As will be seen from the foregoing price-list, twelve varieties
of musical insects are sold in Tōkyō. Nine can be artificially
bred,--namely the _suzumushi_, _matsumushi_, _kirigirisu_, _kantan_,
_kutsuwamushi_, _Emma-kōrogi_, _kin-hibari_, _kusa-hibari_ (also called
_Asa-suzu_), and the _Yamato-suzu_, or _Yoshino-suzu_. Three varieties,
I am told, are not bred for sale, but captured for the market: these
are the _kanétataki_, _umaoi_ or _hataori_, and _kuro-hibari_. But a
considerable number of all the insects annually offered for sale, are
caught in their native haunts.
[Illustration: KANÉTATAKI (“THE BELL-RINGER”) (_natural size_).]
The night-singers are, with few exceptions, easily taken. They are
captured with the help of lanterns. Being quickly attracted by light,
they approach the lanterns; and when near enough to be observed, they
can readily be covered with nets or little baskets. Males and females
are usually secured at the same time, for the creatures move about
in couples. Only the males sing; but a certain number of females are
always taken for breeding purposes. Males and females are kept in the
same vessel only for breeding: they are never left together in a cage,
because the male ceases to sing when thus mated, and will die in a short
time after pairing.
The breeding pairs are kept in jars or other earthen vessels half-filled
with moistened clay, and are supplied every day with fresh food. They
do not live long: the male dies first, and the female survives only
until her eggs have been laid. The young insects hatched from them,
shed their skin in about forty days from birth, after which they grow
more rapidly, and soon attain their full development. In their natural
state these creatures are hatched a little before the Doyō, or Period
of Greatest Heat by the old calendar,--that is to say, about the middle
of July;--and they begin to sing in October. But when bred in a warm
room, they are hatched early in April; and, with careful feeding, they
can be offered for sale before the end of May. When very young, their
food is triturated and spread for them upon a smooth piece of wood;
but the adults are usually furnished with unprepared food,--consisting
of parings of egg-plant, melon-rind, cucumber-rind, or the soft
interior parts of the white onion. Some insects, however, are specially
nourished;--the _abura-kirigirisu_, for example, being fed with
sugar-water and slices of musk-melon.
V
All the insects mentioned in the Tōkyō price-list are not of equal
interest; and several of the names appear to refer only to different
varieties of one species,--though on this point I am not positive. Some
of the insects do not seem to have yet been scientifically classed; and
I am no entomologist. But I can offer some general notes on the more
important among the little melodists, and free translations of a few out
of the countless poems about them,--beginning with the _matsumushi_,
which was celebrated in Japanese verse a thousand years ago:
_Matsumushi._[11]
As ideographically written, the name of this creature signifies
“pine-insect;” but, as pronounced, it might mean also “waiting-insect,”--
since the verb “_matsu_,” “to wait,” and the noun “_matsu_,” “pine,”
have the same sound. It is chiefly upon this double meaning of the word
as uttered that a host of Japanese poems about the _matsumushi_ are
based. Some of these are very old,--dating back to the tenth century at
least.
[Illustration: MATSUMUSHI (_slightly enlarged_).]
Although by no means a rare insect, the matsumushi is much esteemed for
the peculiar clearness and sweetness of its notes--(onomatopoetically
rendered in Japanese by the syllables _chin-chirorīn, chin-chirorīn_),--
little silvery shrillings which I can best describe as resembling the
sound of an electric bell heard from a distance. The matsumushi haunts
pine-woods and cryptomeria-groves, and makes its music at night. It is a
very small insect, with a dark-brown back, and a yellowish belly.
* * * * *
Perhaps the oldest extant verses upon the matsumushi are those contained
in the _Kokinshū_,--a famous anthology compiled in the year 905 by the
court-poet Tsurayuki and several of his noble friends. Here we first
find that play on the name of the insect as pronounced, which was to be
repeated in a thousand different keys by a multitude of poets through
the literature of more than nine hundred years:--
Aki no no ni
Michi mo madoinu;
Matsumushi no
Koe suru kata ni
Yadoya karamashi.
