In pristine splendor to revive the three,
Till, foiled by antique genius high and rare,
We quit the task with unalloyed despair.
The theatre of Melnos was crowded the next day to witness the one performance of the year, and the whole semicircle of seats was occupied by a chattering throng, resembling, doubtless, the gossip-loving Athenians of old. All were in gala dresses, the men brilliant in Albanian costumes of fustanelli, embroidered jackets, gaudy gaiters, and vivid red silk sashes; while the women, in accordance with the edict of the Demarch, still wore their graceful, antique robes of white; indeed, the male bird here had the more splendid plumage of the two, but what the female lacked in color, she made up for in grace. The population of Melnos were, indeed, fine specimens of humanity, as, owing to the selective genius of Justinian, none but the physically perfect were admitted to the privileges of the island, and in the case of births he exercised an almost Spartan rigor. Certainly he departed so far from the laws of Lycurgus as to permit any child born with a blemish to live, but it was sent away from Melnos at the moment of its birth, and provided for elsewhere. In consequence, therefore, of this untiring care in such matters, the Melnosians were all strong, healthy, and beautiful; while their constant out-door life and congenial occupations kept them in a wonderfully vitalized condition, which was eminently calculated to form a race as physically perfect in form and health as is possible on this earth.
“I am a great believer in the mens sana in corpore sano theory,” said the Demarch to Maurice, who sat beside him. “The first law of this new Athens is, that all the citizens shall be healthy in every way; and the body being thus perfected by degrees, who knows but what the intellect may not ripen the sooner to the first-fruits of genius?”
“Is that not rather against the Homeric line you quoted the other day, sir?” observed Maurice thoughtfully. “I mean as regarding Caliphronas; he is physically perfect, thoroughly healthful, and yet you can hardly call him intellectual.”
“Andros,” said Justinian emphatically, “is not a true Greek, but a mongrel from the island of that name, where I found him a shepherd lad. I have no faith in mixed races, as their genius, if they have any, is apt to be confusing. We English are essentially a mixed race, therefore our literature, although marked by great versatility, lacks that dominant note which denotes the special characteristic of a pure-blooded race. Look at the Jew and the Hellene, which are, perhaps, the sole examples of unmixed blood we have,—at least in the West,—and you will see that their works of genius, however different in outward form, are still instinct with the individuality of their particular race-nature. The Psalms of David, the tragedies of the Greek dramatists, could only have been written by men of unmixed blood, steeped in the color of their peculiar branch of the human family.”
“What about Shakespeare?”
“None but a mixed race could have produced an all-comprehensive mind like his; and though you may perhaps think me narrow in desiring the formation of pure-blooded nations, which may be barren of such versatile genius, yet, believe me, Maurice, every plant should bear its own natural flowers. Now, my Melnosians have been carefully selected from the most untainted blood of the insular Greeks, who are the real survivors of the old Attic stock. I allow no mixed marriages—I protect them from all outward influence—I encourage them to develop their inherent characteristics of race, so, in all human probability, they, in years to come, will produce a blossom of genius entirely their own.”
“Is that not rather a hot-house forcing style?”