Twelfth Night, or, What You Will
Twelfth Night, or, What You Will
THE LITERARY WORK
A comedy set in Illyria (known later as Albania and Yugoslavia), at an unspecified historical time; first performed c. 1600-1602; first printed in 1623.
SYNOPSIS
Separated from her twin brother after a shipwreck, a young woman disguises herself as a young man to serve a duke, but unwittingly captures the heart of the countess whom the duke is courting; further romantic complications ensue when the twin brother arrives, but all is happily resolved.
Events in History at the Time of the Play
Born in Stratford-upon-Avon, England in 1564, William Shakespeare was a glove maker’s son who later became the most famous of British playwrights and poets. Educated at the free local grammar school in Stratford and married young to Anne Hathaway, by whom he had three children, Shakespeare appears to have journeyed to London sometime in the 1580s. Players’ records from 1594 verify his presence as a cast member for the acting troupe known as the Lord Chamberlain’s Men. During the 1590s, Shakespeare began his career as a playwright; between 1594 and 1598, he composed most of his historical plays, along with comedies such as Two Gentlemen of Verona and A Midsummer Night’s Dream and tragedies such as Titus Andronicus and Romeo and Juliet (also in Literature and Its Times). Twelfth Night appears to have been written between 1598 and 1601, along with such major works as Much Ado about Nothing, As You Like It, and Hamlet (also in Literature and Its Times). Like many of Shakespeare’s comedies, Twelfth Night is not set at a specific historical period; rather, its frame of reference corresponds to Shakespeare’s own time, touching on festive occasions, religious tensions, and the prevailing social order.
Events in History at the Time of the Play
Twelfth Night
The play’s primary title alludes to a Christian holiday, the Feast of the Epiphany, which marks the culmination of the 12 days of Christmas on January 6th. (Its secondary title, What You Will, has been construed, alternately, as a throwaway like As You Like It or Much Ado about Nothing, or as a pun on Shakespeare’s first name.) Epiphany celebrates the coming of the Magi or Three Wise Men, who recognize Jesus as savior, the baptism of Jesus, and, later, the miracle at Cana (John 2:1–12), when Jesus transformed water into wine at a wedding celebration. By Shakespeare’s time, however, Epiphany, or Twelfth Night (held on January 5th), was being celebrated in England more as a secular holiday, with dancing, feasting, and revelry. The following entry for January 6, 1594, appeared in the memoirs of Anthony Bacon, a gentleman at court: “Twelfth Night was celebrated at Court by dancing which continued till 1 o’clock after midnight, the Queen being seated in a high throne, and next to her chair the Earl of Essex with whom she often devised in sweet and favourable manner” (Bacon in Harrison, vol. 1, p. 221).
The exact significance of Twelfth Night to Shakespeare’s comedy has fueled much speculation by historians and literary scholars. Some have proposed that the play was first performed or meant to be performed on Twelfth Night; others have attempted—not altogether successfully—to find references or allusions to Epiphany within the text of the play itself. Yet there is no evidence to suggest that the events of Twelfth Night take place during that eponymous holiday. Another theory—perhaps more plausible—suggests that Shakespeare wanted to evoke the spirit of revelry and mirth by his choice of title. Proponents of this theory point out that the Feast of the Epiphany was also the Feast of Fools, a mock-religious celebration popular in medieval Europe from about the twelfth to the fifteenth century. Originally the Feast of Fools, in which clergy and laity participated, took place within the confines of a cathedral or church; in a reversal of roles, the sub deacons—the lowest-ranking members of the clergy—assumed the privileges and powers of their ecclesiastical superiors for a few hours.
By the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, however, the Feast of Fools had moved out of the church and into the town square, as ordinary citizens took part. Processions, music, and verse were added to the celebration, which became more riotous and secular as a result. At that point, the Feast of Fools was presented as a wild pageant, over which a Lord of Misrule—or Fes-tus—presided. Displeased by the increased vulgarity and rowdiness, church authorities attempted to abolish or restrict the festivities but the public thwarted their efforts. Although the popularity of the Feast of Fools had dwindled by Shakespeare’s time, its influence may be detected in several of his comedies, including Twelfth Night. The drunken reveler, Sir Toby Belch, embodies the spirit of a Lord of Misrule, while Olivia’s witty, observant fool, who offers pungent insights on most of the other characters, is named Feste. The play’s plot, with its various ruses, reversals of fortunes, and instances of mistaken identity between twins Viola and Sebastian, is also in keeping with the general atmosphere of the Feast of Fools.
