in one of our old
round-head families, in the service of a Lambert, or a Lady Fairfax.
But his morality and his manners are misplaced in Illyria. He is
opposed to the proper _levities_ of the piece, and falls in the
unequal contest. Still his pride, or his gravity, (call it which you
will) is inherent, and native to the man, not mock or affected, which
latter only are the fit objects to excite laughter. His quality is at
the best unlovely, but neither buffoon nor contemptible. His bearing
is lofty, a little above his station, but probably not much above
his deserts. We see no reason why he should not have been brave,
honourable, accomplished. His careless committal of the ring to the
ground (which he was commissioned to restore to Cesario), bespeaks a
generosity of birth and feeling.[2] His dialect on all occasions is
that of a gentleman, and a man of education. We must not confound him
with the eternal low steward of comedy. He is master of the household
to a great Princess, a dignity probably conferred upon him for other
respects than age or length of service.[3] Olivia, at the first
indication of his supposed madness, declares that she "would not
have him miscarry for half of her dowry." Does this look as if
the character was meant to appear little or insignificant? Once,
indeed, she accuses him to his face--of what?--of being "sick of
self-love,"--but with a gentleness and considerateness which could
not have been, if she had not thought that this particular infirmity
shaded some virtues. His rebuke to the knight, and his sottish
revellers, is sensible and spirited; and when we take into
consideration the unprotected condition of his mistress, and the
strict regard with which her state of real or dissembled mourning
would draw the eyes of the world upon her house-affairs, Malvolio
might feel the honour of the family in some sort in his keeping, as
it appears not that Olivia had any more brothers, or kinsmen, to look
to it--for Sir Toby had dropped all such nice respects at the buttery
hatch. That Malvolio was meant to be represented as possessing some
estimable qualities, the expression of the Duke in his anxiety to
have him reconciled, almost infers: "Pursue him, and intreat him to
a peace." Even in his abused state of chains and darkness, a sort of
greatness seems never to desert him. He argues highly and well with
the supposed Sir Topas,[4] and philosophizes gallantly upon his straw.
There must have been some sh