I take it for granted that every person of education will acknowledge
some interest in the personal history of Immanuel Kant. A great man,
though in an unpopular path, must always be an object of liberal
curiosity. To suppose a reader thoroughly indifferent to Kant, is to
suppose him thoroughly unintellectual; and, therefore, though in reality
he should happen _not_ to regard him with interest, it is one of the
fictions of courtesy to presume that he does. On this principle I make
no apology to the reader for detaining him upon a short sketch of
Kant's life and domestic habits, drawn from the authentic records of his
friends and pupils. It is true, that, without any illiberality on the
part of the public in this country, the _works_ of Kant are not regarded
with the same interest which has gathered about his _name_; and this may
be attributed to three causes--first, to the language in which they are
written; secondly, to the supposed obscurity of the philosophy which
they teach, whether intrinsic or due to Kant's particular mode
of expounding it; thirdly, to the unpopularity of all speculative
philosophy, no matter how treated, in a country where the structure and
tendency of society impress upon the whole activities of the nation
a direction exclusively practical. But, whatever may be the immediate
fortunes of his writings, no man of enlightened curiosity will regard
the author himself without something of a profounder interest. Measured
by one test of power, viz., by the number of books written directly
for or against himself, to say nothing of those which he has indirectly
modified, there is no philosophic writer whatsoever, if we except
Aristotle, who can pretend to approach Kant in the extent of the
influence which he has exercised over the minds of men. Such being his
claims upon our notice, I repeat that it is no more than a reasonable
act of respect to the reader--to presume in him so much interest about
Kant as will justify a sketch of his life.
Immanuel Kant, [Footnote: By the paternal side, the family of Kant was
of Scotch derivation; and hence it is that the name was written by Kant
the father--_Cant_, that being a Scotch name, and still to be found in
Scotland. But Immanuel, though he always cherished his Scotch descent,
substituted a _K_ for a _C_, in order to adapt it better to the
analogies of the German language.] the second of six children, was born
at Königsberg, in Prussia, a city at that time containing about fifty
thousand inhabitants, on the 22d of April, 1724. His parents were people
of humble rank, and not rich even for their own station, but able (with
some assistance from a near relative, and a trifle in addition from a
gentleman, who esteemed them for their piety and domestic virtues,) to
give their son Immanuel a liberal education. He was sent when a child
to a charity school; and, in the year 1732, removed to the Royal (or
Frederician) Academy. Here he studied the Greek and Latin classics,
and formed an intimacy with one of his schoolfellows, David Ruhnken,
(afterwards so well known to scholars under his Latin name of
Ruhn-kenius,) which lasted until the death of the latter. In 1737, Kant
lost his mother, a woman of excellent character, and of accomplishments
and knowledge beyond her rank, who contributed to the future eminence
of her illustrious son by the direction which she gave to his youthful
thoughts, and by the elevated morals to which she trained him. Kant
never spoke of her to the end of his life without the utmost tenderness,
and acknowledgment of his great obligations to her maternal care. In
1740, at Michælmas, he entered the University of Königsberg. In 1746,
when about twenty-two years old, he printed his first work, upon a
question partly mathematical and partly philosophic, viz., the valuation
of living forces. The question had been first moved by Leibnitz, in
opposition to the Cartesians, and was here finally settled, after having
occupied most of the great mathematicians of Europe for more than half
a century. It was dedicated to the King of Prussia, but never reached
him--having, in fact, never been published. [Footnote: To this
circumstance we must attribute its being so little known amongst the
philosophers and mathematicians of foreign countries, and also the fact
that D'Alembert, whose philosophy was miserably below his mathematics,
many years afterwards still continued to represent the dispute as
a verbal one.] From this time until 1770, he supported himself as a
private tutor in different families, or by giving private lectures in
Königsberg, especially to military men on the art of fortification. In
1770, he was appointed to the Chair of Mathematics, which he exchanged
soon after for that of Logic and Metaphysics. On this occasion,
he delivered an inaugural disputation--[_De Mundi Sensibilis atque
Intelligibilis Forma et Principiis_]--which is remarkable for containing
the first germs of the Transcendental Philosophy. In 1781, he published
his great work, the _Critik der Reinen Vernunft,_ or _Investigation of
the Pure Reason_. On February 12, 1804, he died.
