The Recording of an Ass: The Role of Dogberry in Much Ado About Nothing

By: Mark Baumgartner It would be all to easy to dismiss the character of Dogberry in William Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing as so much comedic nonsense, as just another excuse for a few laughs in a play that seems to grow darker and darker as it rolls on towards the final act. Indeed, Dogberry may be both of those things, but amidst his linguistic foibles, his legal incompetence, and perhaps most importantly his seeming complete lack of self-awareness, it is easy to miss the fact that he's also quite a bit more complicated. An "officer," certainly; a "wise fellow," perhaps; "as pretty a piece of flesh as any in Messina," well, probably not-but what Dogberry can certainly claim bragging rights to is a key role in highlighting the action of the rest of play (IV.ii.80-2). He becomes, at various points, a kind of foil to several of the characters whose wit is fundamental to the action of the play, a buttress against the lagging comedic action of the middle acts, and a symbol of overarching stability, of rightful order even, in a town that knows very little of potential evil. Much has been made of Dogberry's linguistic incompetence; partially because Shakespeare's knowing mutilation of the constable's lines demonstrates a brilliant manipulation of language, but mostly because Dogberry is just simply hilarious. So hilarious, in fact, that we have to wonder if there isn't an element of tragedy in the character. There seems to be echoes here of the Mel Brooks line, the one that goes something like, "tragedy is when I stub my toe, comedy is when you fall down a sewer and die." Certainly there can be said to be both bits of the comedic and the tragic pent up in Dogberry. It would be all to easy to delve into some psychoanalysis of Dogberry's assertion that he is a man who "hath had losses" as a means of generating sympathy for the guy, but, in all honesty, this is not really neccesary (IV.ii.84). Because in a play where words represent a sort of ultimate power-where Benedick's and Beatrice's love lives and dies by the sword play of their wit, and Caudio nearly crushes Hero to death with his misguided wrath-it is not too hard to imagine the impotence of a character who cannot clearly convey the simplest of ideas. The play quite rightly is "much ado about nothing," the "ado" having been created over the careless wielding of words. Dogberry's character is essential in completing the other side of this dialectic; he is a somewhat less than developed foil to characters like Don John and Claudio, who destroy with words in counterpoint to the one person who possesses the knowledge-just not the words-to set things right. Throughout the play we see words brandished with incredible power. Take Don John, and the effortless way he plants, with a few words, seeds of doubt that will ultimately be Claudio's undoing. "Leonato's Hero," he calls her, "your hero, every man's Hero"; sure, he sets up an elaborate scheme to back up his artifice, but one wonders if the effort wasn't wasted (III.ii.106-7). Claudio seems already convinced by Don John's artful turns of phrase-such "mischief strangely thwarting" needs little impetus to become buried in Claudio's brain (III.ii.132). Shakespeare as well seems convinced that Claudio has taken the Don's baited words, as he wastes no space in illustrating the actual scene of Hero's supposed infidelity. The scene in which Claudio

is fooled takes on a new resonance, however, when considered in terms of another: the scene in which Dogberry sets about what should be a relatively simple task in revealing the treachery to Leonato. Here Dogberry's conversational impotence contrasts sharply with Don John-and nearly every other character in the play-for it is in terms of Dogberry, the would be hero, that we understand the semantical mess that drives much of the conflict in the play. In this scene we find Dogberry and his equally misshapen sidekick, Verges completely incapable of rousing Leonato's attention. Dogberry drags out what he has to say in an annoying, self-important preface in a matter that should "decern" (instead of concern) Leonato greatly (III.v.3). He then exchanges a few quips with Verges in an attempt to be witty which culminates in the classic muffed line, "Comparisons are odorous," before losing Leonato's attention completely (16). The end result is Hero's nearly tragic rebuff. Dogberry becomes an essential reference point in a play about "nothing"-nothing, that is, except the potential power in misused words.
Beyond his relevance as a potential foil to reflect the excesses of other characters, Dogberry also fulfils an important structural role in the play. First and most obviously, he has to be there to bring Don John's and Borachio's treachery out into the light of day. But he also plays a more subtle role in that he helps to pick up some of the comedic slack through the middle of the play, specifically act IV. The extreme darkness that follows Hero's supposed death threatens the autonomy of the play as a comedy. Throughout act IV, the play seems more akin to Shakespeare's tragic side, as opposed to anything humorous. Dogberry, however, doggedly upholds the comedic principles upon which Much Ado was based, even in the play's darkest moments. In scene 2 of act IV, his pedantic antics continue to delight, even though Benedick, not moments before, has agreed to kill off Claudio in one of the tensest scenes of the whole piece. His first line, "Is our whole dissembly appear'd?" shocks the audience back into a humorous mode (IV.ii.1). For the next eighty-seven lines, he misuses the words eftest, burglery, redemption, and opinion'd, to name a few, and also manages to assert that Verges and himself are indeed the malefactors. (1-87) The scene culminates in Dogberry's outrage at having been called an ass and a rather conceited speech in which he demands that the whole incident, particularly the fact of his ass-ness, be recorded. As a brief aside, this notion of recording Conrade's slight seems to reflect another scene-Hero's shameful rebuff at the wedding and Claudio's curious desire to "write against" her apparent dishonour (IV.i.56-7). It's almost as if writing represents a way for both Dogberry and Claudio to ossify the events swirling around them into something concrete, something tangible. In a play whose driving conflict is generated by a virtual swamp of misunderstood, misguiding words, it seems like no coincidence that these two key characters are both looking for solid ground-an immutable text-upon which to base judgment.