John Finnis and Shakespeare and Catholicism

After posting about Dr. Neil Younger's article about Catholics and crypto-Catholics in Elizabeth I's regime, I found several presentations by Professor John Finnis about Shakespeare's connection to one of those Catholics in both Elizabeth's and James I's reign: Edward Somerset, the 4th Earl of Worcester, whom Elizabeth said had "reconciled what she believed impossible, a stiff papist to a good subject." Finnis and his frequent collaborator in these Shakespeare and Catholicism researches, Patrick H. Martin, identifies Worcester, and Worcester's secretary William Sterrell, as important figures in the Appellant controversy, an attempt to procure some leniency for Catholics in exchange for a vow against certain powers of the pope to depose monarchs, and Worcester specifically as a patron of two plays, A Midsummer Night's Dream and As You Like It.

In October of 2010, he presented three lectures on "Shakespeare's Patriotic Resistance" at Princeton University in the Charles E. Test Distinguished Lecture Series and you may find those lectures here, with the general thesis that we may find Shakespeare's arguments for the overthrow of the Tudor or Stuart regime because they are not fit to rule--in spite of their claims to rule based on their legitimate succession--and should be replaced that rulers who are fit to rule, as Richmond (Henry VII) replaced Richard III and Bolingbroke (Henry IV) replaced Richard II. Both usurpations were dramatized by Shakespeare.

In 2012, he spoke on Australian ABC's "Philosopher's Zone" on "Shakespeare, Identity, and Religion": Listen to that conversation with David Rutledge here.

In 2014, he spoke in the Catholic Culture Series at the University of Notre Dame on "Shakespeare and the Four Last Things":

The series began with an illuminating lecture by renowned professor of law and Center research fellow John Finnis on “Shakespeare and the Four Last Things,” where he examined Catholic themes in Richard III, Henry VIII, and the poem “The Phoenix and the Turtle.” While English Catholics of Shakespeare’s day were persecuted for their faith, Finnis argued that Shakespeare still managed to raise several theological and ethical questions in his work that were unique to Catholics at the time. In Richard III, for example, Shakespeare presents a world where one’s personal judgment corresponds to the divine judgment after death—an idea contrary to the Calvinistic view of predestination. “Conscience is massively a part of the Catholic self-understanding of the world,” Finnis argued. Meanwhile, in “The Phoenix and the Turtle,” Shakespeare calls for prayer for the dead birds of the title—figures that represented prominent Catholic martyrs of the time. Finnis concluded that, viewed through the lens of Shakespeare’s contemporary Catholic audience, one can see these Catholic values clearly at work in his writing.

You may find that presentation here.

Professor John Finnis has had a remarkable academic career, as noted at the website for Princeton presentations

John M. Finnis is Professor of Law and Legal Philosophy at the University of Oxford, Biolchini Family Professor of Law at the University of Notre Dame, and adjunct Professor in the Department of Philosophy at the University of Notre Dame. Known for his work in moral, political and legal theory, as well as constitutional law, Professor Finnis teaches courses in Jurisprudence, in the Social, Political, and Legal Theory of Thomas Aquinas, and in the Social, Political and Legal Theory of Shakespeare. He joined the Notre Dame Law School faculty in 1995. He has served as associate in law at the University of California at Berkeley (1965-66), as professor of law at the University of Malawi (Africa) (1976-78), and as the Huber Distinguished Visiting Professor of Law at the Boston College Law School (1993-94). He is admitted to the English Bar (Gray’s Inn). His service has included the Linacre Centre for Health Care Ethics (governor since 1981), the Catholic Bishops’ Joint Committee on Bioethical Issues (1981-88), the International Theological Commission (1986-92), the Pontifical Council for Justice and Peace (1990-95), and the Pontifical Academy Pro Vita (2001- present). He has published widely in law, legal theory, moral and political philosophy, moral theology, and the history of the late Elizabethan era. His published works include Fundamentals of Ethics, Moral Absolutes: Tradition, Revision and Truth, and Aquinas: Moral, Political, and Legal Theory. A five-volume edition of The Collected Essays of John Finnis will be published by Oxford University Press in March 2011. At that time, the second edition of his widely heralded book Natural Law and Natural Rights will be released, also by Oxford University Press. He earned his LL.B. from Adelaide University in 1961 and his doctorate from Oxford University as a Rhodes Scholar in 1965.

