new-born mind seemed to be only a servant of life, a contrivance to help life
to live, a machinery for its maintenance, for attack and defence, for certain
needs and vital satisfactions, for the liberation of life-instinct and life-
impulse. It could not have seemed possible to him that in this little life, so
inconspicuous amid the immensities, in one sole species out of this petty
multitude, a mental being would emerge, a mind serving life still but also
making life and matter its servants, using them for the fulfilment of its own
ideas, will, wishes, — a mental being who would create all manner of
utensils, tools, instruments out of Matter for all kinds of utilities, erect out
of it cities, houses, temples, theatres, laboratories, factories, chisel from it
statues and carve cave-cathedrals, invent architecture, sculpture, painting,
poetry and a hundred crafts and arts, discover the mathematics and physics
of the universe and the hidden secret of its structure, live for the sake of
mind and its interests, for thought and knowledge, develop into the thinker,
the philosopher and scientist and, as a supreme defiance to the reign of
Matter, awake in himself to the hidden Godhead, become the hunter after
the invisible, the mystic and the spiritual seeker.
But if after several ages or cycles the Witness had looked again and seen
this miracle in full process, even then perhaps, obscured by his original
experience of the sole reality of Matter in the universe, he would still not
have understood; it would still seem impossible to him that the hidden Spirit
could wholly emerge, complete in its consciousness, and dwell upon the
earth as the self-knower and world-knower, Nature’s ruler and possessor.
“Impossible!” he might say, “all that has happened is nothing much, a little
bubbling of sensitive grey stuff of brain, a queer freak in a bit of inanimate
Matter moving about on a small dot in the Universe.” On the contrary, a
new Witness intervening at the end of the story, informed of the past
developments but unobsessed by the deception of the beginning, might cry
out, “Ah, then, this was the intended miracle, the last of many, — the Spirit
that was submerged in the Inconscience has broken out from it and now
inhabits, unveiled, the form of things which, veiled, it had created as its
dwelling-place and the scene of its emergence.” But in fact a more
conscious Witness might have discovered the clue at an early period of the
unfolding, even in each step of its process; for at each stage Nature’s mute
secrecy, though still there, diminishes; a hint is given of the next step, a
more overtly significant preparation is visible. Already, in what seems to be
inconscient in Life, the signs of sensation coming towards the surface are