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hunger。　In　Horai　grow　the　enchanted　plants　So…rin…shi；　and　Riku…go…aoi；　and

Ban…kon…to；　which　heal　all　manner　of　sickness；　and　there　grows　also　the

magical　grass　Yo…shin…shi；　that　quickens　the　dead；　and　the　magical　grass　is

watered　by　a　fairy　water　of　which　a　single　drink　confers　perpetual　youth。

The　people　of　Horai　eat　their　rice　out　of　very；　very　small　bowls；　but　the

rice　never　diminishes　within　those　bowls；　however　much　of　it　be　eaten；

until　the　eater　desires　no　more。　And　the　people　of　Horai　drink　their　wine

out　of　very；　very　small　cups；　but　no　man　can　empty　one　of　those　cups；

however　stoutly　he　may　drink；　until　there　comes　upon　him　the　pleasant

drowsiness　of　intoxication。







All　this　and　more　is　told　in　the　legends　of　the　time　of　the　Shin　dynasty。

But　that　the　people　who　wrote　down　those　legends　ever　saw　Horai；　even　in　a

mirage；　is　not　believable。　　For　really　there　are　no　enchanted　fruits　which

leave　the　eater　forever　satisfied；　nor　any　magical　grass　which　revives

the　dead；　nor　any　fountain　of　fairy　water；　nor　any　bowls　which　never

lack　rice；　nor　any　cups　which　never　lack　wine。　It　is　not　true　that　sorrow

and　death　never　enter　Horai；　neither　is　it　true　that　there　is　not　any

winter。　The　winter　in　Horai　is　cold；　and　winds　then　bite　to　the　bone；　and

the　heaping　of　snow　is　monstrous　on　the　roofs　of　the　Dragon…King。





Nevertheless　there　are　wonderful　things　in　Horai；　and　the　most　wonderful

of　all　has　not　been　mentioned　by　any　Chinese　writer。　I　mean　the　atmosphere

of　Horai。　It　is　an　atmosphere　peculiar　to　the　place；　and；　because　of　it；

the　sunshine　in　Horai　is　whiter　than　any　other　sunshine；　a　milky　light

that　never　dazzles；　astonishingly　clear；　but　very　soft。　This　atmosphere

is　not　of　our　human　period：　it　is　enormously　old；　so　old　that　I　feel

afraid　when　I　try　to　think　how　old　it　is；　and　it　is　not　a　mixture　of

nitrogen　and　oxygen。　It　is　not　made　of　air　at　all；　but　of　ghost；　the

substance　of　quintillions　of　quintillions　of　generations　of　souls　blended

into　one　immense　translucency；　souls　of　people　who　thought　in　ways　never

resembling　our　ways。　Whatever　mortal　man　inhales　that　atmosphere；　he　takes

into　his　blood　the　thrilling　of　these　spirits；　and　they　change　the　sense

within　him；　reshaping　his　notions　of　Space　and　Time；　so　that　he　can　see

only　as　they　used　to　see；　and　feel　only　as　they　used　to　feel；　and　think

only　as　they　used　to　think。　Soft　as　sleep　are　these　changes　of　sense；　and

Horai；　discerned　across　them；　might　thus　be　described：







　Because　in　Horai　there　is　no　knowledge　of　great　evil；　the　hearts　of　the

people　never　grow　old。　And；　by　reason　of　being　always　young　in　heart；　the

people　of　Horai　smile　from　birth　until　death　　except　when　the　Gods　send

sorrow　among　them；　and　faces　then　are　veiled　until　the　sorrow　goes　away。

All　folk　in　Horai　love　and　trust　each　other；　as　if　all　were　members　of　a

single　household；　and　the　speech　of　the　women　is　like　birdsong；　because

the　hearts　of　them　are　light　as　the　souls　of　birds；　and　the　swaying　of

the　sleeves　of　the　maidens　at　play　seems　a　flutter　of　wide；　soft　wings。　In

Horai　nothing　is　hidden　but　grief；　because　there　is　no　reason　for　shame；

and　nothing　is　locked　away；　because　there　could　not　be　any　theft；　and　by

