Antonio in Twelfth Night
A Character Study of Sebastian's Passionate Friend
The character of Antonio in Twelfth Night has caused disagreement: is he a bluff comrade of Sebastian, or tormented by a homoerotic attraction?
The character of Antonio, Sebastian’s faithful friend, throws an interesting light upon the romantic intrigues which make up the main plot of Twelfth Night. When the twins Viola and Sebastian were separated by the shipwreck that precedes the play’s action, Antonio saved Sebastian and brought him ashore. In their first scene, Antonio asks that either Sebastian stay with him, or they go to Orsino’s court together, declaring extravagantly “If you will not murder me for my love, let me be your servant.” (II.1) He also explains that travelling into Illyria could be dangerous for him, as he has captained warships against Orsino, and killed many of the Count’s soldiers.
His impassioned entreaties do not succeed, however, and he follows Sebastian in disguise to Illyria. He blunders into the duel being set up between Viola/Cesario and Sir Andrew Aguecheek, and offers to fight for Cesario, mistaking him for Sebastian. When caught by the Count’s officers, he asks Cesario for the return of some money he lent Sebastian, but of course Cesario has no idea who he is. Believing himself betrayed (“O, how vile an idol proves this god!” III.4), Antonio is led away to prison.
When brought before Orsino and Cesario, he calls the latter a “most ingrateful boy” (5.1), just before the denouement reveals that Cesario and Sebastian are different people. Antonio, however, is lost in the explanations and engagements; his last lines are “How have you made division of yourself/...Which is Sebastian?” We never hear how he feels about the denouement, or what he will do after the play has ended.
The emotional language in which he describes Sebastian, and the fury at his betrayal, have led some commentators to suggest that there is a homoerotic attachment between the two characters – at least on Antonio’s side. Curiously, the same has been suggested of his namesake in The Merchant of Venice: the Antonio who trades upon the Rialto has frequently been played as an infatuated older man, whose affections Bassanio does not return. (For an example, David Bamber’s excellent performance in Chris Hunt and Trevor Nunn’s 2001 TV version.)
Other commentators have criticised this attempt to impose 20th-century sexual and emotional categories on the world of Renaissance drama. They argue that Antonio’s impassioned expressions of friendship are just that – an example of the strong and celebrated tradition of close male comradeship in the English Renaissance. It is suggestive, however, that Antonio’s demand “let me be your servant” sounds like the courtly love rhetoric of lover as servant which Petrarchan love poetry had popularised. How the director interprets this relationship, whether of friendship or erotic interest, can have an obvious effect on the audience’s view of the shifting categories of gender and sexuality which the other disguise plots invoke.