“In the autumn-fields I lose my way;--perhaps I might ask for lodging
in the direction of the cry of the waiting-insect;”--that is to say,
“might sleep to-night in the grass where the insects are waiting for
me.” There is in the same work a much prettier poem on the matsumushi by
Tsurayuki.
With dusk begins to cry the male of the Waiting-insect;--
I, too, await my beloved, and, hearing, my longing grows.
The following poems on the same insect are less ancient but not less
interesting:--
Forever past and gone, the hour of the promised advent!--
Truly the Waiter’s voice is a voice of sadness now!
Parting is sorrowful always,--even the parting with autumn!
O plaintive matsumushi, add not thou to my pain!
Always more clear and shrill, as the hush of the night grows deeper,
The Waiting-insect’s voice;--and I that wait in the garden,
Feel enter into my heart the voice and the moon together.
_Suzumushi._[12]
The name signifies “bell-insect;” but the bell of which the sound is
thus referred to is a very small bell, or a bunch of little bells such
as a Shinto priestess uses in the sacred dances. The _suzumushi_ is a
great favorite with insect-fanciers, and is bred in great numbers for
the market. In the wild state it is found in many parts of Japan; and at
night the noise made by multitudes of _suzumushi_ in certain lonesome
places might easily be mistaken,--as it has been by myself more than
once,--for the sound of rapids. The Japanese description of the insect
as resembling “a watermelon seed”--the black kind--is excellent. It
is very small, with a black back, and a white or yellowish belly. Its
tintinnabulation--_ri-ï-ï-ï-in_, as the Japanese render the sound--might
easily be mistaken for the tinkling of a _suzu_. Both the _matsumushi_
and the _suzumushi_ are mentioned in Japanese poems of the period of
Engi (901-922).
[Illustration: SUZUMUSHI (_slightly enlarged_).]
Some of the following poems on the suzumushi are very old; others are of
comparatively recent date:--
Yes, my dwelling is old: weeds on the roof are growing;--
But the voice of the suzumushi that will never be old!
To-day united in love,--we who can meet so rarely!
Hear how the insects ring!--their bells to our hearts keep time.
The tinkle of tiny bells,--the voices of suzumushi,
I hear in the autumn-dusk,--and think of the fields at home.
Even the moonshine sleeps on the dews of the garden-grasses;
Nothing moves in the night but the suzumushi’s voice.
Heard in these alien fields, the voice of the suzumushi,--
Sweet in the evening-dusk,--sounds like the sound of home.
Vainly the suzumushi exhausts its powers of pleasing,
Always, the long night through, my tears continue to flow!
Hark to those tinkling tones,--the chant of the suzumushi!
--If a jewel of dew could sing, it would tinkle with such a voice!
Foolish-fond I have grown;--I feel for the suzumushi!--
In the time of the heavy rains, what will the creature do?
_Hataori-mushi._
The _hataori_ is a beautiful bright-green grasshopper, of very
graceful shape. Two reasons are given for its curious name, which
signifies “the Weaver.” One is that, when held in a particular way,
the struggling gestures of the creature resemble the movements
of a girl weaving. The other reason is that its music seems to
imitate the sound of the reed and shuttle of a hand-loom in
operation,--_Ji-ï-ï-ï--chon-chon!--ji-ï-ï-ï--chon-chon!_
* * * * *
There is a pretty folk-story about the origin of the _hataori_ and the
_kirigirisu_, which used to be told to Japanese children in former
times.--Long, long ago, says the tale, there were two very dutiful
daughters who supported their old blind father by the labor of their
hands. The elder girl used to weave, and the younger to sew. When the
old blind father died at last, these good girls grieved so much that
they soon died also. One beautiful morning, some creatures of a kind
never seen before were found making music above the graves of the
sisters. On the tomb of the elder was a pretty green insect, producing
sounds like those made by a girl weaving,--_ji-ï-ï-ï, chon-chon!
ji-ï-ï-ï, chon-chon!_ This was the first _hataori-mushi_. On the tomb of
the younger sister was an insect which kept crying out, “_Tsuzuré--sasé,
sasé!--tsuzuré, tsuzuré--sasé, sasé, sasé!_” (Torn clothes--patch, patch
them up!--torn clothes, torn clothes--patch up, patch up, patch up!)