These are the great epochs of Kant's life. But his was a life remarkable
not so much for its incidents, as for the purity and philosophic dignity
of its daily tenor; and of this the best impression will be obtained
from Wasianski's account of his last years, checked and supported by
the collateral testimonies of Jachmann, Rink, Borowski, and other
biographers. We see him here struggling with the misery of decaying
faculties, and with the pain, depression, and agitation of two different
complaints, one affecting his stomach, and the other his head; over
all which the benignity and nobility of his mind are seen victoriously
eminent to the last. The principal defect of this and all other
memoirs of Kant is, that they report too little of his conversation and
opinions. And perhaps the reader will be disposed to complain, that some
of the notices are too minute and circumstantial, so as to be at one
time undignified, and at another unfeeling. As to the first objection,
it may be answered, that biographical gossip of this sort, and
ungentlemanly scrutiny into a man's private life, though not what a man
of honor would choose to write, may be read without blame; and, where a
great man is the subject, sometimes with advantage. With respect to the
other objection, I know not how to excuse Mr. Wasianski for kneeling
at the bed-side of his dying friend, to record, with the accuracy of a
short-hand reporter, the last flutter of his pulse and the struggles of
expiring nature, except by supposing that the idea of Kant, as a person
belonging to all ages, in his mind transcended and extinguished
the ordinary restraints of human sensibility, and that, under this
impression, he gave _that_ to his sense of a public duty which, it may
be hoped, he would willingly have declined on the impulse of his private
affections.
_The following paper on The Last Days of Kant, is gathered from the
German of Wasianski, Jachmann, Borowski, and others._
My knowledge of Professor Kant began long before the period to which
this little memorial of him chiefly refers. In the year 1773, or 1774,
I cannot exactly remember which, I attended his lectures. Afterwards, I
acted as his amanuensis; and in that office was naturally brought into
a closer connection with him than any other of his pupils; so that,
without any request on my part, he granted me a general privilege of
free admission to his class-room. In 1780 I took orders, and withdrew
myself from all connection with the university. I still continued,
however, to reside in Königsberg; but wholly forgotten, or wholly
unnoticed at least, by Kant. Ten years afterwards, (that is to say,
in 1790,) I met him by accident at a party given on occasion of the
marriage of one of the professors. At table, Kant distributed
his conversation and attentions pretty generally; but after the
entertainment, when the company broke up into parties, he came and
seated himself very obligingly by my side. I was at that time a
florist--an amateur, I mean, from the passion I had for flowers;
upon learning which, he talked of my favorite pursuit, and with
very extensive information. In the course of our conversation, I
was surprised to find that he was perfectly acquainted with all
the circumstances of my situation. He reminded me of our previous
connection; expressed his satisfaction at finding that I was happy; and
was so good as to desire that, if my engagements allowed me, I would now
and then come and dine with him. Soon after this, he rose to take his
leave; and, as our road lay the same way, he proposed to me that I
should accompany him home. I did so, and received an invitation for
the next week, with a general invitation for every week after, and
permission to name my own day. At first I was unable to explain the
distinction with which Kant had treated me; and I conjectured that
some obliging friend had spoken of me in his hearing, somewhat more
advantageously than I could pretend to deserve; but more intimate
experience has convinced me that he was in the habit of making continual
inquiries after the welfare of his former pupils, and was heartily
rejoiced to hear of their prosperity. So that it appeared I was wrong in
thinking he had forgotten me.
