Stop your threats and come aboard.
It is time now for you to go to your trial.
And who will venture to pass judgment on a man of kingly rank?
No one will judge the king, but the dead man must come before Rhadamanthos. You will soon see him assigning his doom to each with great justice and according to merit. Don't waste any more time just now.
Make me a private citizen, Fate, if you will, a poor man, a slave instead of a king as I was. Only let me come to life again!
Where is the man with the club? And you, too, Hermes; drag him in by the foot, for he would not come voluntarily.
Come with me, you runaway. Take him, ferryman, and, to make him safe, dash it—
All right. He shall be made fast to the mast.
Assuredly I ought to be placed in the seat of honor.
Why?
Because, by Heaven, I was a despot and had a body-guard of ten thousand men.
Then Karion was right to pluck out the hair of such a mischievous creature. You will rue your tyranny when you have tasted the club.
Will Kyniskos, then, dare to raise
his staff against me? Did I not almost crucify
you a day or two ago because you were too free
and rough and disrespectful?
That is why you, too, will stay crucified against the mast.
Tell me, Klotho, do you take no account of me at all? Or because I am a poor man, is that a reason why I ought to be the last to embark, too?
And who are you?
Mikyllos the shoemaker.
And you object to lingering? Do you not see what promises the tyrant makes on condition of being let off for a little while? I am amazed, then, if you, too, are not pleased at the delay.
Listen, best of Fates. I am not greatly cheered by such a boon as the Cyclops gave to
"Noman" in promising to eat him last. First
or last, the same teeth are waiting. Moreover, I
am not in the same plight as the rich. Our lives
are poles asunder, as they say. Now the despot
was considered happy while he lived. He was
feared and stared at by all. When he left behind him so much gold and silver and raiment,
so many horses and banquets and lovely boys
and beautiful women, it was natural that he
should take it ill and grieve at being dragged
from them. For the soul sticks to such things
as if it were somehow glued to them, and it is
loth to give them up without a struggle, because
it has clung to them so long. Or, rather, it is as
But I, because I had
nothing at stake in life, neither estates nor apartment houses nor gold nor furniture nor reputation nor portraits, naturally had my loins girt up;
and as soon as Atropos nodded to me I gladly
threw down my knife and my sole-for I had a
boot in my hand-and jumped up and followed
barefoot, not even waiting to wash off the stains.
from the leather. No, I rather led the way, looking ahead; for there was nothing behind that
turned my head or called me back. And, by
Zeus! I see already that everything is charming
down here; for in my opinion it is most delightful to have universal equality, and no one better
than his neighbor. I judge that debtors are not
dunned for their debts here nor taxes paid; and
most important of all, no one is frozen in winter
or falls ill or gets beaten by his betters. We poor
men laugh it is the rich who feel the pain and
bewail their case.
I have seen you laughing for some time, Mikyllos. What was it chiefly that stirred your mirth?
I will tell you, goddess of my greatest reverence. I lived near a despot on earth, so that I saw pretty plainly all that went on in his house, and he seemed to me then to be somehow equal with the gods. For I counted him blessed when I saw the bloom of his purple, the crowd of his followers, the gold, the gemmed goblets, the silver-footed couches. And, moreover, the steam and savor of his dinner preparations used to drive me wild, so that he seemed to me more than mortal, thrice blessed, and almost handsomer than other people, and taller by two feet! lifted up as he was by fortune, dignified in his gait, with head thrown back, inspiring awe in those he met. But when he came to die, and had laid aside his luxury like a garment, I saw all his absurdity; but still more I laughed at myself for having admired such a wretch, judging of his happiness from the steam of his kitchen, and calling him blessed on the strength of the blood of the shell-fish in the Laconic Sea.
And he was
not the only one. When I saw the money-lender
Griphon groaning with remorse because he had
not had the good of his money, but was dying
without a taste of it, leaving his property to the
spendthrift Rodochares-for he was next of kin
Get in and let the ferryman draw up the anchor.
It is a crime, Charon, for you to leave a dead man behind who is stale already. I will indict you before Rhadamanthos for illegal practices. Alas, alack! they are off already, and I shall be left here alone. But why not swim after them? I am not afraid of giving out and drowning, because I am dead already. Moreover, I have not even got the obol to pay the ferryman.
What are you doing? Stay where you are, Mikyllos. It is not permitted to cross in that fashion.
And yet I may possibly get into port
before you do.
Heaven forbid. Come up with him and catch him. You, Hermes, help pull him in.
Now, where shall he sit? Every seat is full, as you see.
On the despot's shoulders, if you agree.
Happy thought, Hermes.
Climb up, then, and set your foot on the villain's neck; and a fair voyage to us!
Charon, it is fair to tell you the truth from this moment. I should not have an obol to pay you when I have got across, for I have nothing but this wallet, which you see, and this club. But if you want any baling done, I am ready, or even to take an oar. You will have no fault to find if only you give me a strong, wellbalanced oar.
Row, then; for even that is payment enough from you.
Is it, or must I start a boat-song to give the time?
By all means, if you know some sailor's song.
I know a number; but see, these others are wailing tearfully in opposition. They will put us out in our singing.
Alas for my goods!
Alas for my fields!
Woe is me, what a house I
have left!
How many thousands my heir will get to make ducks and drakes of!
Alas for my young children!
Who will gather grapes from the vines I planted for myself last year?
Mikyllos, do you make no lament? It is impious for any one to cross without a tear.
Nonsense. I have nothing to lament for on a prosperous voyage.
Still, just join a little in the groaning for custom's sake.
I will make my moan, then, since you think best, Hermes. Alas for my soles! Alas for my old lasts! Woe is me for my rotten sandals! Poor wretch, I shall never again go without food from daybreak to nightfall! Never again shall I stalk about in winter barefoot and half naked, my teeth chattering with the cold! Who, pray tell, will have my knife and my awl ?
You have mourned enough; we have almost finished our voyage.