When we have with difficulty made our selection from the divine
redundancy of the ideal world, and so far as we could have reduced
ourselves to the penury of a sole possession, why do not we turn our
eyes to the example of Nature in not only bringing forth a hundred or a
thousand fold of the kind of seed planted, but in accompanying its
growth with that of an endless variety of other plants, all coming to
bear in a like profusion? Observe that wise husbandwoman (this is not
the contradiction in terms it seems), how when her business is
apparently a hay harvest, she mingles myriads of daisies and milkweed
and wild carrot and redtop with the grass, and lets her fancy riot all
round the meadow in a broidery of blackberries and asters and dogroses
and goldenrod. She never works without playing; and she plays even while
man is working--plays so graciously and winningly that it takes the
heart with joy. Who has ever looked upon an old-world wheat-field, where
poppies and vetches are frolicking among the ears, and begrudged Nature
her pastime? No one, we will venture, but the owner of the field, who is
perhaps also too much of a philosopher to grieve over it. In the ideal
world it is much the same. There, too, art having chosen a kind brings
it to bear with all the other kinds which have been lurking in the
unconscious soil of the mind and only waiting tilth for any purpose
before springing up in company with the selected seed. This is what
makes the poets and novelists and dramatists so much more profitable
reading than the moralists. From whom, indeed, has the vital wisdom of
the race been garnered? Not from those hard, ethical masters who have
sought to narrow culture to the business of growing precepts, but from
the genial teachers who have inculcated amusement and breathed into the
unwary mind some inspiration which escaped as unconsciously from
themselves. Which philosopher or sage of them all has instructed mankind
a hundredth part as much as Shakespeare, who supposed himself to be
merely providing diversion for the patrons of the Globe Theatre?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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