This revival of my intimacy with Professor Kant, coincided pretty
nearly, in point of time, with a complete change in his domestic
arrangements. Up to this period it had been his custom to eat at a
_table d'hôte_. But he now began to keep house himself, and every day
invited two friends to dine with him, and upon any little festival from
five to eight; for he was a punctual observer of Lord Chesterfield's
rule--that his dinner party, himself included, should not fall below the
number of the Graces--nor exceed that of the Muses. In the whole economy
of his household arrangements, and especially of his dinner parties,
there was something peculiar and amusingly opposed to the usual
conventional restraints of society; not, however, that there was any
neglect of decorum, such as sometimes occurs in houses where there are
no ladies to impress a better tone upon the manners. The invariable
routine was this: The moment that dinner was ready, Lampe, the
professor's old footman, stepped into the study with a certain measured
air, and announced it. This summons was obeyed at the pace of double
quick time--Kant talking all the way to the eating-room about the state
of the weather [Footnote: His reason for which was, that he considered
the weather one of the principal forces which act upon the health;
and his own frame was exquisitely sensible to all atmospheric
influences.]--a subject which he usually pursued during the earlier part
of the dinner. Graver themes, such as the political events of the day,
were never introduced before dinner, or at all in his study. The moment
that Kant had taken his seat, and unfolded his napkin, he opened the
business of dinner with a particular formula--'_Now, then, gentlemen!_'
and the tone and air with which he uttered these words, proclaimed, in
a way which nobody could mistake, relaxation from the toils of the
morning, and determinate abandonment of himself to social enjoyment.
The table was hospitably spread; three dishes, wine, &c., with a small
second course, composed the dinner. Every person helped himself; and all
delays of ceremony were so disagreeable to Kant, that he seldom failed
to express his displeasure with anything of that sort, though not
angrily. He was displeased also if people ate little; and treated it as
affectation. The first man to help himself was in his eyes the politest
guest; for so much the sooner came his own turn. For this hatred of
delay, Kant had a special excuse, having always worked hard from an
early hour in the morning, and eaten nothing until dinner. Hence it was,
that in the latter period of his life, though less perhaps from actual
hunger than from some uneasy sensation of habit or periodical irritation
of stomach, he could hardly wait with patience for the arrival of the
last person invited.
There was no friend of Kant's but considered the day on which he was to
dine with him as a day of pleasure. Without giving himself the air of
an instructor, Kant really was so in the very highest degree. The whole
entertainment was seasoned with the overflow of his enlightened mind,
poured out naturally and unaffectedly upon every topic, as the chances
of conversation suggested it; and the time flew rapidly away, from one
o'clock to four, five, or even later, profitably and delightfully. Kant
tolerated no _calms_, which was the name he gave to the momentary pauses
in conversation, or periods when its animation languished. Some means or
other he always devised for restoring its tone of interest, in which he
was much assisted by the tact with which he drew from every guest his
peculiar tastes, or the particular direction of his pursuits; and on
these, be they what they might, he was never unprepared to speak with
knowledge, and the interest of an original observer. The local affairs
of Königsberg must have been interesting indeed, before they could be
allowed to occupy the attention at _his_ table. And, what may seem still
more singular, it was rarely or never that he directed the conversation
to any branch of the philosophy founded by himself. Indeed he was
perfectly free from the fault which besets so many _savans_ and
_literati_, of intolerance towards those whose pursuits had disqualified
them for any particular sympathy with his own. His style of conversation
was popular in the highest degree, and unscholastic; so much so, that
any stranger who should have studied his works, and been unacquainted
with his person, would have found it difficult to believe, that in this
delightful companion he saw the profound author of the Transcendental
Philosophy.
The subjects of conversation at Kant's table were drawn chiefly from
natural philosophy, chemistry, meteorology, natural history, and above
all, from politics. The news of the day, as reported in the public
journals, was discussed with a peculiar vigilance of examination. With
regard to any narrative that wanted dates of time and place, however
otherwise plausible, he was uniformly an inexorable sceptic, and held it
unworthy of repetition. So keen was his penetration into the interior of
political events, and the secret policy under which they moved, that he
talked rather with the authority of a diplomatic person who had access
to cabinet intelligence, than as a simple spectator of the great scenes
which were unfolding in Europe. At the time of the French Revolution,
he threw out many conjectures, and what were then accounted paradoxical
anticipations, especially in regard to military operations, which were
as punctually fulfilled as his own memorable conjecture in regard to the
hiatus in the planetary system between Mars and Jupiter,[Footnote: To
which the author should have added--and in regard to the hiatus between
the planetary and cometary systems, which was pointed out by Kant
several years before his conjecture was established by the good
telescope of Dr. Herschel. Vesta and Juno, further confirmations of
Kant's conjecture, were discovered in June 1804, when Wasianski wrote.]
the entire confirmation of which he lived to witness on the discovery
of Ceres by Piazzi, in Palermo, and of Pallas, by Dr. Olbers, at
Bremen. These two discoveries, by the way, impressed him much; and
they furnished a topic on which he always talked with pleasure; though,
according to his usual modesty, he never said a word of his own
sagacity in having upon _à priori_ grounds shown the probability of such
discoveries many years before.