night　as　well　as　by　day　all　doors　remain　unbarred；　because　there　is　no

reason　for　fear。　And　because　the　people　are　fairies　　though　mortal　　all

things　in　Horai；　except　the　Palace　of　the　Dragon…King；　are　small　and　quaint

and　queer；　and　these　fairy…folk　do　really　eat　their　rice　out　of　very；

very　small　bowls；　and　drink　their　wine　out　of　very；　very　small　cups。。。







　Much　of　this　seeming　would　be　due　to　the　inhalation　of　that　ghostly

atmosphere　　but　not　all。　For　the　spell　wrought　by　the　dead　is　only　the

charm　of　an　Ideal；　the　glamour　of　an　ancient　hope；　and　something　of　that

hope　has　found　fulfillment　in　many　hearts　；　in　the　simple　beauty　of

unselfish　lives；　in　the　sweetness　of　Woman。。。





　Evil　winds　from　the　West　are　blowing　over　Horai；　and　the　magical

atmosphere；　alas！　is　shrinking　away　before　them。　It　lingers　now　in　patches

only；　and　bands；　like　those　long　bright　bands　of　cloud　that　train　across

the　landscapes　of　Japanese　painters。　Under　these　shreds　of　the　elfish　vapor

you　still　can　find　Horai　　but　not　everywhere。。。　Remember　that　Horai　is

also　called　Shinkiro；　which　signifies　Mirage；　the　Vision　of　the

Intangible。　And　the　Vision　is　fading；　never　again　to　appear　save　in

pictures　and　poems　and　dreams。。。









　　　　　INSECT　STUDIES





BUTTERFLIES



　　　　　　　　　　I







Would　that　I　could　hope　for　the　luck　of　that　Chinese　scholar　known　to

Japanese　literature　as　〃Rosan〃！　For　he　was　beloved　by　two　spirit…maidens；

celestial　sisters；　who　every　ten　days　came　to　visit　him　and　to　tell　him

stories　about　butterflies。　Now　there　are　marvelous　Chinese　stories　about

butterflies　　ghostly　stories；　and　I　want　to　know　them。　But　never　shall　I

be　able　to　read　Chinese；　nor　even　Japanese；　and　the　little　Japanese　poetry

that　I　manage；　with　exceeding　difficulty；　to　translate；　contains　so　many

allusions　to　Chinese　stories　of　butterflies　that　I　am　tormented　with　the

torment　of　Tantalus。。。　And；　of　course；　no　spirit…maidens　will　even　deign　to

visit　so　skeptical　a　person　as　myself。





I　want　to　know；　for　example；　the　whole　story　of　that　Chinese　maiden　whom

the　butterflies　took　to　be　a　flower；　and　followed　in　multitude；　so

fragrant　and　so　fair　was　she。　Also　I　should　like　to　know　something　more

concerning　the　butterflies　of　the　Emperor　Genso；　or　Ming　Hwang；　who　made

them　choose　his　loves　for　him。。。　He　used　to　hold　wine…parties　in　his

amazing　garden；　and　ladies　of　exceeding　beauty　were　in　attendance；　and

caged　butterflies；　se　free　among　them；　would　fly　to　the　fairest；　and　then；

upon　that　fairest　the　Imperial　favor　was　bestowed。　But　after　Genso　Kotei

had　seen　Yokihi　（whom　the　Chinese　call　Yang…Kwei…Fei）；　he　would　not　suffer

the　butterflies　to　choose　for　him；　which　was　unlucky；　as　Yokihi　got　him

into　serious　trouble。。。　Again；　I　should　like　to　know　more　about　the

experience　of　that　Chinese　scholar；　celebrated　in　Japan　under　the　name

Soshu；　who　dreamed　that　he　was　a　butterfly；　and　had　all　the　sensations　of　a

butterfly　in　that　dream。　For　his　spirit　had　really　been　wandering　about　in

the　shape　of　a　butterfly；　and；　when　he　awoke；　the　memories　and　the　feelings

of　butterfly　existence　remained　so　vivid　in　his　mind　that　he　could　not　act

like　a　human　being。。。　Finally　I　should　like　to　know　the　text　of　a　certain

Chinese　official　recognition　of　sundry　butterflies　as　the　spirits　of　an

Emperor　and　of　his　attendants。。。







