a sense of unread symbols
in the world about them, questioning the finality of scholastic wisdom.
Through all the ages of history there were men to whom this whisper had
come of hidden things about them. They could no longer lead ordinary
lives nor content themselves with the common things of this world once
they had heard this voice. And mostly they believed not only that all
this world was as it were a painted curtain before things unguessed at,
but that these secrets were Power. Hitherto Power had come to men by
chance, but now there were these seekers seeking, seeking among rare and
curious and perplexing objects, sometimes finding some odd utilisable
thing, sometimes deceiving themselves with fancied discovery, sometimes
pretending to find. The world of every day laughed at these eccentric
beings, or found them annoying and ill-treated them, or was seized
with fear and made saints and sorcerers and warlocks of them, or with
covetousness and entertained them hopefully; but for the greater part
heeded them not at all. Yet they were of the blood of him who had first
dreamt of attacking the mammoth; every one of them was of his blood and
descent; and the thing they sought, all unwittingly, was the snare that
will some day catch the sun.

Section 3

Such a man was that Leonardo da Vinci, who went about the court of
Sforza in Milan in a state of dignified abstraction. His common-place
books are full of prophetic subtlety and ingenious anticipations of
the methods of the early aviators. Durer was his parallel and Roger
Bacon--whom the Franciscans silenced--of his kindred. Such a man again
in an earlier city was Hero of Alexandria, who knew of the power of
steam nineteen hundred years before it was first brought into use.
And earlier still was Archimedes of Syracuse, and still earlier the
legendary Daedalus of Cnossos. All up and down the record of history
whenever there was a little leisure from war and brutality the seekers
appeared. And half the alchemists were of their tribe.

When Roger Bacon blew up his first batch of gunpowder one might have
supposed that men would have gone at once to the explosive engine. But
they could see nothing of the sort. They were not yet beginning to think
of seeing things; their metallurgy was all too poor to make such
engines even had they thought of them. For a time they could not make
instruments sound enough to stand this new force even for so rough a
purpose as hurling a missile.