Fascinating, if complicated and rather repetitive (the same tropes of the "Phoenix and the Turtle", William Sterrill's activity, etc come up in nearly each set of presentations) material, offered for your consideration.

Image Credit (Public Domain): Portrait of Edward Somerset, 4th Earl of Worcester signed "Gilbertus Jackson" and dated 1621.

Campion and Shakespeare Meet

The former Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams has written a play about William Shakespeare and St. Edmund Campion. Its title, Shakeshafte, refers to the name mentioned in the annals of Hesketh Hall in Lancashire and the Jesuits in Britain are highlighting performance this week. In interviews about the play Williams says he believes Shakespeare was a Catholic and seems to accept one theory about Shakespeare's "lost years" as fact:

As part of his look into Shakespeare’s life and work, Dr Williams has also concluded The Bard was probably a Catholic.

He said of the play: “We know they both stayed at the same house in Lancashire. I found this a wonderful idea to play with: what might a Jesuit martyr and Shakespeare have said to each other?”

Regarding the ages-old debate over Shakespeare’s religion, Dr Wiliams says he now agrees with rumours that Shakespeare may have been a secret Catholic at a time when Queen Elizabeth I was spearheadeding a brutal repression of the catholic faith.

Dr Williams said: “Shakespeare knows exactly where he does, and doesn’t, want to go, in matters of church and state. He deliberately puts some of his plays right outside the Christian, Tudor/Jacobean framework.

“For instance, King Lear takes place in a pre-Christian Britain. Again, some people argue that Cymbeline is about a rupture with Rome, leading to a reconciliation. I think Shakespeare did have a recusant Catholic background. My own hunch though is that he didn’t go to church much.”

The Dylan Thomas Theatre describes the play:

It is 1581 and the Protestant queen, Elizabeth I, is half way through her long reign, but not all her people are happy to turn from their Catholic past and obey the Protestant regime.

Talk of Catholic invasions and assassination of the queen is rife and those of the “old religion” live in fear and ever watchful spies.

This is the setting for “Shakeshafte” by Rowan Williams when Edmund Campion, a Jesuit priest travelling incognito from one household to another, meets a young Will Shakeshafte who has been hidden at the request of a schoolmaster in Stratford!

Based on some truth, gossip and rumour, it is an exciting play, full of suspense and drama and Rowan has used his poetical and philosophical gifts to create Will’s depth of thought and feelings about human relationships and to elaborate on the personal choices that he has to make.

This production commemorates the 400th anniversary of Shakespeare’s death.

Spring Play: A Man for All Seasons

This was the first staged production (at Newman University here in Wichita) of Robert Bolt's play A Man for All Seasons I have ever seen. The play differs most from the movie in the inclusion of the Common Man (which in this production included a Common Woman), a kind of chorus offering commentary on the story while also playing small roles (servant, jailer, etc). Newman's theatre department staged the play on a multi-level, stationary set, with few props--and a boat that glided along the Thames.

The production was a straightforward presentation of Bolt's play, emphasizing More's steadfastness, as this story from Newman University notes:

“A Man for All Seasons,” written by Robert Bolt, is based on the true story of Sir Thomas More, the 16th-century Chancellor of England who refused to endorse King Henry VIII’s wish to divorce his wife who did not bear him a son.

