Beethoven, so it is expressed, invented it. But it is just as correct to say--in Einstein's words--"he became aware of what was already formed"--that is, he "discovered" the fundamental theme, and afterwards "proved it" in terms of musical logic unheard-of beauty in a methodical elaboration. We may, indeed, go further still. This _motif_ of four tones was not only extant as an abstractum, as a possible mathematical arrangement, but also as something natural. Czerny, a pupil of Beethoven, to whom the master confided many a remark about the origin of his compositions, reports that a bird, the yellow-hammer, had sung this theme to Beethoven in the woods. But neither the bird nor any other living creature had invented it; rather what could not be created, because it had always been in existence, became objectified in the medium of sound. Beethoven found it; it was _res nullius_ when he found it and when he discovered simultaneously with the succession of tones that they were appropriate for a powerful musical representation of sombre Destiny. Every theme, be it of Beethoven, Bach, Wagner, or anyone else, may be represented graphically by a curve (in the case of Bach's fugal themes this has, in fact, been done for special purposes), and just as it is certain that every elliptic-arc existed before all geometry, so it may be affirmed with equal certainty that everything musical was in existence before the advent of composition, and was merely waiting for a discoverer whom we designate the inventor, the creative organ. But may not some of this glory be reflected on to scientific discovery? When we are in an ecstasy of admiration, we talk of a creative act as of something divine; may we not also grant to the scientist this tribute which, owing to a slight confusion of conceptions, we shower on the artists? And I believe that Einstein's definition does not set up an insuperable barrier in this respect to our admiration, which exerts every effort to pass beyond, refuses to come to a standstill before the rigid fact that the discoverer reveals only what is preformed; our emotions prove to be stronger than our minds with their objective valuation. In the last instance, we opine, the scientific discoverer, too, creates something new, namely, a piece of knowledge that was previously not in existence. And we obey the impulse of hero-worship, when we call a definite first discoverer a creator. This silences opposition certainly only for a time, without vanquishing it. For this knowledge, too, lay ready before the first discoverer appeared: he did not create it, but merely drew back the veil that enveloped it. So that, ultimately, we get back to "intuition" in its literal sense, a becoming aware of things, an exact consideration of things, states, and relationships; and this intensive consideration, full of wonderment, has always been a privilege of a very few chosen men.