How beautiful is fertility! A landscape of fruitful and well-cultivated
fields; an unbroken expanse of grass; a thick, uniform growth of
grain—how each of these fills and satisfies the eye! And it is not
because we are essentially utilitarian and see the rich loaf and
the fat beef as the outcome of it all, but because we read in it an
expression of the beneficence and good-will of the earth. We love to
see harmony between man and nature; we love peace and not war; we love
the adequate, the complete. A perfect issue of grass or grain is a
satisfaction to look upon, because it is a success. These things have
the beauty of an end exactly fulfilled, the beauty of perfect fitness
and proportion. The barren in nature is ugly and repels us, unless it
be on such a scale and convey such a suggestion of power as to awaken
the emotion of the sublime. What can be less inviting than a neglected
and exhausted Virginia farm, the thin red soil showing here and there
through the ragged and scanty turf? and what, on the other hand, can
please the eye of a countryman more than the unbroken verdancy and
fertility of a Kentucky blue-grass farm? I find I am very apt to take
a farmer's view of a country. That long line of toiling and thrifty
yeomen back of me seems to have bequeathed something to my blood that
makes me respond very quickly to a fertile and well-kept landscape,
and that, on the other hand, makes me equally discontented in a poor,
shabby one. All the way from Washington till I struck the heart of
Kentucky, the farmer in me was unhappy; he saw hardly a rood of land
that he would like to call his own. But that remnant of the wild man of
the woods, which most of us still carry, saw much that delighted him,
especially down the New River, where the rocks and the waters, and the
steep forest-clad mountains were as wild and as savage as anything he
had known in his early Darwinian ages. But when we emerged upon the
banks of the Great Kanawha, the man of the woods lost his interest and
the man of the fields saw little that was comforting.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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