tue by reciting its
dimensions. But knowledge as well as sympathy must speak out of the
words, so that they may realize Schumann's lovely conception when he
said that the best criticism is that which leaves after it an
impression on the reader like that which the music made on the hearer.
Read Dr. John Brown's account of one of Halle's recitals, reprinted
from "The Scotsman," in the collection of essays entitled "Spare
Hours," if you would see how aptly a sweetly sane mind and a warm
heart can rhapsodize without the help of technical knowledge:

[Sidenote: _Dr. Brown and Beethoven._]

"Beethoven (Dr. Brown is speaking of the Sonata in D, op.
10, No. 3) begins with a trouble, a wandering and groping in
the dark, a strange emergence of order out of chaos, a wild,
rich confusion and misrule. Wilful and passionate, often
harsh, and, as it were, thick with gloom; then comes, as if
'it stole upon the air,' the burden of the theme, the still,
sad music--_Largo e mesto_--so human, so sorrowful, and yet
the sorrow overcome, not by gladness but by something
better, like the sea, after a dark night of tempest, falling
asleep in the young light of morning, and 'whispering how
meek and gentle it can be.' This likeness to the sea, its
immensity, its uncertainty, its wild, strong glory and play,
its peace, its solitude, its unsearchableness, its
prevailing sadness, comes more into our minds with this
great and deep master's works than any other."

That is Beethoven.

[Sidenote: _Apollo and the critic--a fable._]

[Sidenote: _The critic's duty to admire._]

[Sidenote: _A mediator between musician and public._]

[Sidenote: _Essential virtues._]

Once upon a time--it is an ancient fable--a critic picked out all the
faults of a great poet and presented them to Apollo. The god received
the gift graciously and set a bag of wheat before the critic with the
command that he separate the chaff from the kernels. The critic did
the work with alacrity, and turning to Apollo for his reward, received
the chaff. Nothing could show us more appositely than this what
criticism should not be. A critic's duty is to separate excellence
from defect, as Dr. Crotch says; to admire as well as to find fault.
In the proportion that defects are apparent he should increase his
efforts to discover beauties. Much flows out of this conception of his
duty. Holding it the critic will