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.
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