ment, a classification which is better than that made by Cicero in his Topics, where it is said that invention has to do with topics only, and judgment only with dialectics, or logical questions. This is clearly wrong, for, on the one hand, one must be as careful to observe the limits of necessity in demonstration as of probability in topics, and these limits are determined by invention; and, on the other, logic is common to all kinds of argumentation, since arguments present themselves as either good or bad, necessary or contingent, and judgment must determine what of these are to be used.

You can now see why the early theologians, the selfstyled disciples of the Muses, recognized only two Muses, one Meλerá, who invented through meditating, the other Пonra, who arranged the inventions according to an established or logical method. Next, because they unearthed records relating to the creation, and unknown to the common herd, some poets added a third Muse, whom they appropriately named Mrua, Memory, and these same men chose to call the Muse which had previously been named Ioŋrá, 'Aoidá, the Singer, rather than the Maker. But the earlier name is the better, for song is not essential to poetry. Later, those who approved this change, and regarded themselves as even more precise, made a threefold classification of dodá, in accordance with their notion of early music. They recognized harmony as one element, which they said was dependent upon sound alone; brass, as another element, suggested of course by the instruments; and water as a third, an element which Vitruvius says was first used in the instrument which Ctesibius invented, and called the hydraulic organ. But, if we must analyze, this analysis is far from complete, for sound is produced by striking the air, and the vibration of the air either results from a vibration external to itself, or is air in process of vibration. Then it is clear, is it not, that the flute and pipe and the voice alike employ breathing as an agency. Further, water does not give forth

any sound without air; and finally, harmony, which is the blending of properly related sounds, is clearly generic to all the others.

According to my way of thinking, it seems more reasonable to suppose that in the early times the number of the Muses was determined by the number of those engaged in rendering a piece of music. So when four performers came to take part, many were disposed to recognize a fourth Muse, and when three more instruments were added, the number of the Muses was raised to seven. Finally the number became fixed at nine, and quite properly so, for nine is du the perfect number.

Of the significance of there being nine Muses, much tradi+ tional musical theory has been handed down, but for the most part it is mere nonsense, not worthy of wise men, for how is the number nine to be accommodated to the octave?: Eight notes, not nine, constitute the octave. The ancients were again in error in accounting for the number by the number of the heavens, for as they recognized only eight heavens, the ninth had to be explained as the mother of the rest, or perhaps I should rather say the nurse, or Apollo. The pleasing elegies in which Mimnermus celebrated the daughters of the sky are based on this theory. With like impertinency, Plutarch, in his Symposiacs, where he makes many absurd suggestions about letters, mentions as significant the fact that there are as many Muses as letters in the name of the mother Mnemosyne. Forsooth, he would fain have substantiated some trifling Greek theory by a falsehood, and have claimed that the letters in the word Mnemosyne were the capital letters of the names of the Muses, but so long as the facts were against him, he decided to keep still about it.

Again, the theologians advanced the idea that the Muses were the daughters of Jove, on the ground that simultaneously with the creation of human life, of which Jove was the author, harmony, as already stated, came to be. And

for the same reason that the men of an earlier time made Memory one of the three Muses, these theologians made her the mother. It is the idea which our most learned Virgil has expressed with his wonted chasteness and delicacy in that divine verse: ‘And indeed you are mindful of the goddess, and you are able to remember her.'

Philosophy also theorizes as to why Mnemosyne is the mother of the Muses. It argues that habit results from repeated acts, memory from habit, propositions from memory, and conclusions from propositions. Thus the arts are said to be handed down. The Greeks testify to this by their familiar expression υίες ἰατρῶν. For they are not disclosed in writing, but in unwritten secret forms, taught by one generation to another. It is said that this was the custom among the Pythagoreans; historical records prove that it was the method of the Dryads; and we know it is true of the Chaldeans, from the testimony of the word Cabbala. With equal logic it was proposed that Eupheme was the nurse of the Muses, inasmuch as good reputation is the reward of the wise. Thus, in the Laws, Plato prescribed a bad reputation as a punishment to many men. And the same writer says in the Ion, "That which they themselves are, the poets make others to be.' So, through those arts whereby they render themselves immortal, they immortalize those whom they celebrate in their verse. Thus glories Pindar, thus Theocritus sings, and others after them.

