Dialogues of the Dead (26.2-27.1)

ACHILLES

But in those days, son of Nestor, I still had no experience of this place, and, not knowing which

existence was preferable, I preferred that miserable empty shadow of glory to life itself; but now I realise that glory is useless, however much men above hymn its praises, that among the dead all have but equal honour, and neither the beauty nor the strength we had remain with us, but we lie buried in the same darkness, all of us quite alike, and no better one than the other, and I am neither feared by the Trojan dead nor respected by the Greeks, but there is complete equality of speech and one dead man is like another, “be he mean or be he great”. [*] That’s why I’m distressed and annoyed at not being a thrall alive on earth.

ANTILOCHUS

But what can one do about it, Achilles? Nature has decreed that, come what may, all men must die; we must, therefore, abide by her law, and not be distressed at the way she orders things. In any case you can see such of us, your old companions, as are present here, and assuredly, Odysseus too will join us down here before very long. It’s a comfort that all share in this, and that one doesn’t suffer this alone and by oneself. You can see Heracles and Meleager and other great men, who would, I think, refuse a return to earth, if they were sent up to be thralls to poor men without substance.

ACHILLES

You give your advice out of friendship; but somehow I am distressed by my memory of life above, just as I think each of you is. If you won’t admit it, you show yourselves my inferiors, by submitting to it without protest.

ANTILOCHUS

No, but your betters, Achilles. We see the uselessness of speaking. We’ve resolved to say nothing, and to bear and endure it all, for fear that we too become a laughing-stock, as you have by indulging in wishes of that sort.

AEACUS

Why do you dash at Helen, and choke her, Protesilaus?

PROTESILAUS

It was because of her that I was killed, Aeacus, and left my house half-built, [*] and my newly-wed wife a widow.

AEACUS

Then blame Menelaus, for taking you to Troy to fight for a woman like that.

PROTESILAUS

Quite right. I should blame him.

MENELAUS

Don’t blame me, my good man; it would be fairer to blame Paris. Though I was his host, he carried off my wife with him, contrary to all justice. Paris ought to be strangled, and not by you only, but by all the soldiers on both sides, for bringing death to so many.

PROTESILAUS

A better idea; then you, accursed Paris, [*] are the one I’ll keep forever in my grip.

PARIS

That would be unjust too, Protesilaus, for I practise the same craft as you; I’m a lover too, and subject to the same god; you know how it’s none of our wishing, but some divine power leads us wherever it chooses, and it’s impossible to resist him.