It was not only in the character of a companion that Kant shone, but
also as a most courteous and liberal host, who had no greater pleasure
than in seeing his guests happy and jovial, and rising with exhilarated
spirits from the mixed pleasures--intellectual and liberally sensual--of
his Platonic banquets. Chiefly, perhaps, with a view to the sustaining
of this tone of genial hilarity, he showed himself somewhat of an artist
in the composition of his dinner parties. Two rules there were which he
obviously observed, and I may say invariably: the first was, that
the company should be miscellaneous; this for the sake of securing
sufficient variety to the conversation: and accordingly his parties
presented as much variety as the world of Königsberg afforded, being
drawn from all the modes of life, men in office, professors, physicians,
clergymen, and enlightened merchants. His second rule was, to have a due
balance of _young_ men, frequently of _very_ young men, selected from
the students of the university, in order to impress a movement of gaiety
and juvenile playfulness on the conversation; an additional motive for
which, as I have reason to believe, was, that in this way he withdrew
his mind from the sadness which sometimes overshadowed it, for the early
deaths of some young friends whom he loved.
And this leads me to mention a singular feature in Kant's way of
expressing his sympathy with his friends in sickness. So long as the
danger was imminent, he testified a restless anxiety, made perpetual
inquiries, waited with patience for the crisis, and sometimes could not
pursue his customary labors from agitation of mind. But no sooner was
the patient's death announced, than he recovered his composure, and
assumed an air of stern tranquillity--almost of indifference. The reason
was, that he viewed life in general, and therefore, that particular
affection of life which we call sickness, as a state of oscillation and
perpetual change, between which and the fluctuating sympathies of hope
and fear, there was a natural proportion that justified them to the
reason; whereas death, as a permanent state that admitted of no _more_
or _less_, that terminated all anxiety, and for ever extinguished the
agitation of suspense, he would not allow to be fitted to any state of
feeling, but one of the same enduring and unchanging character. However,
all this philosophic heroism gave way on one occasion; for many persons
will remember the tumultuous grief which he manifested upon the death
of Mr. Ehrenboth, a young man of very fine understanding and extensive
attainments, for whom he had the greatest affection. And naturally it
happened, in so long a life as his, in spite of his provident rule for
selecting his social companions as much as possible amongst the young,
that he had to mourn for many a heavy loss that could never be supplied
to him.
To return, however, to the course of his day, immediately after the
termination of his dinner party, Kant walked out for exercise; but on
this occasion he never took any companion, partly, perhaps, because he
thought it right, after so much convivial and colloquial relaxation, to
pursue his meditations,[Footnote: Mr. Wasianski is wrong. To pursue his
meditations under these circumstances, might perhaps be an inclination
of Kant's to which he yielded, but not one which he would justify or
erect into a maxim. He disapproved of eating alone, or _solipsismus
convictorii_, as he calls it, on the principle, that a man would be apt,
if not called off by the business and pleasure of a social party, to
think too much or too closely, an exercise which he considered very
injurious to the stomach during the first process of digestion. On the
same principle he disapproved of walking or riding alone; the double
exercise of thinking and bodily agitation, carried on at the same time,
being likely, as he conceived, to press too hard upon the stomach.] and
partly (as I happen to know) for a very peculiar reason, viz., that he
wished to breathe exclusively through his nostrils, which he could not
do if he were obliged continually to open his mouth in conversation. His
reason for this was, that the atmospheric air, being thus carried round
by a longer circuit, and reaching the lungs, therefore, in a state of
less rawness, and at a temperature somewhat higher, would be less apt
to irritate them. By a steady perseverance in this practice, which he
constantly recommended to his friends, he flattered himself with a long
immunity from coughs, colds, hoarseness, and every mode of defluxion;
and the fact really was, that these troublesome affections attacked him
very rarely. Indeed I myself, by only occasionally adopting his rule,
have found my chest not so liable as formerly to such attacks.
