Et Tu, Brute? Opposite Day and the Ides of March
“Et tu, Brute?” are some of the saddest words ever in a Shakespeare play. These words are spoken by Julius Caesar to his friend Brutus, as a way to say, “Wait, not you, too?” on the Ides of March—the day of his assassination with 33 stab wounds, at the hands of a group of senators who feared that Caesar would rise too quickly and abuse his power. The phrase seems to have a least some basis in history, and may have been closer to, “You, too, young man.”
Now I am not sure what possessed someone to put the oh-so-silly Opposite Day side-by-side with the Ides of March, on March 15, but I am sure that it drives me to distraction…
“Mom, whatever you do, please don’t make me cinnamon toast this morning!”
“Well, okay. But—”
“Happy Opposite Day!”
The festivities tend to devolve from there, with offspring instructing me to forbid them from having extra Minecraft time, peanut butter getting spread on the outside of sandwiches, and so forth. It’s annoying. It’s all I can do to keep track of Regular Day, let alone Opposite Day.
But I bet many of the characters from Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar would have liked March 15 to get turned on its head and go in a completely different direction.
One way to understand something, interestingly enough, is to learn its opposite. For example, one year I required a class of college creative writing students to write a “What I Did For Thanksgiving” narrative filled with as many cliches as they could muster. As you can imagine, there were a lot of never-taking-things-for-granted’s and tossing-the-ol’-pigskin around’s. After completing that assignment, the students used fresher language for the rest of the semester. In order for the brain to understand the opposite of a subject, after all, it really needs to comprehend the original idea. You don’t get it, right? I mean, wrong? (Happy Opposite Day!)
Shakespeare’s language can be tough to grasp, especially when you’re just starting out. A common, and usually quite effective, exercise is to rewrite a portion of Shakespeare language in everyday, contemporary language. The process of “translating” words and phrases makes the language more familiar until reading Will practically becomes second nature.
Rewriting Shakespeare language as “oppositely” as possible has the same effect. You can’t really guess or fake your way through saying the opposite without understanding the original in some way, right?
In honor of the Ides of March, I tried this exercise with Antony’s soliloquy near the end of Act 3, Scene 1, in which he stands before Caesar’s body and vows to avenge his death. Here’s the original:
Marc Antony’s Soliloquy
O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth,
That I am meek and gentle with these butchers!
Thou art the ruins of the noblest man
That ever lived in the tide of times.
Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood!
Over thy wounds now do I prophesy,—
Which, like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips,
To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue—
A curse shall light upon the limbs of men;
Domestic fury and fierce civil strife
Shall cumber all the parts of Italy;
Blood and destruction shall be so in use
And dreadful objects so familiar
That mothers shall but smile when they behold
Their infants quarter’d with the hands of war;
All pity choked with custom of fell deeds:
And Caesar’s spirit, ranging for revenge,
With Ate by his side come hot from hell,
Shall in these confines with a monarch’s voice
Cry ‘Havoc,’ and let slip the dogs of war;
That this foul deed shall smell above the earth
With carrion men, groaning for burial.
Marc Antony’s Soliloquy, With Opposite Lines
Now here’s that same soliloquy with “opposite” lines written below the originals. Note, I’m being creative with my definition of “opposite.” There is no technical opposite of the earth, of dogs, and, well, just about anything else. (Can you figure out why I chose New Zealand as the opposite of Italy?) Some lines I can switch around almost word for word, while others need a bit more finessing. No matter—making these little creative decisions is part of the fun, and above all, I’m seriously engaging with Shakespeare’s lines.
O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth,
I’m not sorry, you whole, intact sky
That I am meek and gentle with these butchers!
For being a violent jerk with those healers!
Thou art the ruins of the noblest man
You are the newest building of the most evil beast
That ever lived in the tide of times.
that ever died in the dry desert of timelessness.
Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood!
Hooray for the foot that gave you that blood donation!
Over thy wounds now do I prophesy,–
Under your healing scabs I look back at the past,—
Which, like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips,
Which, like noisy eyes, do close their blue lids,
To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue–
To tell my quiet thoughts to go away—
A curse shall light upon the limbs of men;
A blessing will darken the torsos of animals;
Domestic fury and fierce civil strife
International happiness and peace
Shall cumber all the parts of Italy;
Will sure free up some parts of New Zealand!
Blood and destruction shall be so in use
Peace and safety won’t be forgotten
And dreadful objects so familiar
And scary ideas so unfamiliar
That mothers shall but smile when they behold
That fathers will cry when they look away from
Their infants quarter’d with the hands of war;
Their teenagers made whole at the feet of peace;
All pity choked with custom of fell deeds:
A bit of callousness loosened up with omissions:
And Caesar’s spirit, ranging for revenge,
And Brutus’s body, sneaking off for forgiveness,
With Ate by his side come hot from hell,
With Irene far from him, cool from heaven,
Shall in these confines with a monarch’s voice
Won’t in that big area with a peasant’s quietness
Cry ‘Havoc,’ and let slip the dogs of war;
Laugh, ‘Calm times,” and hold back the cats of peace;
That this foul deed shall smell above the earth
That this beautiful event shall sound below the sky
With carrion men, groaning for burial.
With healthy animals, singing for life.
You Try It: Poetry Prompt
Try turning a passage from Julius Caesar or another Shakespeare play or poem into an “opposite translation.” Don’t worry if it all holds together (it probably won’t), but have fun playing with the language one line at a time!
Photo by WineCountryMedia, Creative Commons license via Flickr. Post by Tania Runyan.
More Literary Poetry Prompts
Lord of the Flies: Simon Writes Home (Try a Letters Home Poem)
Lord of the Flies: Poem to a Conch (Try a Symbols Poem)
To Kill a Mockingbird: Boo Radley Secret Message (Try an Acrostic)
_______
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How to Write a Poem contains 3 essential elements I’ve yet to find in one poetry-writing text: generous and informed instruction, dozens of compelling example poems, and rich and plentiful exercises that avoid tricks and gimmicks.
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—Nathaniel L. Hansen; Assistant Professor of English & Creative Writing, University of Mary Hardin-Baylor; Director, Windhover Writers’ Festival
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Bethany Rohde says
What an interesting way to tackle a bit of Shakespeare. Definitely calls for close-noticing. Thanks for this. 🙂
Tania Runyan says
Thank you, Bethany! It was a very fun process!