and to the sacrificial altar eager throngs pressed onward and upward,—as in his word-magic Keats pictures it;—

That busy stir of life has gone past, faded now into the viewless air, to be seen no more by man; the dryads and the naiads, the satyrs and the fauns left their dedicated haunts, and the muses too all vanished, all hushed silently away, what time the,—

The fateful land remains as of old, remains unchanged through milleniums of change,—the traveller to-day may see the lofty Delph glistening white with snow and great Parnassus towering high above it; may visit grand Olympus, find the goats browsing yet upon Mount Helicon, watch the bees gathering honey from the creeping thyme upon Hymettus, or stop to gaze on the wonderful purple glow that comes over it at evening light; Hippocrene, faithful to its ancient renown, runs cool and bright, that whoso will may drink therefrom and pause to meditate on Time’s concurrent freshness, ever-passing: the ear is charmed with sounds, the winds waken the soft susurrus from the pine-forests on the heights, it wanders down the pathways of the hills to mingle with the drowsy hum of bees, and the tinkling of the goats bells, and with luscious song of hidden nightingales in pale green olive groves. The land we look upon is the same; it is man’s world therein that has changed, sadly changed. From the white mountains to the valleys, ruin calls to ruin; linger as you will in shade or sun,

his music is now unheard,—in his own land his lyre unknown.

CHAPTER XXVI.

How the Music Grew.

IN THE DAYS OF A THOUSAND YEARS.

“Most things in Greece are subjects of dispute,” so wrote Pausanias, and his word for it may be accepted freely. As it was in his day (writing in 174 A.D.) so it is in ours; learned authorities so differ on simplest points that the wayfarer asking questions has no little difficulty in deciding whom he shall heed, whose directions he should follow.

The evolution of the musical scale should be of interest even to musicians who would not make the subject a study. How step by step our diatonic scale developed, how it has become what it is gradually by slow degrees—does anybody know? Certainly. Wise men in their libraries find much; the erudition is deep and they can expound it in their own way, but it is the way for the plodding student, not intended to attract the general reader. Moreover the wise men do not agree, and the wayfarer in literature after reading many books fails to obtain the clear account which he has been seeking. Having had occasion to go into the matter of the Greek system on the historical side, I saw how confused it was, and how necessary to examine author against author, to try to arrive at some orderly assignment of steps and changes made in those distant times, and to endeavour to bring home to the mind the conception of a chain of historic facts.

Traditions embody general beliefs in stated facts, or supposed facts, and history makes record of these, giving to them more or less credence. The statements concerning the earliest developments of the Greek scale are based upon traditions, since it was not until after the lapse of many centuries that anything was written.

The recorded periods of civilization that held good in ancient chronology have many of them been displaced by the newest explorers, whose work within the last few years has been prolific in discoveries affecting calculations of the relations of time in the past. The dates I adopt will therefore have to be considered authentic only so far as the learned choose to agree concerning them.

Old historians stated that Athens was founded in 1556 B.C. by Cecrops, who led a colony from Sais, in Egypt, and established the kingdom of Athens. Neith, or Nit, was the deity of Sais, her name also was Minerva, the patron goddess of Athens. In less than fifty years after, Danaus, who was accounted a brother of Amenhotep III. (by some Egyptologists called Amunoph) left Egypt 1400 B.C. and founded Argos, of which he became king, and died 1425 B.C.

These are highly important dates in the perspective of history. Egypt, through the wars of Thotmes III. and the later expeditions of the Amenhotep Pharaohs, had been raised to the height of empire; Mesopotamia and Syria had been brought under her rule and her armies were constantly traversing and retraversing that extensive region tributary to her (known now by us as Asia Minor), reaching along that coast of the Mediterranean and even to Cyprus, Crete and other isles.

