The Pine Cockchafer 



round in a circle, but they were unworthy the 

 attention of a self-respecting man. 



Pliny apparently got the word from the 

 country-folk, always poor observers and in- 

 clined to bestow extravagant names. The 

 scholar accepted the rustic locution, the work 

 perhaps of a childish imagination, and ap- 

 plied it as a makeshift, without further en- 

 quiries. The word has come down to us a 

 fragment of antiquity; our modern natural- 

 ists have adopted it; and this is how one of 

 our handsomest insects became the Fuller. 

 The majesty of the centuries has consecrated 

 the strange appellation. 



In spite of all my respect for ancient lan- 

 guages, the term Fuller does not appeal to 

 me because in the circumstances it is non- 

 sensical. Common sense should take pre- 

 cedence of the aberrations of nomenclature. 

 Why not say Pine Cockchafer, in memory of 

 the beloved tree, the paradise of the insect 

 during the two or three weeks of its aerial 

 life? It would be very simple; nothing 

 could be more natural: a very good reason 

 for putting it last of all. 



We have to wander a long time in the 

 night of absurdity before reaching the radi- 

 197 



