Chapter IV: Part 4

Cassius: Why, now, blow wind, swell billow, and swim bark!
The storm is up, and all is on the hazard.

Yes, I reckon old Cassius (“old” in an affectionate sense) and Brutus came out top dogs from that scrap anyway. And, yes, Antony _was_ good at orating. He was great at orating over dead men--especially dead “friends” (as he called his rivals) and dead enemies. Brutus was “the noblest Roman of them all” when Antony came across him stiff later on. Now when I die--

Octavius, by the way, orated over Antony and his dusky hussy later on in Egypt, and they were the most “famous pair” in the world. I wonder whether the grim humour of it struck Octavius _then_: but then that young man seemed to have but little brains and less humour.

But now they go to see about settling the matter with ironmongery. You can imagine the fight; the heat and the dust, for it was spring in a climate like ours. The bullocking, sweating, grunting, slaughter, the crack and clash and rattle as of fire-irons in a fender. The bad Latin language; the running away and chasing _en masse_ and by individuals. The mutual pauses, the truces or spells--“smoke-ho's” we'd call 'em--between masses and individuals. The battered-in, lost, discarded or stolen helmets; the blood-stained, dinted, and loosened armour with bits missing, and the bloody and grotesque bandages. The confusion amongst the soldiers, as it is to-day--the ignorance of one wing as to the fate of the other, of one party as to the fate of the other, of one individual as to the fate of another:

Brutus: Ride, ride, Messala, ride, and give these bills [directions
to officers]
Unto the legions on the other side:

Poor Cassius, routed and in danger of being surrounded, and thinking Brutus is in the same plight, or a prisoner or dead--and that Titinius is taken or killed--gets his bondman, whose life he once saved, to kill him in return for his freedom.

Stand not to answer: here, take thou the hilts;
And when my face is cover 'd, as 'tis now,
Guide thou the sword.
Caesar, thou art revenged,
Even with the sword that kill'd thee.

Good-bye, Cassius, old chap!

Titinius and Messala, coming too late, find Cassius dead; and Titinius, being left alone while Messala takes the news to Brutus, kills himself with Cassius's sword. Titinius, farewell!

Come Brutus and those that are left.

Brutus: Where, where, Messala, doth his body lie?

Messala: Lo, yonder, and Titinius mourning it.

Brutus: Titinius' face is upward.

Cato: He is slain.

Grim mates in a grim day in a grim hour. Then the cry of Brutus:

O Julius Caesar, thou art mighty yet!

But if he were, perhaps he only gathered old Cassius and Titinius to be sure of their company with him and Brutus amongst the gods a little later.

Brutus: Friends, I owe more tears
To this dead man than you shall see me pay.
I shall find time, Cassius, I shall find time.

And, after making arrangements for the removal of Cassius's body, they go to try their fortunes in a second fight. Young Cato is killed and good Lucilius taken. Comes Brutus beaten, with Dardanius his last friend, and his three servants, Clitus, Strato, and Volumnius.

Brutus: Come, poor remains of friends, rest on this rock.

Strato, exhausted, goes to sleep, as man can sleep during a battle; and Brutus whispers the others, one after another, to kill him; but they are shocked and refuse: “I'll rather kill myself,” “I do such a deed?” etc. He begs Volumnius, his old schoolmate, to hold his sword-hilt while he runs on it, for their love of old.

Volumnius: That's not the office for a friend, my lord.

There are alarums, and they urge him to fly, for it's no use stopping there.

Brutus: Farewell to you; and you; and you, Volumnius.
Strato, thou hast been all this while asleep;
Farewell to thee too, Strato! Countrymen,
My heart doth joy that yet in all my life
I found so man but he was true to me.

Ye gods! but it's grand. I wish to our God that I could say as much--or that man or woman [n]ever found me untrue. Could Antony say as much, afterwards, in Egypt--or Octavius! with Antony then on his mind? Even Antony's last man and servant failed him in the end, killing himself rather than kill his master. But Strato--

There are more alarums and voices calling to them to run. They urge Brutus again, and he tells them to go and he'll follow. They all run except Strato, who hesitates.

Brutus: I prithee, Strato, stay thou by thy lord:
Thou art a fellow of a good respect;
Thy life hath had some snatch of honour in it
Hold then my sword, and turn away thy face,
While I do run upon it. Wilt thou, Strato?

Strato: Give me your hand first: fare you well, my lord.

Brutus: Farewell, good Strato. Caesar, now be still:
I kill'd not thee with half so good a will.

Brutus, good night!