“I believe it is the tale of one man who chose to remain as steadfast as a stone while the rushing river of the times attempted to budge him from himself,” Director of Theatre Mark Mannette said. “When he did not budge, remaining true to himself, they found a means to end him. Later sainted for his martyrdom, he became St. Thomas More. In life, when so many people follow the herd, it is refreshing to see the bravery of an individual who does not.”

Newman senior Mark Carlson, who plays Sir Thomas More, said the role has been a good experience.

“The role of Sir Thomas More is, I feel, one of the most complicated yet rewarding characters I have portrayed,” Carlson said. “The play does an excellent job of portraying everyone in both positive and negative lights. No one character is truly ‘good’ or ‘evil,’ but a mixture of the two. More’s strict adherence to law and his devotion to the Catholic Church is both his most admirable quality and the cause of his descent from royal favor. More is at times a dry wit, a passionate spokesman for justice, and a calculating lawyer, torn by loyalties to both God and his country.”

I appreciated Carlson's portrayal of More; in fact, nearly all of the roles were well done. I appreciated even more what a foil to More the character of Will Roper is: he's the one who should be the martyr, but More ends up in his place. The Common Man and Woman actors sometimes "lost" their lines--in their rapid delivery and stage movements including prop management, the impact and humor was reduced. The portrayal of Henry VIII lacked majesty: he was mercurial and menacing, but when he was supposed to be charming, he seemed almost lecherous. But Carlson portrayed More's careful negotiation of the trap that was being sprung around him very well: thoughtfully, compassionately; with humor and pathos both.

I've been posting and speaking about the contrast between the good "Seasons" More and the bad "Wolf Hall" More quite a bit, but after seeing the play--not the movie with all its production values, music, and Paul Scofield's majestic performance, etc--I'm rethinking even the foundation of Bolt's characterization of Sir Thomas More. My reaction was that Bolt's More is such a lawyer, so bound up with the law, placing such faith in the law and the administration of justice, that his condemnation and death seemed an even greater injustice to me. He seems even more innocent and indeed as naive as many of his friends, enemies, and family members say he is. The repeated comment, "This isn't Spain" referencing the Black Legend of Spanish injustice and persecution was the bellwether: Henry VIII's and Cromwell's England WAS Spain. 

All the laws in the world can't protect a man if the administration of justice is determined to destroy him. More protects himself and his family, who also suffer, as much as he can, but Cromwell will persecute him on Henry's behalf. Once the powerful start manipulating the laws and the administration of justice, no appeals to the Magna Carta or English Common Law will protect either the innocent or the guilty--even if you give the devil his due process in the hope of defending yourself . With thoughts like these roiling around in my brain Saturday night, I did not sleep well. But as the Common Man says at the end of the play, I'm still breathing. And you?

The Play's The Thing--Then and Now

Times Higher Education reviews The Drama of Reform: Theology and Theatricality, 1461-1553 by Tamara Atkin (reviewed by Helen Smith):

Whereas the drama of the English Renaissance is celebrated, frequently performed and a staple of school and university curricula, the plays of the English Reformation (or rather the multiple, incremental and partial reformations of the four British nations) are neglected with almost equal enthusiasm. In part, this can be explained by their unfortunate chronological position, wedged awkwardly, in stylistic as well as temporal terms, between the medieval and early modern. In part, it comes down to our lack of knowledge about where and why many of these plays were performed, despite some diligent detective work. Ultimately, though, the lack of widespread zeal for the plays may be a result of their own passionate espousal of the religious arguments that transformed personal and national identities in the middle years of the 16th century.

The Drama of Reform follows the lead of recent scholarship in embracing the complexities of reformist drama, from the polemical plays of John Bale to the likes of Jacke Jugeler, which claims to be only a “merie” reworking of Plautus, but is centrally concerned with debates concerning the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist. Tamara Atkin’s book concentrates on four plays, dedicating a chapter to each and identifying telling, and often precise, links between their contents and the proponents of reform. What we get rather less of, however, is a sense of how representative these plays are and how they fit alongside more traditional, orthodox drama.