This was the first _kirigirisu_. Then everybody knew that the spirits
of the good sisters had taken those shapes. Still every autumn they cry
to wives and daughters to work well at the loom, and warn them to repair
the winter garments of the household before the coming of the cold.
* * * * *
Such poems as I have been able to obtain about the _hataori_ consist of
nothing more than pretty fancies. Two, of which I offer free renderings,
are ancient,--the first by Tsurayuki; the second by a poetess
classically known as “Akinaka’s Daughter”:--
Weaving-insects I hear; and the fields, in their autumn-colors,
Seem of Chinese-brocade:--was this the weavers’ work?
Gossamer-threads are spread over the shrubs and grasses:
Weaving-insects I hear;--do they weave with spider-silk?
_Umaoi._
The _umaoi_ is sometimes confounded with the _hataori_, which it
much resembles. But the true umaoi--(called _junta_ in Izumo)--is a
shorter and thicker insect than the _hataori_; and has at its tail a
hook-shaped protuberance, which the weaver-insect has not. Moreover,
there is some difference in the sounds made by the two creatures.
The music of the umaoi is not “_ji-ï-ï-ï,--chon-chon_,” but,
“_zu-ï-in-tzō!--zu-ï-in-tzō!_”--say the Japanese.
[Illustration: UMAOI (_natural size_).]
_Kirigirisu._[13]
There are different varieties of this much-prized insect. The
_abura-kirigirisu_, a day-singer, is a delicate creature, and must
be carefully nourished in confinement. The _tachi-kirigirisu_,
a night-singer, is more commonly found in the market. Captured
_kirigirisu_ sold in Tōkyō are mostly from the neighborhood of Itabashi,
Niiso, and Todogawa; and these, which fetch high prices, are considered
the best. They are large vigorous insects, uttering very clear notes.
From Kujiukuri in Kadzusa other and much cheaper _kirigirisu_ are
brought to the capital; but these have a disagreeable odor, suffer from
the attacks of a peculiar parasite, and are feeble musicians.
[Illustration: KIRIGIRISU (_natural size_).]
As stated elsewhere, the sounds made by the kirigirisu are said to
resemble those of the Japanese words, “_Tsuzuré--sasé! sasé!_” (Torn
clothes--patch up! patch up!); and a large proportion of the many
poems written about the insect depend for interest upon ingenious but
untranslatable allusions to those words. I offer renderings therefore of
only two poems on the _kirigirisu_,--the first by an unknown poet in the
_Kokinshū_; the second by Tadafusa:--
O Kirigirisu! when the clover changes color,
Are the nights then sad for you as for me that cannot sleep?
O Kirigirisu! cry not, I pray, so loudly!
Hearing, my sorrow grows, and the autumn-night is long!
_Kusa-hibari._
[Illustration: KUSA-HIBARI (_natural size_).]
The _kusa-hibari_, or “Grass-Lark,”--also called _Asa-suzu_, or
“Morning-Bell;” _Yabu-suzu_, or “the Little Bell of the Bamboo-grove;”
_Aki-kazé_, or “Autumn-Wind;” and _Ko-suzu-mushi_, or “the Child of the
Bell-Insect,”--is a day-singer. It is very small,--perhaps the smallest
of the insect-choir, except the _Yamato-suzu_.
[Illustration: YAMATO-SUZU (“LITTLE-BELL OF YAMATO”) (_natural size_).]
_Kin-hibari._
The _kin-hibari_, or “Golden Lark” used to be found in great numbers
about the neighborhood of the well-known Shino-bazu-no-iké,--the great
lotos-pond of Uyeno in Tōkyō;--but of late years it has become scarce
there. The _kin-hibari_ now sold in the capital are brought from
Todogawa and Shimura.
[Illustration: KIN-HIBARI (_natural size_).]
_Kuro-hibari._
The _kuro-hibari_, or “Black Lark,” is rather uncommon, and
comparatively dear. It is caught in the country about Tōkyō, but is
never bred.
[Illustration: KURO-HIBARI (_natural size_).]