At six o'clock he sat down to his library table, which was a plain
ordinary piece of furniture, and read till dusk. During this period of
dubious light, so friendly to thought, he rested in tranquil meditation
on what he had been reading, provided the book were worth it; if not, he
sketched his lecture for the next day, or some part of any book he
might then be composing. During this state of repose he took his station
winter and summer by the stove, looking through the window at the old
tower of Lobenicht; not that he could be said properly to see it, but
the tower rested upon his eye,--obscurely, or but half revealed to his
consciousness. No words seemed forcible enough to express his sense of
the gratification which he derived from this old tower, when seen under
these circumstances of twilight and quiet reverie. The sequel, indeed,
showed how important it was to his comfort; for at length some poplars
in a neighboring garden shot up to such a height as to obscure the
tower, upon which Kant became very uneasy and restless, and at length
found himself positively unable to pursue his evening meditations.
Fortunately, the proprietor of the garden was a very considerate
and obliging person, who had, besides, a high regard for Kant; and,
accordingly, upon a representation of the case being made to him, he
gave orders that the poplars should be cropped. This was done, the
old tower of Lobenicht was again unveiled, and Kant recovered his
equanimity, and pursued his twilight meditations as before.
After the candles were brought, Kant prosecuted his studies till nearly
ten o'clock. A quarter of an hour before retiring for the night, he
withdrew his mind as much as possible from every class of thoughts which
demanded any exertion or energy of attention, on the principle, that
by stimulating and exciting him too much, such thoughts would be apt
to cause wakefulness; and the slightest interference with his customary
hour of falling asleep, was in the highest degree unpleasant to him.
Happily, this was with him a very rare occurrence. He undressed himself
without his servant's assistance, but in such an order, and with such a
Roman regard to decorum and the _to prepon_, that he was always ready
at a moment's warning to make his appearance without embarrassment to
himself or to others. This done, he lay down on a mattress, and wrapped
himself up in a quilt, which in summer was always of cotton,--in autumn,
of wool; at the setting-in of winter he used both--and against very
severe cold, he protected himself by one of eider-down, of which the
part which covered his shoulders was not stuffed with feathers, but
padded, or rather wadded closely with layers of wool. Long practice had
taught him a very dexterous mode of _nesting_ himself, as it were, in
the bed-clothes. First of all, he sat down on the bedside; then with an
agile motion he vaulted obliquely into his lair; next he drew one corner
of the bedclothes under his left shoulder, and passing it below his
back, brought it round so as to rest under his right shoulder; fourthly,
by a particular _tour d'adresse_, he treated the other corner in the
same way, and finally contrived to roll it round his whole person. Thus
swathed like a mummy, or (as I used to tell him) self-involved like
the silk-worm in its cocoon, he awaited the approach of sleep, which
generally came on immediately. For Kant's health was exquisite; not
mere negative health, or the absence of pain, but a state of positive
pleasurable sensation, and a genial sense of the entire possession of
all his activities. Accordingly, when packed up for the night in the
way I have described, he would often ejaculate to himself (as he used to
tell us at dinner)--'Is it possible to conceive a human being with more
perfect health than myself?' In fact, such was the innocence of his
life, and such the happy condition of his situation, that no uneasy
passion ever arose to excite him--nor care to harass--nor pain to awake
him. Even in the severest winter his sleeping-room was without a fire;
only in his latter years he yielded so far to the entreaties of his
friends as to allow of a very small one. All nursing or self-indulgence
found no quarter with Kant. In fact, five minutes, in the coldest
weather, sufficed to supersede the first chill of the bed, by the
diffusion of a general glow over his person. If he had any occasion to
leave his room in the night-time, (for it was always kept dark day and
night, summer and winter,) he guided himself by a rope, which was duly
attached to his bed-post every night, and carried into the adjoining
apartment.
