COMMON-PLACE BOOK,-No. 1. Gentle reader, or simple reader, or reader gentle or simple; or kind reader, or good reader, or i'faith, plain reader, that's if we have any reader at all, at the very verge of our first number; we would intreat your patience some little time longer, though doubtless it must have been grievously exercised in the skimming of the preceding pages. You must know, then, that we are not a little vain of our first sin in literature, and that therefore, we do intend to sin, like Braham, "deeper and deeper still." The natural result of which will be the production of a fresh cargo of printing, under the denomination of the KALEIDOSCOPE, every fortnight," till further notice," as play bills do say. Now, the immediate consequence of this resolution will be, that we shall have a great host of contributors, who will transmit their communications in such direful shoals, that it will be a moral impossibility to insert them all within our modicum of pages. Compassionating, therefore, the future miseries of our embryo correspondents, should their contributions be disabled from figuring as articles; we intend reserving a snug corner for short pieces, and very long pieces; that is, pieces of which only extracts can be published; and this corner we shall denominate our " Common-place Book," though, gentle reader, we are far from insinuating that its contents will be common place. Moreover, we do not merely propose, under this head, to insert our correspondents' lucubrations, but also, at divers times, to take the opportunity of having a little private chat with our very good friend the reader; thereby letting him into a little of our secret thoughts and opinions, and sometimes asking his advice, which we shall always suppose to be received, and to tally precisely with our own wishes. Now, gentle reader, you are, or you were, or you should have been very much afflicted when the "Magazine" ceased to pour forth its inter-hebdominal stream of literature, inasmuch, as if you were not grieved at its death, you will not joy at our birth Therefore, supposing that you are in duty bound, much cast down on the one account, you must as a sequitur, be much elated on the other. E consequentia, as logicians do say, we shall become very good friends when more acquainted, And now, reader, we have prosed long enough, perhaps too long for your patience; and therefore will merely settle accounts with two or three contributors who have even already favoured us with a communication, and shall then remain your most obsequious servant, &c., &c. First, "Francis Russel," shows his mirthful face. Voice insufficient to speak our thanks,-pen would be worn out in writing them, &c. Hope for more communications with "our dearly beloved" Francis. The "Account of the D- Society," is deferred till No. II., for reasons which must be obvious to its talented author; from whom we hope to have further contributions, seeing that they will be always most acceptable. "Z's" ""Advertisement," is exceedingly political. We were even afraid that we could not insert it, but, after a little reflection and re-lection we discovered, with one or two passages excepted, (which we hope "Z" will excuse us for altering,) that it need not refer to events subsequent to 50 years, and therefore, might be even received by our much-cherished "Eton Society." But, "O yez! O yez! O yez! We do hereby give notice, that from and after this time, till the end of eternity, or the Kaleido scope, (terms meant to be synonymous,) no politics or political papers, expressions, or, if possible, allusions, shall appear within the pages of this the aforesaid Kaleidoscope. God save the King.” Received a little communication from "X," which we do not dislike.-Voila. Adieu! and when I'm gone, then think Of when I still was here. What? though I stand on danger's brink Ah no! my heart will speak for me, Battles before we meet again Will mix me in their strife, But midst the fight, the throng of men, All else were nothing, thou alone Art all in all, my sweet, my own, That one soft word whose accent cheers Adieu! my country calls me forth, There is no other voice on earth That bids me hence away, The which one moment I could hear Which you my love with starting tear But love may not with patriots dwell- And now success to No. I., with three times three (editions)! ED. KALEIDoscope. THE KALEIDOSCOPE. No. II. Monday, February 11th, 1833. KNOWLEDGE AND ACCOMPLISHMENTS. THERE is a vast deal of difference between being a clever and an accomplished man; a deep-read scholar, and a gentleman of superficial knowledge. Not that by any means the one character is at all incompatible with the other; for, the man of accomplishments may easily become a man of learning, the man of learning may likewise be accomplished. With such like exceptions we have nothing to do, but merely to state, as a fact which will be pretty generally admitted, that knowledge and accomplishments, are, at any rate in their effect, "far as the poles asunder." This very glaring and allowed difference in effect, must necessarily proceed from some original cause; and accordingly, we find knowledge to be essentially different from accomplishments, in the common and received meaning of these several terms. Knowledge, more accurately distinguished as useful knowledge, (which is in itself an oblique hint against F accomplishments,) consists in knowing those things which the poor plodding race of men consider as necessary and useful to be known: such as Latin and Greek, Mathematics, a grammatical knowledge of foreign living languages, history, ancient and modern, the extensive range of modern philosophy, physics, political economy, &c., &c., &c.; things totally neglected by the moderns, i. e. the scions of modern fashion: they scout them all, and argue their inutility, while they rail at them "in good set terms:"-" Latin and Greek," they say, "are good enough for musty old fellows, that quarrel about jots and tittles, but they are no good to such as us. If we were to accost Lady C, with an "Intermissa Venus diù," or the Hon. Miss A- with some fine speech of Æneas to Dido; or Miss L, with an address from the Iliad, they would scream out horrifyingly, and swear we meant to kill them with "a concord of harsh sounds." Then, as for mathematics: to think of those six books, the very antipodes to a point, they are all "parts and magnitude." Then as for grammar, or history, or philosophy, or I don't know what, there's no earthly use in them to men like us, with our *thousand a-year in our pockets." But in spite of this tirade, the real truth lies safe at the bottom of the well, and comes up with the last bucket. "Besides, you know, it's such a bore!" These are the persons who have exiled true knowledge from fashionable life, and introduced in its place, a shadow, a phantom, a false kind of knowledge, which they have designated by the very specious name of-accomplishments. *This has been purposely left blank, that the excuser may fill it up, ad arbitrium. |