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DR. ENANDER
By
HILMA ENANDER
There is a passage in one of Thomas De Quincey’s
literary reminiscences that reads something like this:
“Genius is always peculiar and individual; one man’s
genius never exactly repeats another man’s. But talent
is the same in all men; and that which is effected by
talent can never serve to identify or indicate its author.”
DeQuincey goes on to show that, although talent is an
object of respect, it never conciliates love whereas
genius, even for itself, is idolized.
Every time I read this passage I think of my inimitable
father. For he was inimitable. There never was a
man just like him, I don’t believe there ever will be
and I feel firmly convinced that everyone who knew him
will agree with me in the truth of this assertion. For
he was not of a type. He was not even of a class or an
order. He stood alone. He was himself. He was Dr.
Enander.
So different was he from all other individuals, that it
would have been just as impossible for him to imitate
a conventional human being as, in an intellectual sense,
it was impossible for a conventional human being to
imitate him. He was, first of all, a genius filled with
the undying fires of a temperament fervid with the love
of country, of work, of fellowship, of glory and
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