A penny tract is the shoeing-horn of literature: it draws on a great
many books, and some too tight to be very useful in walking. The penny
tract quotes a celebrated writer, you long to read him; it props a
startling assertion by a grave authority, you long to refer to it.
During the nights of the past winter, Leonard's intelligence had
made vast progress: he had taught himself more than the elements of
mechanics, and put to practice the principles he had acquired, not
only in the hydraulical achievement of the fountain, nor in the still
more notable application of science, commenced on the stream in which
Jackeymo had fished for minnows, and which Lenny had diverted to the
purpose of irrigating two fields, but in various ingenious contrivances
for the facilitation or abridgment of labour, which had excited great
wonder and praise in the neighbourhood. On the other hand, those
rabid little tracts, which dealt so summarily with the destinies of
the human race, even when his growing reason, and the perusal of
works more classical or more logical, had led him to perceive that
they were illiterate, and to suspect that they jumped from premises
to conclusions with a celerity very different from the careful
ratiocination of mechanical science, had still, in the citations and
references wherewith they abounded, lured him on to philosophers more
specious and more perilous. Out of the Tinker's bag he had drawn a
translation of Condorcet's _Progress of Man_, and another of Rousseau's
_Social Contract_. These had induced him to select from the tracts in
the Tinker's miscellany those which abounded most in professions of
philanthropy, and predictions of some coming Golden Age, to which old
Saturn's was a joke--tracts so mild and mother-like in their language,
that it required a much more practical experience than Lenny's to
perceive that you would have to pass a river of blood before you had
the slightest chance of setting foot on the flowery banks on which
they invited you to repose--tracts which rouged poor Christianity on
the cheeks, clapped a crown of innocent daffodillies on her head,
and set her to dancing a _pas de zephyr_ in the pastoral ballet in
which St Simon pipes to the flock he shears; or having first laid
it down as a preliminary axiom, that
"The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself--
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,"
substituted in place thereof Monsieur Fourier's symmetrical
phalanstere, or Mr Owen's architectural parallelogram. It was with some
such tract that Lenny was seasoning his crusts and his radishes, when
Riccabocca, bending his long dark face over the student's shoulder,
said abruptly--
"_Diavolo_, my friend! What on earth have you got there? Just let me
look at it, will you?"
Leonard rose respectfully, and coloured deeply as he surrendered the
tract to Riccabocca.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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