That the body of work ascribed to Shakespeare survives to this day, as much-loved as it was in his life-time, is a good indication of the author’s genius as well as his ‘universality’. Indeed, Shakespeare is most often lauded for his universality—his appeal across classes, cultures and times. His themes—of love and hate, passion and revenge, friendship and betrayal—are broad, sweeping, and timeless, and the stuff of what it is to be human.
The genius of the man behind the work is indisputable. And yet, something is missing. By adopting a neutrality that sits awkwardly with his passion and intellect (two traits that are givens, considering his work alone), he does not proclaim his personal convictions, be they political or religious. Certainly, not all writers betray their political or religious leanings in their writings. But for someone who lived through interesting times (to put it mildly), for Shakespeare not to allude, however obliquely, to the turbulent events and episodes that marked the reign of Elizabeth I and her successor James I, is to strain the imagination.
The Question
Is it really conceivable that the greatest English playwright of all time, prolific writer that he was, would make no mention in his work of the political and religious controversies of his day? Claire Asquith, Shakespeare lecturer and essayist, thinks not. In fact, she’s convinced the opposite is true. Her copious research, ranging from contemporary writings of the day (16th and 17th century manuscripts and documents) to biographies of political and religious figures of the time (William Cecil, Robert Southwell, Edmund Campion, Robert Persons, Henry Garnet) to the biographies and life’s work of Shakespeare’s contemporaries (Christopher Marlowe, Sir Philip Sidney, Ben Johnson, John Donne, John Dryden, Edward de Vere), has allowed her to reconstruct a revised history of the era—one that was repressive, suppressive, dangerous and downright deadly for Catholics intent on nothing more than practising their chosen religion.
Asquith posits that not only was Shakespeare profoundly affected by the religious and political conditions throughout his life, he took on an active role in his bid to plead the Catholic cause to the Queen (and later her successor James I) and to offer support to and commentary on the Catholic Counter-Reformation. His modus operandi was simple—his observations were hidden within his plays and poems, coded so as to reveal themselves only to those in the know—those who possess the key to that code. At the same time, on the surface, the plays were meant to entertain and appeal to the public. And thus, Shakespeare maintained his twin role of successful playwright and political dissident. The dissenting political commentary woven into his work was so cleverly and subtly melded together as to be seamless and, most importantly, utterly deniable if he were ever accused of dissent or allegiance to the Catholic faction.
In effect, his plays and poems were not only an outlet for his creativity but also his creative approach to pleading to the reigning monarch for religious tolerance. It was also a series of exercises in deep, at times painful, soul-searching. A Catholic born and bred, what could be more wrenching for him than to argue a cause that was to prove ultimately hopeless, as his fellow Catholics continued to suffer harshly and most unjustly under the reign of Elizabeth I and then James I.
The Background—A Revisionist History
Momentous political events and a seismic religious shift took place during Shakespeare’s lifetime, foremost among them the English Reformation. It started before he was born. Henry VIII, Elizabeth’s father, desperate for a male heir, divorced Catherine of Aragon to marry Anne Boleyn, defying the Pope in the process: Catholics are not allowed to divorce, after all. Anne Boleyn and her entourage were Lutherans, followers of the teachings of Martin Luther, the famed reformer who abhorred the papacy, portraying the Pope as the antichrist and the Catholic Church as a corrupt and bloated establishment.
Henry’s bonus for parting ways with the Roman Church was taking over the English Church himself, and with it all its wealth and trappings. Not a bad deal, considering his reasons for parting with the Roman Church was all to do with expediency and nothing to do with religion. But what of the average Englishman? The majority of the English, commoners and nobles alike, were Catholics, but it was the reformers who had royal backing. One could only imagine how devout Catholics felt when the cult of saints was abolished, celebration of their feast days and holidays banned. Not only that, to add injury to insult, shrines were wrecked and ecclesiastical paintings whitewashed.
Likewise, the English Reformation itself was whitewashed by contemporary politicians, most notably Thomas Cromwell, Henry VIII’s chief minister and propagandist, and by later historians. More recent historians, however, through research that takes into account documents from the 16th century (churchwardens’ accounts, wills, family histories, private manuscripts, the writings of exiled dissidents and foreign diplomats), have unearthed an alternative, and much less savoury, history of the era.
Henry VIII was survived by three children—Edward, Mary and Elizabeth. When Edward died prematurely at the age of 15, the Protestant faction tried to divert the succession from (Catholic) Mary to (Protestant) Jane Grey. It did not last, and during Mary’s short reign, the Counter-Reformation flourished. But when Mary died, the protestant Elizabeth assumed the English throne unopposed, largely helped by William Cecil, her closest adviser, confidant and spymaster extraordinaire.
Under the Cecils (father and son), Elizabethan England was cloaked in a suffocating atmosphere of suppression and intimidation. The Counter Reformation was held in check, both by open intimidation and by Elizabeth holding out cruel hope as she entertained one Catholic suitor after another. Also, many otherwise sympathetic to the Catholics or Catholic themselves had shared in the dissolution of the Church and were now landowners of previously monastic land. It was not in their favour to upset the Protestant status quo. And so the Catholics, Shakespeare among them, simmered and seethed. Most galling of all was the Oath of Supremacy that forced the Catholics to acknowledge the Queen as the head of both Church and State, an uneasy allegiance that brought the Catholics little but agonized soul-searching and further persecution. Property was seized, many were imprisoned under horrendous conditions and left to die in filthy dungeons, often on little pretext and always to pad the government coffers.
