as he is.  To be sure, he assigns as his reason for plotting to blast Claudio’s happiness, that the “young start-up hath all the glory of my overthrow”; but then he also adds, “If I can cross him any way, I bless myself every way”; which shows his true motive-spring to be a kind of envy-sickness.  For this cause, any thing that will serve as a platform “to build mischief on” is grateful to him.  He thus exemplifies in a small figure the same spontaneous malice which towers to such a stupendous height of wickedness in Iago.  We may well reluct to believe in the reality of such characters; but, unhappily, human life discovers too many plots and doings that cannot be otherwise accounted for; nor need we go far to learn that men may “spin motives out of their own bowels.”  In pursuance of this idea, the Poet takes care to let us know that, in John’s account, the having his sour and spiteful temper tied up under a pledge of fair and kindly behaviour is to be “trusted with a muzzle, and enfranchised with a clog”; that is, he thinks himself robbed of freedom when he is not allowed to bite.

* * * * *

Ulrici, regarding the play as setting forth the contrast between life as it is in itself and as it seems to those engaged in its struggles, looks upon Dogberry as embodying the whole idea of the piece.  And, sure enough, the impressive insignificance of this man’s action to the lookers-on is only equalled by its stuffed importance to himself:  when he is really most absurd and ridiculous, then it is precisely that he feels most confident and grand; the irony that is rarefied into wit and poetry in others being thus condensed into broad humour and drollery in him.  The German critic is not quite right however in thinking that his blundering garrulity brings to light the infernal plot; as it rather operates to keep that plot in the dark:  he is too fond of hearing himself talk to make known what he has to say, in time to prevent the evil; and amidst his tumblings of conceit the truth leaks out at last rather in spite of him than in consequence of any thing he does.  Dogberry and his “neighbour Verges” are caricatures; but such caricatures as Shakespeare alone of English writers has had a heart to conceive and a hand to delineate; though perhaps Sir Walter comes near enough to him in that line to be named in the same sentence.  And how bland, how benignant, now genial, how human-hearted, these caricatures are! as if the Poet felt the persons, with all their grotesque oddities, to be his own veritable flesh-and-blood kindred.  There is no contempt, no mockery here; nothing that ministers an atom of food to any unbenevolent emotion:  the subjects are made delicious as well as laughable; and delicious withal through the best and kindliest feelings of our nature.  The Poet’s sporting with them is the free, loving, whole-hearted play of a truly great, generous, simple, child-like soul.  Compared to these genuine offspring of undeflowered genius,