THE KINDLY CRITIC IS THE POET'S BEST FRIEND
[_To Mr. Moore_]
The worst of it is, by the time one has finished a piece, it has been
so often viewed and reviewed before the mental eye that one loses, in a
good measure, the power of critical discrimination. Here the best
criterion I know is a friend--not only of abilities to judge, but with
good nature enough like a prudent teacher with a young learner to
praise a little more than is exactly just, lest the thin-skinned animal
fall into that most deplorable of all diseases--heart-breaking
despondency of himself. Dare I, sir, already immensely indebted to
your goodness, ask the additional obligation of your being that friend
to me? . . .
HORACE GREELEY
(1811-1872)
HOW THE FARM-BOY BECAME AN EDITOR
Horace Greeley, the farmer's son, lived most of his life in the
metropolis, yet he always looked like a farmer, and most people would
be willing to admit that he retained the farmer's traditional goodness
of heart, if not quite all of his traditional simplicity. His judgment
was keen and shrewd, and for many years the cracker-box philosophers of
the village store impatiently awaited the sorting of the mail chiefly
that they might learn what "Old Horace" had to say about some new
picture in the kaleidoscope of politics.
Pages:
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45