_Kōrogi._
There are many varieties of this
night-cricket,--called _kōrogi_ from its
music:--“_kiri-kiri-kiri-kiri!--kōro-kōro-kōro-kōro!--ghi-ï-ï-ï-ï-ï-ï!_”
One variety, the _ebi-kōrogi_, or “shrimp-kōrogi,” does not make any
sound. But the _uma-kōrogi_, or “horse-kōrogi;” the _Oni-kōrogi_, or
“Demon-kōrogi;” and the _Emma-kōrogi_, or “Cricket-of-Emma[14] [King
of the Dead],” are all good musicians. The color is blackish-brown, or
black;--the best singing-varieties have curious wavy markings on the
wings.
[Illustration: EMMA-KŌROGI (_natural size_).]
An interesting fact regarding the _kōrogi_ is that mention of it is made
in the very oldest collection of Japanese poems known, the _Manyōshu_,
probably compiled about the middle of the eighth century. The following
lines, by an unknown poet, which contain this mention, are therefore
considerably more than eleven hundred years old:--
Niwa-kusa ni
Murasamé furité
Kōrogi no
Naku oto kikeba
Aki tsukinikeri.
[“Showers have sprinkled the garden-grass. Hearing the sound of the
crying of the kōrogi, I know that the autumn has come.”]
[Illustration: EMMA-KŌROGI.]
_Kutsuwamushi._
There are several varieties of this extraordinary creature,--also
called onomatopoetically _gatcha-gatcha_,--which is most provokingly
described in dictionaries as “a kind of noisy cricket”! The variety
commonly sold in Tōkyō has a green back, and a yellowish-white abdomen;
but there are also brown and reddish varieties. The _kutsuwamushi_ is
difficult to capture, but easy to breed. As the _tsuku-tsuku-bōshi_
is the most wonderful musician among the sun-loving cicadæ or _semi_,
so the _kutsuwamushi_ is the most wonderful of night-crickets. It
owes its name, which means “The Bridle-bit-Insect,” to its noise,
which resembles the jingling and ringing of the old-fashioned Japanese
bridle-bit (_kutsuwa_). But the sound is really much louder and much
more complicated than ever was the jingling of a single _kutsuwa_;
and the accuracy of the comparison is not easily discerned while the
creature is storming beside you. Without the evidence of one’s own eyes,
it were hard to believe that so small a life could make so prodigious
a noise. Certainly the vibratory apparatus in this insect must be
very complicated. The sound begins with a thin sharp whizzing, as of
leaking steam, and slowly strengthens;--then to the whizzing is suddenly
added a quick dry clatter, as of castanets;--and then, as the whole
machinery rushes into operation, you hear, high above the whizzing and
the clatter, a torrent of rapid ringing tones like the tapping of a
gong. These, the last to begin, are also the first to cease; then the
castanets stop; and finally the whizzing dies;--but the full orchestra
may remain in operation for several hours at a time, without a pause.
Heard from far away at night the sound is pleasant, and is really so
much like the ringing of a bridle-bit, that when you first listen to it
you cannot but feel how much real poetry belongs to the name of this
insect,--celebrated from of old as “playing at ghostly escort in ways
where no man can pass.”
[Illustration: KUTSUWAMUSHI (_natural size_).]
The most ancient poem on the _kutsuwamushi_ is perhaps the following, by
the Lady Idzumi-Shikibu:--
Waga seko wa
Koma ni makasété
Kinikeri to,
Kiku ni kikasuru
Kutsuwamushi kana!
--which might be thus freely rendered:
Listen!--his bridle rings;--that is surely my husband
Homeward hurrying now--fast as the horse can bear him!...
Ah! my ear was deceived!--only the Kutsuwamushi!
_Kantan._
This insect--also called _kantan-gisu_, and _kantan-no-kirigirisu_,--is
a dark-brown night-cricket. Its note--“_zi-ï-ï-ï-in_” is peculiar: I
can only compare it to the prolonged twang of a bow-string. But this
comparison is not satisfactory, because there is a penetrant metallic
quality in the twang, impossible to describe.
[Illustration: KANTAN (_natural size_).]