Most　of　the　Japanese　literature　about　butterflies；　excepting　some　poetry；

appears　to　be　of　Chinese　origin；　and　even　that　old　national　aesthetic

feeling　on　the　subject；　which　found　such　delightful　expression　in　Japanese

art　and　song　and　custom；　may　have　been　first　developed　under　Chinese

teaching。　Chinese　precedent　doubtless　explains　why　Japanese　poets　and

painters　chose　so　often　for　their　geimyo；　or　professional　appellations；

such　names　as　Chomu　（〃Butterfly…Dream）；〃　Icho　（〃Solitary　Butterfly）；〃　etc。

And　even　to　this　day　such　geimyo　as　Chohana　（〃Butterfly…Blossom〃）；　Chokichi

（〃Butterfly…Luck〃）；　or　Chonosuke　（〃Butterfly…Help〃）；　are　affected　by

dancing…girls。　Besides　artistic　names　having　reference　to　butterflies；

there　are　still　in　use　real　personal　names　（yobina）　of　this　kind；　such　as

Kocho；　or　Cho；　meaning　〃Butterfly。〃　They　are　borne　by　women　only；　as　a

rule；　though　there　are　some　strange　exceptions。。。　And　here　I　may　mention

that；　in　the　province　of　Mutsu；　there　still　exists　the　curious　old　custom

of　calling　the　youngest　daughter　in　a　family　Tekona；　which　quaint　word；

obsolete　elsewhere；　signifies　in　Mutsu　dialect　a　butterfly。　In　classic　time

this　word　signified　also　a　beautiful　woman。。。







It　is　possible　also　that　some　weird　Japanese　beliefs　about　butterflies　are

of　Chinese　derivation；　but　these　beliefs　might　be　older　than　China　herself。

The　most　interesting　one；　I　think；　is　that　the　soul　of　a　living　person　may

wander　about　in　the　form　of　a　butterfly。　Some　pretty　fancies　have　been

evolved　out　of　this　belief；　such　as　the　notion　that　if　a　butterfly　enters

your　guest…room　and　perches　behind　the　bamboo　screen；　the　person　whom　you

most　love　is　coming　to　see　you。　That　a　butterfly　may　be　the　spirit　of

somebody　is　not　a　reason　for　being　afraid　of　it。　Nevertheless　there　are

times　when　even　butterflies　can　inspire　fear　by　appearing　in　prodigious

numbers；　and　Japanese　history　records　such　an　event。　When　Taira…no…Masakado

was　secretly　preparing　for　his　famous　revolt；　there　appeared　in　Kyoto　so

vast　a　swarm　of　butterflies　that　the　people　were　frightened；　thinking　the

apparition　to　be　a　portent　of　coming　evil。。。　Perhaps　those　butterflies　were

supposed　to　be　the　spirits　of　the　thousands　doomed　to　perish　in　battle；　and

agitated　on　the　eve　of　war　by　some　mysterious　premonition　of　death。





However；　in　Japanese　belief；　a　butterfly　may　be　the　soul　of　a　dead　person

as　well　as　of　a　living　person。　Indeed　it　is　a　custom　of　souls　to　take

butterfly…shape　in　order　to　announce　the　fact　of　their　final　departure　from

the　body；　and　for　this　reason　any　butterfly　　which　enters　a　house　ought　to

be　kindly　treated。





To　this　belief；　and　to　queer　fancies　connected　with　it；　there　are　many

allusions　in　popular　drama。　For　example；　there　is　a　well…known　play　called

Tonde…deru…Kocho…no…Kanzashi；　or；　〃The　Flying　Hairpin　of　Kocho。〃　Kocho　is　a

beautiful　person　who　kills　herself　because　of　false　accusations　and　cruel

treatment。　Her　would…be　avenger　long　seeks　in　vain　for　the　author　of　the

wrong。　But　at　last　the　dead　woman's　hairpin　turns　into　a　butterfly；　and

serves　as　a　guide　to　vengeance　by　hovering　above　the　place　where　the

villain　is　hiding。







　Of　course　those　big　paper　butterflies　（o…cho　and　me…cho）　which　figure

at　weddings　must　not　be　thought　of　as　having