Initiation and initiative : an exploration of the life and ideas of Dimitrije Mitrinović
44 LIFE AND IDEAS OF MITRINOVIC
that if anything was to be the base of spiritual union between the Southern Slavs and the British people, the sublime work of Mestrovié ought to be that base. He then went on to suggest that... the temple of Mestrovié had both the human and the Divine beauty; it was the embodiment of human glory and an immense, although human, peace. It might be said to be a reconciliation of mankind with eternity. It represented an eternal dawn of beauty and of New Aryandom. It was the visible perfection of pan-harmony . . .§
“Pan-harmony,” “New Aryandom”: whether he was writing or talking about Mestrovic and the “Temple of Kossovo,” about Serbia’s past tribulations, or about the future union of the Southern Slavs within a federal state of Yugoslavia, Mitrinovic continually returned to the theme of a new order, the vision of a future age of peace, freedom and fellowship which he had portrayed in one of his early poems:
When the realm of human goodness is attained, Soul of a brotherly, peaceful order,
When happiness will bestow lustre on all griefs, The happiness of beauty.”
These lines were discovered by Paul Selver in an anthology of Yugoslav poetry. Selver, a translator of Czech poetry and a regular contributor to A. R. Orage’s The New Age, had written an uncomplimentary review of The Slav Nations and of Mitrinovic’s contribution “Buried Treasure” in particular in The New Age.® Shortly after the review appeared, and much to his surprise, he received a letter from Mitrinovi¢c expressing a wish to make his acquaintance. Selver accepted and the two met at Mitrinovic’s lodgings in the Fulham Road, not far from the Redcliffe Arms. Selver’s recollection of that first encounter provides a fascinating glimpse of this, to Selver, rather mysterious Slav.
On my way there I wondered what kind of person I was about to meet, but the Mitrinovic of my imagination proved to be utterly different from the real Mitrinovic. At first sight he reminded me of Dr. Nikola, as pictured in the Windsor Magazine. He did, in fact, possess many of the attributes with which novelists of the Guy Boothby breed (no disparagement is implied here) equip mystery men from the Near East who form the centre of a highly tangled plot. Yes, Mitrinovic outwardly fulfilled all the requirements in this respect, with his shaven head, his swarthiness, his dark garments and his hypnotic eyes. This latter item must not be dismissed as a hackneyed flourish. Hardly had I shaken hands with Mitrinovic than I found myself so affected by his mere presence that I nearly lost consciousness. This had never happened before to me, nor did it