By a few touches of history and a chain of dates, it may be possible to bring before you life as it was, to excite your imagination to realise in a broad view the state of the then known world, when in all that vast territory, the high civilization to which Egypt had attained could not have failed to influence the daily lives of those myriads of peoples, busy with their tradings, and little ambitions, and religions, and domestic wants, and pleasures. It was a very composite population, tribes, clans and races, or by whatever names we class them, full of jealousies and antagonisms, only held in abeyance from fighting by the prospect of greater gain by trading with one another.

The musical instincts of the whole of these peoples probably followed one channel common to all, their music differing but little from what we call “folk-song”; and even varieties of language need not have raised barriers in musical feeling, as the instance of the Song of Linus referred to by Herodotus (see pages 63-4 ante) clearly shews.

The truth is that the founders of Athens, and Argos, and other great cities, were leaders of bands of military adventurers, and these when they left Egypt took with them the common popular music such as themselves and their families had been accustomed to, they had no need or use for any other; we should not expect of them that they would represent the musical culture of the motherland, already so highly developed. Hence the simple tetrachord of ages past, produced upon their reed pipes, satisfied them for all that they sought, it was their system of music, and had not been extended. In the early state of the music of the Greeks there had been a double influence, the Egyptian influence, and the older Asiatic influence, both as I imagine proceeding from the same Mesopotamian source in a remote age.

We have to remember that there was a prehistoric Greece and an older Mycenœan Greece. Of Athens, we should say “the refounding,” for there had been five “Athens,” each city built upon the ruins of a former one. “Athens,” says Mr. H. R. Hall in his book, “The oldest civilization of Greece, has existed as an inhabited place from the earliest post-neolithic times, perhaps before 2500 B.C. to the present day,” a fact that may be very usefully recognised, it bears with it an important value, reminding us that an immigrant people almost invariably displaces earlier peoples, or absorbs them. Might ruled then, as now.

In the realms of myth and legend the chief progenitors of music appear; Pan and Apollo, Mercury, Athene, and others; then tradition brings forward many names of poet-musicians who, it cannot be doubted, veritably existed in the flesh. Certain dates do not seem to be questioned, although they are prior to the Trojan War, which is supposed to have taken place between the periods 1500 and 1200 B.C. Homer himself being given a date about 900 B.C. In musical history as generally found, little is noted before Terpander 700-650 B.C., and it is assumed that up to his time only a four-stringed lyre had been in use by the Greeks; it is as if there had been averred a stagnation in music for many centuries.

A closer investigation, however, must cause a revision of such a conclusion, and I repeat, it may well be that we should think of Greek music as having had two courses of usage, running parallel, even as in our own history. These are not as opposed but as distinct, the temple or academic music very strictly conservative, and the popular music with its mingled Asiatic influences, inherited, and untrammelled by priests or philosophers. Very naturally it would come to pass that literature occupied itself with the orthodox and academic views and systems of music, even as by learned musicians our ecclesiastical music has been regarded with almost exclusive attention, whilst the old English songs and ballads have, as it were, existed upon sufferance, kept in being by popular feeling and tradition.

If this twofold strain in the origin of Greek music is borne in mind I believe it will solve many difficulties that constantly trouble enquiry, and will reconcile conflicting accounts given by different authorities, for there is very much that is vague even in the originals, and various translators have but added to the confusion, because they in default of understanding the subject, too often became dogmatic upon guesswork.

Tradition comes upon fairly solid ground with Hyagnis about 1506 B.C. and Marsyas his son, and Olympus the elder, his pupils. Musæus the Athenian, 1426 B.C. was taught by Orpheus and was chief of the Elusian mysteries instituted in Greece in honour of Ceres; his hymns were used in the celebrations. Orpheus also taught Thamyris, and Linus, who taught Hercules, and Amphion, and so on. Then there was Thaletes, the poet-musician mentioned by Strabo, whose old pæans Pythagoras loved to sing; he lived about 300 years after the Trojan War. Other names might be recalled but these suffice to shew that amongst the people of the various Greek States the art of music never at any time was without honour and esteem.

