Article : 'Smile, Smile, Smile'

SMILE, SMILE, SMILE

(A Note on Shakespeare's Julius Caesar.) "Words, words, words", was the reply of Hamlet, when Polonius (as he would) enquired of him what he read. And Hamlet, whose mind was turned to deeds, spoke contemptuously. Yet none understood better than Shakespeare himself the power of words. He is, indeed, the supreme word-master of all time. This is true, whether he is considered as a poet or a playwright. It is not intended here to attempt to add anything to all that has been written about his poetry. This note is concerned merely with the dramatic value which Shakespeare could extract from words; or, more precisely, from one word in one of his plays—the word "smile" in Julius Caesar.

This word "smile" can be as versatile in its significance as any in our language. In its expressiveness it resembles that which it represents. For smiles, in their infinite variety, can reflect almost the whole gamut of human emotions : they can give silent revelation of almost all the niceties of man's thought. There are smiles of disdain, of contempt, of amusement, of happiness, of content; there is the bitter smile, the foolish smile, the ingratiating smile, the ironic smile, the wry smile; the smile malevolent, the smile sardonic, the smile incredulous—the catalogue would have no end. Probably no noun in our language is so comfortably receptive of epithet and qualification, as the pages of our novels testify.

And "smile", the word itself, with its initial sibilant and its long open vowel sound closed by an expressive liquid, lends itself to such varied inflexion that it can be made to convey to the ear much of the significance of the visual original. The trained actor, who, it must be supposed, can modulate speech with more refinement than most of us, should make effective play with that expressive monosyllable. Indeed, `smile' is not one word, but many. Hamlet, telling us that "one may smile, and smile and be a villain" scarcely uses the same word as the photographer who adjures us to "Smile, please !".

And so to Julius Caesar. A careful reading of the play can hardly fail to convince that Shakespeare deliberately intended to exploit to the full the dramatic possibilities of 'smile' and its equally expressive derivative 'smiling'. The words recur with a frequency and significance which cannot be accidental. After all, it was a play about men who smiled and were villains—or you may take it that way, if, as you surely must, you see Brutus as an insufferable prig, Cassius as a man eaten up with jealousy and ambition, and Casca as a stupid thug. For there is no "hero" to be found among the conspirators : perhaps none in the whole play, unless it be Antony, that "plain, blunt man that loved his friend".

It is by his smile, or, rather, by his reluctance to smile, that Cassius' character is established almost at the beginning :—

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". . .. he loves no plays As thou dost, Antony; he hears no music : Seldom he smiles and smiles in such a sort As if he mocked himself to smile at anything."

There it is : the pale, grudging smile, the supercilious, contemptuous curl of the lips, the watery, insincere smile of the man who is convinced of his own superiority, and whose nature has been warped by his all-consuming jealousy of Rome's "one only man". Thus early in the play, 'smile', repeated and reiterated, is established. To use a word which Shakespeare, the practical man of the theatre, would have appreciated, the idea is well and truly "plugged".

That Shakespeare meant in performance to make play with the `smile' motif is surely obvious from the scene between Caesar and Decius Brutus in Caesar's house (act II, ii). Caesar has just yielded to Calpurnia's entreaties and has consented, "for her humour" (and his own secret apprehensions) to stay away from the Senate House. To Decius, come to fetch him, he alleges Calpurnia's ill-omened dream :—

"She dreamt tonight she saw my statue, Which like a fountain with an hundred spouts Did run pure blood, and many lusty Romans Came smiling and did bathe their hands in it . . . "

What kind of smiles were on the faces of those lusty Romans as they wallowed in the blood of the hated tyrant? They would be gloating, malevolent smiles, and Caesar, recounting this dream which foretold what actually came to pass, was meant to say as much by intonation and inflexion.

Decius, however, is resourceful, and he replies at once with interpretation of the vision which flatters Caesar's vanity :- "This dream is all amiss interpreted; It was a vision fair and fortunate : Your statue spouting blood in many pipes, In which so many smiling Romans bathed, Signifies that from you great Rome shall suck Reviving blood . . . ."

How differently the actor who plays Decius must speak his `smiling' His Romans will wear happy, contented smiles, the smiles of men who are basking in the sunshine of Caesar's benevolent despotism. In their rendering of the one word 'smiling' the actors can concentrate the whole essence of the two interpretations of Calpurnia's dream. And Shakespeare means them to do so. The different rhythm of the two relevant lines cries aloud for the different inflexion of the voice.

Decius, with his flattering picture of happily-smiling Romans, was taking the only course open to Conspiracy. Three or four pages earlier in the text (a few hours in the action), Brutus has laid it down that Conspiracy cannot find 'a cavern dark enough to mask its monstrous visage,' but must "Hide it in smiles and affability."

There, says Shakespeare, we must have the assumed smile, the false smile that hides treachery. And, after Decius, he brings in the other conspirators, all falsely smiling, to escort Caesar to the Senate House, ending the scene in an atmosphere of universal smiles and affability.

Treachery, of course, did not achieve the desired end. Julius Caesar was mighty yet. His spirit came hot from hell and let slip the dogs of war. Antony, over the body of his friend, foretold smiles of a different sort :- "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 quartered with the hands of war; All pity choked with custom of fell deeds."

What a fearful smile is there : the dazed, twisted smile of women numbed with suffering, and gazing upon horror with crazed eyes.

The certainty with which Shakespeare pointed the development of his plot and emphasised the essential features of his characters by the subtle introduction of the word 'smile' is indeed notable. There is, again, that moment of suspense before the assassination when the enigmatic remark of Popilius, "I wish your enterprise today may thrive", startles Cassius. He fears prevention. The moment is dramatic. Popilius makes to Caesar . . . . but—"he talks not of their purposes" :- "For, look, he smiles, and Caesar doth not change."

Shakespeare relieves the tension with the smile that is the commonplace of everyday intercourse, a smile which precludes conversation of serious moment.

There was a time, too, when Romans were watching events, wondering which way the scales would fall. It is signalised thus by Octavius in his talk with Antony after the proscriptions :— 66 . For we are at the stake, And bay'd about with many enemies; And some that smile have in their hearts, I fear, Millions of mischiefs."

It is again the false smile; though this time it hides, not conspiracy, but the irresolution of men who would keep a foot in both camps. 37