-foot poles; one’s top wrapped with white cotton, the other with feathers. The Ancient Hawaiian book in the gift shop identified these as kahili, which originated as a fly whisk but become a symbol of chiefdom. A servant would carry a tall, feathered standard to signal that the king, or chief, was coming.
We traipsed (respectfully) through the throne room, blue room, and dining room on the first floor, before heading to the second floor, which included bedrooms, the library, and the music room, a sun-filled affair with bold yellow-gold upholstered furniture. It’s where I would hang out, definitely. It was a family of music lovers: the King wrote the national anthem, which has now become the state anthem.
A poignant stop was Queen Liliuokalani’s bedroom. The Queen was imprisoned here with a housemaid for about eight months after a revolution to overthrow the government. She quilted to pass the time, and the delicate embroidery conveyed, to me, resilience in unprecedented times.
The Iolani Palace was occupied from 1882 through 1893. It offers us modern-day visitors a window into the international, forward-looking Hawaiian monarchy. The formality of visiting the palace gives you a sense of the honor and stature that this historical place possesses.
Thank you for sharing your history with me, Iolani. Mahalo.