to those faculties of thought and feeling, which are made to him the ever new subjects of fresh knowledge, of unexhausted discovery-and which are more than the sacred well of Memory, the living fountains of his song? That process of the accumulation and perfecting of knowledge which, if we could behold it as it advances in the mind of imagination and feeling, would appear to us, as some beautiful growth takes place, though in forms less interesting, in every mind which collects and frames its own—that is, in every mind which ever possesses real-knowledge. The original, elementary impressions of numberless allied and corresponding objects are endlessly multiplied and diversified, the same impressions from the same objects are stamped deep and indelible by an endless repetition. Nor is only remembrance richly stored, which is ever but one part, and perhaps not the most important, certainly not the most difficult, of the mind's work in its composition of knowledge; but, whatever the matter may be on which it is employed, it trains to observation the faculties of observation, to thought the faculties of thought, which it industriously and incessantly exercises. The eye is quickened to see. Reflection becomes more prompt, more just, more acute, more extended. The last discovery suggests the next. What was understood yesterday, explains the new difficulty of to-day. The difference between the mind of genius, and that powerful in knowledge, is not altogether so great perhaps, as we are sometimes inclined to imagine.— BOTH are necessarily endowed with

much self-reflexion, much self-reliance.-BOTH seem to require an aptitude of ability, BOTH also an aptitude of desire, or attachment, for the particular subject of their application. BOTH advance and improve, in part by their own effort and purpose: in BOTH in part their progress is spontaneous and unconscious. Nature carrying on her original work, unfolding the powers she gave, and converting into the nourishment of their strength and growth, the materials their own activity has provided.

We observed a little while since that it was one inclination of error in the age, to conceive and reason of knowledge as if it consisted solely in the intelligence of relations. If it did, it might be more quickly learnt. For that intelligence is a swift act of the understanding and needs to be but little repeated to be confirmed. Besides, it would be more easily imparted. For relations, for the most part, are definite, and admit of being distinctly exposed by one mind to another. But one object of our last observations has been to represent that one part, the slowest perhaps, if not the most difficult, and often difficult, of our intellectual progress is the acquisition of the original impressions, among which the relations* subsist, the familiar intimate acquainting of the mind with the matter in which they are discerned. We come slowly to know the multiplicity of objects, interminably varied in themselves, which our intelligence would infold. We come slowly to understand, to fix, and to acquire the power of recalling, as distinct subjects of conception, the affection of our

mind and of our senses, produced in intercourse with them. The ultimate ly abstracted relation, or combination of relations, which gives, or is given in, the term of Science, is quickly expressed and learnt: but the multitude of forms from which the abstraction is made, is without number: and the knowledge itself subsists not merely in this ultimate term, but in great part also in the power of the mind from it to return again upon the forms, reproducing them in itself.

We observed that it was an error to conceive of knowledge as a sort of definite possession to the mind, not as a POWER OF THOUGHT, necessarily indefinite:—and this perhaps is in some degree illustrated by what we have since said. Did it consist merely in the perception of relations, and especially of those ultimately abstracted relations of which Science constructs its severely defined propositions, we might conceive of it in one sense at least, as a definite and fixed possession. Inasmuch as in that case, we could always with certainty recall our knowledge. For the strictly defined and abstract intellectual forms, once acquired, are recalled readily and certainly. But our knowledge in two respects de parts from this character. In the first place, as those original impressions have for the most part been accompanied more or less with affections of feeling in their first reception, and what is intellectual in such impressions is not perfectly recalled, unless the feeling in some degree return with them but the power of reproducing, or recalling, feeling is necessarily a variable one. In the second place, as almost every application of knowledge, which is one important part of its strength or power, requires invention, or a variation from its past forms, or those in which it hitherto subsists in the mind, to take in the given case:but invention is a variable power. By a variable power must be understood one which, under unfavourable circumstances, languishes, and is unable to yield even its customary results, but, under favourable circumstances, is capable of rising to exertion, and yielding results, hitherto unexperienced. It must further be understood, what is very important to be here remarked, as one capable, in the same mind, out of means already possessed, of progressive indefinite improvement.