The musical system of the Tetrachord having become known to us through the writings of certain Greek philosophers, fragments of which had been preserved by authors of later centuries, has therefore been assigned to the Greeks, and the development of this musical system has been recorded only in their language, yet the origin of it has undoubtedly to be placed long before the time of the Greeks. Possibly with good reason it might be claimed for the primitive Akkadian, as found by him in the finger holes of the simple reed-pipe.

Although there is clear evidence of the early existence of the tetrachord in pipes, the attention of philosophers has always been given to string instruments, pipes having had no share in their regard, possibly because the playing of pipes was a professional art in which good training was necessary, whereas any philosopher could twang strings and discourse upon laws and proportions.

The lyre of Mercury, so tradition asserts, had three strings only, tuned as

e——a——e,    or,    e——b——e,

thus comprising fourth, fifth and octaves according to our terminology, though doubtless the god was ignorant of such things. Emerging from the mists of fable we arrive at traces of a period at which it is said the octave became disused, and nothing remained but the fourth in its rudimentary condition, divided next into two steps, and after that separated in three divisions resulting in an interval comprising two tones and a lesser tone, or two steps and a half, so that the whole is marked by four sounds; this series was then undesignated, but after a time a stage was arrived at when it was designated, and known thereafter by the word “tetra” signifying “four” and the inclusive system was called a tetrachord, and therefore the commencement of the evolution of a musical scale.

The ending of the word in “chord,” has given rise to the notion of a chord as of harmony, and again of cords as another name for the strings. But these are misconceptions, the meaning of “tetrachord” is, a series of four sounds, in an order of succession so that the extreme sounds comprise a fourth. The terms fourth, and fifth, and octave, are quite artificial, are signs founded on vision or the counting of the strings of the lyre; the fourth in music is not a fourth part of anything, is not a fourth part or proportion of the octave, it was called by the Greeks “diatessaron,”—right through or over, four.

One most ancient form may be represented thus, considering the extreme sounds to embrace the interval,—

e  ^‿  f——a

it was the initiatory stage afterwards completed as,—

e  ^‿  f——g——a

only that it should be read from right to left, because with the Greeks the reading was from the high note downwards thus—

a——g——f  ^‿  e

to us occularly confusing, yet it was the way of Greek thought.

(The sign —— indicates whole tone, and  ^‿  semitone).

The man’s voice was the guide, and from time immemorial the a has been the standard of pitch, by ruling of the ear.

(The A below middle C, top line, bass clef).

From father to son, from teacher to scholar the tradition of pitch was carried on. The string affected by heat and moisture and by the strain when twanged, never remains accurately to pitch. Although pipes and strings have run a parallel course, we do not find that the lyre players actually cared to refer to pipes as guiding them in setting the pitch. Yet it was the custom, so Plutarch tells us, for reciters and orators to have a pitch pipe sounded by an attendant to keep their voices to a prescribed pitch, and he mentions an ivory pipe being used for the practice. On the contrary it would seem that from the earliest times lyrists of all sorts, and players on stringed instruments of every nation, even up to the present day have found the habit of the ear sufficient for the purposes of their art, that indeed to the soloist, the musical ear relies upon itself for tuning.

By the Greeks music as an art was regarded as an aid to regulate by rule the inflections of the voice, to mark the places of emphasis and to define the pauses in the recitation of their epic poetry; and the rhythm of their songs followed strictly laws that had been laid down, innovation was reprehended, and even prohibited. The lyre itself was held subordinate to the voice, accompanying it and filling in the pauses according to a conventional fashion, which the hearers judged, critically and keenly.

We import our modern ways of speech upon musical subjects into the considerations of these matters, and necessarily so, but it is essential to a right apprehension to remember that the Greeks had no way of naming the sounds except by certain names given by them to the strings of the lyre, thus the forefinger string was called “lichanos” and the others had their distinctive appellations. They had no sense of a tonic as we have, no system of harmony, no musical stave, no use of letters, a, b, c, etc., to denote their music. In late times they devised a kind of letter-note method, curiously crude yet elaborate, of letters standing upside down, letters lying on the side, letters mutilated and signs for instrumental sounds different from those for the sounds of the voice, altogether 1,062 varied characters are stated as used, and this knowledge of their written music was by the merest accident preserved to us in a solitary manuscript, by Alypius, 115 A.D.