Kant never perspired, [Footnote: This appears less extraordinary,
considering the description of Kant's person, given originally by
Reichardt, about eight years after his death. 'Kant,' says this writer,
'was drier than dust both in body and mind. His person was small; and
possibly a more meagre, arid, parched anatomy of a man, has not appeared
upon this earth. The upper part of his face was grand; forehead lofty
and serene, nose elegantly turned, eyes brilliant and penetrating; but
below it expressed powerfully the coarsest sensuality, which in him
displayed itself by immoderate addiction to eating and drinking.' This
last feature of his temperament is here expressed much too harshly.]
night or day. Yet it was astonishing how much heat he supported
habitually in his study, and in fact was not easy if it wanted but
one degree of this heat. Seventy-five degrees of Fahrenheit was the
invariable temperature of this room in which he chiefly lived; and if it
fell below that point, no matter at what season of the year, he had it
raised artificially to the usual standard. In the heats of summer he
went thinly dressed, and invariably in silk stockings; yet, as even this
dress could not always secure him against perspiring when engaged in
active exercise, he had a singular remedy in reserve. Retiring to some
shady place, he stood still and motionless--with the air and attitude
of a person listening, or in suspense--until his usual _aridity_ was
restored. Even in the most sultry summer night, if the slightest
trace of perspiration had sullied his night-dress, he spoke of it with
emphasis, as of an accident that perfectly shocked him.
On this occasion, whilst illustrating Kant's notions of the animal
economy, it may be as well to add one other particular, which is, that
for fear of obstructing the circulation of the blood, he never would
wear garters; yet, as he found it difficult to keep up his stockings
without them, he had invented for himself a most elaborate substitute,
which I shall describe. In a little pocket, somewhat smaller than
a watch-pocket, but occupying pretty nearly the same situation as a
watch-pocket on each thigh, there was placed a small box, something like
a watch-case, but smaller; into this box was introduced a watch-spring
in a wheel, round about which wheel was wound an elastic cord, for
regulating the force of which there was a separate contrivance. To the
two ends of this cord were attached hooks, which hooks were carried
through a small aperture in the pockets, and so passing down the inner
and the outer side of the thigh, caught hold of two loops which were
fixed on the off side and the near side of each stocking. As might be
expected, so complex an apparatus was liable, like the Ptolemaic system
of the heavens, to occasional derangements; however, by good luck, I
was able to apply an easy remedy to these disorders which sometimes
threatened to disturb the comfort, and even the serenity, of the great
man.
Precisely at five minutes before five o'clock, winter or summer, Lampe,
Kant's servant, who had formerly served in the army, marched into his
master's room with the air of a sentinel on duty, and cried aloud in
a military tone,--'Mr. Professor, the time is come.' This summons Kant
invariably obeyed without one moment's delay, as a soldier does the word
of command--never, under any circumstances, allowing himself a respite,
not even under the rare accident of having passed a sleepless night. As
the clock struck five, Kant was seated at the breakfast-table, where he
drank what he called _one_ cup of tea; and no doubt he thought it such;
but the fact was, that in part from his habit of reverie, and in part
also for the purpose of refreshing its warmth, he filled up his cup so
often, that in general he is supposed to have drunk two, three, or some
unknown number. Immediately after he smoked a pipe of tobacco, (the only
one which he allowed himself through the entire day,) but so rapidly,
that a pile of glowing embers remained unsmoked. During this operation
he thought over his arrangements for the day, as he had done the
evening before during the twilight. About seven he usually went to his
lecture-room, and from that he returned to his writing-table. Precisely
at three quarters before one he rose from his chair, and called aloud to
the cook,--'It has struck three quarters.' The meaning of which summons
was this:--Immediately after taking soup, it was his constant practice
to swallow what he called a dram, which consisted either of Hungarian
wine, of Rhenish, of a cordial, or (in default of these) of Bishop.
A flask of this was brought up by the cook on the proclamation of the
three quarters. Kant hurried with it to the eating-room, poured out his
_quantum_, left it standing in readiness, covered, however, with paper,
to prevent its becoming vapid, and then went back to his study, and
awaited the arrival of his guests, whom to the latest period of his life
he never received but in full dress.