I like Shakespeare's servants. They seem to show that he sprang from servants or common people rather than from lords and masters, for he deals with them very gently. It must be understood that servants, bond and free, were born unto the same house and served it for generations; and so down to modern England, where the old nurse and the tottering old gardener often nursed and played with “Master Will,” when his father, the dead and gone old squire, was a young man.

See where Timon's servants stand in the only patch of sunlight in that black and bitter story:

Enter Flavius, with two or three SERVANTS.

1 Serv.: Hear you, master steward, where's our master?
Are we undone? cast off? nothing remaining?

Flav.: Alack, my fellows, what should I say to you?
Let me be recorded by the righteous gods,
I am as poor as you.

1 Serv.: Such a house broke!
So noble a master fall'n! All gone! and not
One friend to take his fortune by the arm,
And go along with him!

2 Serv.: As we do turn our backs
From our companion thrown into his grave,
So his familiars to his buried fortunes
Slink all away; leave their false vows with him,
Like empty purses pick'd; and his poor self,
A dedicated beggar to the air,
With his disease of all-shunn'd poverty,
Walks, like contempt, alone. More of our fellows.

Enter other Servants

Flav.: All broken implements of a ruin'd house.

3 Serv.: Yet do our hearts wear Timon's livery;
That see I by our faces; we are fellows still,
Serving alike in sorrow: leak'd is our bark,
And we, poor mates, stand on the dying deck,
Hearing the surges threat; we must all part
Into this sea of air.

Flav.: Good fellows all,
The latest of my wealth I'll share amongst you.
Wherever we shall meet, for Timon's sake
Let's yet be fellows; let's shake our heads, and say,
As 'twere a knell unto our master's fortunes,
“We have seen better days.” Let each take some.
(Giving them money.)
Nay, put out all your hands. Not one word more:
Thus part we rich in sorrow, parting poor.

Notes on Australianisms. Based on my own speech over the years, with some checking in the dictionaries. Not all of these are peculiar to Australian slang, but are important in Lawson's stories, and carry overtones.

barrackers: people who cheer for a sporting team, etc.
boko: crazy.
bushman/bushwoman: someone who lives an isolated existence, far from
cities, “in the bush”, “outback”. (today: “bushy”. In New
Zealand it is a timber getter. Lawson was sacked from a forestry
job in New Zealand, “because he wasn't a bushman”:-)
bushranger: an Australian ``highwayman'', who lived in the `bush'--
scrub--and attacked and robbed, especially gold carrying coaches
and banks. Romanticised as anti-authoritarian Robin Hood figures--
cf. Ned Kelly--but usually very violent.
US use was very different (more = explorer), though some
lexicographers think the word (along with “bush” in this sense)
was borrowed from the US...
churchyarder: Sounding as if dying--ready for the churchyard = cemetery
cobber: mate, friend. Used to be derived from Hebrew chaver via
Yiddish. General opinion now seems to be that it entered the
language too early for that--and an English etymology is preferred.
fiver: a five pound (sterling) note (or “bill”)
fossick: pick out gold, in a fairly desultory fashion. In old
“mullock” heaps or crvices in rocks.
jackaroo: (Jack + kangaroo; sometimes jackeroo)--someone, in early
days a new immigrant from England, learning to work on a
sheep/cattle station (U.S. “ranch”.)
kiddy: young child. “kid” plus ubiquitous Australia “-y” or “-ie”
nobbler: a drink, esp. of spirits
overlanding: driving (or, “droving”, cattle from pasture to market
or railhead.)
pannikin: a metal mug.
Pipeclay: or Eurunderee, Where Lawson spent much of his early life
(including his three years of school...
Poley: name for s hornless (or dehorned) cow.
skillion(-room): A “lean-to”, a room built up against the back of
some other building, with separate roof.
sliprails: portion of a fence where the rails are lossely fitted
so that they may be removed from one side and animal let through.
smoke-ho: a short break from, esp., heavy physical work, and those who
wish to can smoke.
sov.: sovereign, gold coin worth one pound sterling
splosh: money
Sqinny: nickname for someone with a squint.
Stousher: nickname for someone often in a fight (or “stoush”)
swagman (swaggy): Generally, anyone who is walking in the “outback”
with a swag. (See “The Romance of the Swag”.) Lawson also
restricts it at times to those whom he considers to be tramps,
not looking for work but for “handouts” (i.e., “bums” in US. In view
of the Great Depression, 1890->, perhaps unfairly. In 1892 it was
reckoned 1/3 men were out of work)

GJC