Full resolution (TIFF) - On this page / på denna sida - On the Hudson, Saturday, October 20
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fancies them heard for the first time. The divining-rod
of genius is in his hand. He is a master in his
domain. It seems to me that his real strength is
criticism, a certain grand contempt and scorn for
the weak, paltry, and mediocre wherever he sees
it, and he sees it in much and many things. He
chastises it without mercy; but, at the same time,
with wonderful address. Emerson’s performances
in this way are really quite regal. They remind me
of our King Gustavus Adolphus, when he took the
criminal soldier by the hair and delivered him up
to punishment, with the friendly words, “Come, my
lad, it is better that thy body now suffer chastisement
than that thy soul go to hell.” Yet there is
more in Emerson even than the intention of chastisement.
The writings of this scorner of imperfection,
of the mean and small, this bold exacter
of perfection in man, have for me a fascination
which amounts almost to magic! I often object to
him; I quarrel with him; I see that his stoicism is
one-sidedness, his pantheism an imperfection, and
I know what is greater and more perfect, but I am
under the influence of his magical power. I believe
myself to have become greater through his greatness,
stronger through his strength, and I breathe
the air of a higher sphere in his world, which is
indescribably refreshing to me. Emerson has more
ideality than is common among thinkers of the
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