And The Independent reviews the Royal Shakespeare Company theatrical adaptation of the first two novels about Thomas Cromwell written by Hilary Mantel--which have their own "theology":

One hesitates to use the phrase “a marriage made in heaven” in the vicinity of Henry VIII but that would be a fair way of describing this brilliant union between the RSC and Hilary Mantel.

The Company has just unveiled its epic six-hour stage version of her two prize-winning novels which view the English Reformation and the deadly intrigues of the Tudor court from the vantage point of Thomas Cromwell, the Putney blacksmith's son who rose to be royal fixer-in-chief.
 
The marathon press performance began at 1pm and, after a dinner break, concluded at 10pm. But such is the dramatic skill of the adaptation by Mike Poulton (with whom Mantel has worked closely) and the unflagging power and fascination of Jeremy Herrin's fleet, incisively acted production that, if the final instalment of the trilogy had been completed and turned into a play, I would gladly have stayed up all night.

There are inevitable losses in the transition from page to stage - from the atmospheric richness of Mantel's prose to the flashbacks to formative experiences in Cromwell's past, such as his witnessing, in boyhood, the pitiless auto-da-fe of a female heretic.

But Ben Miles is superlative at conveying the inner complexities of the man – the shrewd watchfulness, the sense of banked-down grief, the little flashes of sardonic humour. David Starkey once described Cromwell as “Alastair Campbell with an axe” but in these plays we get a thoroughly three-dimensional figure.

Beyond the pages of a book, literary or theological, the representation of personal drama on stage, comic or tragic, has an attractiveness that reaches out to another audience. Someone who would never read John Bales's theological arguments in the 16th century would learn from his plays. In the same way, Mantel's fiction translated to the stage becomes even an even more powerful representation of her characterizations of Cromwell and Thomas More, for example. That is certainly why the Society of Jesus developed a dramatic tradition in their schools, to teach their students about the art of persuasion (rhetoric) and to inculcate virtue. More on the Jesuits and drama here.

Not Shakespeare's Moor, but His More

The role of More, six times the length of the second-biggest part, is one of the largest in the entire repertoire of Elizabethan and Jacobean drama. It calls for an actor of great versatility: we see him commanding both a crowd and a council chamber, meditating in soliloquy and taking rapid action, philosophising and philanthropising. He is a prankster, a Christian and a voice of reason, truly the wisest fool in Christendom (though it is disappointing that his encounter with his great fellow philosopher and wit, Erasmus of Rotterdam, comes to so little). If, as seems likely, the Shakespearean intervention in the script was intended for a production by the Lord Chamberlain’s Men, then one can see why they wanted to stage the play: it would have been a magnificent showcase for their lead tragedian and Shakespeare’s intimate friend Richard Burbage.

Jonathan Bate and Eric Rasmussen write about Shakespeare's colloboration on a play titled Sir Thomas More:

As a tragedy, Sir Thomas More belongs beside the Chamberlain’s Men’s Thomas Lord Cromwell and Shakespeare and Fletcher’s Henry VIII as the story of the rise and fall of a royal counsellor in the turbulent time of the English Reformation. More ascends from Sheriff of London to Lord Chancellor, but falls from the king’s favour when he refuses to participate in the process of enacting the break from Rome. It’s a satisfying arc: we get a full ascendancy, a brief period of power and favour, and then a slow descent to the execution. The moments of More’s career chosen to illustrate this movement are well chosen, oscillating between his most public appearances (the May Day riots, his execution) and private ones (his conversation with Erasmus, his defence of his position to his family). In balancing character and plot, the dramatists create a coherent portrait that, ultimately, goes to show the fickleness of favour and the cost of piety. In the closing scenes, we see him preparing for death with dignity and grace. Whereas the usual scenario in such dramas places the condemned man alone in his cell, sometimes in conversation with his keeper, here we also witness More’s farewell to his family. He is seen as a husband and parent, not just a holy man and a politician.