The only date known in the life of Terpander was the year when he gained the prize in the competition for singing, B.C. 676, at the Pythian games; some say that he also won at four festivals in succession. He may have been known to that Demaratus, mentioned page 68 ante, as the date connects them as contemporary. Some time later than this victory he is credited with having increased the number of strings from four to seven, but statements upon this question are very conflicting. Helmholtz says that he added but one string to the Cithara of six strings.

According to some ancient writers Chorebus, son of Altis, King of Lydia, he it was who commenced innovation by adding a fifth string. Hyagnis, who in the sixteenth century B.C. invented the Phrygian mode, added a sixth string; Terpander a seventh, and Lychasos an eighth; but Pliny says, Terpander added three strings to the orthodox four, that Simonides added an eighth and Timotheus a ninth. Anacreon as before stated had ten strings, and Timotheus increased the seven strings of the Spartan lyre to eleven. Pythagoras, by equal authority, was the reputed father of the eight-stringed lyre.

Through the maze of such traditions (and other statements I could quote, increasing the intricacy for the benefit of research) I have had to make my way, and decide as best I could, upon a line of connected record.

So, pending an alternative view to be offered presently, I elect to follow Pliny and allow to Terpander the claim to the increase of the scale of the tetrachord by a trichord above a, the highest sound of the four-stringed lyre.

Our scale system is based on a tonic sound, and we read upward, but the Greeks in their music thought downwards, and by the laws, the tonic was, in the structure of tetrachords, barred out, for the a was the master tone, and between it and g no semitone was allowed, though what necessity existed for this essential feature of the formation, no explanation is apparent.

The three sounds above this formed with the a another tetrachord, conjunct, as it was termed.

Continuing to plot out the scale on a vertical plan would not be of any advantage. The habit of the eye would perhaps require a diagonal line of ascent; I think, however, that showing the growth of the scale on a level line will best suit our general convenience.

This then let us call the Terpander scheme for the scale to which the seven-stringed lyre or Cithara was tuned. As we shall see, this became the classical lyre of Apollo, throughout the glorious period of Greek Art.

The a I have marked with a star. It was called the mese or middle-note, was considered the master-note of the lyre, and was compared to the sun as being the centre of the musical system. The original names of the strings of the four string lyre are lost, but it is quite obvious that until the extra three strings were introduced there could have been no mese or middle string, so that the name originated with this condition, with this perfecting of the system.

Before systems exists methods and rules have sway; and out of these methods and rules systems are constituted. The great poet-musicians renowned in the land, in teaching their successors in art according to their own practical experiences, and teaching viva voce, no doubt insisted upon the observance of certain methods, and laid down rules which on their authority as chief masters, became the traditions of the profession.

The great repute of Terpander would have caused him to be regarded as one who spoke with authority, and I have sometimes thought that discrepancies in the accounts given by different authors, who wrote many centuries after the time of this musician, and from whom alone we have any knowledge of the doings in such early period, might be reconciled by the surmise that perhaps it was Terpander who first showed how the two tetrachords should be disposed and the tuning of the enlarged series of strings be regulated in the best way for the art of music, so that instead of being left to the caprice of different teachings, an uniform method should prevail. Some one in authority by his recognised supreme skill, would have been necessary to reduce to order the practices of the day as taught by the wandering minstrels in the land of Greece, and in the numerous settlements in Asia Minor, and it seems reasonable to suppose that Terpander may have been the first to formulate definite laws for the structure of the tetrachord in Greek music.

Very binding indeed were these laws, and they have exercised an important, indeed, an imperishable influence upon the musical art in all the centuries that have followed.