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We said further that it was a part of common error to conceive of knowledge as something limited and already completed in the world: and we believe that this error, improbable as it must appear to every one who is engaged in the real investigation of any part of Science, and who sees with daily astonishment and perplexity how much of what he aims to find, still lies before him undiscovered, is yet a very prevalent one. It is the error of beginners who imagine that in their illustrious leaders, the lights of Science, Science itself has found its consummation. Only the Sage knows, that he also is a beginner. It is the error perhaps of all but reflecting minds, how well soever they may understand the fallacy with respect to the subject of their own efforts, with respect to that of other men's. Who but the scholar is aware that the Greek tongue is not yet known to us? Who but the mathematician, of the darkness and riddles, that lie about the very grounds of his lucid, undeceiving, demonstrated Science ?-Who but the Poet, how young, perhaps, the poetry of his country yet is?-We look beyond our own minds. We see that we have not reached the term. We cannot look beyond the minds of those who immeasurably transcend us. We have found that within our own circle we follow a receding circumference. We know not that it is the same with other men. We have not the means to know it: and besides our judgment is dazzled and overcome. The art in which we have no skill appears to us all-accomplished. The knowledge for which we have no measure, has to our eye reached its bounds. The works of the human intellect bewilder, fatigue us, with their variety, their number, their splendour; and our own admiration, our own inability, become grounds to us of believing in their perfection.

We have already said something touching the supposition, that the PARTICIPATION of every one in the advancement and acquired lights of his time, stood in his actual POSSESSION of the attainments of his time: and would add a few words still. One way in which a man derives advantage from the improvement in the midst of which he lives, is, of course, in his own pursuit whatever that may be, which has received its own im

provement with others, and from them. Another is, though to what extent this may generally be of importance may be questioned,-in some particular instances it is of unlimited importance, -by acquaintance with particular truths which have become commonly diffused. Another, and this is always of consequence, is by a participation, unconscious and unsought, in the spirit of the age. But what is now described, seems of this kind, benefit enough. And no very urgent reason can be shewn, that a man, because such and such branches of knowledge have happened to be productive in his days, under the cultivation of others, should, having no other inducement, apply himself to be instructed in what they have learnt.

Of misconceptions of the unity of knowledge we have already spoken. It has, and this should have been said, in all probability, a profound unity, from oneness of design in the subject of our knowledge: which we presume unavoidably, however imperfectly it may be permitted us to trace it. We see it more and more, the more we know. There appears to be a unity in it, also, from oneness in the nature of the intellect to which it is manifested. And there are obvious connexions, as we have said, between its different parts, one assisting and throwing light upon another.

But any argument drawn, or rather unargued impression resulting from such ideas of an inherent unity in knowledge, that therefore its different parts should necessarily subsist together in one mind, seems altogether ungrounded and fallacious. We have thought we saw reason to suppose, as we have already explained, that such an impression was derived, in some degree, from a confused imagination of individuality in that mind of the race, which is only the ideal assemblage of its innumerable individual minds.

These various misconceptions, as we suppose them to be, would, if they could be admitted, be reasons for endeavouring to inculcate, and crowd in, much diversified knowledge, upon every individual mind. If they are errors, and the contrary views we have endeavoured to state be just, there will then be reason for a cautious and very different proceeding in this respect. The erroneous views we have

spoken of appear to proceed generally upon one original error. It seems to have been overlooked by those who entertain them, that the mind itself which receives knowledge is no mechanical recipient, but a living principle and power, a sentient intelligence. Its knowledge affects it with pleasure and pain, partakes in its growth, changes as itself changes, is desired and rejected, is rapid and comprehensive when IT is eager and strong, slow and partial, when IT is averse and faint. Were this duly conceived, it would be conceived also, that this mind is not exactly, in all cases to be urged and required to understand and to know, that the spirit of thought must awake in it, that whatever compulsion of acting it may be necessary to subject it to, it demands to be left much also, to its own movement and choice, that its intellectual attainments must share the individuality of its charac ter, that from all these causes, and for utility, research, exact, and hence minute, and profound, though limited in its subjects, rather than multifarious acquisition, is to be wished:that knowledge, of the first kind, is possible nearly to every one;-of the last,-in most instances, is only a usurpation of the name.

