The Psyches: the Laying 



sion to the classic Psyche, symbolical of the 

 soul. We must not allow this phrase to 

 carry our thoughts to loftier heights than is 

 fitting. The nomenclator, with his rather 

 circumscribed view of the world, did not 

 trouble about the soul when inventing his de- 

 scriptive label. He simply wanted a pretty 

 name; and certainly he could have hit on no- 

 thing better. 



To protect himself from the weather, our 

 chilly, bare-skinned Psyche builds himself a 

 portable shelter, a travelling cottage which 

 the owner never leaves until he becomes a 

 Moth. It is something better than a hut on 

 wheels with a thatched roof to it: it is a 

 hermit's frock, made of an unusual sort of 

 frieze. In the valley of the Danube the 

 peasant wears a goatskin cloak fastened with 

 a belt of rushes. The Psyche dons an even 

 more rustic apparel. He makes himself a suit 

 of clothes out of hop-poles. It is true that, 

 beneath this rude conglomeration, which 

 would be a regular hair-shirt to a skin as 

 delicate as his, he puts a thick lining of silk. 

 The Clythra Beetle garbs himself in pottery; 

 this one dresses himself in a faggot. 



In April, on the walls of my chief observa- 



187 