The methods of the great master-players of the cithara were in course of time resolved into forms, very simple they were and very definite. These are the laws of the tetrachord:—

1—between the two extremes of the strings of the four-stringed lyre there shall be a consonance in sound called a diatessaron.

2—between the string the highest in pitch and the string next to it lower in pitch there shall be a separation in the sounds equal to not less than one full tone.

3—between the third string (reckoning from the highest) and the fourth string there shall always be a separation in pitch equal to one hemitone.

There remained therefore the neutral ground between the second and the third string—equal to a tone—but variable, according to the selection of a maximum beyond the “not less than a full tone” affirmed by law 2; there might be two full tones in succession, or the upper might be increased at the expense of the lower, or on the contrary the lower might part with some of its own fulness to increase the hemitone.

We should not imagine a written law at that early time ruling the craft, the oral tradition would be sufficient.

Giving an account of the growth of the scale, I have put the matter in my own way, in words, that as I think, will best fix the attention of the general reader. Evidently for many centuries the orthodox Greek lyre was restricted to four strings, notwithstanding the popular adoption from time to time of an increased number of strings according to the prevalence of Asiatic influences.

A time however came when authority accepted an increase to seven strings. Whether Terpander, or Archilocus, or Tyrtæus, or other poet-musicians got the innovation accepted is a question that will remain unsolved; hearsay or history favours Terpander. Terpander let it be.

Olympus, who was a Phrygian, and—about 630 B.C., brought asiatic flute music into Greece,—changed this as follows, and obtained the octave on the seven strings.

Notice particularly the interval b  ^‿  ——d as it plays an important part in the history of music. It was a flute-pipe interval, older than Terpander. Olympus was the first to introduce the disjunct form, and from b to e he compasses a tetrachord.

Olympus was a contemporary of Terpander, and we may consider that the two scales were in favour at the same time, one as the orthodox and the other as the secular system.

Pythagoras about 530 B.C., added an eighth string, and it is evident that the string he introduced was that of the missing c, since, as to extent, the octave already existed on the lyre.

Therefore two complete tetrachords, but disjunct. It is plainly to be seen that he wanted a fifth to the f, to make his scheme of fifths perfect. It was a marked advance. The doings of Pythagoras with the monochord though of great interest, need not be told here, as they belong to another branch of investigation, to be treated subsequently.

Ion of Chios, about 430 B.C., enlarged the scale of the lyre to ten sounds, and was the author of the Conjunct or Lesser System complete. It consisted of three tetrachords conjoined and one note added, to complete the octave below, from mese the middle note a. Greek names would bewilder, and it will be the best plan to keep to the method of distinguishing the notes by letters.

Notice the return to the Terpander scale with the b flat. I have seen the addition of the three notes below e attributed to Terpander, but considering the period the statement is not convincing. The eleven notes here given may possibly be those of the Lesbian lyre of Timotheus the celebrated poet-musician who according to Pausanias excited the Spartan censure (mentioned page 312 ante), by his eleven strings. The low a first seen in the system was called the proslambanomenos, meaning a note taken into the scale to complete the octave.

This was the state at which after two hundred years the Greek scale had arrived. After Ion there came a period of controversy.

Archytas, 400 B.C., challenged the Pythagorean third, which was extremely sharp, and he was the first to shew that c——e should bear the ratio 5/4.

Aristoxenus 350-320 B.C., a pupil of Aristotle, disavowed the whole Pythagorean scheme, and the philosophers ranged themselves in two opposing schools, the Pythagoreans who determined intervals by proportional numbers, and the Aristoxenians who relied upon the judgment of the ear.

