(Province of Choshū.)
Hotaru, koi! koi!
Koi-tomosé!
Nippon ichi no
Jōsan ga,
Chōchin tomoshité,
Koi to ina!
Come, firefly, come! Come with your light burning! The nicest girl in Japan wants to know if you will not light your lantern and come!
(Dialect of Sbimonosiki.)
Hōchin, koi!
Hōchin, koi!
Séki no machi no bon-san ga,
Chōchin tomoshite,
Koi!
Koi!
Firefly, come! firefly, come! All the boys of Séki [want you to come] with your lantern lighted! Come! come!
Of course, in order to hunt fireflies successfully, it is necessary to know something about their habits; and on this subject Japanese children are probably better informed than a majority of my readers, for whom the following notes may possess a novel interest:—
Fireflies frequent the neighbourhood of water, and like to circle above it; but some kinds are repelled by impure or stagnant water, and are only to be found in the vicinity of clear streams or lakes. The Genji-firefly shuns swamps, ditches, or foul canals; while the Heiké-firefly seems to be satisfied with any water. All fireflies seek by preference grassy banks shaded by trees; but they dislike certain trees and are attracted by others. They avoid pine trees, for instance; and they will not light upon rose-bushes. But upon willow trees—especially weeping willows—they gather in great swarms. Occasionally, on a summer night, you may see a drooping willow so covered and illuminated with fireflies that all its branches appear "to be budding fire." During a bright moonlight night fireflies keep as much as possible in shadow; but when pursued they fly at once into the moonshine, where their shimmering is less easily perceived. Lamplight, or any strong artificial light, drives them away; but small bright lights attract them. They can be lured, for example, by the sparkling of a small piece of lighted charcoal, or by the glow of a little Japanese pipe, kindled in the dark. But the lamping of a single lively firefly, confined in a bottle, or cup, of clear glass, is the best of all lures.
As a rule the children hunt only in parties, for obvious reasons. In former years it would have been deemed foolhardy to go alone in pursuit of fireflies, because there existed certain uncanny beliefs concerning them. And in some of the country districts these beliefs still prevail. What appear to be fireflies may be malevolent spirits, or goblin-fires, or fox-lights, kindled to delude the wayfarer. Even real fireflies are not always to be trusted;—the weirdness of their kinships might be inferred from their love of willow trees. Other trees have their particular spirits, good or evil, hamadryads or goblins; but the willow is particularly the tree of the dead—the favourite of human ghosts. Any firefly may be a ghost—who can tell? Besides, there is an old belief that the soul of a person still alive may sometimes assume the shape of a firefly. And here is a little story that was told me in Izuno:—
One cold winter's night a young shizoku of Matsue, while on his way home from a wedding-party, was surprised to perceive a firefly-light hovering above the canal in front of his dwelling. Wondering that such an insect should be flying abroad in the season of snow, he stopped to look at it; and the light suddenly shot toward him. He struck at it with a stick; but it darted away, and flew into the garden of a residence adjoining his own.
Next morning he made a visit to that house, intending to relate the adventure to his neighbours and friends. But before he found a chance to speak of it, the eldest daughter of the family, happening to enter the guest-room without knowing of the young man's visit, uttered a cry of surprise, and exclaimed, "Oh! how you startled me! No one told me that you had called; and just as I came in I was thinking about you. Last night I had so strange a dream! I was flying in my dream,—flying above the canal in front of our house. It seemed very pleasant to fly over the water; and while I was flying there I saw you coming along the bank. Then I went to you to tell you that I had learned how to fly; but you struck at me, and frightened me so that I still feel afraid when I think of it...." After hearing this, the visitor thought it best not to relate his own experience for the time being, lest the coincidence should alarm the girl, to whom he was betrothed.
VI
FIREFLIES have been celebrated in Japanese poetry from ancient time; and frequent mention of them is made in early classical prose. One of the fifty-four chapters of the famous novel, Genji-Monogari for example,—written either toward the close of the tenth century or at the beginning of the eleventh,—is entitled, "Fireflies"; and the author relates how a certain noble person was enabled to obtain one glimpse of a lady's face in the dark by the device of catching and suddenly liberating a number of fireflies. The first literary interest in fireflies may have been stimulated, if not aroused, by the study of Chinese poetry. Even to-day every Japanese child knows a little song about the famous Chinese scholar who, in the time of his struggles with poverty, studied by the light of a paper bag filled with fireflies. But, whatever the original source of their inspiration, Japanese poets have been making verses about fireflies during more than a thousand years. Compositions on the subject can be found in every form of Japanese poetry; but the greater number of firefly poems are in hokku,—the briefest of all measures, consisting of only seventeen syllables. Modern love-poems relating to the firefly are legion; but the majority of these, written in the popular twenty-six-syllable form called dodoïtsu, appear to consist of little more than variants of one old classic fancy, comparing the silent burning of the insect's light to the consuming passion that is never uttered.
Perhaps my readers will be interested by the following selection of firefly poems. Some of the compositions are many centuries old:—
CATCHING FIREFLIES
Mayoi-go no
Naku-naku tsukamu
Hotaru kana!
