Dialogi mortuorum

Menippus What do you mean? I must go to Lebadea, swaddle myself up in absurd linen, take a cake in my hand, and crawl through a narrow passage into a cave, before I could tell that you are a dead man, with nothing but knavery to differentiate

Trophonius He is half God, and half man,

Menippus So what is neither man (as you imply) nor God, is both at once? Well, at present what has become of your diviner half?

Trophonius He gives oracles in Boeotia.

Menippus What you may mean is quite beyond me; the one thing I know for certain is that you are dead—the whole of you.

Hermes Ferryman, what do you say to settling up accounts? It will prevent any unpleasantness later on.

Charon Very good. It does save trouble to get these things straight.

Hermes One anchor, to your order, five shillings.

Charon That is a lot of money.

Hermes So help me Pluto, it is what I had to pay. One rowlock-strap, fourpence,

Charon Five and four; put that down.

Hermes Then there was a needle, for mending the sail; tenpence.

Charon Down with it.

Hermes Caulking-wax; nails; and cord for the brace. Two shillings the lot.

Charon They were worth the money.

Hermes That’s all; unless I have forgotten anything. When will you pay it?

Charon I can’t just now, Hermes; we shall have a war or a plague presently, and then the passengers will come shoaling in, and I shall be able to make a little by jobbing the fares.

Hermes So for the present I have nothing to do but sit down, and pray for the worst, as my only chance of getting paid?

Charon There is nothing else for it;—very little business doing just now, as you see, owing to the peace.

Hermes That is just as well, though it does keep me waiting for my money. After all, though, Charon, in old days men were men; you remember the state they used to come down in,—all blood and wounds generally. Nowadays, a man is poisoned by his slave or his wife; or gets dropsy from overfeeding; a pale, spiritless lot, nothing like-the men of old. Most of them seem to meet their end in some plot that has money for its object.

Charon Ah; money is in great request.

Hermes Yes; you can’t blame me if I am somewhat urgent for payment.

Pluto You know that old, old fellow, Eucrates the millionaire— no children, but a few thousand would-be heirs?

Hermes Yes—lives at Sicyon. Well?

Pluto Well, Hermes, he is ninety now; let him live as much longer, please; I should like it to be more still, if possible; and bring me down his toadies one by one, that young Charinus, Damon, and the rest of them.

Hermes It would seem so strange, wouldn’t it?

Pluto On the contrary, it would be ideal justice. What business have they to pray for his death, or pretend to his money? they are no relations. The most abominable thing about it is that they vary these prayers with every public attention; when he is ill, every one knows what they are after, and yet they vow offerings if he recovers; talk of versatility! So let

Hermes Well, they are rascals, and it would be a comic ending. He leads them a pretty life too, on hope gruel; he always looks more dead than alive, but he is tougher than a young man. They have divided up the inheritance among them, and feed on imaginary bliss.

Pluto Just so; now he is to throw off his years like Iolaus, and rejuvenate, while they in the middle of their hopes find themselves here with their dream-wealth left behind them. Nothing like making the punishment fit the crime.

Hermes Say no more, Pluto; I will fetch you them one after another; seven of them, is it?

Pluto Down with them; and he shall change from an old man to a blooming youth, and attend their funerals.