tine_.

Madame Melba's point of view is not held exclusively by her. There are
many singers who believe that a series of dinner invitations will buy a
critic's pen; a few do not hesitate to offer emerald stick-pins and even
substantial cheques. These methods are often entirely successful. On the
other hand there are critics who will rush across the street, though the
mud be ankle deep, to avoid an introduction to an artist. I have been
frequently asked where I stood in the matter, as if it were necessary to
take a stand and defend it.

I may say that if my profession kept me from knowing anybody I really
wanted to know I should relinquish that profession without hesitation.
It is absurd to feel that you cannot dine with a singer without praising
her performances. Many days in each month I dine with authors whose
works I abhor. I find their companionship delightful. Should I be
deprived of their society because I happen to be a critic? I suppose I
have a price--almost everybody has--but I should like to state right
here and now that it is not a dinner, or a series of dinners, or even an
emerald scarf-pin. I should be inclined, however, I admit frankly, to
say at least gentle things about a lady who made me a present of a
blooded silver cat.

But the crux of the matter lies deeper than this. No mere music critic
can hope to write about singing, violin playing, or piano playing
without knowing singers, violinists, and pianists. He can learn much
from books, from the reviews of other critics, from hearing
performances, but the great critics are those who study from the lips of
the interpreters themselves. The valuable hints, suggestions, and
inspiration that a critic with an open mind can gather from an
interpreter are priceless, and not to be found elsewhere. Not that an
interpreter will always tell the truth, not that he always knows what
the truth is in his particular case. Nevertheless any _virtuoso_ will
always have something of interest to say. It stands to reason that any
man or woman who has devoted his life to his profession will know more
about its difficulties, limitations, and tricks, than a mere critic can
hope to learn in any way except through social intercourse with the
interpreter. A young critic may learn much through reading Chorley,
Burney, Schumann, Ernest Newman, and James Huneker. He can further
prepare himself for his trade by listening with open ears to concerts
and operas (although, in passing,