Ah! the lost child! Though crying and crying, still he catches fireflies!
Kuraki yori
Kuraki hito yobu:
Hotaru kana!
Out of the blackness black people call [to each other]: [they are hunting] fireflies!
Iu koto no
Kikoëté ya, takaku
Tobu hotaru!
Ah! having heard the voices of people [crying "Catch it!"], the firefly now flies higher!
Owareté wa
Tsuki ni kakururu
Hotaru kana!
Ah, [the cunning] fireflies! being chased, they hide themselves in the moonlight!
Ubayoté
Fumi-koroshitaru
Hotaru kana!
[Two firefly-catchers] having tried to seize it [at the same time], the poor firefly is trampled to death!
THE LIGHT OF FIREFLIES
Hotarubi ya!
Mada kureyaranu,
Hashi no uri.
Fireflies already sparkling under the bridge,—and it is not yet dark!
Mizu-gusa no
Kururu to mieté
Tobu hotaru.
When the water-grasses appear to grow dark, the fireflies begin to fty.1
Oku-no-ma yé
Hanashite mitaru
Hotaru kana!
Pleasant, from the guest-room,2 to watch the fireflies being set free in the garden!
Yo no fukuru
Hodo ōkinaru
Hotaru kana!
Ever as the night grows [deeper, the light of] the firefly also grows [brighter]!
Kusakari no
Sodé yori idzuru,
Hotaru kana!
See! a firefly flies out of the sleeve of the grass-cutter!
Koko kashiko,
Hotaru ni aoshi
Yoru no kusa.
Here and there the night-grass appears green, because of the light of the fireflies.
Chōchin no
Kiyété, tōtoki
Hotaru kana!
How precious seems [the light of] the firefly, now that the lantern-light has gone out!
Mado kuraki,
Shōji
wo noboru
Hotaru kana!
The window itself is dark; but see!—a firefly is creeping up the paper pane!
Moë yasuku,
Mata kéyé yasuki,
Hotaru kana!
How easily kindled, and how easily put out again, is the light of the firefly!
Hitotsu kité,
Niwa no tsuyukéki,
Hotaru kana!
Oh! a single firefly having come, one can see the dew in the garden!
Té no hira wo
Hau ashi miyuru
Hotaru kana!
Oh, this firefly!—as it crawls on the palm of my hand, its legs are visible [by its own light]!
Osoroshi no
Té ni sukitoru,
Hotaru kana!
It is enough to make one afraid! See! the light of this firefly shows through my hand!1
Sabéshisaya!
Isshaku kiyété
Yuku hotaru!
How uncanny! The firefly shoots to within a foot of me, and—out goes the light!
Yuku saki no
Sawaru mono naki
Hotaru kana!
There goes a firefly! but there is nothing in front of it to take hold of [nothing to touch: what can it be seeking—the ghostly creature?].
Hōki-gi ni
Ari to wa miyété,
Hotaru kana!
In this hoki-bush it certainly appeared to be,—the firefly! [but where is it?]
Sodé é kité,
Yōhan no hotaru
Sabishi kana!
This midnight firefly coming upon the sleeve of my robe—how weird1!...
Yanagi-ba no
Yami saki kaësu
Hotaru kana!
For this willow tree the season of budding would seem to have returned in the dark—look at the fireflies!
Mizu soko no
Kagé wo kowagaru
Hotaru kana!
Ah, he is afraid of the darkness under the water,—that firefly! [Therefore he lights his tiny lantern!]
Sugitaru wa!
Mé ni mono sugoshi
Tobu hotaru!
Ah, I am going too far!... The flitting of the fireflies here is a lonesome sight!
Hotarubi ya!
Kusa ni osamaru
Yoäkégata.
Ah, the firefly-lights! As the darkness begins to break, they bury themselves in the grass.
LOVE-POEMS
Muréyo, hotaru,
Mono iu kao no.
Miyuru hodo!
O fireflies, gather here long enough to make visible the face of the person who says these things to me!1
Oto mo sédé,
Omoi ni moyuru,
Hotaru koso,
Naku mushi yori mo
Awaré nari-kéri!
Not making even a sound [yet] burning with desire,—for this the firefly indeed has become more worthy of pity than any insect that cries!1
Yū sareba,
Hotaru yori ki ni
Moyurédomo,
Hikari minéba ya
Hito no tsurénaki!
When evening falls, though the soul of me burn more than burns the firefly, as the light [of that burning] is viewless, the person [beloved] remains unmoved.2
MISCELLANEOUS
Suito yuku,
Mizu-gi wa suzushi,
Tobu-hotaru!
Here at the water's edge, how pleasantly cool!—and the fireflies go shooting by—suito!
Midzu é kité,
Hikuu naritaru
Hotaru kana!
Having reached the water, he makes himself low,—the firefly!1
Kuzu no ha no
Ura, utsu amé ya,
Tobu-hotaru!
The rain beats upon the Kuzu-plant;2—away starts the firefly from the underside of the leaf!
Amé no yo wa,
Shita bakari yuku
Hotaru kana!
Ah! this rainy night they only go along the ground,—the fireflies!
Yura-yura to
Ko-amé furu yo no
Hotaru kana!