They also discuss a manuscript with Shakespeare's handwriting:

The exact circumstances in which Shakespeare made his contribution to Sir Thomas More will never be known, though scholars now lean strongly to the view that he did so when at the height of his powers in the early 1600s, not in a prior stage of his career, as was once supposed. But, whatever the date and context, an overwhelming body of internal evidence, in the form of unique marks of orthography, spelling, vocabulary and literary technique, attests that the so-called “Hand D” in the manuscript is truly his. This is Shakespeare in the act of composition, writing rapidly, occasionally changing a word or scratching out a line, mining his capacious imagination and minting his incomparable poetic imagery. But it is also Shakespeare the collaborator, building on the work of other dramatists and contributing to a magnificent team effort.

Read the rest here.

From the play, More's farewell to his family:

Be comforted, good wife, to live and love my children;
For with thee leave I all my care of them.—
Son Roper, for my sake that have loved thee well,
And for her virtue's sake, cherish my child.—
Girl, be not proud, but of thy husband's love;
Ever retain thy virtuous modesty;
That modesty is such a comely garment
As it is never out of fashion, sits as fair
upon the meaner woman as the empress;
No stuff that gold can buy is half so rich,
Nor ornament that so becomes a woman.
Live all and love together, and thereby
You give your father a rich obsequy.

And his execution scene--wit writ in prose:

My Lords of Surrey and Shrewsbury, give me your hands. Yet before we….ye see, though it pleaseth the king to raise me thus high, yet I am not proud, for the higher I mount, the better I can see my friends about me. I am now on a far voyage, and this strange wooden horse must bear me thither; yet I perceive by your looks you like my bargain so ill, that there's not one of ye all dare enter with me. Truly, here's a most sweet gallery; [Walking.] I like the air of it better than my garden at Chelsea. By your patience, good people, that have pressed thus into my bedchamber, if you'll not trouble me, I'll take a sound sleep here.

SHREWSBURY.
My lord, twere good you'ld publish to the world
Your great offence unto his majesty.

MORE. My lord, I'll bequeath this legacy to the hangman, [Gives him his gown.] and do it instantly. I confess, his majesty hath been ever good to me; and my offence to his highness makes me of a state pleader a stage player (though I am old, and have a bad voice), to act this last scene of my tragedy. I'll send him (for my trespass) a reverend head, somewhat bald; for it is not requisite any head should stand covered to so high majesty: if that content him not, because I think my body will then do me small pleasure, let him but bury it, and take it.

SURREY.
My lord, my lord, hold conference with your soul;
You see, my lord, the time of life is short.

MORE. I see it, my good lord; I dispatched that business the last night. I come hither only to be let blood; my doctor here tells me it is good for the headache.

HANGMAN.
I beseech thee, my lord, forgive me!

MORE.
Forgive thee, honest fellow! why?

HANGMAN.
For your death, my lord.

MORE. O, my death? I had rather it were in thy power to forgive me, for thou hast the sharpest action against me; the law, my honest friend, lies in thy hands now: here's thy fee [His purse.]; and, my good fellow, let my suit be dispatched presently; for tis all one pain, to die a lingering death, and to live in the continual mill of a lawsuit. But I can tell thee, my neck is so short, that, if thou shouldst behead an hundred noblemen like myself, thou wouldst ne'er get credit by it; therefore (look ye, sir), do it handsomely, or, of my word, thou shalt never deal with me hereafter.

 

HANGMAN.
I'll take an order for that, my lord.

MORE. One thing more; take heed thou cutst not off my beard: oh, I forgot; execution passed upon that last night, and the body of it lies buried in the Tower.—Stay; ist not possible to make a scape from all this strong guard? it is. There is a thing within me, that will raise And elevate my better part bove sight Of these same weaker eyes; and, Master Shrieves, For all this troop of steel that tends my death, I shall break from you, and fly up to heaven. Let's seek the means for this.

