In April, 1818, London was surprised by the sudden appearance of an
optical instrument for creating and exhibiting beautiful forms, which
derives its name from καλος _beautiful_, ειδος _a form_, and σκοπεω _to
see_. The novelty was so enchanting, that opticians could not
manufacture kaleidoscopes fast enough, to meet the universal desire for
seeing the delightful and ever-varying combinations, presented by each
turn of the magical cylinder.
The kaleidoscope was invented by Dr. Brewster, to whom, had its
exclusive formation been ensured, it must have produced a handsome
fortune in the course of a single year. Unhappily, that gentleman was
deprived of his just reward by fraudful anticipation.[91] He says, “I
thought it advisable to secure the exclusive property of it by a patent;
but in consequence of one of the patent instruments having been
exhibited to one of the London opticians, the remarkable properties of
the kaleidoscope became known before any number of them could be
prepared for sale. The sensation excited in London by this premature
exhibition of its effects is incapable of description, and can be
conceived only by those who witnessed it. It may be sufficient to
remark, that, according to the computation of those who were best able
to form an opinion on the subject, no fewer than two hundred thousand
instruments have been sold in London and Paris during three months.”
_The Kaleidoscope._
Mystic trifle, whose perfection
Lies in multiplied reflection,
Let us from thy sparkling store
Draw a few reflections more:
In thy magic circle rise
All things men so dearly prize,
Stars, and crowns, and glitt’ring things,
Such as grace the courts of kings;
Beauteous figures ever twining,--
Gems with brilliant lustre shining;
Turn the tube;--how quick they pass--
Crowns and stars prove broken glass!
Trifle! let us from thy store
Draw a few reflections more;
Who could from thy outward case
Half thy hidden beauties trace?
Who from such exterior show
Guess the gems within that glow?
Emblem of the mind divine
Cased within its mortal shrine!
Once again--the miser views
Thy sparkling gems--thy golden hues--
And, ignorant of thy beauty’s cause,
His own conclusions sordid draws;
Imagines thee a casket fair
Of gorgeous jewels rich and rare;--
Impatient his insatiate soul
To be the owner of the whole,
He breaks thee ope, and views within
Some bits of glass--a tube of tin!
Such are riches, valued true--
Such the illusions men pursue!