GCSE REVISION NOTES

 "Twelfth Night" - William Shakespeare

Sample Essay

Deception, The Main Theme in Twelfth Night

All drama is basically deception, an illusion in which actors pretend to be somebody else, aided by the audience's `suspension of disbelief', as Coleridge put it, but many plays use deception as a major ingredient in their construction. We might expect a play from around 1601 with the title Twelfth Night to reflect something of the court masques and revels popular at the time, in which an essential element was disguise. It is interesting that an Italian comedy which Shakespeare almost certainly knew and from which he may have taken some ideas for- Twelfth Night was entitled Gl'Ingannati - 'The Deceived Ones'. Another possible source was Gl'Inganni - 'The Deceptions' - arguably a more appropriate title than 'Twelfth Night', and certainly a better subtitle than 'What You Will', for the whole play is constructed as a complex tapestry of cleverly interwoven deceptions. Almost all the characters in the play are engaged either in deceiving themselves or in deliberately or accidentally deceiving others.

The play begins with a striking example of self-deception, initially amusing for the audience, in Orsino's conviction that he loves Olivia. He doesn't catch even a glimpse of her in the three months' course of the play until the final scene. Instead he woos by proxy and is presented as the conventional love-sick lover, luxuriating in the paradoxically 'sweet pangs' (II.4.16) of melancholia. In two scenes he looks for music to relieve his passion, hut seems insincere in wanting it to lessen his appetite for love, for- he enjoys his suffering intensely. He easily convinces himself that he can identify with the betrayed lover in Feste's song, enjoying all the associations of melancholy - the 'sad cypress', the 'poor corpse', the 'sad true lover' (II.4.50-65). He claims to be the model of the true lover, 'unstaid and skittish' (II.4.18) in everything except constancy to the beloved. Clearly Orsino has retreated into a world of imagination and unreality, indulging in conceited language:

So full of' shapes is fancy
That it alone is high fantastical.
(I.1.14-15)

Orsino's sense of superiority ('my love, more noble than the world' - II.4.80) leads him to the totally unjustified assumption that he has a ‘true place’ in Olivia's favour (V.1.121) and that he will rule her as her ‘king’ (I.1.40). His understanding of women is absurdly false:

There is no woman's sides
Can bide the beating of so strong a passion
As love doth give my heart
(II.4.92-94)

Viola punctures this pretentiousness when she argues that women's love is as deep-seated and true as men's. The Duke's genuine concern for Cesario's 'sister' suggests that behind all the false affectation there is a real person struggling to get out. His self deception remains, however, until very near the end of the play, for in the final scene when he at last sees Olivia face to face he addresses her with typically preposterous posturing:

You uncivil lady,
To whose ingrate and unauspicious altars
My soul the faithfull'st offerings have breathed out
That e'er devotion tendered!
(V.1.110-113)

In his self deception Orsino has remained a completely static character, but there has been a development of real emotion centring on Cesario, so that when he discovers that Cesario is actually a woman he can allow the reality to sweep aside the self deception and admit the falseness of his supposed love for Olivia. It is this that makes credible the otherwise extremely sudden switch from Olivia to Viola, and indeed saves the Duke from being merely an effete insipid buffoon. We can see him finally as a fit husband for Viola.

Just as Orsino's self-deception is produced by inexperience of real love or the real world, so is that of Olivia. If we see her as an extremely intelligent, sensitive and lively eighteen-year-old then she is mistakenly deceiving herself into thinking that it is not only right and proper to mourn for her brother for seven years and abjure the company and sight of men, but that she has a suitable temperament to see it through. This deception is very quickly dispelled when she shows an inordinate interest in the young man at her gates in Act I scene 5 and is sufficiently intrigued to invite him in and then fall head over heels in love It is interesting to note that her love-sickness, produced by the deception practised on her unwittingly by Viola, parallels the Duke's. She uses the word 'sad' three times in just a few lines early in Act III scene 4, and Viola in the same scene observes:

With the same 'haviour that your passion bears
Goes on my master's griefs.
(III.4.202-203)

For both Orsino and Olivia self deception serves as an avoidance of the real world and of real emotions. As soon as they acknowledge reality, they cease to delude themselves. Some other characters, however, never do emerge from their self deception.

In the sub-plot, the most notable example of a self-deceiver is of course Malvolio. His sense of superiority is greater even than Orsino's. He sees himself as surrounded by 'idle, shallow things', not of his 'element' (III.4.122-123) and this encourages his ambition to become inflated to the point where he considers that a marriage to Olivia is entirely appropriate. He can even believe that Olivia loves him - 'Maria once told me she (Olivia) did affect me' (II.5.23-24) (surely an example of a mischievous lie by Maria?). He is not in love with Olivia for herself, but he very much fancies the status, the power and the opulent lifestyle that this marriage could confer. In the box-hedge scene he pictures himself sitting in state in a velvet gown, playing with a rich jewel, with seven servants jumping to obey his slightest command. The absurdity of this notion does not lie principally in Malvolio s humble status, for he is referred to throughout as a 'gentleman', and, as he points out, 'the Lady of the Strachy married the yeoman of the wardrobe' (II.5.38-39). Moreover, Olivia has a high regard for him, which suggests that his ambitions are not totally absurd: in the 'smiling' scene, even though she thinks Malvolio is mad, Olivia can still say: 'Let some of my people have a special care of him. I would not have him miscarry for the half of my dowry' (III.4.62-64). Maria supports this later in the scene: 'My lady would not lose him, for more than I'll say' (lines 104-105). Malvolio is conscious of this high regard: 'she uses me with a more exalted respect than anyone else that follows her' (II.5.26-27). But he cannot see how his personal dualities make it impossible for Olivia ever to consider him as a husband. She is well aware of his inflated ego: 'you are sick of self love, Malvolio' (I.5.85). Sir Toby sees him as 'an overweening rogue' (II.5.29), and Maria, with her customary perception, describes him as:

an affectioned ass. . . the best persuaded of himself, so crammed, as he thinks, with excellencies, that it is his grounds of faith that all that look on him love him
(II.3.141-45)

This lack of self-criticism or self-awareness makes him utterly vulnerable to Maria's subsequent plan to ridicule him

If Malvolio's self deception is amusing but objectionable, that of Sir Andrew is more purely comic. In many ways he mirrors Malvolio's inflated view of himself, but he constantly puts himself down too, so that there is something rather pathetic about his self delusion, as if it is an attempt to bolster his basic timidity and lack of confidence. He claims to have spent his time in 'fencing, dancing, and bear-baiting' (I.3.90), and that his leg is 'strong' for dancing (I.3.127), yet his skill in fencing is non-existent as the comic duel later shows, an his dancing is ludicrous, though hugely amusing to Sir Toby The macho reference to bear-baiting is echoed in Sir Andrew's protestations 'I care not for good life' (II.3.36), and 'let me alone for swearing' (III.4.180), but these serve only to conjure up an absurd picture of Sir Andrew as the would-be roguish roisterer.

Like Malvolio, only even more ludicrously, Sir Andrew also sees himself as a husband for Olivia, but this deception is deliberately fostered by Sir Toby, who ostensibly has 'brought him in one night here, to be her wooer' (I.3.15), but in reality as a source of entertainment and money for himself. Sir Andrew is persuaded that the money is vital for a successful outcome: 'Thou hadst need send for more money. . . If thou hast her not i'the end, call me cut' (II.3.175-180), but in fact Sir Toby pockets it himself. As he confides to Fabian, 'I have been dear to him, lad, some two thousand strong or so' (III.2.52-53) - a sum which represents two-thirds of Sir Andrew's annual income. This exploitation is remarkably similar to that of Roderigo by Iago in the later play Othello, but whereas Iago is unquestionably a villain, audiences normally find Sir Toby a genial and sympathetic rogue, though if we examine his heartlessness towards Sir Andrew he is far less appealing. He expresses his real opinion vividly to Fabian: 'For Andrew, if he were opened and you find so much blood in his liver as will clog the foot of a flea, I'll eat the rest of the anatomy' (III.2.58-60). And in the final scene, when Sir Andrew offers to help him in his wounded state, Sir Toby attacks him spitefully: 'Will you help? An asshead, and a coxcomb, and a knave - a thin-faced knave, a gull!' (V.1.203-204). These accusations may be accurate, but to utter them is cruel. Sir Toby uses deception in the form of flattery in Sir Andrew's presence, praising, for example, his inept dancing, and in his absence he frequently uses irony, here a form of comic deception. The best example of this is in an early scene with Maria, where, for their mutual amusement, Sir Toby utters extravagant praise of Sir Andrew, while clearly not believing a word of it, referring to his playing the viol-de-gamboys, speaking three or four languages fluently, and having ‘all the good gifts of nature’ (I.3.25).

The most amusing example of deception practised on Sir Andrew is the challenge to, and subsequent duel with, Cesario. Sir Toby seizes on Sir Andrew's natural inclination to be 'a great' (if cowardly) 'quarreller', (I.3.27), already exhibited in his absurd notion of challenging Malvolio, and making a fool of him by failing to appear (II.3) Sir Toby was eager then to write or deliver the challenge, but he sees a more promising opportunity when Sir Andrew is affronted by the favours which he has seen Olivia pay to Cesario. It could be suggested that Sir Toby is motivated by a desire to maintain his own source of income by boosting Sir Andrew's flagging confidence as a suitor, but the chief concern seems to be merely to provide entertainment, which it certainly does. At first Sir Toby is not optimistic but he throws himself into the deception with tremendous zest, abetted by Fabian, and they successfully flatter Sir Andrew by extravagantly approving his pathetic written challenge. Sir Toby's invention reaches a peak as the deception is extended to Cesario and each duellist in turn is reduced to jelly with accounts of the other's fury and skill - of Sir Andrew's having killed three men in private quarrels, and of Cesario's being fencer to the Shah. Sir Toby eventually overstretches himself when he persuades Sir Andrew to have another go at the apparently cowardly Cesario, and is himself deceived into being thrashed by Sebastian. The other comic highlight of Twelfth Night is developed, interestingly, over exactly the same stretch of the play - both plots begin in Act II scene 3, and both continue into the final scene and in the same way is based on deception, but whereas the tricking of Sir Andrew was almost entirely Sir Toby's doing, the deception of Malvolio is the brain-child of Maria, the 'noble gullcatcher' (II.5.180). Her plan is utterly successful because it exploits Malvolio's self-delusion. She plays on his vanity - the physical attractions of his beard, leg, gait, eye, forehead and complexion - and by a master-stroke includes several references to Fortune: 'Thy fates open their hands' (II.5.141). . . 'worthy to touch Fortune's fingers' (lines 151-152). Just before he found the letter Malvolio declared his belief that 'Tis but fortune, all is fortune' (line 23). The letter serves to confirm his conviction that his destiny is in the hands of a benevolent deity - 'Jove and my stars be praised' (lines 165-166). Even Maria is amazed that anyone in his right mind could have believed `such impossible passages of grossness' (III.2.68), for Malvolio has obeyed `every point of the letter that I dropped to betray him' (lines 73-74).

The deception is total, as Sir Toby points out:

. . . thou hast put him in such a dream, that when the image of it leaves him, he must run mad.
( II.5.186-187)

Malvolio must surely be under the influence of this 'dream' when he declares that Olivia did commend his yellow stockings and praise his cross-gartering, for her genuine horror at his appearance in Act III scene 4 belies this. The brilliant humour of the early part of this scene derives from Malvolio's complete self-deception, as he sees encouragement in Olivia's 'Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio?' (line 28), in her use of the word 'fellow', and in her sending Sir Toby so that he can practise being stubborn to him. Nothing could be further from the truth than Malvolio's belief that he has `limed' Olivia and that 'nothing that can be, can come between me and the full prospect of my hopes' (lines 81-82). Indeed, 'His very genius hath taken the infection of the device' (lines 128-129).

If we have felt largely contempt for Malvolio so far, it is surely at this point that we begin to feel some pity too. When Malvolio declares Jove, not I, is the doer of this, and he is to be thanked' (lines 82-83) we can see here either an absurd assumption that the Almighty is preoccupied with his fortunes, or possibly that Malvolio is displaying some humility. At any rate when the others (taking their cue from Olivia's diagnosis of midsummer madness) torment him by pretending that he is possessed by a devil, treating him like a child, and suggesting that he rejects godliness, then the humour certainly begins to be uncomfortable. Sir Toby wishes to have Malvolio bound as a madman in a dark room, and to pursue the device until he tires of it, while Maria, rather more spitefully, wishes to have Malvolio expelled from the house, which will then be 'the quieter' (line 133).

The deception of Malvolio becomes positively cruel when Feste plays his part, in the dungeon scene (IV.2), though Sir Toby and Maria find it hugely enjoyable. Feste's disguised voice (the visual disguise of gown and beard seems intended for the audience, as Malvolio cannot see him) deceives Malvolio into thinking that he is Sir Topas, but Malvolio stoutly refuses to accept any of Feste's deceptions or blatant lies. It is not very clear whether Feste is trying to drive Malvolio into genuine madness, or merely trying to amuse the others, and himself. Sir Toby wishes to end the knavery here, though not out of compassion for Malvolio, but rather because he has offended Olivia so much that he cannot safely pursue the sport to a conclusion. Feste, however, knows no restraint, and his further tormenting of Malvolio in his own person - 'how fell you besides your five wits?' (IV.2.86) - seems more hurtful than ever. Although Feste keeps up his pretence that Malvolio is mad to the end of the play, Malvolio's appearance in the final scene arouses our sympathy rather than derision, as he asks why he has been made 'the most notorious geck and gull/ That e'er invention played on' (V.1..341-342). Olivia recognises the 'practice' in the forged handwriting, and is sufficiently moved to appoint Malvolio plaintiff and judge of his own case. It is left to the least guilty of the conspirators - Fabian - to claim that the device was contrived 'Upon some stubborn and uncourteous parts' (line 359) in Malvolio. Both Olivia and Orsino remain conspicuously sympathetic - 'He hath been most notoriously abused' (line 376). Perhaps Fabian's curiously contradictory phrase 'sportful malice' (line 363) sums up our ambivalence towards the whole of this deception.

Not only the comic plot but the romantic plot is constructed n deception, some deliberate, some accidental. The first deliberate deception is when Viola instructs the sea-captain to present her as a eunuch to Orsino, and to:

Conceal me what I am, and be my aid
For such disguise as haply shall become
The form of my intent.
(I.2.54-56)

Her purpose is very unclear here, but the device makes possible some wonderful complications later. The reference to the eunuch is conveniently forgotten for the rest of the play. Certainly Cesario is not perceived as a eunuch by any other character - quite the contrary. Olivia of course is accidentally deceived into love for the 'youth's perfections' (I.5.285), for she cannot penetrate the irony of Viola's protestation 'I am not that I play' (I.5.177), though Viola does claim to be a gentleman. This causes her to contrive the deception of the ring and to disguise her newfound love from Malvolio by referring to the 'peevish messenger' (I.5.290). Viola is concerned at the rapid repercussions of her deception:

Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.
How easy is it for the proper false
In women's waxen hearts to set their forms.
(II.2.27-30)

Shakespeare is allowing Viola to utter very conventional wisdom here, which is not borne out in the play, for the women are less easily deceived than the men.

In Act III scene l, Olivia apologises for the 'shameful cunning' (line 113) of the ring deceit, and her shame leads her to bare her soul quite openly to Viola. They come teasingly close to revealing the deception:

Viola: . . you do think you are not what you are.
Olivia: If I think so, I think the same of you.Viola: Then think you right; I am not what I am
(III.1.136-138)

But this encourages Olivia to believe that 'Cesario' is deliberately trying to conceal his real love for her and thus reveals her passion for him. At the end of the scene Viola cleverly tells the truth, but without revealing her secret, by stating that no woman has her heart and no woman would ever be mistress of it except 'I alone' (line 157). Similar subtle irony is employed in Act II scene 4, where the audience is fully aware that Viola is deceiving the Duke in claiming to love a woman of the Duke's complexion and years, and yet is declaring the truth of her love at the same time.

The deception produced by Viola's disguise is further cleverly complicated by the device, a favourite of Shakespeare's, of having identical twin dressed identically. Thus is made possible Antonio's fury at Viola's ingratitude in not returning the purse (lent to Sebastian simply to set up the scene), and his accusation of her being a model of deception:

. . the beauteous evil
Are empty trunks o'er-flourished by the devil.
(III.4.361 )

Viola's apparent dishonesty and cowardice then provoke the second challenge from Sir Andrew, culminating in the thrashing from Sebastian. Sebastian himself is aware that there is something in his extraordinary situation 'That is deceivable' (IV.3.21), but shows few scruples in enthusiastically welcoming his luck and hastily becoming betrothed to Olivia.

In the final scene the deceptions multiply furiously right up to the denouement, as Viola finds herself the target of a barrage of accusations. Antonio rails against her 'false cunning' (line 84); Olivia feels. herself `beguiled' (line 137) by 'Cesario's' appearing to be homosexual and declaring a sincere love for the Duke; (she quickly explains this away as deception produced by fear on 'Cesario's' part); Orsino is incensed to learn that 'Cesario' is betrothed to Olivia - 'O thou dissembling cub' (line 162), who practises the 'craft' of deception; and finally Sir Andrew comically reports that 'Cesario' is the 'very devil incardinate' (lines 178- 179 ).

The audience of course is never really concerned for Viola's safety, for: we have all the knowledge denied to those on stage. For them it is not until less than 200 lines from the end of the play that the situation is suddenly clarified with the arrival of Sebastian, and very quickly all the apparent deceptions are satisfactorily unravelled. Sebastian neatly explains to Olivia that nature, by providing identical twins, has actually prevented a deception:

Nor are you therein, by my life, deceived:
You are betrothed both to a maid and man.
(lines 259-260)

I have shown, then, that the whole of Twelfth Night is a brilliant fabrication of deceptions, producing wonderful complications of plot and of characterisation. Unlike many devices which Shakespeare employs in other comedies, such as magic potions, fairies, transformations, deception is essentially an aspect of real life, and those who practise deceit here are ordinary people, not professional tricksters. The use of deception therefore helps to give Twelfth Night a reality and concreteness that is one of its most admired characteristics

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