The Women of Twelfth Night and Jung’s Animus Theory

by Dwan Dunning

Jung’s animus theory postulates that, while women generally identify with their

biological sex in the conscious ego, masculine qualities repressed due to cultural pressures and norms form a complementary contrasexual (male) personality in the unconscious.  This is the counterpart to the “anima” in males, which is the unconscious female personality for males.  While Jung believed that the anima produced moods, he believed that the animus produced opinions – vehemently expressed, often unfounded opinions.  However, he also believed that the animus, when integrated into ego consciousness, helps to turn repressed energy into creative, intellectual endeavors.

In Twelfth Night, there are three female characters: Olivia, Viola, and Maria.

These women are in various phases of psychological development in relation

to the animus theory. 

Olivia’s combination of experiences, including and in particular the death of her brother (her male ideal?) have led her to live alone; she has sworn off men.

At first thought this seems extreme, but as her character evolves throughout the play, it becomes clear that she has used this time to integrate her animus.  Perhaps while her brother was alive, she was content to let him represent her unconscious animus, but his death has forced her to try to fill the void he has left.  She has elected to fill it herself, running her own household.  While her withdrawal from the world is the archetypal female passive response, she is achieving autonomy during her “cloistering.”  It therefore seems not so much a withdrawal as an incubation of her “self,” while she works on integrating her conscious ego and her animus.  She controls her entire household, except for her hedonistic relative, Sir Toby, who is her contact with wild maleness and life in the outside world.  Meanwhile, she has become the projected anima of the duke, Orsino, who believes himself to be in love with her.  In line with Olivia’s love for the truth, and her independence, she refuses to play the anima role for Orsino; unfortunately, as elusiveness is part of his fantasy, this does not work.  He enjoys the hunt, and a fleeing “hart” is more desirable than an easy target.  Olivia falls in love herself, with Viola/Cesario, a character that embodies both sexes.  Perhaps Viola/Cesario represents the integration of masculine/feminine energy that Olivia seems to be pursuing.  Conveniently for the sake of a love story, Viola has a twin brother who presumably shares the characteristics (particularly the “male” characteristics, such as wit) with which Olivia has fallen in love.  “An apple cleft in two is not more twin than these two creatures;” Olivia has developed autonomy, wit, creativity, and authority; she is ready to reenter the world and explore relationships.  One might conclude that, in falling in love with Viola, she has fallen in love with Sebastian and herself, a hopeful sign for a mature relationship.

Interestingly, Viola decided at the beginning of the play to “hide” her state of femininity.  Her brother, whom she believes to be dead, is presumably the physical representation of her animus, similar to Olivia’s situation.  She also wishes to withdraw from the world, but does not seem as sure as Olivia that it will be permanent:  “O that I served that lady, and might not be delivered to the world, till I had made mine own occasion mellow, what my estate is.”  Viola seems to know, at some level, that she needs to explore and integrate her male “half,” and strengthen herself; her decision to act the part of a male seems more deliberate and conscious than Olivia’s decision to withdraw.  Upon disguising herself as a male, she almost immediately develops an impressive wit – an archetypal male characteristic that has most likely been repressed in her unconscious, having heretofore found expression through her brother.  But, although seen by the world as a male, she is still conscious of her femininity, and has fallen in love with Orsino.  He, of course, is still projecting onto Olivia his feminine archetypes, using Viola to communicate with Olivia.  This is frustrating for Viola, but she is patient, waiting for Orsino to discover within himself the female characteristics he needs to develop.  I’m not sure that Orsino ever becomes conscious of the state of his own psyche, but he is aware enough to know that he truly loves Viola.  However, he is still unaware of the healthy path:  “My thoughts are ripe in mischief.  I’ll sacrifice the lamb that I do love [Viola].  To spite a raven’s heart within a dove [Olivia].”  It is not until she reveals herself to be a woman that Orsino’s vision clears.  Viola, secure within herself, has declared to him “Thou never shouldst love woman like to me,” and affirms this as Orsino declares his love, as she hopes.  As the pieces fall into place, Orsino and Olivia both declare their erstwhile loves to be sisters; in this way, they resolve their masculine/feminine sexual conflicts while retaining platonic affection, and affirm their heterosexuality. 

Maria is the least developed character in regard to her animus; she is concerned with “the modest limits of order,” an archetypal feminine trait.  She is the voice of conscience (or doom!) to the clown, warning him that he will be hanged or turned away, although this proves not to be the case.  Her “feminine” care for order and rules are in contrast with Sir Toby, who is hedonistic, crass, and eminently vivacious.  Her counterpart, Malvolio, is similarly obsessed with rules and order.  Maria’s connivance with Sir Toby to humiliate Malvolio is, I believe, her attempt to set free her own animus, or fun-loving, comedic spirit; mean-spirited, perhaps, but her very contempt for Malvolio seems self-directed, as his characteristics are similar to her own.  She never really achieves integration, though, perhaps because the maleness of Sir Toby is rather overwhelming.

The three women are of varying personalities and psychological stages, but share a common social perception of appropriate behavior.  The fact that all three defy this order is conceivably the best example of Shakespeare’s interest in, and respect for, women in general.  All three have psychological motion and development within the play, and all three are eventually loved by the men present.  For the time and place, this would be considered a reward; Shakespeare’s point of view seems to be that to take risks, an archetypically masculine feature, is admirable in either sex.