The Coded Plays, Poems and Sonnets
Asquith refers to Shakespeare’s plays in more or less chronological order, according to the first time they were performed during the respective monarch’s reign in the English court. She dissects plays and poems with an eye to decoding the ‘markers’ placed within the text. Rather than focusing on each play/poem, her eyes are firmly fixed on the history of the times, and the plays and poems are referenced whenever she feels there are significant ‘markers’ signalling hidden commentary within the text. As she reveals the subtext buried under well-known and well-loved plays, this reader experienced many instances of sudden enlightenment.
Queen Elizabeth I:
Shakespeare used a mixture of flattery, morality tales and ingenious clues to appeal to the vanity and intellect of the queen, to warn her of the results of trusting the wrong people, alienating her loyal subjects, and to plead the Catholic cause and argue for religious tolerance. Many of Shakespeare’s strongest female characters may well have been written with Elizabeth I in mind, e.g. Portia from The Merchant of Venice. William Cecil was cast as Polonius in Hamlet and Pandarus in Troilus and Cressida. The characters of ‘problem’ plays like The Two Gentlemen of Verona may well be somewhat heavy-handed personification of the two religions. Similarly, Twelfth Night’s Viola and her twin Sebastian may be viewed as two halves of the Counter-Reformation—the English Catholics persecuted at home on the one hand and the stranded exiles in Europe on the other. Hamlet, in Asquith’s mind, is a portrait of the gentleman poet of the day, Sir Philip Sidney. Sadly, for the most part, Shakespeare’s pleas and warnings went unheeded.
King James I:
After the death of Elizabeth I, James VI of Scotland became James I of England. An educated man, he was a published author whose works Shakespeare read with diligence. Asquith discovered parallels in his most popular works and those of Shakespeare’s that were performed at the court of James I (and, according to Asquith, written with him in mind):
Measure for Measure (James I’s Basilikon Doron), Othello (James I’s Lepanto and sonnets), King Lear (James I’s The trew law of Free monarchies) and Macbeth (James I’s Demonologie).
The Catholics were hopeful at the beginning of James I’s reign, but too soon their hopes were cruelly shattered. If anything, the persecution of Catholics was worse under James (and Robert Cecil, son of William Cecil) than under Elizabeth’s reign.
Prince Henry:
Shakespeare’s style changed abruptly from ‘dark, complex drama’ to ‘consciously naive romance’. Asquith puts this down to Shakespeare becoming disillusioned with James I and began consciously to woo the teenage boy prince.
Pericles, Cymbeline, The Winter’s Tale, The Tempest—Shakespeare’s last plays were an obvious and conscious departure from his previous drama. The Tempest, in particular, is considered his swan-song, his parting from the stage. It is the play that fronts the other plays in the First Folio, and Asquith posits, insightfully, that it is placed as the lynchpin to underline the storm that was the English Reformation, and to highlight the underlying currents of Shakespeare’s plays in general.
After the last chapter, there is an Appendix: Sonnet 152, which is dissected line by line to reveal a deeper, political meaning. A Glossary: A Selection of Coded Terms follows, with dozens of words or terms decoded to give their deeper meaning. For instance, ‘fair’ and ‘high’ are coded attributes of Catholicism (High Mass, elevated altars), while ‘dark’ and ‘low’ (dark print, sober dress, ‘Low Church’) are associated with the new religion. The ‘moon’ is often used to represent Elizabeth I, associated with the classical figure of chaste goddess Diana. The name ‘Luke’ and its variants are associated with the Jesuits (Southwell and Garnet’s patron saint). ‘Old’ is an attribute of Catholicism (the old religion) and ‘new’ an attribute of Protestantism (the new religion). There is a Reference List and lastly pages of Notes and an Index.
Conclusion
Subtitled ‘The Hidden Beliefs and Coded Politics of William Shakespeare’, Shadowplay is a tour de force that offers a revisionist history of Tudor and Stuart England, as illuminating in its history lesson as it is delightful in its detective work of uncovering the hidden codes and meanings in the Shakespearean canon. It will offer the reader a new set of tools with which to understand his work, in particular the theme of Catholicism vs Protestanism, and the storm that is the Reformation. It provides a handle on and clarification of the ‘problem’ plays. It provides an explanation for the ‘missing’ years and why Shakespeare retired at the height of his powers. It is the result of meticulous and copious research and deserves to be read and considered as the scholarly work that it is.
Having said that, there is no extant code book. No-one alive can prove without a shadow of a doubt that Shakespeare really meant his work to be read on more than one level. However, considering the (revisionist) history of the times and his unquestionable genius, it strains the imagination to think that someone of his calibre would have nothing to say about the oppressive regime that smothered and hounded Catholics like himself.
A highly readable and edifying work that must be on the reading list of all Shakespeare aficionados—Shadowplay will not only enlighten but delight and entertain. Highly recommended.
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