Pissing on Bagpipes

- Episode 05 -

Shakespeare and the Groundlings

Pissing on bagpipes
6 May 2026
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Shakespeare and the Groundlings
Nobody in his audience in 1611 would have needed to compartmentalise the world into Protestant, Catholic or alchemical. Their world was simply full of magic
William Shakespeare, Sanders portrait

Was Shakespeare a Catholic?

Ever since the 1990s it has been trendy to say that Shakespeare was a practising Catholic. Which, at the time of the Gunpowder Plot, would seem to have been a pretty risky thing to be.

The Shakespearian expert Richard Wilson sees allusions to Catholicism everywhere in Shakespeare’s plays. He then claims that Shakespeare became disillusioned with it around 1606, in the aftermath of the Gunpowder Plot. We examine how much truth there is in this claim.  

And then we ask, is this the right question? Shouldn’t we be asking about the religious affiliations of his audience? For decades now, historians following on from Christopher Haigh and Eamon Duffy have been showing that the transition to Protestantism in England was very slow and very patchy.

More recently, Alexandra Walsham has shown that, by the 1590s, Catholicism was, if anything, growing again. And yet research also shows that ordinary people were probably a great deal less interested in denominational differences than theologians and historians are.

Historian Michael Gandy finds that in Jacobean London ‘Catholics were not in a ghetto. Catholics of all levels were fully integrated into every aspect of ordinary life’. It was especially true among the poor, who were sometimes convicted in church courts of being Catholics but apparently never made to pay the fines.
Egyptian Hermes Trismegistus is said to have received knowledge of the physical world from God while Moses received moral

Hidden forces outside the body

Some historians have tried to shoe-horn Shakespeare into a third kind of religion – either an alternative philosophy known as Hermetism (which is very roughly like a kind of Christian Buddhism, although there is no link at all between them). Or, like historian Frances Yates, they link Shakespeare to Hermetism’s much more magical cousin, known as Hermeticism.

This embraced astrology and alchemy, as well as the Jewish semi-magical world of Kabbala, and spoke of hidden forces outside the body. 

So, for example, in The Merchant of Venice, Shylock cannot explain his obsession with getting revenge over Antonio. It is some kind of compulsion coming from outside, forcing him to act. Everyone suffers from these compulsions, complains Shylock. Why do some people love cats, and some hate them? Why do some people love the sound of bagpipes ‘and others, when the bagpipe sings’ are so offended they ‘cannot contain their urine’?

Literary scholar Mary Floyd-Wilson writes that Shakespeare depicts love as a kind of invisible but irresistible magnetism. In All’s Well that Ends Well, feisty Helena falls inexplicably for the useless and arrogant Bertram. What else can it be, but some kind of hidden, supernatural force?
 
Human behaviour was thought to be governed by four so-called ‘humours’ – blood (associated broadly with optimism), phlegm (a lack of emotion), yellow bile (anger) and black bile (melancholy)

 

Like Elizabeth's advisor Dr John Dee, Prospero would certainly have been identified as a white magus (especially in comparison to Sycorax, a practice of black magic) 

The Christian church doesn’t get a look in

The historian Jane Everingham Nelson finds traces of hermetism in King Lear and Othello.

In Lear the king spends the play agonising over who and what he is, just as an Hermetic philosopher would.
‘Who is it that can tell me who I am?’ he asks.

After a long passage of self-doubt – when he becomes a vagrant and a beggar – he masters his anger and discovers the virtue of relieving the suffering of others. ‘Expose thyself,’ he says to himself, ‘to feel what wretches feel.’

Nelson’s argument is that Lear has reached this point of personal enlightenment through a process that closely reflects the teaching of Hermetism. The Christian church doesn’t get a look in.

Nor does the character of Iago in Othello make any sense in the Christian terms of Shakespeare’s time. Nelson argues that the mystery is only solved when we understand him instead in Hermetic terms, as a wicked demon and only temporarily human.

We might also ask whether Prospero, in The Tempest, is an hermetic wizard – a magus? He speaks of years ‘rapt in secret studies’ as if he were an alchemist. He begins to claim God-like powers.  He can command Ariel to put other characters to sleep, or make them mad.

Prospero declares that our world is a nothing but an ‘insubstantial pageant’ and that it will utterly dissolve, along with all of us, who are nothing but ‘such stuff as dreams are made on.’
 
In The Tempest every rigid definition is slipping. We are even presented with a character Ariel who is inter-sexual, neither male nor female. It would have shocked the stuffy protestant historians of a few generations ago.

Helen Mirren and Djimon Hounsou in The Tempest, 2010

'Brave new world' or a leave-taking

In a remarkable London University thesis of 2024, Rana Banna shows that Prospero’s magic is able to heal political conflict and personal rivalries. He is truly creating a ‘brave new world’ in which everyone can be reconciled.

But it is only possible only if people believe. In the very last lines, Prospero addresses the audience, ‘gentle breath of yours my sails must fill, or else my project fails…. Now I want Spirits to enforce, art to enchant, and my ending is despair unless I be relieved by prayer.’

Is this Christian or alchemical? Hermetic hope or mere poetry? The audience must decide. It is, Shakespeare is telling us, up to us to believe and to make good things happen. The drama, as we have said so often, is between our ears.

The Tempest is in some ways a leave taking. Prospero, addressing the audience at the very end, confesses ‘now my charms are all o’erthrown. And what strength I have [left is] mine own, which is most faint.’

Banna argues that Shakespeare senses a growing scepticism among his educated contemporaries towards magic. We would argue, as we do in our series on Newton, that it is too early for that. It would be many decades before science detached itself from magic – if, indeed, it ever has. 

But Shakespeare does seem to have had a premonition that the world was going to change. Perhaps it was no more than the sense that this will be the last play he writes without help. Or perhaps he understands that the chance of a society at peace with itself is passing, and that there are hard times ahead for his audience.

#123 Pissing on bagpipes - Ep 5 Shakespeare and the Groundlings
 





 
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