Thus far we have considered the question wholly from its philosophical point of view. Now, with your leave, we should also touch upon certain historical testimonials relating to the antiquity of poetry. The grammarians, with their customary superficiality, argue that poetry is older than prose, because all the writing in temples and on other monuments is metrical. Forsooth, do such records antedate every-day speech? Some think that Pierus, the Macedonian, was the father of the Muses, and gave them

their names.

This was suggested by the tradition that he was the first to compose a poem, and was the father of nine daughters. Others prefer the tradition that the Egyptian Osiris was the father of the Muses, and, as he was identified with Apollo, this coincided with the Greek tradition.

Further, many of the surnames of the Muses are borrowed from those localities in which poems first sprang up, or where poetry was early cultivated or venerated. Thus it is said that Pierus was the first poet and sang to the Thespians, and another tradition says that in Helicon, Otus and Ephialtes, the first sons of Aloeus, originated the divine art for the Muses, in consequence of which the Muses are called Thespiades and Heliconides. Among the Oscans the Muses were called Camenae, because of their prophetic utterances. Also, because of their superior genius and their rapid utterance, they were denominated 'winged'; as Aristotle says, 'Poetry is the product of a genius or of one inspired.' For this reason Homer calls words also winged.

It is related in legendary lore that, at the instigation of Juno, the Sirens contended with the Muses in song, and lost; that then the Muses tore the feathers from the wings of the vanquished ones, and crowned their own heads therewith. Again, since the Muses seemed to be the promoters of a more refined and noble life, a life characterized by that satisfaction which resides in temperate pleasure, they were conceived as the companions of the Graces, or as their kin. This pleasure of which I speak is just the idea expressed by xápis and xaípev (grace and have thy pleasure; often used as a greeting, equivalent to be of good cheer, hail, welcome, etc.), words which usage employs for the second expression of well-wishing in letters and greetings, although Plato prefers párтe (to bring one's affairs to a good 15 issue). Pleasure or gladness is a mental condition enjoyed by a perfectly healthy person; it is occasioned by what the philosophers are pleased to call an adequate object of desire. Through poetry, indeed, the spirit is turned back upon itself,

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and it draws forth from its inner sanctuary, which is, indeed, an inexhaustible spring, that which inheres therein from the divine life.

That the Graces and pleasure and the Muses and good health are related, may be gathered from the oracle which Plutarch records as delivered to the Argive Telesilla. Though of noble birth, she was afflicted by disease, and, as I understand it, when she found that it was beyond medical aid, she was constrained to seek aid from the gods. The response was that 'she would only be restored to health if she cultivated the Muses.' She accordingly devoted herself to their service, and in a short time was not only restored to health, but endowed with vigor and the spirit of a general. So the Muses not only sing of arms, but also bestow them, as the career of Tyrtaeus also testifies. Then, as tradition has it, the Athenians made Phrynichus their leader because he performed well the Pyrrhic dance. Indeed, they used rhythm in their military exercises. Telesilla made use of this same oracular aid, mentioned above, against Cleomenes the conqueror. When this Lacedemonian king was attempting to take the city of Argos, she so inspired the women that they thronged the battlements, and drove him away with great loss. And when another king named Demaratus was actually within the city, she expelled him by force of

arms.

We may make a threefold classification of poets, according to poetical inspiration, age, and subjects. Plato first, and then Aristotle, said that there are diversities of inspiration, for some men are born inspired, while others, born ignorant and rude, and even averse to the art, are seized on by the divine madness, and wrested from their lowliness. It is the work of the gods, who, though divine, use even these as their servants. Thus Plato himself, in the Ion, calls such men the interpreters and expounders of the gods. Wherefore the dictum expressed in the Republic, which some crude and insensible men would construe to the exclu

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