Puritanism
Although Twelfth Night concerns itself mainly with secular romance and merriment, Shakespeare makes several revealing allusions to contemporary religious tensions. Internal conflicts within the Protestant Church of England had arisen soon after Elizabeth I took the throne in 1558. Elizabeth’s father, Henry VIII had divided the country along religious lines by breaking with the Roman Catholic Church and establishing the Protestant Church of England with himself as head. Mary Tudor, Henry’s elder daughter wished England to return to the Catholic faith. During her reign, English Protestants were compelled either to convert to the queen’s Catholic faith on pain of death or go into exile abroad. Many who fled to the Continent experienced forms of worship that they considered “purer”—strongly influenced by the teachings of John Calvin and free of Catholicism—than those prescribed in England’s 1552 Prayer Book. These Puritans—as they came to be called—believed that Roman Catholics had perverted Christianity from true doctrine and worship, and desired, above all else, that the Church of England be “purified” and restored to its original condition as described in Scripture. Unlike most Protestants in the religious mainstream, Puritans held that God had “elected” or predestined certain persons for salvation, and that man could not hope to attain heaven through performing good works but only by the grace of God. The strictest Puritans also believed that true Christians should adopt a more austere lifestyle, which entailed dressing simply, behaving more soberly, and shunning worldly entertainments.
ILLYRIA, ITALY, OR ENGLAND?
In Shakespeare’s time, the real-world Illyria corresponded to a region located on the western coast of the Balkan peninsula, consisting of today’s Albania and the former Yugoslavia. In the third century b.c.e. Illyria first became a political power. During the centuries that followed, wars raged throughout the region; Illyria was conquered and ruled, in turn, by the Macedonians, the Romans, the Byzantine Empire, and finally the Ottoman Empire, which controlled the area at the time of Twelfth Night’s composition. However, few details beyond Shakespeare’s use of the name locate his play in the historical Illyria. Viola’s initial plan to disguise herself as a eunuch to serve the duke Orsino might suggest an Ottoman (Turkish) setting, but the play never refers to that possibiiily again. Similarly the real Illyria’s past history of seafaring and piracy—Rome’s conquest of Illyria had been provoked by the iatter’s attacks on Roman trading vessels—is only sketchily explored, mainly to provide a plausible reason for arresting a character in the play (Antonio). Shakespeare’s Illyria is closer in atmosphere to the romantic, illusory realms of myths and fairy tales, like the Greece of his A Midsummer Night’s Dream. As in earlier comedy, Twelfth Night combines language, names, and customs from different cultures in a manner that transcends history and geography, while creating a play that remains accessible to its audience. The country’s name is Illyria, but its denizens have either Italianate names (Orsino, Olivia, Malvo-lio, Curiol or English names (Sir Toby Belch, Sir Andrew Aguecheek). The structure of lllyrian society as portrayed in the play reflects that of Elizabethan England, and the humor, complete with puns, topic allusions, and comic songs, is English too.
On returning to England at the beginning of Queen Elizabeth’s reign, Puritans hoped to persuade her to adopt the Calvinist conception of the Church; under the leadership of Thomas Cartwright, they advocated the abolition of bishops, elimination of almost all rituals and ceremonies, and stricter enforcement of church discipline. But, while Elizabeth I was a Protestant monarch, she did not favor the Puritans, whose aims she considered too radical. Instead, she favored a more mainstream Protestantism, which retained several “impure” ceremonial rituals and practices, such as the celebration of semi-religious holidays (including Twelfth Night) and the observances of certain saints’ days. Frustrated by the queen’s opposition, some Puritans—known as Separatists—set up their own congregations, claiming that the Church of England threatened their salvation by not being a “true” church. The Separatist movement had little impact on the Church of England, but the Puritans’ frustrations continued to mount over the years. Between 1607 and 1609 a new group of Separatists fled England and settled in Leiden, Holland. In 1620 a portion of this group— known as the Pilgrims—emigrated to America, founding the Plymouth colony.
The Puritans’ sternness and austerity, along with their frequent disapproval of secular entertainments such as music and plays, made them an easy target for ridicule. In Twelfth Night, Shakespeare portrays Puritanism, as personified by the censorious Malvolio, as inimical to the festival spirit of his play. During a heated confrontation, Sir Toby snaps at the steward, “Dost thou think because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?” (Twelfth Night, 2.3.114–115). Maria, another character in the household, however, maintains that Malvolio is actually worse than a Puritan because his assumption of virtue is a pose, “The devil a Puritan that he is, or anything constantly, but a time-pleaser, an affectioned ass, that cons state without book, and utters in by great swarths” (Twelfth Night, 2.3.146–149). Her harsh criticism turns out to be justified; alone in the garden, the steward fantasizes about such earthly pleasures as marrying the lady of the house, Olivia, wearing jewels and a “branched velvet gown,” while Sir Toby bows and scrapes before Count Malvolio (Twelfth Night, 2.4.47–48).0
The professional fool
Since antiquity, in many cultures, it had been the frequent practice of royal and noble households to include a fool, specifically a professional clown whose purpose was to provide entertainment for his master. This entertainment could take many forms, including singing, storytelling, juggling, tumbling, or simple jesting and horseplay. Similarly, fools themselves came in all forms and temperaments. Some—like dwarves—were physically atypical or even deformed; others were considered simple-minded but enjoyed a privileged status as “innocents,” who were not to be harmed.
Most professional fools, however, had full possession of their mental faculties and sufficient wit to gain their masters’ favor, trust, and confidence. Depending on the generosity of those masters, some fools were richly rewarded for their entertainment skills with gifts of money, fine clothes, or even property. Queen Mary Tudor provided well for her own fool, an “innocent” by the name of Jane, even summoning healers to treat Jane during several bouts of illness. Successful fools could—and often did—exert a subtle influence over an employer, either for their own or someone else’s benefit. For example, Will Somers, the highly regarded fool of Henry VIII of England, persuaded the often-tyrannical king to pardon Somers’s former master, Richard Farmor, who had been stripped of his possessions for showing kindness to a priest who was out of royal favor. Bending to the “will of Will,” the King restored some of Farmor’s properties.
Fools were generally supposed to possess more liberties than most courtiers, because, theoretically, they could utter unpalatable truths or outrageous remarks without suffering reprisals. The Italian scholar Erasmus wrote of the fools of his own time: “They can speak truth, and even open insults, and be heard with positive pleasure; indeed, the words that would cost a wise man his life are surprisingly enjoyable when uttered by a clown. For truth has a genuine power to please if it manages not to give offence, but this is something the gods have granted only to fools” (Erasmus in Southworth, p. 9). However, the bond between master and fool could be precarious, the latter being dependent on the former not only for his livelihood but also for his very identity. Moreover, in some cases, even a fool could cross the line and lose his master’s favor. Master Sexton, an elderly “innocent” who served Henry VIII before Will Somers’s time, was banished from court because he had praised Queen Catherine of Aragon—whom the king was trying to divorce—and spoken unflatteringly of Anne Boleyn, whom the king was intending to marry. Sexton’s ultimate fate remains unknown.
Like her father and sister before her, Queen Elizabeth employed a fool, or rather, a succession of fools during her reign. She bestowed particular favor on Richard Tarlton, a comedian who was also a leading actor in the Queen’s Players and the author of several ballads and plays. Tarlton thus kept a foot in two worlds—that of the court and that of the popular stage, which gave him greater autonomy than the fools who had previously served Tudor monarchs. Significantly, several performers with talents similar to those of Tarlton turned increasingly to the popular stage as a means of earning their livelihoods. Fools were gradually transforming themselves into players.
In Twelfth Night, Feste seems to exemplify this more independent, autonomous breed of fool, wandering freely between Olivia’s household—from which he is often mysteriously absent—and Orsino’s court, receiving largesse from both. Moreover, Feste is prepared at any time to provide entertainment, satiric commentary, or simple home truths to any likely audience—singing love songs for the duke, mocking Orsino’s self-induced melancholy, and criticizing Olivia’s excessive display of mourning for her brother. His success at his calling does not go unnoticed; after an exchange of banter with Feste, Viola remarks, “This fellow is wise enough to play the fool, / And to do that well, craves a kind of wit: / He must observe their mood on whom he jests, / The quality of persons, and the time, / And like the haggard, check at every feather / That comes before his eye. This is a practice / As full of labour as a wise man’s art” (Twelfth Night, 3.1.61–67).
Gentlemen, servants, and the social order
Although Elizabeth I ruled over her subjects as an absolute monarch, control of her government and society still resided mainly in the hands of those who were considered “gentlemen.” In his treatise on English society, De Republica Anglo-rum(ca. 1600), Sir Thomas Smith, defined the term “gentlemen” within its specific Elizabethan context: “Who can live idly and without manual labor and will bear the port, charge, and countenance of a gentleman, he shall be called ‘master,’ for that is the title which men give to esquires and other gentleman, he shall be called for a gentleman” (Smith in Singman, p. 12).
THE ELIZABETHAN STEWARD
Within the domestic hierarchy of the Elizabethan household, the steward often reigned supreme. In addition to keeping and organizing the household accounts, which required mathematical ability and a strong sense of economy, the steward was responsible for all aspects of the house, gardens, and lands. He might also be a good huntsman and archer. Many stewards were highly trained and educated for their positions; the entire household might be judged on how well the steward performed his duties. Thus, Malvo-lio, in Twelfth Night, occupies a position of considerable power in Olivia’s household; a high-ranking countess, Olivia nevertheless consults his opinion on various matters, domestic and personal, which suggests that Malvolio is at least a competent steward. Even Malvolio’s secret ambition to attain a higher social position—hopefully by marrying Olivia—is not wholly outlandish, though his conviction that Olivia loves him is based less on evidence than on vanity. Social mobility was indeed possible during the Elizabethan period—though frowned on by established aristocrats, such as the play’s Sir Toby Belch. Marriage to someone of superior rank provided one of the surest ways to achieve a higher status. Encouraging such a development, a noblewoman, widowed or holding the title in her own right, could marry men considered their social inferiors. In real life, for example, Lettice, the widowed countess of Leicester, married the much younger and less exalted Sir Christopher Blount in 1589. In the play, Malvolio cites a dramatic precedent of a noblewoman wedding her servant: “The Lady of the Strachy married the yeoman of the wardrobe,” referring to a match that may have been Shakespeare’s own invention (Twelfth Night, 2.5.39–40).
Freedom from manual labor generally implied that gentlemen possessed sufficient land to live off the rents paid by their tenants. Therefore, the landed, titled nobility—dukes, marquises, earls, viscounts, and barons, in descending order—occupied the topmost position of the hierarchy that subdivided the gentlemanly class. Knights—who had received their titles as an accolade from the monarch—ranked below the nobility, but above esquires (squires) and simple gentlemen. According to seventeenth-century estimates, nobles, knights, and esquires made up less than 1 percent of the population, simple gentleman about 1 percent (Singman, pp. 12–13). Not all gentlemen were landowners, however; officers in the queen’s army and navy were considered gentlemen, as were government officials, clergymen, physicians, lawyers, scholars, and indeed anyone who possessed a university education.
Significantly, gentle birth did not prevent a high percentage of men and women from entering the service of another family. Historian Jeffrey L. Singman writes, “Between the ages of 20 and 24, some 80% of men and 50% of women went away from home in service from just before puberty until marriage, or a period of about 10 years” (Singman, p. 16). This phenomenon did not represent a decrease in social status. On the contrary, young people—even those belonging to the aristocracy—might accumulate money, acquire social polish, and make useful acquaintances and contacts while working in upper-class households. Gently-born servants—employed as pages, gentlemen-ushers, and ladies-in-waiting—lived with the family they were serving and ranked above household workers like cooks, grooms, and even stewards; they were also in better positions to improve their stations in life through education and patronage.
In Twelfth Night, Shakespeare portrays the dynamics of the relationship between master and servant, both in Duke Orsino’s court and Olivia’s household, according to the Elizabethan model. A circle of well-born gentlemen, to which the disguised Viola is soon admitted, surrounds the duke. Similarly, the waiting-gentlewoman Maria attends upon Olivia. Servants of lesser rank in the countess’s household include Feste the fool— whose exact position tends to fluctuate according to his mistress’s favor—and Malvolio, the steward. Malvolio secretly cherishes ambitions above his station, thirsting to marry Olivia and become the next count.
The Play in Focus
The plot
The play begins as Orsino, the noble duke of Illyria, sighs over his unrequited love for the Countess Olivia. Recently bereft of her brother, Olivia has vowed to mourn his death for seven years in deep seclusion.
Elsewhere in Illyria, a shipwreck has cast several people ashore. One of the survivors, Viola, mourns the loss of her twin brother, Sebastian, in the wreck but dares to hope he might have been rescued too. Recognizing their location, the ship’s captain tells Viola about Orsino and the duke’s hopeless passion for Countess Olivia. Hearing that Olivia also mourns a brother, Viola wishes she could serve the countess, but learns that Olivia will not receive anyone. Viola then enlists the captain’s help to disguise herself as a boy and take service with Orsino instead.
The plan is successful: the disguised Viola, now called “Cesario” rises quickly in Orsino’s esteem, becoming the duke’s favorite companion. Orsino delegates Cesario to woo Olivia on his behalf; Cesario agrees, but wistfully, because she secretly loves the duke herself.
Meanwhile, Olivia’s household experiences several disruptions, including the continued presence of her drunken kinsman Sir Toby Belch who has brought one of his boon-companions, Sir Andrew Aguecheek, to the estate to woo the countess; Feste, the family’s fool, has also returned, after a lengthy and unexplained absence. Maria, Olivia’s waiting-gentlewoman, tries to keep order, as does Malvolio, Olivia’s steward, though the latter’s arrogance and haughtiness offend Sir Toby, Feste, and several others in the household. Hostilities run especially deep between Malvolio and Feste.
Arriving in the midst of a typical domestic dispute, Cesario manages to gain an audience with Olivia. She refuses to entertain Orsino’s suit but finds herself captivated by the young messenger’s wit and beauty. After Cesario leaves, Olivia sends Malvolio after the supposed youth with a ring, which the countess claims was left behind. Receiving the ring, Viola (alias Cesario) is dismayed to realize that Olivia has fallen in love with her disguise and believes she is a man in truth. Not knowing what to do, Viola resolves to let time unravel the problem.
Meanwhile, Sebastian, Viola’s brother, turns out to be alive: Antonio, a former pirate, rescued him from the shipwreck and the two men have since become close friends. Sebastian reveals his true identity and the history of his lost twin sister to Antonio, and expresses his wish to seek his fortune at Orsino’s court. Although Antonio has enemies in Illyria, he resolves to accompany his friend.
Back in Illyria, tensions between Malvolio and other members of Olivia’s household culminate in a heated nighttime confrontation during which the steward furiously chastises Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Feste for drunken revelry. Enraged by Malvolio’s overbearing ways, the revelers resolve to revenge themselves on him. Maria, who has been in love with Sir Toby for years, decides to throw in her lot with the conspirators and hatches a plan to humiliate the steward. Playing upon Malvolio’s vanity, Maria forges an anonymous letter in Olivia’s handwriting and leaves it for the steward to find in the garden. Malvolio reads the letter, which seems to corroborate his secret conviction that Olivia loves him and instructs him to affect a haughty demeanor with others and to wear yellow stockings with cross-garters as proof of his having received the letter. The conspirators watch from their hiding places and gleefully anticipate Malvolio’s downfall.
Back at Orsino’s court, the duke continues to pine for Olivia. Viola, still in disguise as Cesario, attempts to persuade Orsino that his passion is unlikely to be reciprocated and lets her own mask slip enough to relate a sad story about her “sister” who was deeply in love with a man but never told him of her love. Although affected by Cesario’s tale, Orsino remains adamant about wooing Olivia and again sends Cesario to the countess. Olivia receives Cesario cordially, apologizes for her previous subterfuge with the ring, but ends by confessing her own burgeoning love for the messenger. Cesario reiterates her loyalty to her master, expresses her inability to love any woman, and pleads in vain for Olivia to transfer her affections to Orsino instead. Further confusion is imminent, for, unbeknownst to Cesario, Sebastian and Antonio reach Illyria. The two friends separate so Sebastian can explore the city—which Antonio, given his past misdeeds cannot do in safety. The former pirate loans Sebastian his purse in case he needs to purchase something beyond his means.
In Olivia’s house, the conspirators’ prank comes to a climax as Malvolio presents himself to his mistress as instructed by the letter: yellow stockinged, cross-gartered, and smiling. Startled by the sudden changes in her usually sober steward, Olivia believes that Malvolio has gone mad and instructs Maria to have him confined somewhere for his own safety. Sir Toby and Maria have the steward bound and locked up in a dark room.
With Malvolio currently removed, Sir Toby and his friend Sir Andrew decide to get rid of Cesario next, so Sir Andrew can woo Olivia without rivals. Sir Toby persuades his cowardly companion to challenge Cesario to a duel. When Cesario again calls on behalf of Orsino, Sir Toby waylays the messenger and imparts the news of Sir Andrew’s challenge; an alarmed Cesario tries to extricate herself from the quarrel but to no avail. In a spirit of mischief, Sir Toby lets each participant believe his rival is a deadly duelist. Quaking, Cesario and Sir Andrew prepare to duel, but a passing Antonio, seeing a youth he believes to be Sebastian in trouble, intervenes to save his friend. Officers of the duke arrive on the scene at this point and, recognizing Antonio as a pirate, arrest him. Addressing Cesario as “Sebastian,” Antonio asks for the return of his purse to extricate himself from this situation, but Cesario does not understand to what he is referring. Accusing “Sebastian” of ingratitude, Antonio leaves with the officers. Bewildered by the possibility of Sebastian’s being alive, Cesario wanders off in a daze. Sir Toby and Sir Andrew, now believing Cesario to be a coward, decide to follow and beat the messenger.
Instead of Cesario, however, Sir Toby and Sir Andrew find Sebastian. Already vexed by Antonio’s absence and the strange behavior of some Illyrians who act as if they already know him, Sebastian defends himself when the two knights attack him. Olivia enters and puts an end to the fight, ordering her kinsman away in disgust. Like everyone else, the countess mistakes Sebastian for Cesario and invites him into her house; the young man complies.
Back on Olivia’s estate, Malvolio continues to languish in his prison. Feste taunts his nemesis in both an assumed guise, as Sir Thopas the parson, and in his own form, but, on hearing from Sir Toby about how the jest has soured and should be ended, the fool agrees to carry a message from Malvolio to Olivia. Unaware of this situation, Olivia busies herself fetching a priest, who marries her to the confused but willing Sebastian.
The various complications build to a climax as Orsino finally decides to pay court to Olivia himself and calls upon her with his retinue, which includes Cesario. Outside the countess’s house, the duke encounters his officers and his old enemy Antonio. Bitter words pass between the two erstwhile enemies, and Antonio once again accuses Cesario, the duke’s servant, of ingratitude. Orsino dismisses Antonio’s words as a madman’s ravings, saying that Cesario has served in his court the whole time he was supposedly with Antonio. Olivia then enters and Orsino renews his suit; the countess once again rejects his advances and, sensing her partiality for Cesario, the duke threatens to avenge his thwarted love on the youth. Olivia then claims Cesario as her husband, summoning the priest as a witness. Outraged by this betrayal—which Cesario denies—Orsino orders his favorite from his company.
EXPLORATION AND PIRACY
Although the action of Twelfth Night is mainly based on land, the sea is a continual presence in the play, a possible homage by Shakespeare to England’s growing dominance as a seafaring nation. Between the 1560s and 1590s, English private ships commissioned to combat warships or commercial vessels belonging to the enemy—had conducted raids on Spanish merchant ships, heightening the rivalry between the two nations. Meanwhile, English and Dutch piracy was mounting in the Mediterranean Sea. In 1588 England’s victory over the Spanish Armada broke Spain’s monopoly in the New World, opening it up for trade with and colonization by the English. By 1601–02, the period when Twelfth Night was written, England was continuing to expand its territorial holdings throughout the world. The nation’s forays into piracy and empire-building are both referenced in Shakespeare’s play—the former in the character of Antonio, a former pirate and enemy of Orsino’s, the latter in Maria’s mocking description of how Malvotio “does smile his face into more lines than is in the new map with the augmentation of the Indies,” a literal allusion to just such a map printed in 1599 (Twelfth Night, 3.3.75–77).
Just then an injured Sir Toby and Sir Andrew enter, complaining about how Cesario attacked them both. Cesario denies these charges too, but the mystery is finally solved by the appearance of Sebastian, who explains to Olivia that he was only defending himself and offers his apologies. Seeing Antonio, Sebastian greets his friend with relief, then reacts, like the others, with amazement at the sight of his double, Cesario. Confirming each other’s identities, Viola and Sebastian joyfully reunite. Olivia realizes she was infatuated with a woman but has married a man, and greets Viola as a sister, while Orsino recognizes the true nature of Cesario’s love for him and claims her hand in marriage.
Viola’s revelation that Malvolio has had her ally, the sea captain, imprisoned on some charge brings the steward back to mind. At this point, Olivia receives Malvolio’s message accusing her of having misled him and quickly frees him. On seeing the letter that brought about Malvolio’s humiliation, Olivia recognizes the handwriting as Maria’s. Another servant, Fabian—also part of the conspiracy—confesses the nature of the jest practiced on Malvolio and further reveals that Sir Toby has married Maria to protect her from possible reprisals; Malvolio exits, swearing revenge on everybody, but Orsino commands that the matter be settled peacefully. The play concludes as the two betrothed couples enter Olivia’s house in peace and harmony, while Feste sings a song about the ages of man. The song has a melancholy refrain—“For the rain it raineth every day”—reminding us that, with the twelfth night of Christmas, festivities end, and sober everyday reality begins once again (Twelfth Night, 5.1.391).
Gender roles
Much has been made of the cross-dressing element in Shakespeare’s comedies. Julia in Two Gentlemen of Verona, Portia in The Merchant of Venice, Rosalind in As You Like It, and Viola in Twelfth Night all adopt a masculine disguise, for various reasons. Julia wants to be near her true love, Portia means to save her husband’s closest friend from a moneylender’s grasp, Rosalind hopes to avoid thieves and attackers during her travels to the Forest of Arden, and Viola intends to enter Duke Orsino’s service and, at the same time, preserve the memory of her pre-sumed-dead twin brother, on whom she models her new disguise.
Shakespeare’s reliance on the cross-dressing female in his works is partly attributable to her presence in the original tales and the Italian Renaissance plays from which he borrowed his plots. Moreover, the device was a comedic staple, guaranteed to amuse Elizabethan audiences, if for no other reason than that all women’s parts at the time were performed by boys. The comic irony of a boy playing a girl playing a boy did not escape those who saw Shakespeare’s works onstage.
On another level, however, such masquerades as Viola’s in Twelfth Night might have a deeper import. Although Viola, in particular, finds herself in several difficult situations because of her disguise—having to court Olivia while secretly loving Orsino, and being forced to fight a duel with Sir Andrew Aguecheek—she nonetheless gains the companionship and favor of the duke, becoming his trusted friend within days of their acquaintance. She, along with the other cross-dressing women of Shakespeare’s plays, comes to enjoy the same autonomy as men: to speak, act, and think freely. Such privileges were not to be taken lightly, especially given the strict gender roles of the time.
Although England was ruled by a strong-willed queen who often referred to herself as a “prince,” women in general were second-class citizens. As children, daughters fell under their father’s control, and upon marriage, women became subordinate to their husbands in every way. A widow, however, might assume control over her husband’s household or business after his death, thus receiving legal recognition as an independent individual. Significantly, in England, wives were given more freedom than most of their counterparts on the Continent. Van Me-teren, a contemporary Dutch historian, observed,
Wives in England are entirely in the power of their husbands, their lives only excepted . . . yet they are not kept so strictly as they are in Spain or elsewhere. Nor are they shut up but they have the free management of the house or housekeeping, after the fashion of those of the Netherlands, and others [of] their neighbours. They go to market to buy what they like best to eat. They are well-dressed, fond of taking it easy, and commonly leave the care of household matters and drudgery to their servants. . . . This is why England is called the paradise of married women.
(Van Meteren in Pritchard, p. 29)
Despite their more extensive privileges, English wives still did not enjoy the full legal rights, economic opportunities, and social status experienced by their husbands. Professions such as law and medicine were closed to them, as were the universities. They were still expected to confine their energies and abilities to keeping house and raising families, “and not to meddle with matters abroad, nor to bear office in a city or commonwealth no more than children or infants” (Smith in Singman, p. 18). Perhaps more than one woman of Shakespeare’s era took a vicarious pleasure in the adventures of Viola, Rosalind, and Portia when she saw them portrayed onstage.
Sources and literary context
In most of his plays, Shakespeare follows an established practice of reusing and revising plots and subplots from various sources; Twelfth Night is no exception. The basic plot of disguised siblings and confused love comes from the Italian play Gl’Ingannati (The Deceived Ones, 1531). It is unclear whether Shakespeare actually read Gl’lngannati; however, he seems to have found a similar plot in the tale of “Apolonius and Silla,” by Barnabe Riche, which was published in Riche His Farewell to Militane Profession(1581). Twelfth Night uses several elements from Riche’s version—the shipwreck that separates the look-alike siblings, the brother’s arrival on the scene and his amorous reception by the lady being courted by the Duke, and the lady’s claiming the disguised sister as her husband.
Shakespeare also emulates familiar classical models, specifically the Roman comic playwright Plautus, known for his fast-paced comedies, which employed themes of lost siblings and disguises. Plautus’s comedy Menaechmi, the source of Shakespeare’s earlier play The Comedy of Errors, may have been reused during the composition of Twelfth Night. The play’s bittersweet exploration of love, love’s excesses, and marital choices appears to be Shakespeare’s own inspiration. So too does the character of Feste, who was probably written for Robert Armin, who succeeded Will Kempe as the primary player of fools in the Lord Chamberlain’s Men. While Kempe’s specialty was playing rustic clowns and buffoons, Armin, who possessed a fine singing voice, was better suited to play polished, courtly fools whose “fooling” was largely assumed for their profession.
Generally considered the last of Shakespeare’s true comedies, Twelfth Night anticipates such problem plays as All’s Well that Ends Well and Measure for Measure, in which love and marriage are not so happily or harmoniously achieved. The romantic resolution of the situation between the primary couples, however, links Twelfth Night more closely with the sunny earlier comedies, such as As You Like it and Much Ado about Nothing.
Reception
The exact date of Twelfth Night’s premiere is not known. Some contend that the play was tion. T he exactdate of Twelfth Night ’1601, when Queen Elizabeth’s court was entertaining a distinguished Italian guest, Don Vir-ginio Orsino, duke of Bracciano—hence, the name “Orsino” for Shakespeare’s duke. However, the first written allusion to a performance of Twelfth Night—on February 2, 1602—appears in the diary of John Manningham, a student at the Middle Temple in London, one of the Inns of Court where young men went to study law.
At the Middle Temple Feast this night they had a play called Twelfth Night or What you Will, much like the Comedy of Errors, or Menechmi in Plautus, but most like and near to that in Italian called Inganni. A good practice in it to make the Steward believe his lady widow was in love with him by counterfeiting a letter as from his lady in general terms, telling him what she liked best in him, and prescribing his gesture in smiling, his apparel, etc.; and then when he came to practise making him believe they took him to be mad.
(Manningham in Harrison, p. 320)
Like Manningham, early audiences particularly enjoyed the gulling of Malvolio. In fact, in 1623 Twelfth Night seems to have been performed under the title Malvolio. Leonard Digges (1588–1635)—in a poem in praise of Shakespeare—specifically mentions Malvolio as an audience pleaser: “To heare Malvolio that crosse-garter’d Gull. / Briefe, there is nothing in his wit fraught Booke, / Whose sound we would not heare” (Digges in Harris and Scott, p. 539). Several reviewers likewise chose to focus upon the character of Olivia’s haughty steward in their commentary. Noted critic Richard Steele observed in the Spectator, “[Malvolio] has Wit, Learning, and discernment, but temper’d with an Allay of Envy, Self-Love, and Detraction” (Steele in Harris and Scott, p. 540).
Other elements of Twelfth Night also garnered praise. Charles Gildon, the first critic to write an extended commentary on Shakespeare’s plays, enjoyed the romantic subplot, declaring that “Olivia’s Declaration of Love to Viola is very fine and pa-thetick” (Gildon in Harris and Scott, p. 540). During the eighteenth century, Twelfth Night took an occasional beating from reviewers who preferred works based on classical models and found the play’s plot contrivances foolish, unbelievable, or indecorous. The critic Samuel Johnson conceded its merits, calling Twelfth Night“elegant and easy, and in some of the lighter scenes exquisitely humorous” but concluded that “the marriage of Olivia and the succeeding perplexity, though well enough contrived to divert on stage, wants credibility, and fails to produce the proper instruction required in the drama, as it exhibits no just picture of life” (Johnson in Harris and Scott, p. 542).
Despite its detractors, Twelfth Night remained popular with audiences. From its Drury Lane debut in 1741, it was continually revived, and a later generation of critics—more tolerant of Shakespeare’s dramatic devices—expressed warm appreciation for the play’s exploration of love and imagination. German Romantic critic August Wilhelm Schlegel wrote, “The Twelfth Night, or What you Will [sic], unites the entertainment of an intrigue, contrived with great ingenuity, to a rich fund of comic characters and situations, and the beauteous colours of an ethereal poetry” (Schlegel in Harris and Scott, p. 544). Finally, William Hazlitt, the leading Shakespearean critic of the Romantic era, summed up the play’s enduring appeal:
[Twelfth Night] is justly considered as one of the most delightful of Shakespeare’s comedies. It is full of sweetness and pleasantry. It is perhaps too good-natured for comedy. It has little satire, and no spleen. It aims at the ludicrous rather than the ridiculous. It makes us laugh at the follies of mankind, not despise them, and still less bear any ill-will towards them.
(Hazlitt in Harris and Scott, p. 544)
—Pamela S. Loy
For More Information
Arlidge, Anthony. Shakespeare and the Prince of Love. London: Giles de la Mare, 2000.
Barber, C. L. Shakespeare’s Festive Comedy. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1959.
Billington, Michael, ed. RSC Directors’ Shakespeare: Twelfth Night. London: Nick Hern, 1990.
Brimacombe, Peter. All the Queen’s Men. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2000.
Harris, Laurie Lanzen, and Mark W. Scott, eds. Shakespearean Criticism. Vol. 1. Detroit: Gale Research, 1984.
Harrison, G. B. The Elizabethan Journals. 2 vols. Garden City: Anchor, 1965.
Notkoff, Tania, ed. Readings on Twelfth Night. San Diego: Greenhaven Press, 2001.
Pritchard, R. E. Shakespeare’s England: Life in Elizabethan & facobean Times. Phoenix Mill: Sutton, 1999.
Shakespeare, William. TwelfthNight. London: Rout-ledge, 1975.
Singman jeffrey L. Daily Life in Elizabethan England. Westport: Greenwood Press, 1995.
Southworth, John. Fools and festers at the English Court. Phoenix Mill: Sutton, 1998.
Williams, Neville. The Sea Dogs: Privateers, Plunder and Piracy in the Elizabethan Age. New York: Macmillan, 1975.