sed in words
like other teaching, but needs a long study of the subject and a
making oneself one with it. Then it is as though a spark leaped up and
kindled a light in the soul which thereafter is able to keep itself
alight." This utterance might only indicate the writer's powerlessness
to express his meaning in words,--a mere personal weakness,--if the
idea of the Mysteries were not to be found in them. The subject on
which Plato had not written and would never write, must be something
about which all writing would be futile. It must be a feeling, a
sentiment, an experience, which is not gained by instantaneous
communication, but by making oneself one with it, in heart and soul.
The reference is to the inner education which Plato was able to give
those he selected. For them, fire flashed forth from his words, for
others, only thoughts.

The manner of our approach to Plato's _Dialogues_ is not a matter of
indifference. They will mean more or less to us, according to our
spiritual condition. Much more passed from Plato to his disciples than
the literal meaning of his words. The place where he taught his
listeners thrilled in the atmosphere of the Mysteries. His words awoke
overtones in higher regions, which vibrated with them, but these
overtones needed the atmosphere of the Mysteries, or they died away
without having been heard.

In the centre of the world of the Platonic Dialogues stands the
personality of Socrates. We need not here touch upon the historical
aspect of that personality. It is a question of the character of
Socrates as it appears in Plato. Socrates is a person consecrated by
his dying for truth. He died as only an initiate can die, as one to
whom death is merely a moment of life like other moments. He
approaches death as he would any other event in existence. His
attitude towards it was such that even in his friends the feelings
usual on such an occasion were not aroused. Phaedo says this in the
_Dialogue on the Immortality of the Soul_: "Truly I found myself in
the strangest state of mind. I had no compassion for him, as is usual
at the death of a dear friend. So happy did the man appear to me in
his demeanour and speech, so steadfast and noble was his end, that I
was confident that he was not going to Hades without a divine mission,
and that even there it would be as well with him as it is with any one
anywhere. No tender-hearted emotion overcame me, as might have been
expected at such a mournful ev