have been the great monarch that I was. But I mean not to
detract from the merit of a prince whose memory is dear to his subjects.
They are proud of having obeyed you, which is certainly the highest
praise to a king. My people also date their glory from the era of my
reign. But there is this capital distinction between us. The pomp and
pageantry of state were necessary to your greatness; I was great in
myself, great in the energy and powers of my mind, great in the
superiority and sovereignty of my soul over all other men.

DIALOGUE III.

PLATO--FENELON.

_Plato_.--Welcome to Elysium, O thou, the most pure, the most gentle, the
most refined disciple of philosophy that the world in modern times has
produced! Sage Fenelon, welcome!--I need not name myself to you. Our
souls by sympathy must know one another.

_Fenelon_.--I know you to be Plato, the most amiable of all the disciples
of Socrates, and the philosopher of all antiquity whom I most desired to
resemble.

_Plato_.--Homer and Orpheus are impatient to see you in that region of
these happy fields which their shades inhabit. They both acknowledge you
to be a great poet, though you have written no verses. And they are now
busy in composing for you unfading wreaths of all the finest and sweetest
Elysian flowers. But I will lead you from them to the sacred grove of
philosophy, on the highest hill of Elysium, where the air is most pure
and most serene. I will conduct you to the fountain of wisdom, in which
you will see, as in your own writings, the fair image of virtue
perpetually reflected. It will raise in you more love than was felt by
Narcissus, when he contemplated the beauty of his own face in the
unruffled spring. But you shall not pine, as he did, for a shadow. The
goddess herself will affectionately meet your embraces and mingle with
your soul.

_Fenelon_.--I find you retain the allegorical and poetical style, of
which you were so fond in many of your writings. Mine also run sometimes
into poetry, particularly in my "Telemachus," which I meant to make a
kind of epic composition. But I dare not rank myself among the great
poets, nor pretend to any equality in oratory with you, the most eloquent
of philosophers, on whose lips the Attic bees distilled all their honey.

_Plato_.--The French language is not so harmonious as the Greek, yet you
have given a sweetness to it which equally charms the ear and heart. When
one reads your composit