How they swing themselves, to and fro, the fireflies, on a night of drizzling rain!
Akinuréba,
Kusa nomi zo
Hotaru-kago.
With the coming of dawn, indeed, there is nothing visible but grass in the cage of the firefly!
Yo ga akété,
Mushi ni naritaru
Hotaru kana!
With the coming of the dawn, they change into insects again,—these fireflies!
Hiru miréba,
Kubi-suji akaki
Hotaru kana!
Oh, this firefly!—seen by daylight, the nape of its neck is red!
Hotaru kōté,
Shiba shi-go-mai ni
Fuzeï kana!
Having bought fireflies, respectfully accord them the favour of four or five tufts of lawn-grass!1
SONG OF THE FIREFLY-SELLER
Futatsu, mitsu,
Hanashité misenu
Hotaru-uri.
Mitsu, yotsu wa,
Akari ni nokosé
Hotaru-uri.
Onoga mi wa
Yami ni kaeru ya
Hotaru-uri.
He will not give you the chance to see two or three fireflies set free,—this firefly-seller.
He leaves in the cage three or four, just to make a light,—this firefly-seller.
For now he must take his own body back into the dark night,—this firefly-seller.
VII
BUT the true romance of the firefly is to be found neither in the strange fields of Japanese folk-lore nor in the quaint gardens of Japanese poetry, but in the vast profound of science. About science I know little or nothing. And that is why I am not afraid to rush in where angels fear to tread. If I knew what Professor Watase knows about fireflies, I should feel myself less free to cross the boundaries of relative experience. As it is, I can venture theories.
The tremendous hypotheses of physical and psychical evolution no longer seem to me hypotheses: I should never dream of doubting them. I have ceased to wonder at the growth of Life out of that which has been called not-living,—the development of organic out of inorganic existence. The one amazing fact of organic evolution, to which my imagination cannot become accustomed, is the fact that the substance of life should possess the latent capacity or tendency to build itself into complexities incomprehensible of systematic structure. The power of that substance to evolve radiance or electricity is not really more extraordinary than its power to evolve colour; and that a noctiluca, or a luminous centipede, or a firefly, should produce light, ought not to seem more wonderful than that a plant should produce blue or purple flowers. But the biological interpretation of the phenomenon leaves me wondering, just as much as before, at the particular miracle of the machinery by which the light is made. To find embedded in the body of the insect a microscopic working-model of everything comprised under the technical designation of an "electric plant," would not be nearly so wonderful a discovery as the discovery of what actually exists. Here is a firefly, able, with its infinitesimal dynamo, to produce a pure cold light "at one four-hundredth part of the cost of the energy expended in a candle flame"!... Now why should there have been evolved in the tail of this tiny creature a luminiferous mechanism at once so elaborate and so effective that our greatest physiologists and chemists are still unable to understand the operation of it, and our best electricians impotent to conceive the possibility of imitating it? Why should the living tissues crystallize or build themselves into structures of such stupefying intricacy and beauty as the visual organs of an ephemera, the electrical organs of a gymnotus, or the luminiferous organs of a firefly?... The very wonder of the thing forbids me to imagine gods at work: no mere god could ever contrive such a prodigy as the eye of a May-fly or the tail of a firefly.
Biology would answer thus:—" Though it is inconceivable that a structure like this should have been produced by accumulated effects of function on structure, y
et it is conceivable that successive selections of favourable variations might have produced it." And no follower of Herbert Spencer is really justified in wandering further. But I cannot rid myself of the notion that Matter, in some blind infallible way, remembers; and that in every unit of living substance there slumber infinite protentialities, simply because to every ultimate atom belongs the infinite and indestructible experience of billions of billions of vanished universes.
Footnotes
1 Professor Watasé is a graduate of Johns Hopkins. Since this essay was written, his popular Japanese lectures upon the firefly have been reissued in a single pretty volume. The coloured frontispiece,—showing fireflies at night upon a willow-branch,—is alone worth the price of the book.
1 By the old calendar. According to the new calendar, the date of the Firefly Battle would be considerably later: last year (1901) it fell upon the tenth day of the sixth month.
1 The term kagar-bi, often translated by "bonfire," here especially refers to the little wood-fires which are kindled, on certain festival occasions, in front of every threshold in the principal street of a country town, or village. During the festival of the Bon such little fires are lighted in many parts of the country to welcome the returning ghosts,
1 That is to say, "Do I see only fireflies drifting with the current? or is the Night itself drifting, with its swarming of stars?"
1 More literally: "The water-grasses having appeared to grow dark, the fireflies begin to fly." The phrase kururu to miété reminds one of the second stanza in that most remarkable of modern fairy-ballads, Mr. Yeats' "Folk of the Air ":—
"And he saw how the weeds grew dark
At the coming of night-tide;
And he dreamed of the long dim hair
Of Bridget his bride."
2 Oku-no-ma really means the back room. But the best rooms in a Japanese house are always in the rear, and so arranged as to overlook the garden. The composer of the verse is supposed to be a guest at some banquet, during which fireflies are set free in the garden that the visitors may enjoy the spectacle.
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