Thus we come round again to dinner, and the reader has now an accurate
picture of the course of Kant's day; the rigid monotony of which was not
burthensome to him; and probably contributed, with the uniformity of his
diet, and other habits of the same regularity, to lengthen his life. On
this consideration, indeed, he had come to regard his health and his old
age as in a great measure the product of his own exertions. He spoke of
himself often under the figure of a gymnastic artist, who had continued
for nearly fourscore years to support his balance upon the slack-rope
of life, without once swerving to the right or to the left. In spite of
every illness to which his constitutional tendencies had exposed him,
he still kept his position in life triumphantly. However, he would
sometimes observe sportively, that it was really absurd, and a sort of
insult to the next generation for a man to live so long, because he thus
interfered with the prospects of younger people.
This anxious attention to his health accounts for the great interest
which he attached to all new discoveries in medicine, or to new ways
of theorizing on the old ones. As a work of great pretension in
both classes, he set the highest value upon the theory of the Scotch
physician Brown, or (as it is usually called, from the Latin name of its
author,) the Brunonian Theory. No sooner had Weikard adopted [Footnote:
This theory was afterwards greatly modified in Germany; and, judging
from the random glances which I throw on these subjects, I believe that
in this recast it still keeps its ground in that country.] and made it
known in Germany, than Kant became familiar with it. He considered it
not only as a great step taken for medicine, but even for the general
interests of man, and fancied that in this he saw something analogous
to the course which human nature has held in still more important
inquiries, viz.: first of all, a continual ascent towards the more and
more elaborately complex, and then a treading back, on its own steps,
towards the simple and elementary. Dr. Beddoes's Essays, also, for
producing by art and curing pulmonary consumption, and the method of
Reich for curing fevers, made a powerful impression upon him; which,
however, declined as those novelties (especially the last) began to
sink in credit. As to Dr. Jenner's discovery of vaccination, he was less
favorably disposed to it; he apprehended dangerous consequences from the
absorption of a brutal miasma into the human blood, or at least into
the lymph; and at any rate he thought, that, as a guarantee against the
variolous infection, it required a much longer probation. Groundless
as all these views were, it was exceedingly entertaining to hear the
fertility of argument and analogy which he brought forward to support
them. One of the subjects which occupied him at the latter end of his
life, was the theory and phenomena of galvanism, which, however, he
never satisfactorily mastered. Augustin's book upon this subject was
about the last that he read, and his copy still retains on the margin
his, pencil-marks of doubts, queries and suggestions.
The infirmities of age now began to steal upon Kant, and betrayed
themselves in more shapes than one. Connected with Kant's prodigious
memory for all things that had any intellectual bearings, he had from
youth labored under an unusual weakness of this faculty in relation to
the common affairs of daily life. Some remarkable instances of this
are on record, from the period of his childish days; and now, when his
second childhood was commencing, this infirmity increased upon him very
sensibly. One of the first signs was, that he began to repeat the same
stories more than once on the same day. Indeed, the decay of his memory
was too palpable to escape his own notice; and, to provide against it,
and secure himself from all apprehension of inflicting tedium upon his
guests, he began to write a syllabus, or list of themes, for each day's
conversation, on cards, or the covers of letters, or any chance scrap
of paper. But these memoranda accumulated so fast upon him, and were so
easily lost, or not forthcoming at the proper moment, that I prevailed
on him to substitute a blank-paper book, which I had directed to be
made, and which still remains, with some affecting memorials of his own
conscious weakness. As often happens, however, in such cases, he had a
perfect memory for the remote events of his life, and could repeat with
great readiness, and without once stumbling, very long passages from
German or Latin poems, especially from the AEneid, whilst the very
words that had been uttered but a moment before dropped away from his
remembrance. The past came forward with the distinctness and liveliness
of an immediate existence, whilst the present faded away into the
obscurity of infinite distance.