Somewhere in the period embraced by the lives of Ion and Aristoxenus, for it was a period of high intellectual activity with the Greeks (Sophocles, Pericles, Plato, Aristotle and other famous men were living), somewhere we have to place the Disjunct, or Greater System Complete. It consists of fifteen notes,—

then there was an alternative arrangement ultimately admitted, making conjunction at a_*, allowing b flat instead of b, causing that tetrachord to end on d, and placing the tone of disjunction between the d and e. Very noticeable this as shewing how popular feeling hankered after the old way of Terpander. This later arrangement of the Greek scale, comprising the two octaves, comes to us from Euclid’s reputed treatise on Music, now attributed to Cleonidas, writing about 120 A.D.

Thus was the scale completed. The order of the growth of the scale is shewn by the figures, 1, 2, 3, 4 over the several tetrachords.

CHAPTER XXVII.

At Alexandria.

THE FINAL SETTLEMENT OF THE SCALE.

The structure of the Scale so far as was necessary for the development of the Greek modes was comprised in The Disjunct or Greater System Complete; yet at various times the extent of the diatonic scale by degrees was increased, tetrachord was added to tetrachord until in the days of Plato its compass was stated to have been made to comprehend four octaves, a fifth, and a tone.

Archytas and Aristoxenus were both of Tarentum, a noted Greek colony in Southern Italy, founded by Sparta about 705 B.C. Archytas was a contemporary of Plato (b 429 d 347). The period was one of artistic luxury, the Parthenon had been completed, and Greece had her golden age of Art, Science, and Philosophy. Here Praxiteles, the great sculptor, second only to Phidias, comes upon the scene, and we may with confidence accept his design of Apollo’s Lyre as a true representation of the instrument as it existed in his day, and, it may be assumed as used in Apollo’s Temple, and by the master-musicians. The date of this sculptor has not been ascertained precisely, Prof. E. A. Gardner gives in a guarded way 400 B.C.

Aristoxenus was a musician, the son of a musician, he came at a time when great mathematicians were engaged in battle over fine distinctions in Pythagorean systems, to them of superlative interest and importance. Aristoxenus opposed the Pythagoreans and held that “it was absurd to aim at an artificial accuracy in gratifying the ear beyond its own power of distinction,” a decision very natural, coming from a musician. He was a great writer and theorist, wrote it was said more than four hundred treatises, all of which have been lost except three on “Harmonic Elements,” and this is the oldest musical work at present known.

In those years from Archytas to Aristoxenus the evolution of Greek music had passed from the poet-musicians, the real masters of the lyre, into the hands of philosophers and disputants, men learned in all the subtleties of Pythagorean lore, who busied themselves with recondite demonstrations of the proportions of numbers, and applied them to the theoretical division of the octave, to an extent which transcended altogether the range of the practical art of the cithara players, nevertheless the labour was not wholly lost, since it went to the strengthening of the foundations of the science of music.

A new era had arrived, Greece lost her position and became a dependency in the Macedonian empire. The centre of Greek life and thought had been transferred to Alexandria, and here at the great library which had been founded B.C. 332 by Alexander the Great, Eratosthenes was librarian, and his name figures largely in the mathematics of Music. His lifetime extended from 276 to 196 B.C.

Two other Alexandrians complete the record so far as the present simple treatment of the development of the scale is concerned. They lived within the Christian era.

Didymus, A.D. 60, introduced the minor tone into the scale, and consequently the practical major third. He demonstrated the lesser or minor tone to be necessary to the right division of fourths and fifths.

Claudius Ptolemy, A.D. 130, accepted the scheme, but altered the arrangement of the tones.

Didymus and Claudius Ptolemy, the two latest philosophers who sought to perfect the diatonic scale, achieved highly important results by simple means; whereas the octochord as left by Pythagoras, comprised but two kinds of divisions, the tone and the hemitone (not exactly half a tone, it was the overplus after the measurement of the two whole tones in the tetrachord)—and these, taking C as the starting point for our convenience, may be represented thus:—

this was constructed from a series of fifths.