Shakespeare and Catholicism, Redux

A forthcoming book, published by Penn State University Press:

For years scholars and others have been trying to out Shakespeare as an ardent Calvinist, a crypto-Catholic, a Puritan-baiter, a secularist, or a devotee of some hybrid faith. In Religion Around Shakespeare, Peter Kaufman sets aside such speculation in favor of considering the historic and religious context surrounding his work. Employing extensive archival research, he aims to assist literary historians who probe the religious discourses, characters, and events that seem to have found places in Shakespeare’s plays and to aid general readers or playgoers developing an interest in the plays’ and playwright’s religious contexts: Catholic, conformist, and reformist. Kaufman argues that sermons preached around Shakespeare and conflicts that left their marks on literature, law, municipal chronicles, and vestry minutes enlivened the world in which (and with which) he worked and can enrich our understanding of the playwright and his plays.

You may read a sample chapter, the Introduction, at the Penn State University Press webpage for Religion Around Shakespeare:

I am not a literary historian, and what follows is not another interpretation of several of Shakespeare’s plays. For decades I have been studying the religious cultures of late Tudor and early Jacobean England, particularly what Alison Shell now calls the “fierce internal debate” that “beset” the established church, which was having problems as well “see[ing] off challenges from outside.” What I do in this book is give everyone interested in reading, watching, interpreting, or performing the plays a good look at the religion around Shakespeare. Circumstance is my subject.

Historians have long been at work on the religion of Shakespeare, and a few have gotten around to the religion around him. Several relatively recent and much publicized efforts suggest that late Elizabethan and early Stuart theatergoers justifiably saw Shakespeare’s plays as coded endorsements of expatriate Catholic missionaries’ efforts to restore the realm’s old faith, which Shell characterizes as “challenges from [the] outside.” Those presentations of the playwright’s Catholicism claim to have cracked the code that concealed his religiously unreformed opinions from religiously reformed government censors while it cued Catholics in his first audiences to his abiding allegiance to what they remembered as traditional Christianity. What twenty-first-century playgoers may see and hear simply as Hamlet’s brooding over the skull of poor Yorick is, after some code cracking, an “encrypted tribute” to the Englishman Edmund Campion, who left the realm rather than subscribe to his queen’s religion, returned to reinforce the faith of the resident Catholics, and died a martyr. . . .

Where did Shakespeare fit? Literary historians looking to out him as a Calvinist or a Catholic or a devotee of some “hybrid faith” should find something of interest here, although what follows will fall short of a definitive answer to their questions. I am not mining for that metal. Unquestionably, the playwright borrowed from the religion around him, and what he deposited in his drama “infused” performances, as Leah Marcus says, “with a vitality born of circumstance.” The plays profit from Shakespeare’s “sublimation into high drama of what is casually there at hand.” Nonetheless, to proceed from what was “at hand” and what is now staged so often to a singular scribe’s secrets—to his religious convictions—requires a razzle-dazzle that I am inadequately equipped to attempt.

Circumstance—the religion around the playwright, not his faith or the plays’ proper interpretations—is my subject. I leave Shakespeare’s outlook to others. My challenge is to see how well we can see what he saw when he looked out.

Reading this brief introduction, it's clear that Professor Kaufman will not say that Shakespeare was a Catholic, even if a Church Papist. Since he refers to the encoded Catholicism of Shakespeare's plays in the Introduction, I wonder if he will directly engage the arguments of Clare Asquith's Shadowplay: The Hidden Beliefs and Coded Politics of William Shakespeare. For those who follow this theme of Shakespeare's religious identity, Religion Around Shakespeare seems to be an intriguing addition to the bibliography. And if you like to read about the religious background and milieu of other authors, this is the first book in a series "Religion Around":

Books in this series examine the religious forces surrounding cultural icons from all facets of world history and contemporary culture. By bringing religious background into the foreground, these studies will help give readers a more complex understanding and greater appreciation for individual subjects, their work, and their lasting influence. Forthcoming volumes will explore the religion around Emily Dickinson, Virginia Woolf, and Langston Hughes, among others.

Catholic Metaphors in Shakespeare

The Catholic English Teacher reports on a lecture by Dr. Gillian Woods, who cites one of my favorite passages from Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet to demonstrate how the Bard used Catholic metaphors in his plays that would have recalled times before the English Reformation to those old enough to remember:

Romeo:

If I profane with my unworthiest hand
This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this:
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.

Juliet:
Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,
Which mannerly devotion shows in this;
For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,
And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.

Romeo:
Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?

Juliet:
Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.

Romeo:
O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;
They pray — grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.

Juliet:
Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.

Romeo:
Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take.

So while Shakespeare uses all these Catholic religious terms in the cause of romantic wooing between Romeo and Juliet, the ground of the metaphor is pilgrimage and sainthood and he knew his audience knew enough of those terms to make sense of the metaphor. Pilgrimage and devotion to the saints were definitely Catholic themes: pilgrimage sites in England had been destroyed during the course of the reigns of Henry VIII and Edward VI and devotion to saints through prayer and even visiting their shrines (which brings up the notion of relics) had been removed from English practice.

Dr. Woods has her own metaphor for these Catholic traces in Shakespeare's plays reports the blogger:

What do we make then of what she called this "residue" or "memory of the faith that had been banned and rejected"? It seems clear that there were a range of options available to people in post-Reformation England, ranging from nostalgia to fear, from hatred to acceptance. Many of these responses appear in Shakespeare's plays. In fact, many of them appear within individual plays, creating a complex picture that needs to be read in a historically informed way.

Dr Woods used a helpful metaphor in her lecture, suggesting that the ways in which Catholicism is present in Shakespeare's plays are akin to the ways in which pre-Reformation wall paintings survived in the post-Reformation Church. Many were simply removed. Some were literally defaced (in order to make it clear that the Reformed Church in England was not just a new church but a rejection of the Old Church, that it was - in some sense - still in dialogue with it). And others were whitewashed, perhaps in the hope that they might one day be uncovered, though the images still seeped through. (The definitive work on all of this is Eamon Duffy's The Stripping of the Altars.)

I like this last metaphor in particular: we can see Catholicism seeping through the language and drama of Shakespeare's plays without having to get drawn into largely fruitless discussions about his own religious inclinations.

Dr. Gillian Woods is the author of this book, Shakespeare's Unreformed Fictions, which answers the question:

Why does Catholicism have such an imaginative hold on Shakespearean drama, even though the on-going Reformation outlawed its practice? Shakespeare's Unreformed Fictions contends that the answers to this question are theatrical rather than strictly theological. Avoiding biographical speculation, this book concentrates on dramatic impact, and thoroughly integrates new literary analysis with fresh historical research.

In exploring the dramaturgical variety of the "Catholic" content of Shakespeare's plays, Gillian Woods argues that habits, idioms, images, and ideas lose their denominational clarity when translated into dramatic fiction: they are awkwardly "unreformed" rather than doctrinally Catholic. Providing nuanced readings of generically diverse plays, this book emphasises the creative function of such unreformed material, which Shakespeare uses to pose questions about the relationship between self and other. A wealth of contextual evidence is studied, including catechisms, homilies, religious polemics, news quartos, and non-Shakespearean drama, to highlight how early modern Catholicism variously provoked nostalgia, faith, conversion, humour, fear, and hatred. This book argues that Shakespeare exploits these contradictory attitudes to frame ethical problems, creating fictional plays that consciously engage audiences in the difficult leaps of faith required by both theatre and theology. By recognizing the playfulness of Shakespeare's unreformed fictions, this book offers a different perspective on the interactions between post-Reformation religion and the theatre, and an alternative angle on Shakespeare's interrogation of the scope of dramatic fiction.