Another sign of his mental decay was the weakness with which he now
began to theorize. He accounted for everything by electricity. A
singular mortality at this time prevailed amongst the cats of Vienna,
Basle, Copenhagen, and other places. Cats being so eminently an electric
animal, of course he attributed this epizootic to electricity. During
the same period, he persuaded himself that a peculiar configuration of
clouds prevailed; this he took as a collateral proof of his electrical
hypothesis. His own headaches, too, which in all probability were a mere
remote effect of old age, and a direct one of an inability [Footnote:
Mr. Wasianski is quite in the wrong here. If the hindrances which nature
presented to the act of thinking were now on the increase, on the other
hand, the disposition to think, by his own acknowledgment, was on the
wane. The power and the habit altering in proportion, there is no case
made out of that disturbed equilibrium to which apparently he would
attribute the headaches. But the fact is, that, if he had been as well
acquainted with Kant's writings as with Kant personally, he would
have known, that some affection of the head of a spasmodic kind was
complained of by Kant at a time when nobody could suspect him of being
in a decaying state.] to think as easily and as severely as formerly,
he explained upon the same principle. And this was a notion of which his
friends were not anxious to disabuse him, because, as something of
the same character of weather (and therefore probably the same general
tendency of the electric power) is found to prevail for whole cycles
of years, entrance upon another cycle held out to him some prospect of
relief. A delusion which secured the comforts of hope was the next best
thing to an actual remedy; and a man who, in such circumstances, is
cured of his delusion, '_cui demptus per vim mentis gratissimus error_,'
might reasonably have exclaimed, '_Pol, me occidistis, amici._'
Possibly the reader may suppose, that, in this particular instance
of charging his own decays upon the state of the atmosphere, Kant was
actuated by the weakness of vanity, or some unwillingness to face the
real fact that his powers were decaying. But this was not the case.
He was perfectly aware of his own condition, and, as early as 1799, he
said, in my presence, to a party of his friends--'Gentlemen, I am old,
and weak, and childish, and you must treat me as a child.' Or perhaps it
may be thought that he shrank from the contemplation of death, which,
as apoplexy seemed to be threatened by the pains in his head, might
have happened any day. But neither was this the case. He now lived in a
continual state of resignation, and prepared to meet any dispensation of
Providence. 'Gentlemen,' said he one day to his guests, 'I do not fear
to die. I assure you, as in the presence of God, that if I were this
night to be made suddenly aware that I was on the point of being
summoned, I would raise my hands to heaven, fold them, and say, Blessed
be God! If indeed it were possible that a whisper such as this could
reach my ear--Fourscore years thou hast lived, in which time thou hast
inflicted much evil upon thy fellow-men, the case would be otherwise.'
Whosoever has heard Kant speak of his own death, will bear witness
to the tone of earnest sincerity which, on such occasions, marked his
manner and utterance.
A third sign of his decaying faculties was, that he now lost all
accurate measure of time. One minute, nay, without exaggeration, a much
less space of time, stretched out in his apprehension of things to a
wearisome duration. Of this I can give one rather amusing instance,
which was of constant recurrence. At the beginning of the last year of
his life, he fell into a custom of taking immediately after dinner a cup
of coffee, especially on those days when it happened that I was of his
party. And such was the importance he attached to this little pleasure,
that he would even make a memorandum beforehand, in the blank-paper
book I had given him, that on the next day I was to dine with him, and
consequently that there was to be coffee. Sometimes it would happen,
that the interest of conversation carried him past the time at which
he felt the craving for it; and this I was not sorry to observe, as I
feared that coffee, which he had never been accustomed to, [Footnote:
How this happened to be the case in Germany, Mr. Wasianski has not
explained. Perhaps the English merchants at Königsberg, being amongst
Kant's oldest and most intimate friends, had early familiarized him
to the practice of drinking tea, and to other English tastes. However,
Jachmann tells us, (p. 164,) that Kant was extravagantly fond of coffee,
but forced himself to abstain from it under a notion that it was very
unwholesome.] might disturb his rest at night. But, if this did not
happen, then commenced a scene of some interest. Coffee must be brought
'upon the spot,' (a word he had constantly in his mouth during his
latter days,) 'in a moment.' And the expressions of his impatience,
though from old habit still gentle, were so lively, and had so much of
infantine naïveté about them, that none of us could forbear smiling.
Knowing what would happen, I had taken care that all the preparations
should be made beforehand; the coffee was ground; the water was boiling;
and the very moment the word was given, his servant shot in like
an arrow, and plunged the coffee into the water. All that remained,
therefore, was to give it time to boil up. But this trifling delay
seemed unendurable to Kant. All consolations were thrown away upon him:
vary the formula as we might, he was never at a loss for a reply. If
it was said--'Dear Professor, the coffee will be brought up in a
moment.'--'_Will_ be!' he would say, 'but there's the rub, that it only
_will_ be: