Chapters 30
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1 01 - Dialogue I. Diogenes commissions Polydeukes, about to return to the upper world, to inform Menippus of the actual condition of things in the land of shades, and to deliver admonitory messages to various sorts of men-the rich, the powerful, the proud; and, finally, to the poor, whom, when they c 5:37
Dialogue I. Of the Dead.
Translated by Howard Williams. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Dialogue One. Diogenes commissions polydukes, about to return to the upper world. To inform Anippus of the actual condition of things in the land of shades, and to deliver admonitory messages to various sorts of men, the rich, the powerful, the proud, and finally to the poor, whom, when they complain of their lot on earth, he is to console by representing the complete equality which prevails in the regions of the dead. Diogenes, read by Todd. Polyderces.
Polyducas, I entrust to you the task, as soon as ever you reach the upper world, for it is your turn, I believe, to return to life again tomorrow, if you anywhere catch sight of Minippus, the dog, and you would probably find him at Corinth, near the Cranium, or in the Lyceum, deriding the philosophers as they quarrel one with another, to say to him, Diogenes bids you, Minippus, if things above ground have been sufficiently ridiculed by you, to come hither, to laugh at many more matters. For there your laughter was yet questionable, and frequent was the objection. But who knows altogether what is to come after life? But here you will not cease laughing on firm grounds, as I do now, and most of all when you see the rich, and viceroys, and princes to be so humble and obscure, and distinguishable by their lamentations alone, and that they are soft-hearted and mean-spirited, recollecting their life above.
This tell him, and further, to come with his scrip filled with a quantity of lupins, and, if he anywhere find on the cross-roads a supper for hay-cats set out, or a purificatory egg, or anything of the sort, let him bring it. I will give this message, Diogenes, but describe him, that I may know quite certainly what manner of man he is as to looks. An old man, bald, with a little old cloak, with many a hole in it, exposed to every wind of heaven, and variegated with rags and tatters. And he is for ever laughing, and, for the most part, Jeers at those loud-talking philosophers. Mr. It will be easy to find him by those tokens at all events. Are you willing that I give you some commission with respect to those philosophers themselves?
Mr. Speak, for that will not be any trouble either. In a word, then. Exhort them to cease their trifling nonsense and quarrelling about the nature of the universe. and generating horns for each other, and making crocodiles, and teaching the young to engage in such futile rubbish. But they will say that I am an ignorant and uneducated fellow, to denounce their philosophy. Do you, however? Bid them from me to go and howl with a plague to them. This message too I will give them, Diogenes. And to the rich? My dearest pet of Apolliducas, convey this message from me. Why, O fools, do you guard your gold so religiously? And why do you punish yourselves, calculating the interest of your money, and heaping talents upon talents, who must shortly come hither with only a single obelisk?
This, too, shall be told to them. Yes, and say to the handsome and the strong, To Megalis of Corinth and Damoconus the wrestler, that with us there is neither auburn hair, nor bright nor black eyes, nor a blush upon the cheek any longer, nor well-strung nerves, nor strong shoulders, but all is for us, as they say, one and the same dust, skulls bare of all beauty. It will be no trouble either to say this to the handsome and strong. And to the poor, Mr. Laconian, and they are numerous enough, grieving at their lot and bewailing their destitution, say that they are not to weep or lament. Explain to them the perfect equality here, and that they will see those who are rich there, in the upper world, in no way better off than themselves.
And your Lacedaemonians reprove from me for this, if you like, telling them that they have become remiss and degenerate." Not a word, Diogenes, about the Lacedaemonians, for I certainly will not tolerate it. But as to what you were saying in regard to the rest, I will deliver your messages. Let us leave them alone, since such is your pleasure. Do you, however, convey from me my words to those whom I have before mentioned?
End of dialogue one.
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2 02 - Dialogue II. Eroesus, Midas, and Sardanapalus complain to Pluto of Menippus that he derides them for their lamentations over the loss of the power, wealth, and luxury which belonged to them on Earth. - Menippus, in spite of Pluto's remonstrances, persists in his ridicule. 4:06
Dialogue II of the Dead by Lucian. Translated by Howard Williams.
Dialogue Two. Croesus, Midas, and Sardanapalus complained to Pluto of Menippus. That he derides them for their lamentations over the loss of the power, wealth, and luxury which belonged to them on earth. Minippus, in spite of Pluto's remonstrances, persists in his ridicule.
Sardanapalus, read by Tricia G. Menippus, read by Adrian Stevens. We can't endure, Pluto, this dog here, Menippus, dwelling near us, so either establish him somewhere else, or we shall change our habitation to another spot. But what harm does he do you, seeing he is your fellow ghost? Whenever we groan and lament, remembering our possessions above, Midas here his gold coin, and Sardanapalus his abundant luxury, and I, Croesus, my treasures, he laughs at and upbraids us, calling us names, slaves, and castaways, and sometimes he disturbs our lamentations by singing, too, and in a word he is a nuisance to us. What is this they say, Menepus? Quite true, Pluto, for I hate them for vile and pestiferous fellows, for whom it was not enough to live badly, but who, even when dead, still remember and cling to their earthly possessions.
I find pleasure, therefore, in vexing them. But it is not right. For they are no small things they mourn the loss of. Are you too for playing the fool, Pluto, and casting in your vote with these whining fellows? Not at all, but I would not have you up in arms. Nonetheless, basest of Lydians, Phrygians, and Assyrians, be well assured of this, that I will never leave off. For wherever you may go, I will follow, annoying you and singing to the tune of your wailing and ridiculing you. Is this not insolence? No, but that was insolence of which you were guilty in requiring worship and in mocking at and insulting freemen, without having any thought of the leveller. Death at all. Therefore, bitterly shall you bewail the loss of all these things.
Yes, O heavens, of many and great possessions. Of how much gold I! Of how much luxury I! Well done. So do. You, for your part, lament and weep. And I will accompany you, and occasionally join in with the refrain, Know thyself, for it would be quite a suitable accompaniment to such howling.
End of Dialogue Two
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3 03 - Dialogue III. Menippus ridicules the Oracles of Trophonius and Amphilochus. 3:02
Dialogue 3 of the Dead by Lucian, translated by Howard Williams. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Dialogue Three. Menippus ridicules the oracles of Trophonius and Amphilochus. Menippus. Read by Adrian Stevens. Amphilochus. Read by Alan Mapstone. TROPHONIUS. Read by Jake Melizia.
So then, you two, TROPHONIUS. And Amphilochus, dead men though you are, for some reason or other, have been thought worthy of temples, and have the reputation of prophets, and the foolish triflers of men have supposed you to be divine. Why, pray, are we to blame if they, in their folly, will have such opinions about dead people? But they would not. You were not beholding such opinions, unless, while you were living, you had indulged in such juggling tricks, as though you foreknew the future, and were able to foretell it to those who had inquired of you. Menopus. Amphilochus himself must know what answer he is to give respecting himself. But I, for my part, am a hero, and deliver prophecies whenever anyone comes down to visit me.
But you appeared never to have stayed at Lebedea at all, for otherwise you would not refuse credence to these things. What do you say? Unless I'd gone to Lebade, and dressed myself ridiculously in those fine linen robes, and carried a barley cake in my hands, and had crawled through the mouth, which is low enough, in the roof into the cavern, I could not know that you were a dead man, as we are, superior only by your juggling faculty. But, in the name of the prophetic heart, what? Mr. Brown, pray, is a hero, for I don't know. A sort of compound of man and God. Mr. Brown, which, as you say, is neither man nor God but both together? Where, then, has that half of you, the divine part, now gone off to?
It is delivering oracles in Boeotia, Minippus. I don't know, my friend Trophonius, what you are talking about indeed. That, however, you are wholly a dead man, I see distinctly enough. End of dialogue three.
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4 04 - Dialogue IV. Hermes demands from Charon arrears of payment due to him for his services on the styx. Charon excuses himself on the plea of bad times; no great war or famine, as it happened, ravaging the Earth at that moment. Hermes moralises on the causes of death, different from those of old, w 3:52
Dialogue for the Dead by Lucian. Translated by Howard Williams. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Dialogue for Hermes demands from Sharon arrears of payment due to him for his services on the Styx. Charon excuses himself on the plea of bad times. No great war or famine, as it happened, ravaging the earth at that moment. Hermes moralizes on the causes of death, different from those of old, which dispatch men in crowds to Hades. Hermes, read by Todd. Charon, read by Algeypag.
Let us reckon up, Mr. Ferryman, if you please. How much you now owe me, so that we may not hereafter quarrel at all about it. Let us do so, Hermes, for it is better to come to a definite understanding about it between ourselves, unless likely to cause trouble. I procured to your order an anchor at five drachma. A high price. By Pluto. I purchased them at the full sum of the five pieces, and a leathern thong for the ore for two oblee. Sit down five drachmae and two oblee. And a darning needle for mending the sail. Five oblee I paid down for that. Sit down those two. And beeswax to fill up the chinks in our little craft. And nails, too, and a small rope, of which you made the brace. Two drachma in all.
And you made a good bargain there. That is the whole sum, unless something else has altogether escaped me in the reckoning. And when, then, do you say that you will repay me this? Just now, my dear Hermes. It is quite impossible. But if some pestilence or war should send us down some shoals of men, it will then be in my power to make profits by cooking the accounts of the fares. Am I, then, now to take my seat, praying for the worst to happen, with a mere chance that I may get something from it? There is nothing for you otherwise, Hermes. Just now, as you see, few come to us. For peace prevails. Better so, even though payment of your debt due to me must be postponed by you. But, however, the men of former times, you know in what sort they used to come to us, nearly all of them covered all over with blood, and riddled with wounds, the majority of them.
But nowadays, It is either someone who has died by poison at the hands of his son or of his wife, or who has swollen out in his stomach and legs by gluttony, pallid and paltry. Not at all like their predecessors. The most of them come here by plotting one against the other for the sake of money, to judge by their appearance. Yes, for that is an article exceedingly much loved. Then, surely, neither could I be thought to be wrong in so keenly demanding payment of your debt.
End of dialogue.
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5 05 - Dialogue V. Pluto directs Hermes to bring him the fortune and legacy-hunters and flatterers of a certain rich man, and to suffer the latter to outlive his fawning satellites. 4:30
Dialogue 5 of the Dead by Lucien. Translated by Howard Williams.
Dialogue Five. Pluto directs Hermes to bring him the fortune and legacy hunters and flatterers of a certain rich man, and to suffer the latter to outlive his fawning satellites.
You know that old man, I mean the very aged and infirm fellow, the rich Eukrates, who has no children but fifty thousand legacy hunters? Yes, you speak of the Succionian. What then? Well, let him live on, Hermes, to the ninety years he has already reached dealing out so many again, and, if at least it were possible, even yet more. But as for those fawning flatterers of his, The young Charinus and Daemon and the rest. Drag them all down here, one after the other, the whole lot of them. Such a proceeding would appear strange. Not at all, but exceedingly just. For what wrong have they suffered that they pray for his death? Or, although no way related, why do they lay claim to his money? But what of all things is the most abominable is that though they entertain such wishes, yet they court and fawn upon him in public.
And when he is ill, their designs are very evident to all. But, all the same, they engaged to offer a sacrifice if he should get better, and, altogether, the fawning of these gentlemen is of a somewhat subtle and complicated character. So let the one remain untouched by death, and let the others go off before him while vainly gaping in affected admiration. They will suffer a ridiculous fate, rascals that they are. But he, indeed, charmingly cheats and buoys them up with vain hopes exceedingly, and in a word, While always appearing like a corpse, he has far more strength than the young men. They, however, already have divided out the legacy among themselves, and are living upon it, promising to themselves a happy time of it.
Therefore let him put off his old age, and renew his youth like Iola's. But as for them, In the midst of their hopes, leaving behind them the wealth they have been dreaming of, let them come here this moment, miserable wretches, dying miserably. Have no anxiety, Pluto, for I will go after them for you at once, one by one in their order. There are seven of them, I believe. Drag them down. The old fellow shall follow each of them to the tomb, while he himself, from being aged, shall again be in the prime of youth.
End of dialogue.
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6 06 - Dialogue VI. Terpsion, a legacy-hunter, accuses Pluto and the Fates in that, although only thrity years of age, they had caused hime to predecease the object of his theder regards, the millionaire nonagenarian, Thukritus. Pluto convinces Terpsion of the injustice of his accusation; and the lega 6:51
Dialogue 6 of the Dead by Lucian. Translated by Howard Williams. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Dialogue Six. Terpsian, a legacy hunter, accuses Pluto and the fates in that, although only thirty years of age, They had caused him to predecease the object of his tender regards, the millionaire nonagenarian Thucritus. Pluto convinces Terpsian of the injustice of his accusation, and the legacy hunter consoles himself in the prospect of being soon joined in Hades by his late rivals on Earth. Terpsian, read by Lynette Calkins. Pluto. Is this just, Pluto, that I have died at the age of thirty years, while the old Thucrytus, above his full tale of ninety, lives on?
Very just certainly, Terpsion, since he does not pass his life praying for the death of any of his friends. While you, the whole time we're plotting against him, And expecting his legacy. Why was it not fitting, old as he was, and no longer capable of using his wealth, he had departed from life and made way for the young? You laid down new and strange laws, Terpsion, that a man who is no longer able to enjoy his money should die. But fate and nature have ordered it differently. Then I blame them for that arrangement of theirs, for the business should have proceeded in some sort of order. The older should go first, and after him the next in age, and by no means have been reversed. Nor should the man, laden with years, with only three teeth still left in his head, seeing with difficulty Crouching and leaning upon the shoulders of four domestics, his nose stuffed with phlegm and his eyes with room, with no further perception of anything pleasing, a sort of living tomb, derided by the young, remain alive, while the handsomest and most robust youths die off.
For that is a case of the streams flowing backward, Or, in the last resort, people ought to know when each particular old gentleman will certainly be on the point of going off, so that they would not fawn upon any of them to no purpose. Now, however, is the proverb verified, The wagon drags the ox. These things, Terpsion, are much more reasonable than they seem to you to be. And you... What possesses you that you gate with open mouth after other people's possessions, and thrust and force yourself upon childless old fellows? Thus it is you incur ridicule when you are laid under the ground before them, and the matter affords the greatest delight to most people, For, in proportion as you pray for their deaths, it is a pleasure to all that you predecease them.
Why, this is some new and strange art you have devised, to make love to old men and old women, most especially if they have no children. While those who are blessed with progeny have no lovers, as far as you are concerned. However, already many of the objects of your affection, understanding the rascality of your attachment, if they have children, pretend to hate them so that they too may possess lovers. Accordingly, They who long danced attendance, like a number of satellites, are excluded in the wills, while the child and nature, as is just, possess everything, and these gentlemen grind their teeth at having been finely cheated. Yet how many things of mine Thucrytus devoured, while always seeming to be just at the last gasp, and whenever I came into his house groaning and croaking in a manner in the very depths of his chest, for all the world like some unformed chicken from an egg, so that I, imagining him to be almost at the next moment ready to embark upon his beer, would send him a number of things, That my rivals in affection might not surpass me in the magnitude of their gifts.
And often, kept awake by my anxious cares, I lay counting and settling each particular item. This, in fact, has been the cause of my death, sleeplessness, and anxieties, while he, after having swallowed so large an amount of my bait, stood by as I was being buried the day before yesterday, laughing over me. Well done, Thucritus. May you live to the longest possible period, at once rich and having the laugh against such gentlemen. And may you not die before, at least, you have dispatched all your falling clatterers before you. This, Pluto, to me too, would be exceedingly delightful now. If Chariades, in fact, shall be going to his grave this instant before Thucritus. Keep up your spirits, Terpsion, for both Phaethon and Melanthus, and in fine all of them, will precede him, brought here by the same cares.
That has my full approbation. Long life to you, Thucritus.
End of dialogue six.
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7 07 - Dialogue VII. Zenophantes and Kallidemides, two parasites, bewail one to the other their fates, in having been in the midst of their scheming unexpectedly mismissed to Hades. Killidemides, in particular, recounts the pleasant manner in which he brought about his own death. 3:23
Dialogue seven of the dead by Lucian. Translated by Howard Williams.
Dialogue. Seven, and Caledymides, two parasites, bewail one to the other their fates. Having been, in the midst of their scheming, unexpectedly dismissed to Hades. Caledemides, in particular, recounts the pleasant manner in which he brought about his own death. Xenophantes.
And you, Caledemides, how did you come by your death? For my part, you know that I, who was Denaeath's parasite, was choked by gorging inordinately, for you were present at my death. I was so, Xenophantes, but my fate was a strange and unusual sort of one. You knew surely something of Todorus, the old gentleman? The childless millionaire, with whom I knew you as chief familiar. That's the very man I was always courting, who promised that he would speedily depart this life for my special benefit. When, however, the business was being protracted to an unconscionable length, and the old fellow was extending his life beyond the age of Tithonus himself, I devised an expeditious sort of road to the inheritance.
Purchasing a poison, I induced his butler, as soon as Evertodorus asked to drink, And he drinks pretty hard, to put it in his cup and have it ready to give to him. And, if he would do so, I pledged myself by oath to give him his freedom. What happened then? For you seem to be going to tell some very strange story. Well, when we had come from the bath, the lad with the two cups all ready, the one having the poison for Todorus, and the other for me... By some blunder gave me the poison, and Todorus the unpoisoned goblet. Accordingly, he drank his harmlessly, while in a moment I lay an outstretched corpse, substituted in his place. Why do you laugh at this, Xenophantes? Surely it does not beseem you to mock at a gentleman and a friend.
Ha-ha! Why, my friend, Calidomedes, you experienced a comical sort of fate. But the old gentleman, what did he at this? At first he was somewhat disturbed at the sudden event. Afterwards, understanding, I suppose, what had happened, he began to laugh himself, too, how the butler had served me. But, however, you should never have had recourse to the shortcut, for it would have come to you more safely by the highroad, even if a little more slowly. End of dialogue.
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8 08 - Dialogue VIII. Knemon, a legacy-hunter, laments to his neighbour Damnippus, that, whereas he had publicly, in his will, bequeathed all his wealth to the millionaire Hermolaus, in the expectation that the latter would reciprocate the benefit, he, the speculating testator, by his sudden death, ha 2:50
Dialogue Eight of the Dead by Lucien Translated by Howard Williams Nemon, a legacy hunter, laments to his neighbor, Dampnipus, that, whereas he had publicly, in his will, bequeathed all his wealth to the millionaire Hermelaus, in the expectation that the latter would reciprocate the benefit, he, the speculating testator, by his sudden death, had been frustrated of all his hopes, and, besides, had left his family destitute. NEMON.
D.
PURDY. Here is that saying of the proverb come true, the fawn that slays the lion. What are you so angry and indignant about, Knieman? Knieman. Do you ask what I'm indignant about? Miserably tricked? I have left an heir behind me against my intention. and have passed over those who, most of all, I should have wished to have my property. Mr. How did that happen? I was in the habit of courting and flattering Hermelas, the millionaire, who was childless in the expectation of his dying before me, and he admitted my courtship with no unpleasurable feeling. It appeared to me, in fact, to be a clever device, that of registering my will in public, in which I had left him all my wealth, so that he might emulate my example, and do the same.
What, then, pray, did he? What he wrote in his own will I know not. I, however, died suddenly by the fall of the roof of my house upon me. And now Hermalouse holds my property like some sea wolf, and has snatched away too the hook with the bait. Not only so, but also yourself, the fisherman, so that you have devised your trick against yourself. I seem like it. On this account it is I am groaning and wailing. End of dialogue eight.
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9 09 - Dialogue IX. Polystratus, a centenarian plutocrat, upon arriving in hades, narrates to his friend Simylus how, by reason of his great wealth, he had enjoyed the adulation of the world and an abundance of gifts from speculating flatterers, and how he had disappointed them all by his will. 6:00
Dialogue nine of the dead by Lucian translated by Howard Williams.
Dialogue. Polystratus, a centenarian plutocrat, upon arriving in Hades, narrates to his friend Similus, How, by reason of his great wealth, he had enjoyed the adulation of the world and an abundance of gifts from speculating flatterers, and how he had disappointed them all by his will. Cymilus. Polystratus.
Are you come to us at length, friend Polystratus? Even you? After a life, I believe, not far short of the full century. Ninety and eight years, Zemylis. And in what manner, pray, did you live the thirty years after me? For I died about the seventieth year of your existence. Exceedingly pleasantly, however strange and paradoxical that shall seem to you. Paradoxical and strange indeed that you, aged and feeble and childless into the bargain, were able to find pleasure in life. In the first place, I enjoyed universal power. Besides, I had many and handsome slave-boys, and very elegant women, and unguents, and fragrant wine, and a more than Sicilian table. Strange news to me, this. For I used to think you exceedingly parsimonious.
Yes, but, my good friend, the good things literally used to flow in upon me from the hands of others, and from early morning they would come straight to my doors in shoals, and afterwards all sorts of presents were brought to me from every corner of the earth, the most beautiful conceivable. Did you become an autocrat after my death, Polystratus? No, but I had ten thousand lovers. I couldn't help laughing. You are lovers at your age, with four teeth in your head. Yes, by heavens, the noblest in the state. Even old as I was, and without a hair on my head, as you see, and blear-eyed into the bargain, and my nose stuffed with phlegm, they were beyond measure delighted to fawn upon me. And happy was he among them, whomsoever I merely looked at even.
Did you not too? Did you, like the phaon of the story, carry some Aphrodite over in your boat from Chios? And then she did not grant to your prayers to be young and handsome over again, and a suitable object of love? No. But I was the object of their eager desire, just such as I am. You speak in riddles. And yet this affection I speak of, with its extravagant display in regard to childless and wealthy old gentlemen, is surely plain enough in its origin. Now I understand all about your charming face, admirable sir, that it was from the golden Aphrodite. However, my dear Somailis, I obtained not a few enjoyments from my lovers, and was all but worshipped by them, and I often behaved insolently to them, and closed my doors against some of them at times.
But they would contend with eager emulation, and surpass one the other in their lavish expense and delicate attentions to me. And, at last, pray, how did you devise in regard to your possessions? In public, I was accustomed to declare that I had left each one of them my heir, and he believed it, and equipped himself with more wheedling flattery than ever. But, all the time, I held in my possession the other my real will, and left it behind me, with an injunction to one and all of them to go to the devil. And whom did your last will contain as your heir? Some one of your own family, I presume? By heaven, no! But a certain recently purchased handsome boy, a Phrygian. About how old, friend Polystratus?
Somewhere about the age of twenty. Now I understand what favors he conferred upon you. But, however, he was much more worthy to be my heir than they, even though he was a foreigner and a plague, whom even the great people themselves are already courting. He, then, was my heir, and now he is received among the nobles of the land, shaved though his chin was, and though he did not know a word of Greek, and is proclaimed to be more nobly born than Codrus, handsomer than Nereus, and more prudent than Odysseus. I don't care about that. Let him even be generalissimo of Alice, if they please. But only don't let them get his legacy.
End of dialogue.
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10 10 - Dialogue X. An alarming number of ghosts crowd to the styx. Charon, fearing fro his boat, directs Hermes to see that they were entirely stripped of their various insignia of power, rank, wealth, and the weighty load of vices, before they are admitted on board. Menippus, who is one of the passen 15:19
Dialogue 10 of the Dead by Lucian Translated by Howard Williams Dialogue X. An alarming number of ghosts crowd to the sticks. Charon. Fearing for his boat, directs Hermes to see that they were entirely stripped of their various insignia of power, rank, wealth, and the weighty load of vices, before they are admitted on board. Menippus, who is one of the passengers, avails himself of the opportunity for ridiculing and railing at the bewailing ghosts.
Demacius, read by Larry Wilson. Dead Man, read by David Purdy. General, read by Alex Steele. Craton, read by Anna Maria. Lampicuth, read by Lynette Calkins. Charmell Louse, read by Trisha Gee. Menepus, read by Adrian Stevens. Orator, read. By Avai. Philosopher. Read by Alan Mapstone. Just hear a moment our matters stand with us. Our little craft, as you observe, is a small one, and it is somewhat rotten and leaks in most parts, and were it to incline to either side, it would completely overturn and go to the bottom. And yet you come crowding together at the same time, each of you carrying a lot of luggage. If, then, you were to embark with all this, I am afraid that you may have reason to repent later, and especially as many of you as don't know how to swim.
What shall we do, then, to secure a safe passage? I will tell you. You must embark, stripped of everything, and leave all those superfluous things on the shore, for scarcely even so will the ferry-boat receive you. But it will be your care, Hermes, from this moment, to receive none of them who should not come in light marching order, and throw away, as I said, his furniture and movable property. Now. Take your stand near the gangway, and narrowly examine them, and help them up, compelling them to embark, stripped of everything. You say, well, and so let us do. Who is this first man here? It is I, Menepus. There, see, Hermes, let my wallet-bag and my staff be both tossed away for good. Enter your lake, and as for my tattered cloak, I have obligingly not even brought it.
Come on board, friend Minippus, best of men, and take the place of precedent by the side of the helmsman, on deck, that you may supervise the whole of them. But this handsome fellow, who is he? Charmolouse of Megara. He who was so much run after, whose kiss was worth two talents. So then, pray, off with your good looks, and your lips with their kisses and all, and that long flowing hair, and the blush on your cheeks, and your entire hide. Tis well, you are now succinctly equipped. Come on board now. And you there, The gentleman with the purple robe and the diadem, you with the grim countenance. Who may you be? Lampicus, autocrat of the Galencians. Why, pray, Lampicus, are you here with so many valuables?
What, then? Ought a prince to come stripped of everything? A prince, of course not. A dead man, certainly. So, divest yourself of these things at once. There, my wealth has been cast aside at your pleasure. Cast off at once, too, your bloated pride, Lempecus, and your superciliousness. For if they be shipped with you, they will wait the boat down. Permit me at all events, pray, to keep my diadem and my royal mantle. By no means, but leave them behind, too. Well, what more? For I have abandoned everything, as you see. Your cruelty and your folly, and your insolence and your rage, these you must abandon as well. See, I am bare of everything, at your service. Come on board now. Well, you, fat gross fellow, you with the loads of flesh, who may you be?
Demacius, the athlete. Yes, so it seems, for I know you from having frequently had a look at you in the gymnasia. Yes, Hermes, but take me in now that I am stripped and bare. Not stripped and bare, my fine sir, so long as you are clothed in such lumps of flesh. So put them off, since you will sink our craft if you put but one foot on board. Yes, toss away at once also those crowns, and the records of your publicly proclaimed victories. See, I am truly and actually stripped, at your service, as you see. and of equal weight with the rest of the dead men. It is better to be thus unweighted. So come on board.
And as for you, Craton, strip yourself at once of your riches, and your effeminacy besides, and your luxury, and bring neither your funeral robes nor your ancestral dignities But leave behind both your pride of birth and vainglory, and if ever the State, by public proclamation, has allowed you inscriptions on your statues, leave them behind too, nor bring us any story of their having piled a huge tomb over you, for even the very mention of these things makes a difference in the weight. It's against my will. However, I will cast them off. For what can I do? Bless me! And you gentlemen armed cap-up-yed, what do you want? Or why are you carrying this trophy? Because I gained a battle, and won the prize of valor, and the State did me that honor.
Leave your trophy upon earth, for in Hades reigns peace, and there will be no need for weapons. But this gentleman, so majestic in his dress, and who gives himself such airs in it, who elevates his eyebrows, who is wrapped in meditation, who is he? He, I mean, who wears the long, thick beard. A species of philosopher so called, Hermes, but rather infect, A juggler, and a fellow stuffed full of preternatural pretensions. So strip him too, for you will see many and truly ridiculous things stowed away under his cloak. Off you, in the first place, with your clothes. Next, with all those things there. Oh, Zeus! What arrogance he bears about him, and what ignorance! And disputation, and vain glory, and useless questions, and thorny argumentations, and intricate conceits.
Yes, and a vast amount of vain labor, and trifling not a little, and nonsense, and frivolous talk by heaven. And gold coin here, and hedonism, and shamelessness, and passion, and luxury, and effeminacy. For they don't escape my observation, however well you conceal them about your person. Now, off this instant with your lying, and your swollen pride, and the notion that you are better than the rest of the world, since, if you were to come on board with all this, what ordinary ship of war would ever take you? I divest myself of them, then, since you so order. Nay, But let him put off, too, that beard. Hermes, heavy and shaggy, as you observe, there are at the least five pounds of hair. You are right.
Off with that also. And who will be the barber? A manipus here will take the ship carpenter's axe and will chop it off, making use of the gangway as a block. No, Hermes, but hand me up a saw, for that will be more entertaining. The axe will do.
Well done. Now that you have divested yourself of your he-goatish odors, you turn out more like a man. Do you want me to remove a little from his eyebrows? By all means. For he raises them ever above his forehead, stretching himself upwards. Why, I don't know. What's this? Do you, indeed, weep, vile scum, and grow cowardly in face of death? Embark now, immediately. One thing, the heaviest of all, he is keeping under his armpits. What is it, Minervis? Fawning flattery, Hermes, which has much served him in his life. Do you too, then, Menopus, put off your freedom and assurance and unconcern and self-satisfaction and ridicule? Indeed, you are the only one of us all to laugh. Don't do anything of the kind.
On the contrary, retain them, for they are light and very portable, and serviceable for the passage. And the orator, you there, off with that so enormous a quantity of words and verbiage and antithesis, and nice balancing of clauses and periods and barbarisms, and the rest of the heavy trappings of your orations. Well, see, I am stripping myself of them. It is well. So, loose the cables, let us haul up the gangway, let the anchors be weighed on fur the sails. Take the helm, ferryman. May we have a prosperous voyage. What are you groaning and lamenting about, fools? And you, philosopher in particular? Who just now have had your beard chopped off. Because, Hermes, I used to think that the soul was immortal.
He lies, for other matters obviously afflict him. What sort? That no longer he will partake of costly dinners, nor go out at night without anyone's knowing it. With his head enveloped in his cloak, and go the round of the public stews, and from an early hour in the morning take the fees of the youths for lessons in philosophy, deceiving them all the while. It is this that afflicts him. Why, you, Menipus, are you not grieved at being dead? How? "'I, who hurried to death without any one's summons? But while we are chatting, is that not some cry I hear, as if of people shouting from earth?' "'Yes, Minippus, not from one region only. But those who have met together in conclave, with pleased looks, are all laughing at the death of Lampicus, while his wife is seized hold of by the women, and her infants likewise.' Young and tender as they are, are being assailed by the boys with quantities of stones.
And others are applauding Diothontus, the orator of Sycyon, who is declaiming funeral eulogies over Creighton there. And, by heaven, the mother of Domitius, with wailing, is now leading off the dirge for him with the women. But as for you, friend Minippus, no one sheds a tear over you. And you lie all alone in perfect peace. By no means so. You will shortly hear the dogs howling most piteously over me, and the crows flapping with their wings when they collect together to bury me. You are a fine fellow, Manipas. Well, since we have made the passage, do you pack off to the judge's tribunal? Proceeding by that straight road there, while I and the ferryman will go for others. A good voyage to you, Hermes.
Well, let us two go our way. Why, pray are you still lingering? You will most certainly have to be judged. And they say that the sentences are severe. Wheels, and rocks, and vultures. And each one's life will be clearly revealed.
End of dialogue 10
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11 11 - Dialogue XI. Krates and Diogenes, meeting in Hades, indulge their satire on the subject of the fates of two millionaire merchants (cousins) who had been constantly plotting, in the usual manner, each for the other's legacy, and who had both perished on the same day by shipwreck. The two eminent 5:50
Dialogue 11 of the Dead by Lucian. Translated by Howard Williams.
Dialogue 11. Cratez and Diogenes, meeting in Hades, indulged their satire on the subject of the fates of two millionaire merchants, cousins, who had been constantly plotting, in the usual manner, each for the other's legacy, and who had both perished on the same day by shipwreck. The two eminent cynics congratulate themselves on the recollection of the very different character of their own objects in life.
Diogenes, you used Diogenes to know Mauritius, the rich fellow, the millionaire. Him of Corinth, who owned those numerous merchant ships, whose cousin was Aristaeus, himself, too, a plutocrat, who used to quote that verse of Homer, Let one or other lift his man. Why, Gratis? They used to court and wheedle one the other for the sake of the expected legacy, Being of the same age, and publicly registered their wills. Moritius, if he should die first, leaving Aristias, master of all his property, and Aristias, Moritius, should he predecease the other. Such were the terms of the wills, while they were accustomed to surpass one the other in their mutual wheedling and flattery. The prophets, both those who divine the future from the stars and those who divine from dreams, like the disciples of the Chaldeans, nay, even the Pythian himself, offered the victory now to Aristias, now to Merechus, and the scales were for inclining at one time in favor of the latter, and now again for the former.
What, pray, was the end of it, Kratus? For it is worth hearing. Both have died on one and the same day, and the properties devolved unexpectedly upon Eunomius and Thuracicles, both relatives, who never even dreamed that this would happen. For sailing from Sicyon to Kira, about the middle of the passage, they were overtaken by the WNW wind across their bows, and they were wrecked and lost. It was very kind of them. Well, as for us, when we were in life, we entertained no such designs in regard to one another. Neither did I ever pray for the death of Antisthenes. That I might inherit his staff, and he used to have a pretty strong one, which he made for himself a wild olive. Nor, I imagine, did you, Cratus, eagerly desire to inherit my possessions at my death, my tub and my wallet, which held two quarts of lupins.
No, for I had no need of them, neither had you, Diogenes. For what we needed, you inherited from Antisthenes, and I from you, possessions far better and more respectable than all the power of the Persians. What are these possessions you speak of? Wisdom, self-sufficiency, truth, plain speaking, freedom. By my faith, yes. I remember also that having received this wealth in succession from Antisthenes, I left behind you, in fact, still more. However, the rest of the world used to despise such kind of possessions, and no one of them courted us looking to obtain our legacies. But they all directed their looks to the gold coin. With good reason. For they had not where they could receive from us and stow away such possessions, gradually leaking and wasting away, as they were, under the influence of luxury, like rotten pouches.
So that, if even one were to put into them either wisdom or plainness of speech or truth, it would immediately escape and run through, the bottom of the vessel not being able to hold it in. Something like what the daughters of Deneas, those famous maidens, experience when they draw water in their perforated pitcher, while as for the gold, they used to guard it with tooth and nail, and every possible contrivance. Accordingly, we shall possess our wealth even here, while they will arrive carrying an obolus with them, and even that as far only as their ferryman.
End of dialogue.
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12 12 - Dialogue XII. Alexander of Macedon and Hannibal, quarrelling for precedence, submit the arbitrament of their cause to Minos. Each recounts his exploits. Scipio, the conqueror of Carthage, intervenes, and pronounces in favour of Alexander, claiming the second place for himself, and assigning the 10:15
Dialogue 12 of the Dead by Lucian. Translated by Howard Williams.
Dialogue Twelve. Alexander of Macedon and Hannibal, quarreling for precedence, submit the arbitrament of their cause to Minos. Each recounts his exploits. Scipio, the conqueror of Carthage, intervenes and pronounces in favor of Alexander, claiming the second place for himself and assigning the third place to Hannibal. Alexander.
Hannibal. Jake Malizia. Minas. Larry Wilson. Scipio. David Purdy.
I ought to be preferred to you, you Libyan, for I am superior to you. No, indeed. Rather, I ought to have the precedence. Let Minos decide, then. But who are you? This is Hannibal of Carthage, and I am Alexander, the son of Philip. Upon my word illustrious both of you. But what is your quarrel about? About precedence, for this fellow affirms that he was a better general than I. Whereas I affirm that I surpass not only him, as everyone knows, but almost all who have lived before me in the arts of war. Then let each speak in his turn, and do you of Libya be the first to speak? In respect to this one circumstance, Minos, I derive much satisfaction, that while here I have thoroughly mastered the Greek language, so that not even in that particular can he have any advantage over me.
Now I affirm that those men are most deserving of eulogy, who, though nothing at starting, nonetheless arrived at great eminence by their own efforts investing themselves with power, and being deemed worthy of governing. Well, though I set out with few soldiers for Spain, At first, being subordinate to my brother, I was judged to be the most skilful in war, and was deemed fit for the highest employments. And I subdued the Celtiberians, and conquered the Gauls of the West, and, crossing the vast mountains, I overran all the plains of the Padus, and laid in ruins so many cities, and subjected to my power the whole plain of Italy, and advanced as far as the suburbs of its capital city, and slew such numbers on one day that I measured off their rings by bushels, and bridged their rivers with the dead.
And all this I accomplished without either getting myself called the son of Ammon, or making claim to divinity, or recounting my mother's dreams, but acknowledging myself to be human, and putting myself in competition with the most skilful generals, and engaging with the most warlike soldiers in the world, not contending against Medes and Armenians, who seek refuge in flight before any one pursues, and yield the victory at once to the bold aggressor. Alexander, on the other hand, Enlarged the dominion which he had received from his father, and extended it considerably by availing himself of the start given him by fortune. But when he had gained the victory over, and vanquished at Issus and Arbella that wretched pest, Darius, revolting from the customs of his ancestors, he began to put forth claims to divine worship, and changed his way of life to the Median mode.
And polluted his hands in the blood of his friends at his banquets, and seized them for the purpose of putting them to death. Whereas I ruled my country upon terms of equality with my fellow-citizens, and when it summoned me to its aid on the sailing of the enemy to Libya with a great armament, I obeyed with speed and offered myself as a private citizen, And after condemnation, I bore the matter with good will. These achievements I performed, non-Greek, as I was, and uninstructed by a Greek education, neither reciting and declaiming Homer, as he did, nor educated under Aristotle, that famous sophist, but availing myself of my natural good qualities alone. These are the points as to which I maintain that I am superior to Alexander, and if this fellow has a handsomer appearance, because he was accustomed to encircle his brows with the diadem—with Macedonians, doubtless, those things are objects of veneration—he surely should not on that account be thought superior to a man of genuine nobility and of true military capacity, who owed more to his judgment than to fortune.
He has delivered no ignoble plea, and won not such as it was likely a Libyan would on his own behalf. Now you, Alexander, what do you say to these arguments? I ought, Minos, to make no reply at all to so impudent a man, for fame is quite enough to instruct you what a king I was, and what a mere brigand he was. However, just consider if it is by a small difference I surpass him, I, who, while yet a mere youth, entered upon public business, and became master of a kingdom all in a state of confusion, and pursued and punished my father's assassins, and then, by the total destruction of Thebes, having terrorized all Hellas, and having been elected by them to the command-in-chief, I did not think it fit to confine my cares to my Macedonian dominions.
And to be content to rule over what my father had left behind him. But extending my thoughts to the whole earth, and thinking it intolerable if I should not become master of the world with a few soldiers, I invaded Asia. And at the Granicus I gained a great battle. And seizing upon Lydia, Ionia, and Phrygia, and, in fine, conquering in succession everything in my way, I advanced to Issus, where Darius awaited me with an army of many myriads. From that time, Minos, you know how many dead I sent below to you on one day. At all events, the ferryman says that his boat did not suffice, at that time, for them, but that the majority of them constructed rafts for themselves, and so made the passage. And this I accomplished by being foremost in danger myself, and deeming it glorious to get myself wounded.
Not to recount to you my exploits at Tyre or at Arbella. Not only that. But I advanced as far as the Indians, and made for myself the ocean the boundary of my empire, and I captured their elephants, and worsted Porus. And as for the Scythians, not a people to be despised with impunity, I crossed the Don and conquered them in a great cavalry battle. And I conferred benefits on my friends, and avenged myself on my enemies. And if I appeared to men to be indeed divine, they are to be excused. In consideration of the greatness of my actions, for believing something of the kind about me. Finally I died while yet a king, whereas this fellow died in exile at the court of Prusius of Pithynia. As it was right a man of the greatest villainy and cruelty should.
For how he conquered the Italians I omit to say, that he did not do it by force, but by corruption, and not keeping faith, and by stratagems. Nothing according to the usages of war or above board. And as for his reproaching me with luxury, I think he has forgotten entirely what he was accustomed to do in Capua, living with ladies of the demimonde, an admirable general, wasting in pleasures the opportunities of war. I, on the other hand, if I had not esteemed the affairs of the West a small matter, and made my first attacks, rather, on the side of the East, what great achievement could I have done? Seizing, without shedding a drop of blood, upon Italy, and subjecting to my power Libya and the continent as far as Gades.
No, those parts of the world seem to me not worth fighting for, being already cowed and acknowledging a master. I have said. Now, do you, Minos, judge? For out of many facts, these are quite enough to decide by. Not before you have heard me, too. Why, who are you, my fine sir? An Italian, Scipio, the general who razed Carthage and conquered the Libyans in great battles. What pray would you say? That I am inferior, indeed, to Alexander, but superior to Hannibal, I who vanquished and pursued him, and forced him to a disgraceful flight. How, then, is this fellow not ashamed? To contend in rivalry with Alexander, with whom not even I, Scipio, his conqueror, claim to put myself in comparison. By my faith, you speak the words of reason, Scipio.
So let Alexander be judged to be first. Next to him come you, then by your leave follows Hannibal third. For neither is he to be despised with impunity.
End of Dialogue 12.
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13 13 - Dialogue XIII. Diogenes jeers at Alexander of Macedon for his late pretensions to divinity, at the same time satirizing the servile attitude of the conquered Greek states towards him. He proceeds to remind the arrogant Conqueror of all this vain power and glory, and casts large part of the blam 6:39
Dialogue 13 of the Dead by Lucian. Translated by Howard Williams. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org.
Dialogue 13. Diogenes jeers at Alexander of Macedon. for his late pretensions to divinity, at the same time satirizing the servile attitude of the conquered Greek states towards him. He proceeds to remind the arrogant conqueror of all this vain power and glory, and casts large part of the blame on Alexander's preceptor, Aristotle, for flattering and fostering the pride and ambition of his pupil. Diogenes, finally, Recommends the dead potentate to drink the waters of the River Lethe.
Diogenes and Alexander.
Diogenes, read by Todd. Alexander, read by Mike Manalakis.
What's this, Alexander? Have you, too, died like the rest of us? You see for yourself it is so, Diogenes. But it is nothing strange if, man as I was, I am dead. Then Ammon lied in saying that you were his son, while, in fact, you were Philips. Philips undoubtedly, for had I been Ammons, I should not have died. Yet similar stories used to be told of Olympias, that a serpent visited her, and was seen in her bed, that then you were born from such intercourse. And that Philip was altogether deceived in supposing you were of his begetting. I, too, like you, used to hear these tales. But now I see that neither my mother nor the Ammonian prophets spoke it all rationally. But their lie was not unserviceable to you, Alexander, in regard to your exploits, for many were cowed under the impression that you were a god.
But tell me, To whom have you left behind this so great empire of yours? I don't know, Diogenes, for I had not made any arrangements about it beforehand, or only this much, that on my deathbed I gave over my ring to Perticus. But, however, why do you laugh, Diogenes? Why, at what else than the recollection of the doings of Hellas, that servilely flattered you, who had but just succeeded to the throne? and elected you to the Hegeonymy and Commander-in-Chief against the foreigners. And some even added you to the twelve principal deities, both building to you temples and sacrificing to you as to a serpent's son. But tell me, where did the Macedonians bury you? I am still lying in Babylon after three days unburied.
But Ptolemaeus, of my foot guards, promises, if ever he has leisure from the troubles immediately before him, to carry me away to Egypt and bury me there, so that I may become one of the Egyptian divinities. May I not, pray, be excused for laughing, Alexander, at seeing you, even in Hades, still playing the fool, and expecting to become an Anubis or Osiris? But, however... Don't for a moment expect it, most respectable of Godships, for it is not allowed to any of those who have once crossed the lake and passed within this side of the mouth of the cavern to go back up to earth. For Achis is not so careless, nor is Cabarrus so easily to be despised. However, I would gladly learn this from you, how you endure, whenever you reflect upon it.
The thought of how much happiness you have left behind, above ground, to come here. Body-guides, your picked corps of shield-bearers and satraps, and gold in such heaps, and adoring nations, and Babylon and Bactra, and the huge elephants, and honor and glory, and the riding in your chariot with all the insignia of your rank, with your head encircled with a white fillet, Arrayed in a brooch-fashioned purple robe. Do not these things cause you grief when they recur to your memory? Why do you weep, fool? Did not the wise Aristotle instruct you even so much as that, not to suppose the gifts of fortune to last for ever? He, wise, who was the most inveterate of all flatterers? Just let me alone for having some knowledge of the character of Aristotle.
How many things he begged of me, what sort of letters he sent me, and how he abused my zeal for learning, cajoling, and eulogizing me now for my beauty, as though that, too, were part of the summum bonum. And now for my actions and riches, for indeed he was used to consider that also a good, so that he did not blush even himself to take it. A juggling fellow Diogenes and a crafty trickster. But, however, this benefit I have gained from his philosophy, to be grieved at the loss of those things as the greatest goods which you but just now enumerated. Well, know you what I should do? I will suggest to you a remedy for your grief. Since Hellebore does not grow hereabouts, do you, at least, even gulp down and drink with wide-opened mouth forthwith the waters of Lath?
and drink again and often, for thus will you cease to be troubled at the goods of Aristotle. Why, really, I see the Cleaitas you know about, and Callisthenes, and many others rushing towards you, as though they would tear you in pieces and wreak their vengeance upon you for what you did to them. So step you off by this other path, and— Drink often, as I told you.
End of Dialogue 13.
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14 14 - Dialogue XIV. Philip, King of Macedon, ridicules his son Alexander's absurd arrogance in claiming to the the son of Ammon, and calls in question the greatness of his military achievements. Alexander defends himself. 6:49
Dialogue 14 of the Dead by Lucian. Translated by Howard Williams.
Dialogue 14. Philip, King of Macedon. He ridicules his son Alexander's absurd arrogance in claiming to be the son of Ammon, and calls in question the greatness of his military achievements. Alexander defends himself. Philip, read by Alex Steele. Alexander, read by Mike Manalakis.
Now then, Alexander, you will not be for denying that you are my son. For had you been Ammon's... You had not died. Nor was I myself ignorant, father, that I am the son of Philip, and the grandson of Amyntas, but I accepted the oracle as opposing it to be of service to the success of my undertakings. What do you say? Did it appear to you to be of advantage, the giving yourself up to be deceived out and out by the prophets? Not that, but the non-Greeks were struck with consternation. And not one of them any longer resisted, thinking that they were fighting with a divine being, so that I kept gaining victories over them with a greater ease. And what people worth fighting with did you gain victories over?
You who always came into conflict with cowards, defending themselves with miserable bows and paltry light shields, and Persian bucklers of Osher twigs. To conquer Hellenes. Botians, Phocaeans, and Athenians was an achievement, and to utterly defeat the heavy-armed troops of Arcadia, and the Thessalian cavalry, and the javelin-armed soldiers of Elis, and the Mentonian Peltists, or Thracians, or Illyrians, or Ponians, those were great deeds. But as for Medes and Persians, and Babylonians, and gold-equipped and effeminate soldiers. Do you not know that ten thousand men who marched up with Clearchus vanquished them before your time? While they did not endure even so much as to come to close conflict, but fled before an arrow reached them.
But the Scythians, father, and the elephants of the Hindus, was not a kind of work to be lightly despised. And yet, without stirring up dissensions among them, or purchasing my victories with treasons, I got the mastery over them. Nor did I ever perjure myself, or falsify my promise, or commit any breach of faith for the sake of conquest. And as regards the Hellenes, while some I received under my dominion without bloodshed, as for the Thebans, you probably know by report how I punished them. I know all this. For Cletus brought me word, whom you murdered with your own hand while at dinner, by running him through with a hunting spear, because he dared to eulogize me by comparison with your deeds.
Well, you threw aside the Macedonian short cloak and exchanged it, as they say, for the Persian flowing robe, and put on your head the towering tiara, and claimed divine honors from the Macedonians, from free people. And the most ridiculous circumstance of all, you were accustomed to imitate the manners of the conquered. I omit to mention all your other bad actions, your shutting up men of culture with lions, and contracting marriages of such a kind as you did, and entertaining an excessive affection for Hephaestion. One circumstance only that I have heard I commend. You're keeping your hands off the wife of Darius, who was a beautiful woman, and you're taking care of his mother and his daughters, for that was conduct becoming a prince.
But my eagerness to incur dangers, father, do you not praise? And the fact that at Ocetrechi I was the first to leap down within the fortifications, and receive so many wounds. I don't commend this conduct, Alexander. Not because I don't think it would be honorable for the king sometimes to get wounded, and to incur danger on behalf of his army, but because such conduct least of all suited your character. For if, with the reputation of being nevine, you had ever received a wound, and they had seen you carried out of the battle in a litter, flowing with blood, groaning by reason of the pain from the wound, That had been subject for ridicule to the spectators, how even Ammon had been convicted of being a mere juggler and false prophet, and the prophets of being mere flatterers.
Or who would not have laughed at seeing the son of Zeus swooning, begging the aid of his physicians? For now, when you are dead, in fact, do you not suppose there are many who make cutting sarcasms upon that pretension of yours when they see the corpse of the god lying stretched out, already clammy with decay and swollen out, according to the law of all bodies? Besides even that which you were saying was of service to you, Alexander, the fact of your easily conquering by this means, it deprived you of much of the glory of your actual successes. For, thought to be achieved by a divine being, anything would appear to fall short of what it ought to have been. These are not the thoughts men have about me.
On the contrary, they put me in rivalry with Heracles and Dionysus. Indeed, I was the only one to conquer that famous Aornos, neither of them having got possession of it. Do you observe that you are talking of these exploits as though you were the son of Ammon, in comparing yourself with Heracles and Dionysus? And do you not blush, Alexander, and will you not unlearn even that puffed-up pride of yours, and know and perceive yourself to be now a mere dead man?
End of dialogue 14.
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15 15 - Dialogue XV. Antilochus, the son of Nestor (one of the Greek heroes who fell during the siege of Ilium), remonstrates whith his friend Achilleus for having given utterance to the words put into his mouth by the poet of the Odyssey-that he would rather be a slave on Earth than King in Hades-show 5:18
Antilochus, the son of Nestor, one of the Greek heroes who fell during the Siege of Ilium, Remonstrates with his friend Achilles for having given utterance to the words put into his mouth by the poet of the Odyssey that he would rather be a slave on earth than king in Hades. Shows him the uselessness of the regrets in the underworld, and, at the same time, attempts to console him with the reflection that he is far from being alone in his fate. Achilles takes the admonition of his friend in good part, but refuses to be comforted.
What sort of language was that, Achilles, you addressed to Odysseus the day before yesterday about death? How ignoble and unworthy of both your teachers, Chiron and Phoenix! For I overheard you when you were saying that you would wish to be a servant bound to the soil in the house of any poor man, whose means of support were small, rather than to be king over all the dead. These sentiments, indeed, some abject Phrygian, cowardly and dishonourably clinging to life, might perhaps be allowed to utter. But for the son of Peleus, the most rashly daring of all heroes, to entertain so ignoble thoughts about himself, is a considerable disgrace and a contradiction to your actions in life. You who, though you might have reigned ingloriously a length of time in Pythiatis, of your own accord preferred death with fair fame.
But, O son of Nestor, at that time I was still unacquainted with the state of things here, and was ignorant which of those two conditions was the better, and used to prefer that wretched paltry glory to existence. But now I already perceive how profitless it is, even though the people above ground shall parrot-like sing its praises to the utmost of their power. With the dead there is perfect sameness of dignity, and neither those good looks of mine, Antilochus, nor my powers of strength are here, but we lie all alike under the same murky gloom, and in no way superior one to the other. And neither the dead of the Trojans have fear of me, nor do those of the Achaeans pay me any court. But there is complete and entire equality in an address, and a dead man is the same all the world over, both the coward and the brave.
These thoughts cause me anguish, and I am grieved that I am not alive and serving as a hireling. Yet what can one do, Achilles? For such is the will of nature. that all certainly die, so one must abide by her ordinance, and not be grieved at the constituted order of things. Besides, you observe how many of us, your friends, are about you here, and, after a short space of time, Odysseus too will certainly arrive. And community in misfortune, and the fact that one is not alone in suffering brings comfort. You see Heracles and Meliger, and other admired heroes, who, I imagine, would not accept the offer of a return to the upper regions if one were to send them back to be hired servants to starvelings and beggars.
Your exhortation is friendly and well-meant. But I know not how. The remembrance of things in life troubles me, and I imagine it does each one of you, too. However, if you do not confess it openly, you are in that respect worse off, in that you endure it in silence. No, rather better off, Achilles, for we see the uselessness of speaking about it. And we have come to the resolution to keep silence, and to bear and to put up with it, not to incur ridicule, as you do, by indulging in such wishes.
End of dialogue.
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16 16 - Dialogue XVI. Diogenes, the cynic, expresses his astonishment to Herakles at seeing the son of Zeus in Hades, like the rest. That hero pretends that his actual self is in Heaven, while it is his eidolon, or phantom, which is among the dead. 6:45
Dialogue 16 of the Dead by Lucian. Translated by Howard Williams. Dialogue 16. Diogenes, the Cynic. expresses his astonishment to Heracles at seeing the son of Zeus in Hades, like the rest. That hero pretends that his actual self is in heaven, while it is his idon or phantom which is among the dead.
Niogenes, read by Todd. Heracles, read by our Mapstone.
Is this not... Heracles? It is indeed no other by Heracles. The bow, the club, the lion's skin, the bulk, it is Heracles all over. Then, with all his being son of Zeus, has he died for good in all? Tell me, O glorious victor, are you a dead man? For I used to offer sacrifice to you above ground, as if you were divine. And you did perfectly right, for the true Heracles himself is in the company of the gods in heaven, and enjoys he be of the beautiful ankles, while I, his ghost, am here. What? A ghost of a god? And is it possible for one to be a god in one half of one's person, and to have died in the other half? Yes, for he has not died, but I his simulacrum. I understand. He handed you over as a substitute in place of himself to Pluto.
And you, therefore, Are a dead man in the stead of that hero. Something of the sort. How, pray, did Aecus, who is so particular, not distinguish you were not he, but accepted a supposititious Heracles, as soon as ever he appeared? Because I resembled him so exactly. You speak the truth. For so exactly do you resemble him that you are him. Consider a moment, however, whether the contrary is not the case. You, in fact, are the Heracles, while it's your ghost that has married Hebe in heaven. You are an insolent and prating fellow. And if you don't stop your jeering at me, you shall presently know of what sort of god I am ghost. Your bow, indeed, is out of its case and ready to hand. But I, why should I, once dead, any longer be afraid of you?
But tell me, in the name of your own Heracles, when he was alive, Did you associate with him at that time as his ghost? Or were you one and the same during your life, and, when you died, did you separate, and did he fly off to heaven? And you, the ghost, as was natural, come to Hades? I ought not even to have replied to a man who talks thus lightly. However, pray, just hear this too. As much as there was of Amphitryon in Heracles, that has died, and I am all that. But what there was of Zeus is living with the gods in heaven. Now I clearly understand. For Alcmene gave birth, you imply, to two Heracleses at the same time. The one by Amphitryon, and the other from Zeus. So that, without it being known, you were twins, born of the same mother.
No, vain trifler. Why, we both were one and the same person. It's not so easy to understand this, that there were two Heracleses compounded into one, excepting, perhaps, in the manner, as it were, Of some hippocentaur, you were grown together, man and God. Mr. Brown. What? Don't you suppose all men to be composed of two parts, soul and body? So what is to hinder the soul from being in heaven, which was from Zeus, and the mortal part, myself, from being with the dead? Nay, most excellent son of Amphitryon! You would have fairly advanced that argument if you were a body. But now you are a bodiless ghost, and you are perilously near mistaking Heracles just now into a trinity. How a trinity? In this way about.
If the One, whoever it is, is in Heaven, And the one who is with us, are you the ghost, while your body has already been dissolved and become dust on Edna? These surely are three. And consider, therefore, whom you will devise for the third parent for your body. You are an impudent and sophistical fellow. And who, pray, may you happen to be, too? The ghost of Diogenes, the Sinopian. But on my faith he is not with the gods immortal. Nay, rather I associate with the best of the dead, and laugh heartily at Homer and such like frigid nonsense.
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17 17 - Dialogue XVII. Menippus derides the fable and fate of Tantalus. 3:24
Dialogue 17 of The Dead by Lucian, translated by Howard Williams. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Dialogue 17. Menopus derides the fable and fate of Tantalus. Menopus, read by Adrian Stevens. Tantalus, read by Todd.
Why weep you, Tantalus, or why stand you by the lake and bemoan yourself? Because, Manipas, I am dying of thirst. Are you so lazy as not to stoop and drink, or by all that's sacred, even to draw up water in the hollow of your hand? No good. If I were to stoop down, for the water flees away whenever it feels me approaching it, and if even, too, I drew any up and put it to my mouth, I have not wetted the tips of my lips before somehow or other it flows through my fingers and leaves my hand again as dry as ever. Your experience is somewhat of the miraculous, Tantalus. But tell me why, pray, have you even any need to drink? For you have no body, but that which could suffer hunger and thirst lies buried somewhere in Lydia.
And as for you, the spirit, how can you any longer be thirsty or drink? That's the very nature of the punishment, that my spirit should thirst as though it were body. Well, I will believe it to be so, since you declare you are being punished by the feeling of thirst. But what, pray, will there be terrible to you in that? Is it that you fear dying for want of something to drink? But that can't be, for I do not observe another Hades after this one, or another death to go to, from here to another place. You are right. And this, in fact, is part of my sentence, the longing to drink without having any need to do so. You talk nonsense, Tantalus, and you seem truly enough to be in need of a draught, unmixed hellebore by heaven, who have experienced a fate the opposite to that of those who have been bitten by mad dogs, since you are afraid not of water, but of thirst.
Not even hell-o'-worn, Minibus, do I refuse to drink. Let me only have it. Keep up your spirits, Tantalus, since neither you nor anyone else of the dead will drink, for it's an impossibility. However, not all, like you, by the terms of their sentence, thirst for water that will not stay for them.
End of dialogue 17.
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18 18 - Dialogue XVIII. Menippus desires Hermes to point out to him the beautiful women and handsome men celebrated by the poets. Hermes showes him the ghosts of the most famous of them, and, in particular, that of Helene. Menippus cynicaly expresses his astonishment that a bare skull should have cause 3:04
Dialogue 18 of the Dead by Lucian, translated by Howard Williams. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, ought to volunteer.
Dialogue 18. Menipus desires Hermes to point out to him the beautiful women and handsome men celebrated by the poets. Hermes shows him the ghosts of the most famous of them, and, in particular, that of Hellene. Menopus cynically expresses his astonishment that a bare skull should have caused a great war, and the deaths of so many thousands. Menopus, read by Adrian Stevens. Hermes, read by Todd. And where are the bells and the bow, Hermes? Be my Cicerone, for I am a new arrival. I have no leisure, Menepus. Look carefully, however, at that spot to the right, where are Hyakynthus, and Archissus, and Nereus, and Archelius, and Tyro, and Helene, and Leda, and in fine all the beauties of old. I see only bones and skulls, bare of flesh, for the most part all alike.
Yet these are the bones that all the poets rave about, which you appear to contemn. However, point me out, Hellene, for I could not distinguish her. That skull is Hellene. Then, on account of this, those thousand ships were equipped from the whole of Hellas? And so many Hellenis and foreigners fell, and so many cities have become ruins. But you never saw the lady alive, Maniphas, for even you would have acknowledged it was not a matter to excite indignation that they, for such a woman many a year chose bitter woe to suffer. For, in fact, if one looks at withered flowers, when they have lost their brilliant colour, It is plain that they will seem to him to have lost all their beauty. While, however, they are in bloom and retain their colour, they are very beautiful.
"'Tis this, however, I wonder at, Hermes, that the Achaeans did not know they were suffering for a thing so short-lived and quickly fading." I have no leisure, Menippus, to engage in a philosophical chat with you. So do you choose out for yourself a spot, wherever you like, and throw yourself down in their lie, while I shall straightway go and look after the rest of the dead men.
End of dialogue 18
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19 19 - Dialogue XIX. Protesilaus, one of the victims of the Trojan War, seeks to avenge himself by an assult on Helene - Aeakus, gatekeeper and one of the high court of justice in Hades, reminds him that it is Menelaus, the Commander-in-Chief of the Achaean Army against Ilium, who is the proper object 4:04
Dialogue 19 of The Dead by Lucian. Translated by Howard Williams.
Dialogue 19. Protosillus, one of the victims of the Trojan War. seeks to avenge himself by an assault on Helene. Aeacus, gatekeeper and one of the High Court of Justice in Hades, reminds him that it is Monelaus, the commander-in-chief of the Achaean army against Ilium, who is the proper object of his vengeance. Monelaus shifts a responsibility to the shoulders of Paris. Paris lays the blame upon Eros. Aeacus decides that Protocillus has only himself to blame for preferring military glory to a young and beautiful wife, but concedes to Protocillus that the blame in the last resort lies with the fates. Aeaclus, read by Todd. Protessileus, read by Alex Steele. Menelaus, read by Armand Mapstone. Paris, read by Tchaikovsky.
Why are you falling upon Helen, and throttling her, Protocillus? Why? Because it was through her I met with my death, Iacus, leaving behind me my house, half-finished, and my newly married wife, a widow. Blame Menelaus, then, who led you to Troy for the sake of such a woman. You are right. It's he I have to call to account. No, not me, my fine sir, but Paris, more likely, who, contrary to every principle of justice, ran off with the wife of his host, myself. Why, this fellow deserves to be throttled, not by you only, but by all Hellenes and foreigners, seeing that he has been the cause of death to such numbers. Better so. Never, therefore, I assure you, will I let you out of my hands, ill-fated Paris.
Then you do an injustice, Protesolos, and that too to your fellow craftsmen. For I myself also am a devotee of Eros, and am held fast prisoner by the same divinity. And you know how involuntary a sort of thing is love, and how a certain divinity drives us wherever he wishes, and it is impossible to resist him. You're right. Would, therefore, it were possible for me to get hold of Eros here? I will maintain the cause even of Eros against you. Why, he would himself acknowledge that, likely enough, he was the cause, as regards Paris, of his falling in love. But that of your death, Protocillus, no one else was the cause but yourself. Who— Entirely forgetful of your newly married wife, when you brought your ships up at the Trode, so rashly and fool-heartedly leapt out before the rest, enamored of glory, on account of which you were the first, in the disembarkation, to die.
Then I shall, in defense of myself, make a still juster reply to you, Iacus. You will confess it, for it is not I am responsible for all this, but destiny. And the fact that my thread of life was so spun from the first. Rightly so. Why, then, do you blame them?
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20 20 - Dialogue XX. Aeakus, at the especial request of Menippus, introduces him to the ghosts of the most celebrated potentates of antiquity, when the cynic avails himself of this opportunity for ridicule and derision. Menippus is next introduced to the most famous philosophers, whom he treats with no 7:54
Dialogue 20 of The Dead by Lucian, translated by Howard Williams. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Dialogue 20. Eacus. At the especial request of Menepus, introduces him to the ghosts of the most celebrated potentates of antiquity. When the cynic avails himself of his opportunity for ridicule and derision, Menepus is next introduced to the most famous philosophers, whom he treats with not much greater consideration. The dialogue concludes with the interview with Socrates. Whose foibles, real or pretended, are made the subject of satyr. Empedocles, read by Alan Mapstone. Socrates, read by Tchaikovsky.
In the name of Pluto, Iacus, be my chaperon, and conduct me round all the sites of Hades. No easy thing, Manipas, to do everything. As regards, however, the principal sites learn as follows. That this creature here is Kerberus, you are aware, and this ferryman who conveyed you across, and the lake, Empiraphyllegathon you have seen but now at your entering. I know all that, and you, that you are the gatekeeper, and I saw the king and the Irignes, but point out to me the men of old times, and especially those of them who are famous. This is Agamemnon, and this is Achilles, and this Idomeneus close by, and this Odysseus. Next are Aeas. And Diomedes, and the most valiant of the Hellenus. Bah! Homer, what creatures are the principal ornaments of your rhapsodies that are tossed about on the ground, shapeless?
Mere dust, all of them, and empty trumpery in the very truth, fleeting forms. And this fellow, Iacus, who is he? This is Cyrus, and this is Croesus. And the one above him, Sardanapalus, and the one above them, Midas. And he here is Xerxes. Then, vile refuse, it was at your bridging the Hellespont that Hellas shuddered, and at your ambition to sail through the mountains. And what a figure, too, is the famous Croesus. And as for the Sardanapalus, Iacus, just permit me to give him a cuff on the ear. By no means, for you would shiver his skull in pieces. It is so like a woman's. Well, then, I will at least certainly spit upon him for a woman-man. Would you like me to show you the philosophers, too?
In heaven's name, yes. First of all, this is your celebrated Pythagoras. Good day to you, Euphorbus, or Apollo, or whatever you like to be. The same to you with all my heart, Manippus. Have you no longer a golden thigh? Why, no. But come, let me see if your wallet contains anything eatable. Beans, my dear sir. So that's not in your way of eating? Only give them to me. Other opinions hold among the dead, for I have learned that beans, and one's parents' heads, are not all on inequality here. This is Solon, the son of Extarchestides, and that Thals, and by their side Pitarchos and the rest, and there are seven in all, as you observe. These Aearchus are the only ones of all of them without grief and cheerful.
But the one covered with cinders, for all the world like a loaf baked in the ashes, who blossoms all over with blisters, who is he? Empedocles, Menepus, come from Edna, half-boiled. Fine sir of the brazen foot, what possessed you that you threw yourself into the craters of Edna? A sort of melancholy madness, Menepus. Not so, by heaven, but vainglory and puffed-up pride and much driveling. These things burned you to ashes, slippers, and all, not unworthy of your fate. But the clever trick did you no good, for you clearly were proved to have died. Socrates, however, wherever in the world is he, pray. He is generally talking nonsense with Nestor and Palamedes. Nonetheless, I would wish to have a look at him, if he is anywhere here.
Do you see the bald-headed man? All of them are bald-headed together, so that would be the distinguishing mark of all. I mean the snub-nosed one. That, too, is all one, for they are all, the whole lot of them, all snub-nosed. Is it me you are inquiring for, Menopus? Yes, indeed, Socrates. How go things in Athens? Many of the young men say they are engaged in philosophy, and if one were to regard their ways of dressing and walking alone, they are tip-top philosophers. I have seen very many of them. But you have observed, I suppose, in what style Aristopoulos came to you, and Plato himself, the one reeking of perfume, and the other after having thoroughly learned the art of courting Sicilian despots.
But about me, what opinions do they entertain? You are a lucky man, Socrates, as to that sort of thing at all events. All, in fact, consider you to have been an admirable man, and to have known everything, and that, too, for one must, I suppose, tell the truth when you knew nothing. And I myself kept telling them that, but they would imagine the thing was pretended ignorance on my part. And who are these about you? Charmides and Phaedrus, and the son of Cleinius. Well done, Socrates, for even here you pursue your peculiar profession, and don't altogether despise the handsome fellows. Why, what else could I engage in more pleasantly? However do you, please, recline close by us. No, Faith, for I shall go off to join Croesus and Sardanapalus to take up my abode in their neighbourhood.
I think, in fact, that I shall laugh not a little in listening to their doleful lamentations. I, too, will now be off, for fear that some one or other of the dead may get clear away without my perceiving him. As for the remaining sights, you shall see them at another time, Manippus. Take yourself off at once. Indeed, these sights are quite sufficient, Iarchus.
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21 21 - Dialogue XXI. Menippus inquires of Kerberus, the canine guardian of the enterance to Hades, as to the demenour of Sokrates upon his first arrival there. 2:46
Dialogue 21 of the Dead by Lucian, translated by Howard Williams. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Dialogue 21. Menopus inquires of Kerberus, the canine guardian of the entrance to Hades, as to the demeanour of Socrates upon his first arrival there. Menopus, read by Adrian Stevens. Kerberus, read by Todd.
My friend Kerberus, for I am your kinsman, being myself a dog, too. Tell me, in the name of the Styx, what was Socrates like when he was coming down to us? It is to be expected that you, as you are divine, not only bark but also utter human sounds whenever you have a mind to do so. At a distance, Menepus, he appeared, in every way, to be approaching with undisturbed countenance, seeming to fear death in no great degree, and desirous to make this evident to those who stood outside the entrance. But when he stooped down and appeared within the yawning cavern, and saw the darkness, and when I gave him a bite, as he was long dallying with the hemlock, and dragged him down by the foot, he began to squall like an infant, and to bewail his little children, and to take all possible forms in his terror.
Was then the fellow a mere sophist, and did he not in fact have contempt for the event of death? No, he had not. But when, in fact, he saw that it was necessary and unavoidable, he began to show himself courageous, as though, forsooth, ready to suffer not unwillingly what he was bound certainly to undergo, so that the spectators might admire his conduct. And, in short, about all such persons I could tell you, up to the entrance they showed daring and manliness. But what happens within is a clear proof of their fear. And I? What do you think of my coming below? You alone, Menippus, and Diogenes before you, made the descent in a manner worthy of your species, because you entered without being compelled or pushed in, but of your free will, laughing after having bidden all the world to go to the devil.
End of dialogue 21
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22 22 - Dialogue XXII. Charon demands from Menippus his accustomed fee. Upon the absolute refusal of the cynic to pay, a lively altercation ensues. 3:38
Dialogue XXII of the Dead by Lucian, translated by Howard Williams. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Dialogue. Twenty-two. Charon demands from Onippus his accustomed fee. Upon the absolute refusal of the cynic to pay, A lively altercation ensues. Charon, read by Algy Pug. Manipos, read by Adrian Stevens. Hermes, read by Todd.
Pay me, damned rascal, my passage fee. Bellow, if that is more agreeable to you than anything else, Charon. Pay me, I say, for my having ferried you across. You will not get anything from a fellow who has nothing. And is there any man in the world who has not a couple of pence? If there is anyone else who hasn't got them, I don't know, but I have not got them. By Pluto, I shall certainly throttle you, villain, if you don't pay up. And I will beat and break your skull to pieces with my staff. Then you will have made your so long voyage in vain. Let Hermes, who handed me over to you, pay you for me. Much profit should I get, Faith, if I am going to pay for the dead, too. I shall not let go of you.
Then haul your craft on shore, and stop till you get it. But, however, how can you receive what I have not got? But did you not know it is absolutely necessary to provide oneself with it? I knew well enough, but I had not got it. What then? Ought I not to be dead on that account? Are you then to be the only one to boast of having made the passage gratis? Not gratis, my fine sir, for indeed I bailed out the bilge-water, and lent a hand at the oar, and was the only one of all the passengers not to weep. That's nothing to do with the ferryman. You must pay your tuppence. It's not lawful and right for it to be otherwise. Then take me back to life again. A pretty idea, to get blows for my pains from Eacus into the bargain.
Don't bother me, then. Show us what you have got in your wallet. Lupinese, if you want them, and Hecate's supper. From where in the world did you bring us this dog, Hermes? What language he used during the passage, laughing and during it all the old lot of passengers, and while the rest were groaning and lamenting, the only one to give us a song. Don't you know, Sharon, what personage it is you have brought over? A free man, and no mistake. He cares for nobody. He is the famous Manipas everyone knows. All the same. Should I ever catch you? Should you catch me, my fine sir, but you don't catch me twice.
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23 23 - Dialogue XXIII. Protesilaus, an Achaean hero, who had fallen before Ilium, supplicates Pluto to permit him to return to life, for a day, to visit his wife Laodameia, and adduces as precedents the examples of Orpheus and Alkestis. At the intercession of Persephone, Pluto at length grants the fav 4:58
Dialogue 23 of the Dead by Lucian. Translated by Howard Williams. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Dialogue 23 Protessilaus, an Achaean hero who had fallen before Ilium, supplicates Pluto to permit him to return to life for a day to visit his wife Laudemia, and adduces as precedents the examples of Orpheus and Alcestis. At the intercession of Persephone, Pluto at length grants the favor.
Protessilaus, read by Alex Steele. Read by Alan Mapstone. Persephone. Read by Nicalia.
O Lord, and King, and our God here below, and you, daughter of Demeter, do not contemn a lover's prayer. And you? What do you want from us, and who may you be? I am Protessilaus. The son of Iphocles, of Phylake, who fought with the Achaeans, and was the first of the army against Ilium to die. And my supplication is that I may have leave of absence for a short time, and return to life again. That's the sort of love Plostesilus all dead people indulge in, but not one of them will ever succeed in it. But it's not life, Aedonius, I am in love with, but my wife, whom I left behind still a young bride in the bridal chamber, and went off on the voyage. For, ill-fated wretch, I died by the hands of Hector at the disembarkation.
Love for my wife, accordingly, wears me away immeasurably, my lord, and I am ready, after having appeared to her, if only for a brief time, to come down again. Did you not drink the water of Lethe, Protesilus? Yes, indeed, my lord, but the matter was beyond all bounds. Then just wait for her, for she, too, will arrive at some time or other, and there will be no need for you to go up above. But I can't endure the delay, Pluto. You've been in love yourself before now, and you know what a thing love is. Besides, what good will it do you to live again for one day, when you will have to experience the same griefs shortly afterwards? I think I shall persuade her, too, to follow me to you, so that, in a little while...
In place of one, you will receive two dead people. It is not lawful and right that this should be, nor has it ever been so. I will refresh your memory, Pluto. Why, on this very same plea, you delivered up Eurydike to Orpheus, and you sent off my kinswoman Alcestis to gratify Heracles. But would you wish thus? with your bare and ugly skull, to appear to that beautiful bride of yours? And how, too, will she admit you to her, when she is not able even to distinguish you? Why, she will be frightened, I am well assured, and will flee from you. And you will have made your long journey to the upper world to no purpose.
Do you all the same, my husband, said that right, and direct Hermes, as soon as ever Protesilaus is in daylight, to touch him with his caduceus, and make him a handsome youth again, such as he was when he came out from the nuptial chamber. Since it's Persephone's pleasure... Conduct this man to the upper regions, and just make him a bridegroom again.
And do you remember you have got only one day?
End of dialogue 23.
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24 24 - Dialogue XXIV. Diogenes demands of Mausolus, the Karian Satrap, the reason of his arrogance and pride, and ridicules the vanity of his grandeur and power on Earth, and, in particular, the uselessness to him of his magnificent tomb at Halikarnassus. He concludes his diatribe with contrasting his 5:09
Dialogue XXIV of the Dead by Lucian. Translated by Howard Williams.
Dialogue 24. Diogenes demands of Mosulis the Carrion satrap, the reason of his arrogance and pride, and ridicules the vanity of his grandeur and power on earth, and in particular the uselessness to him of his magnificent tomb at Heliacarnassus. He concludes his diatribe with contrasting his own complete ignorance and indifference in regard even to the manner or place of his own sepulter. Diogenes. For what reason are you so high and mighty, and claim to have precedence of us all in honor, Carrion? Indeed, by reason of my kingdom, O Sinopion, seeing I was king of all Caria, And ruled over some of the Lydians also, and subjugated to my dominion several islands, and advanced as far as Miletus, overrunning the greater part of Ionia.
And I was handsome and great, and strenuous in wars. But what is the greatest reason of all is that I possess in Helicanarsus a very great monument lying over me of dimensions such as no other dead man has. Nay, nor one so elaborately beautified. Horses and men having been copied with the greatest accuracy in the most beautiful marble, of such sort as one could not easily find even a temple. Seem I not to you justly to be high and mighty on those grounds? Mr. Brown. On account of your kingdom, you say, and your handsome appearance, and the weight of your tomb? Assuredly on those grounds. But, my handsome Mouselous, neither that power of yours, nor your figure, any longer pertains to you. If, however, we should choose some judge of good looks, I am unable to say why your skull would be preferred to mine, for both are bald and bare.
And we display our teeth with equal prominence. We are both deprived of our eyes, and have been both provided with snub-noses. And as for your tomb, and those costly marbles, they, perhaps, may be of use to the good people of Heliconosis, to show off for their own benefit, and to get honor for themselves from strangers and visitors, As having, no doubt, a certain big building. But as for you, my fine sir, I don't see what benefit you derive from it, unless you affirm this, that you bear a heavier burden than we, inasmuch as you are weighted down by such huge stones. Will all those things, then, be of no advantage to me? And will Mausolus and Diogenes have an equality of privilege? Not an equality of privilege, most excellent sir, certainly not.
For Marsolus will groan and lament in remembering his possessions above ground, in which he used to imagine himself to be happy, while Diogenes will laugh at him. And as for the tomb at Helicarnassus, He will call it his own, though it was constructed by his wife and sister, Artemisia. Whereas Diogenes does not know whether he even has any tomb for his carcass, for he did not even bestow a thought about it. But he has left behind, for the best part of mankind, the memory of himself as of a man who has lived a life much more sublime than your monument, Greatest of carrion slaves, and built on a firmer foundation.
End of dialogue.
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25 25 - Dialogue XXV. Nireus and Thersites, disputing which of them was the more distinguished by good looks, appeeal to Menippus. Menippus, disregarding the authority of Homer, pronounces the ι΄σοκα΄λλος as well as the ι΄σοτι΄μι΄α in Hades, to be as complete as it in unalterable. 3:27
Dialogue XXV of the Dead by Lucian. Translated by Howard Williams.
Dialogue XXV. Nyrhias and Thercites, disputing which of them was the more distinguished by good looks, appealed to Menepus. Menippus, disregarding the authority of Homer, pronounces the Esorcalos as well as the Esotemea in Hades to be as complete as it is unalterable. Nyrhäus.
Menippus. Adrian Stevens. Thercites. David Purdy. Mr. Brown. See, I say, Menippus here shall judge which of the two is more shapely. Say, Menippus, don't I seem to you the better looking? Mr. Brown. But who are you, really? For it is first necessary, I suppose, that I know that. Mr. Brown. Which prey is Nereus, and which is Thercetes, for that's not clear as yet. This one point in my favour I have already, that I am like you, and that you by no means are so far superior as Homer, that blind fellow, commends you for being, when he calls you a finer man than the rest of us, whereas I, the peak-headed and almost bald-pated individual, Did not appear at all inferior in the eyes of our Judge. But do you see, Manippus, whom you consider really the finer gentleman?
Me, to be sure, the son of Aglaia and Sharops, of all the Danae neath Ilion who mustered, the man of fairest form. You, by no means, however, came below ground very much like a bow, as I imagine. On the contrary, your bones were all much alike, and your skull could be distinguished, I suppose, from that of Thersites, in this respect only, that yours is easily smashed, for it is a brittle and no virile one you have." Indeed. Ask Homer what I was like when I was campaigning with the Atchians. Mere dreams. I see, however, what beauties you have just now, and as for those former graces of yours, the people of those times know all about that. Have I, then, here no superiority in good looks, Menopus?
Neither you nor anyone else have any pretensions to good looks. For perfect equality prevails in Hades, and all are alike. For me, I assure you, that is quite enough.
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26 26 - Dialogue XXVI. Cheiron imparts to Menippus his reason for preferring Hades to Heaven and immortality. 3:29
Dialogue 26 of the Dead by Lucian, translated by Howard Williams. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Dialogue 26 Chiron imparts to Menepus his reason for preferring Hades to heaven and immortality. Menepus Read by Adrian Stevens. Chiron. Read by Todd. I heard, Chiron, that though divine, you had a great desire to die. You heard quite right, Minibus, and I have died, as you see, when I might have been immortal. Pray, what love of death possessed you, a thing undesired by most people? I will tell you, as you are not altogether without sense, I had no longer any pleasure to get from immortality.
It was no pleasure to you to live and to see the light of day? No, Manippus, for I, for my part, hold pleasure to be something which is Variable and not simple. But I was always living and in the enjoyment of the same things—sun, light, food—and there were the same seasons, and everything happened, each in its own order, following, as it were, one after the other. I became, therefore, satiated with them. For my pleasure was dependent not on its permanence, but on the not being constantly participant in it. You are right, Chiron. But how do you endure the state of things in Hades, ever since you came here by preference? Not disagreeably, Manippus, for your equality is very democratic, and the circumstance of being in daylight or in darkness Brings no difference with it.
Besides, one has not to be thirsty nor hungry, as up above, for we are without all those wants. Take care, Chiron, that you are not caught in your own words, and your argument does not come round to the same thing. How do you mean? That if everlasting sameness and similarity of human life was the cause of your ennui, here, too, the sameness of things must be equally matter for satiety for you, and you will be obliged to seek some means of migrating from here also to another life, a thing which, I imagine, is impossible. What should one do, then, Manipas? According to what is commonly said, I suppose that a sensible man is pleased and content with his present circumstances, and thinks none of them intolerable.
End of Dialogue 26
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27 27 - Dialogue XXVII. The philosophers Diogenes, Antisthenes, and Krates resolve to make for the entrance to Orcus, to observe the quality of conduct of the new arrivals. On the way they entertain themselves with recounting their several experiences of the behaviour of their travelling companions to 11:17
Dialogue 27 of the Dead by Lucian. Translated by Howard Williams. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Dialogue 27. The philosophers Diogenes, Antisthenes, and Crates, Resolved to make for the entrance to Orcus, to observe the quality and conduct of the new arrivals. On the way, they entertained themselves with recounting their several experiences of the behavior of their traveling companions to Hades. Upon their arrival at their destination, Diogenes interrogates a poor man as to the cause of his lamentation. Diogenes, read by Todd. Antisthenes, poor man, poor man, we are at leisure, friends Antisthenes and Crates.
So why should we not set off for a walk straight for the place of descent? To observe the new arrivals coming down to us, what they are like. And what each of them is about. Let us be off, Diogenes, for indeed the spectacle would be a pleasant one, to see some of them weeping, and some entreating to be let go, and some making the descent with reluctance, and, though Hermes gives a push to their shoulders, resisting and struggling on their backs to no purpose.
I also will relate to you what I saw by the way when I was coming down. Give us the story, Crates, for I fancy you have seen some uncommonly laughable scenes. There were several others who made the descent in my company, and, conspicuous among them, were Ismelodorus, our countryman, the millionaire, and Arsakes, the Median satrap, and Aroates, of Armenia. Well, Ismelodorus, for he was murdered by the robbers of Citheron, while proceeding on foot to Eleusis, I believe, began groaning and covering his wound with his hands, And kept calling upon the newborn infants, who he had left behind him, and accusing himself of rashness, for crossing Citheron, and traversing the neighborhood of Eleutheria, left altogether desolate by the ravages of war, and for taking with him only two domestics, and that, though he had with him, Five bowls of gold, and four cups.
As for Arsakes, now advanced in age and, indeed, not without some dignity about his appearance, he was annoyed after the fashion of the foreigner, and was highly indignant at trudging on foot, and claimed it as his right that a horse should be supplied to him. And in fact his horse had died with him, both having been run through at one stroke by some Thracian peltast, in the engagement on the Araxes with the Cappadocian. For Arsaces charged, as he declared to us, far in advance of the rest, while the Thracian, awaiting the attack, covers himself with his round shield, and wards off the spear-shaft of Arsakes, and, couching his own Macedonian lance, runs him and his horse through at the same time.
How was it possible for that to be done at one stroke, Crates? Very easily, Antisthenes. For he began charging, pushing before him a spear-shaft of twenty cubits, while the Thracian, when with his shield he warded off from himself the onslaught and the spear-point passed him, sank on his knees and received the attack with his spear and wounds the horse under the chest. who ran himself through by his own ardor and the vehemence of his speed. And as for Arsakes, he is run right through from the groin to the buttocks. You see something of what it was like. The action was rather that of the horse than of the hero. He was indignant, nevertheless, at being on a level with the rest in point of dignity, and considered it as his right to come down in the capacity of a knight.
But as for Orotes, he was very tender-footed, and was not able even to stand on the ground, not to say anything of walking. All Medes, in point of fact, have this experience on dismounting from their horses. They walk as though upon thorns, on tiptoe, and with difficulty get on at all, so that when he threw himself down, and lay there, and would by no means allow himself to be set on his feet again, the excellent Hermes took him up and carried him as far as the ferryboat, while I set myself laughing. Well, as for myself, When I was making the descent, I did not at all mix myself up with the rest, but leaving them to lament, I ran forward to the ferry-boat, and took my place beforehand, that I might have a comfortable passage.
In fact, during the voyage they were shedding tears, and suffering from sea-sickness, while I was exceedingly entertained by them all. You, Crates, and you, Antistanes, chance to fall in with fellow-travelers of such description. My fellow-travelers down were Lepcius, the money-lender, from Pisa, and Lampus, of Arcanania, who had been captain of mercenaries, and Damus, the millionaire, he of Corinth. Damus died from poison administered by his son. Lampus cut his own throat for love of Myrtium, the celebrated courtesan, while Blepsius, the poor wretch, was said to have slowly starved to death, and he showed it clearly enough Appealing pallid to excess, and attenuated to the most extreme point.
I, although aware of the facts, began to question them as to the manner of their deaths. Then, when Damas was accusing his son, "'You suffered, however, no unjust fate at his hands,' said I. "'Sands, while you at once possessed a quarter of a million, and lived in luxury yourself, Nonagerian as you were, you used to supply a youth of eight team with just sixpence. And as for you, Mr. Arcanianian—for he, too, was uttering groans, and imprecating curses on Mertium—why do you blame Eros, when you ought to accuse yourself? You, who, while you never trembled at the enemy in battle, but used to fight, regardless of danger in the front ranks, were caught— Admirable man, are the made-up tears and sighs of a common prostitute.
As for Blepsius, he anticipated blame and accused himself, of his own accord, of excessive folly, in that he hoarded up his money for heirs in no way related to him, thinking, the fool, to live for ever. However, to me they afforded no common amusement by their groans, then. Ah! but now we are at the entrance. We must watch and observe carefully the arrivals, while yet at a distance. Bah! they are numerous and various enough, and all in tears, except these newly-born children and infants. Nay, even the very old fellows are bewailing themselves. What's this? As the magic potion of life, forsooth? Got them under its influence? However, I want to question this superannuated old man. What are you weeping about, dying at your time of life?
Why are you indignant, my fine sir, and that, when you have arrived at a good age? You were, doubtless, some king? Not at all. Well, some satrap or other? Not that even. Then you were doubtless a rich man, and it troubles you, I suppose, to have died and left behind you much luxury. Nothing of that sort. On the contrary, I had arrived at about the full age of ninety years, and led a life of want, sustained by means of my fishing-rod and line, Excessively poor, childless, and lame into the bargain, and half blind. Then, though you were in such a condition, did you wish to go on living? Yes, for the light of day was sweet to me, and to die is a terrible thing, and to be avoided. You are bereft of your senses, old man, and behave in the face of inevitable necessity like a child, and that, though you are a contemporary of the ferryman there.
What, pray, could one in future say as regards the young, when people of your time of life are so fond of living, who ought to pursue death as the one remedy for the evils essential to old age? But— Let us be gone now, for fear someone may suspect us of wishing to run away if he sees us crowding about the entrance gate.
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28 28 - Dialogues XXVIII. Menippus ridicules the story of the prophet Teiresias as found in the poets and theologiests, and, in particular, his metamorphosis into a woman. 4:42
Dialogue 28 of the Dead by Lucian, translated by Howard Williams. This is a LibriVox recording or LibriVox recording. Dialogue 28. Menepus ridicules the story of the prophet Tereus, as found in the poets and theologists, and, in particular, his metamorphosis into a woman. Menepus. Read by Adrian Stevens. Tyrosiris. Read by Todd. Whether, in fact, you are blind, Tereus, it is no longer easy to distinguish, for the eyes of all of us alike are empty, and only their sockets remain, and for the rest you would no longer be able to tell which was Phineas or which Linkius, that, however, you were a prophet, and that you are the only one who has ever been of both sexes, both a man. And a woman, I am aware, having heard so from the poets.
In heaven's name, therefore, tell me which life did you find by experience the pleasanter, when you were a man, or was the woman's superior?" The woman's, Minippus, far away, for it was more free from the cares of life, and the woman lord it over the men, and they are not forced to go to fight in war. Or to stand sentinor at the battlements, or to wrangle in Parliament, or to be cross-examined in law courts. Have you not heard, Thea Resius, the media of Europides, how she pities the female sex in her speech as wretched and having to undergo certain intolerable pangs, those of childbirth? But tell me... For the iambics of media remind me of it. Did you ever have a child, and when you were a woman, or did you continue barren and unfruitful in that state of life?
Why do you ask that, Manippus? No offence intended, Tiresias, but answer me if it is agreeable to you. I was not barren, and yet I did not have a child at all. That's quite enough. If you had a womb, in fact, I wished to know that. Of course I had. And was it in course of time that it disappeared, and the sexual part was obstructed, and your breasts were removed, and the manly part sprung into existence, and you grew a beard? Or did you immediately, from being a woman, turn out a man? I don't see what your question means exactly. But you appear to me, however, to doubt that these things were so. Why, is not one allowed to have any sort of doubt in these cases, Tiresias? But, like some simpleton who doesn't inquire into the truth, must one receive them as gospel, whether they are possible or not?
Do you not, pray, believe other things to have so happened as they are related? When, for example, you hear that certain persons have been changed from women into birds, or trees, or quadrupeds, into Philomela, or Daphne, or the daughter of Lycaun, if ever I come across them, I shall know what they say. But you, my fine sir, when you were a woman, did you play the prophet then, as afterwards? Or did you learn to be a man and prophet at the same time? Just see. You are ignorant of everything that concerns me. How I put an end to a certain quarrel among the gods, and how Hera blinded me in consequence, and how Zeus consoled me for my misfortune by the gift of prophecy. Do you still stick to your lies, Tereus?
However, you do so quite in prophetic style, for it is the custom of you people to say nothing rational or true.
End of dialogue.
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29 29 - Dialogue XXIX. Agamemnon inquires of (Telamonian) Aias the reason of his late cool reception of Odysseus, when he came down to learn the future from Teiresias. Aias justifies his hostile feeling by alleging the conduct of Odysseus to him, in the matter of the competition for the arms of Achille 3:42
Dialogue 29 of the Dead by Lucian. Translated by Howard Williams.
Dialogue. Twenty-nine. Agamemnon inquires of Telamonium Ias the reason of his late cool reception of Odysseus, when he came down to learn the future from Tiresias. Ayas justifies his hostile feeling by alleging the conduct of Odysseus to him in the matter of the competition for the arms of Achilles.
Agamemnon.
If you, in a fit of madness, Ayas, Killed yourself, and intended also to murder us all, why do you blame Odysseus? And, the day before yesterday, why did you not even look at him when he came to consult the oracle, or deign to address a word to your old comrade and companion, but haughtily passed him by with huge strides? With good reason, Agamemnon, for he was the actual and sole cause of my madness, seeing that he put himself in competition with me for the arms. And did you consider it your right to be unopposed, and to lord it over all without the toil of a contest? Yes, indeed, in such respect, for the suit of armor was my own. As it was my uncle's. Indeed, you others, though far superior to him, declined the contest for yourselves, and yielded the prize to me.
Whereas the son of the Arates, whom I often saved when in eminent peril of being cut to pieces by the Phrygians, set himself up to be my superior, and to be more worthy to receive the arms. Blame Thetis, then, my admirable sir, who, though she should have delivered over the heritage of the arms to you as her relative, took and deposited them for general competition. No, but Odysseus, who was the only one to put himself forward as claimant. It is excusable if, human as he was, he had great longing after glory, a very pleasant acquisition, for the sake of which every one of us also underwent dangers, seeing, too, he conquered you, and that before Trojan judges.
I know what Goddess gave sentence against me. But it is not allowed to say anything true regarding the divinities. But as for your Odysseus, however, I could not by any means cease from hating him, Agamemnon, not even if Athena herself should enjoin it upon me. End of dialogue.
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30 30 - Dialogue XXX. Sostratus, for his crimes, about to be consigned by Minos to the tortures of Tartarus, protests against the injustice of his sentence; since, upon the admissions of his judge himself, he had been a mere instrument in the hands of fate. Minos, moved by the plausibility of his plea, 4:48
Dialogue thirty of the dead by Lucian. Translated by Howard Williams. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Dialogue Thirty Sostratus, for his crimes, about to be consigned by Minus to the tortures of Tartarus, protests against the injustice of his sentence, since upon the admission of his judge himself he had been a mere instrument in the hands of fate. Minus, moved by the plausibility of his plea, reprieves him.
Let this brigand, Sostratus, be cast into Pyroflagathon. And let the sacrilegious rascal be torn piecemeal by our charmera. And as for this tyrant, let him be exposed, Hermes, side by side with Titius. And have his liver gnawed, too, by the vultures. But as for you good people, depart with all speed to the Elysian field, and inhabit the islands of the Blest, in recompense for your just actions in life. Hear me a moment, Minos. and judge whether I appear to you to say what is just. Mr. Brown. Must I listen to you again? Why, have you not been out-and-out convicted, Sostratus, of being a bad man, and of having murdered a number of people? Mr. Brown. I have been condemned, it is true. But consider whether I shall be, in fact, justly punished.
Mr. Brown. Very certainly you will be. If at least it is just to suffer merited punishment. However, answer me, Minos, for I will put briefly a certain question to you. Speak, let it only not be long, that we may pass judgment on the rest of them forthwith. Whatsoever actions I performed in my life, whether did I do them, of my own free will, or had they been spun out for me by the fate? By the fate, to be sure. Well, then, did all of us who have the reputation of being good or bad do those actions of ours as subservient to her? Certainly to Clotho, who appoints to each one at birth what he is to do. If, then, a man, forced by another, should murder someone, having no power of resisting his compulsion, It is clear one would have to charge the judge or prince, since it is not the sword itself we must accuse.
For that as the instrument for his rage is merely the minister of him who first gave the occasion for its use. Bravo, Minos, for giving more forcible illustration to my instance. And if a man, when his master sends him, comes in place of his master with gold or silver, to whom must one attribute the favor, or whom must one register as the benefactor? The sender, for the carrier is an agent merely. Do you see, then, how unjustly you act in punishing us? who are simply ministers and agents, in respect of the orders of clotho, and in rewarding those who are only ministers of the good deeds of others. For, surely, no one could maintain this, at all events, that it was possible to resist commands imposed with the whole force of necessity.
My friend Sustratus, you might see many other things, too, which are not to be squared with reason, exactly, if you inquire with any diligence. But, however, you will derive this advantage from your questioning, that you appear to be not only a brigand, but also a sort of sophist. Let him go, Hermes, and let him receive no further punishment. Beware, however, that you don't put the rest of the dead up to propounding questions of the like kind.
End of Dialogue, 30. End of Dialogues of the Dead by Lucian. Translated by Howard Williams.