Didymus shewed that the stricter mathematical division (not by fifths) required a lesser or minor tone in place of one major, and the amount of decrease went to increase the hemitone to a semitone, thus:—

Claudius Ptolemy seventy years later altered this, transposing the minor tone to the second place,—

as he left the diatonic octave scale, so it remains, practically the same in the teachings of the theorists since: some scholiasts have thought that preferably the minor tone should be placed between A and B, transferring the major tone between G and A.

This distinguished astronomer and mathematician Ptolemy, like Pythagoras, was the child of his time, given to much fanciful speculation and mysticism, finding music analogies in the virtues, and the sciences, in the parts of the human soul, and in the zodiac. He wrote largely, and completed the foundations upon which European music had been constructed, yet he had no conception of the structure that would be raised by coming generations. The Greeks had in their scale the elements of harmony yet they fell short of the realization, and it must ever be a wonder that, intellectual as they were, they missed it. Evolution was the destined way,—but it is so slow—so slow.

Except to the chosen few these questions of the scales fail to maintain their interest, however fascinating such studies of the calculation of theoretical niceties of numbers and ratios undoubtedly are to some minds, gifted with an aptitude for figures, yet with the general body of musicians a broad survey tells that old formalisms in study are fast becoming obsolete. The advance of the System of Equal Temperament in these later years throughout the two worlds will render necessary a reconcilement between theory and practice, now widely at variance.

Historically the settlement of scale had its importance, although it came too late in time to be for the Greeks an effective force in their national music. The glory of Greece was fast departing, century after century in the course we have looked upon during our survey, empires had risen, empires had fallen, and in the disrupted state of social conditions, chaos often came, the Greek race itself was worn down and ultimately became absorbed amongst strangers, conquering races, and in the end we have to speak of her Art as Greco-Roman. Out of all these world changes we have isolated Music. To apprehend aright the slow march along the path of progress, we should now and then lift our thoughts to take account of the atmosphere and glance at the environment.

The final scale was the triumph of the mathematicians, they gained their ideal. Beyond this, however, nothing was accomplished,—nothing for actual Music. Harmony was not discovered, no great composer arose, certain lyrists and auloi-players we know of, whose deeds excited enthusiasm, but in what kind of display their art consisted no evidence exists, beyond the music to a few hymns, the melodic phrases of which do not commend themselves to us as examples of musical genius or talent. The irresistible charms exercised by the citharists upon the multitudes assembled to hear them, whether they sang by rule or improvised their melodies must be attributable in the main to the character of the singer’s voice, combined with the purport of the words sung. When with the modern knowledge of musical instruments we examine the nature of those which they had in their command, we have every reason to doubt the practical application of those fine distinctions of the pitches of the musical notes insisted upon by their learned theorists. The instruments simply could not give them, the exactness was beyond their staying and playing powers. The strings of a lyre had not the delicate permanence of pitch requisite for such claims, and certainly the flutes could not have rendered intervals so accurate. To set the intervals by bridges on the Kanon or monochords, by patient adjustment to marked divisions, was quite another matter, a mental recreation.

The trophy secured in the long march of music the thousand upon thousand years is the simple diatonic scale of five major tones and two semitones,—that is all. Up to the setting in of the Christian era that was the utmost attainment of the human race in the art of music, two formal tetrachords with a disjunct tone between; and if you will think of it this one fact has a mighty significance. What instinct of the race brought out this particular selection and arrangement, what in-dwelling demand of the ear impelled the choice, apparently from earliest impulses, we cannot tell,—there it is—the bed-rock upon which our system of harmony is founded; and the curiosity of the thing is that other races have for ages settled down upon a pentatonic system and still manifest an inborn aversion to harmony. We adjudge tones by means of calculated vibrations, ascertained by mechanism, the Greeks made their determinations by the measuring of strings, the artist is always satisfied by the verdict of the ear.

To have established a tetrachord, and after centuries of intellectual strife to have secured a double tetrachord forming merely a simple scale of one octave, and that, the scale of A minor, may seem a small matter as a record of human history and of mental achievement. There is a saying of Aristotle which will justify a more inspiriting estimate,—the philosopher wrote,—