These several observations, not unconnected, we hone, though, we are much afraid, mò irregular, and less supported and followed out than they should have been, will perhaps have in some measure explained to the reader the objection we set out with making to the attempts to reduce knowledge into encyclopedic forms. The attempt to exhibit all Science IN ONE BODY, the attempt to exhibit all Science To ONE MIND, which are the two forms of the attempt to encyclopedize knowledge, include the fallacies of supposing-that knowledge or science is bounded and already completed, whereas in truth it is boundless and must remain for ever incomplete,—that it may be effectually communicated, such as it now exists, in results, independ→ ently of the particulars from which those results are drawn,-that it is a total sum, not a growing power,-that to the mind-(this should have been said before)—which receives its exuberant treasures, they are useful as absolute wealth, as an absolute light, whereas they are useful in great part

IN the first part of this Essay we passed in review the various and discordant opinions entertained by the most celebrated writers on Political Economy, respecting some of its elementary and most important doctrines. Our object, it will be recollected, was not to examine these opinions, and to determine their truth or unsoundness, except so far as this might be necessary, in order to prove our position,that a person, anxious to enter on the study of this science, would be stopt, even at the threshold of it, by vague and shifting meanings attached to words, by conflicting authority,-by loose and inconclusive reasoning,-and by finding what was advanced, frequently contradicted by facts and experience.

The first part of this Essay was confined to the definition of the most common terms employed in Political Economy, and to its theoretical doctrines: in this second part, we shall extend our examination to some of the most important and most frequently discussed practical questions, on which, if on any topic connected with this science, it might have been expected that Political Economists would have agreed.

Some kind of circulating medium has existed in almost all countries from the earliest ages; the facts relating to it must therefore be numerous; and the causes from which it derives its value, its operation, and effects, and every other circumstance connected with, or relating to it, must have exhibited themselves repeatedly, under every variety of appearance and modification. Do Political Economists give us any precise, full, and consistent information, either on the theory of money, or the practical questions regarding it?

The first difficulty on the subject is to know what is meant by money,

LACTANTIUS, Epitome Divin. Institut. what is its nature, and wherein it consists.

Some writers maintain, that money is a mere abstract idea-that, in fact, having no positive and corporeal existence, it cannot be depreciated nor acted upon by any circumstances; and that, therefore, though gold and silver coin, being in fact commodities, may alter in value, yet the real currency of a country, being an ideal and abstract thing, cannot positively undergo any alteration in value. This theory of money was entertained by several of those who wrote on the alleged depreciation of the currency, at the commencement of this century, and who, on it, rested their main argument to prove, that the currency of the country neither was, in fact, nor could possibly be, depreciated.

Other writers, and among them the celebrated Montesquieu, do not go quite so far; they maintain, however, that money is an ideal and arbitrary sign of value, which may exist under the form of gold and silver coin, or under any form that government chooses to give it: that its value and utility, as a circulating medium, rest entirely on the will of government, and not at all on the real and exchangeable value of the article of which it is constituted. On this theory, though most probably without ever having entertained it, all the governments of Europe acted, more or less, for a long period.

It did not give way till it was attacked, and its unsoundness as a theory, as well as its mischievous tendency as a practical guide, were exposed by Locke in England, by Dutot in France, and by several writers on this part of Political Economy in Italy, among whom may be classed Beccaria.

Still, however, there are advocates for this theory of money, who maintain that the value of it depends upon