Narrative and Miscellaneous PapersDe Quincey, Thomas
General
Narrative and Miscellaneous Papers
De Quincey, Thomas
English essays; English fiction
His very last excursion was in August of this year, (1803,) not to my
cottage, but to the garden of a friend. But on this day he manifested
great impatience. It had been arranged that he was to meet an old
friend at the gardens; and I, with two other gentlemen, attended him. It
happened that _out_ party arrived first; and such was Kant's weakness,
and total loss of power to estimate the duration of time, that, after
waiting a few moments, he insisted that some hours had elapsed--that
his friend could not be expected--and went away in great discomposure of
mind. And so ended Kant's travelling in this world.
In the beginning of autumn the sight of his right eye began to fail him;
the left he had long lost the use of. This earliest of his losses,
by the way, he discovered by mere accident, and without any previous
warning. Sitting down one day to rest himself in the course of a walk,
it occurred to him that he would try the comparative strength of his
eyes; but on taking out a newspaper which he had in his pocket, he was
surprised to find that with his left eye he could not distinguish a
letter. In earlier life he had two remarkable affections of the eyes:
once, on returning from a walk, he saw objects double for a long space
of time; and twice he became stone-blind. Whether these accidents are to
be considered as uncommon, I leave to the decision of oculists. Certain
it is, they gave very little disturbance to Kant; who, until old age had
reduced his powers, lived in a constant state of stoical preparation
for the worst that could befall him. I was now shocked to think of the
degree in which his burthensome sense of dependence would be aggravated,
if he should totally lose the power of sight. As it was, he read and
wrote with great difficulty: in fact, his writing was little better than
that which most people can produce as a trial of skill with their eyes
shut. From old habits of solitary study, he had no pleasure in
hearing others read to him; and he daily distressed me by the pathetic
earnestness of his entreaties that I would have a reading-glass devised
for him. Whatever my own optical skill could suggest, I tried; and
the best opticians were sent for to bring their glasses, and take his
directions for altering them; but all was to no purpose.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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