Shakespeare and Christophe Mongoye
Viewed in the light of the most recent critical research, what we know of a certainty about Shakespeare amounts to very little. According to Professor George Saintsbury,[261] "almost all the commonly received stuff of his life-story is shreds and patches of tradition, if not positive dream work"; and he goes on to say that we know nothing either of the poet's father or wife; that it is impossible to affirm that he ever married; that the beginning of his career as a dramatist and the dates of the first production of most of his plays are still shrouded in mystery. Therefore when a scholar proclaims that he has discovered some new well-authenticated fact about Shakespeare, he deserves at least a hearing.
This is how the most significant discovery made since the time of Malone was hailed by a literary paper of wide circulation and undoubted influence: "Interesting as is this new notice of Shakespeare, it has attached to it a number of casual assumptions and a dose of sentiment which makes no appeal to the serious student. The legal proceedings to which the signature is appended throw little light, if any, on Shakespeare's literary personality."[262] Those for whom the Athenæum is a guide must have come to the conclusion that they need not worry about what seemed to amount to little more than an idle story; the new signature excepted, which, after all, would merely provide an engraving for some yet unwritten book, the papers might as well have been suffered to slumber on undisturbed in their pigeon-hole at the Record Office.
Luckily for the author of the discovery, there is a spell in Shakespeare's name so potent that it is impossible to mention it, even coupled with Mrs. E. W. Gallup or Mr. W. S. Booth's conjectures, without attracting some attention.
At first the discovery was noticed in the reviews, particularly in the Observer and the National Review,[263] then scholars and critics turned their attention to it, Sir Sidney Lee mentioning the Mountjoys in a footnote to his French Renaissance in England and the Cambridge History of English Literature honouring them with a line in the bibliographical appendix. To M. Jusserand it was reserved to point out in his lecture before the British Academy the real significance of Shakespeare's intimacy with a French family living in London.
It was in Harper's Magazine that Professor C. W. Wallace of the University of Nebraska gave the first account of the documents that he had just unearthed. They consist in a bundle of papers relating to a lawsuit brought before the Court of Requests. One Christopher Mountjoy, a wig-maker in the City of London, had given his daughter Mary in marriage to his apprentice Stephen Bellott. A few months after, upon the wig-maker's wife dying, her estate was claimed at once by her husband and by her son-in-law, who, being unable to come to an agreement, brought the cause before the Court.
Stephen Bellott, it appears, had taken lodgings with the Mountjoys as early as 1598. A year after, at the request of his step-father Humphrey Fludd, the youth became an apprentice, served Christopher Mountjoy six years, then, having vainly sought to make his fortune in Spain, drifted back to his master's house, where Mary Mountjoy was awaiting him. An amusing little comedy now took place. As Stephen remained irresolute, Mary's mother decided to bring matters to a pitch: duly instructed by her, a mutual friend, then lodging with the Mountjoys, none other of course than Shakespeare, met the too shy young man, showed him the advantages of the match, persuaded him to accept, and in November 1604 the pair were married.
When the case came before the Court in 1612, a number of witnesses were called upon to give evidence. The first to be examined was Joan Johnson, a former servant, who testified to Shakespeare's part in the match; then came Daniel Nicholas, apparently one of Shakespeare's friends and companions. The third whose interrogatory was taken down by the clerk was Shakespeare.
"Wm. Shakespeare of Stratford upon Avon in the Countye of Warwicke gentleman of the age of forty yeres or thereabouts sworne and examined—sayeth,
"To the first interrogatory this deponent sayeth he knowethe the partyes plaintiff and deffendant and hathe knowne them bothe as he now remembrethe for the space of tenne yeres or thereabouts.
"To the second interrogatory this deponent sayethe he did know the complainant when he was servant with the deffendant and that during the time of his the complainantes service with the said deffendant he the said complainant to this deponentes knowledge did well and honestly behave himselfe, but to this deponentes remembrance he hath not heard the deffendant confesse that he had gott any great profitt and commoditye by the service of the said complainant, but this deponent sayeth he verily thinkethe that the said complainant was a very good and industrious servant in the said service and more he cannott depose to the said interrogatory."
And the clerk goes on recording questions and answers in this dull unemotional style for some time, then the witness having duly signed his deposition—a most precious signature, that!—withdraws.
A question naturally arises while we read these depositions, Who were these artisans thus thrust suddenly into prominence? The issue of the suit has provided the answer. After a protracted inquiry, the Court, in accordance with the law of England that left the Ecclesiastical Courts to decide testamentary causes, referred the parties to the Consistory of the French Church. Both Mountjoy and Bellott, in spite of their names being Englished, were Huguenot refugees. There only remains to search the registers of the French Church. Sure enough, on 14th April 1603, the name of Christophe Mongoye appears as a witness to a christening, and so it should evidently be spelt.
Moreover the name of Christophe Montioy occurs in the lists of aliens resident in London in the early seventeenth century. And, finally, on 27th May 1608, Christopher Monioy, "subject of the King of France, born in Cressy," was naturalized English.[264] The humble wig-maker's life is thus quite vividly outlined.
And, again, why should Shakespeare have selected Mongoye's house to lodge in? The explanation suggested by Mr. Plomer seems acceptable. In 1579, Richard Field, a native of Stratford-on-Avon, came to London and apprenticed himself to Thomas Vautrollier, a printer in Blackfriars. This Vautrollier and his wife were Huguenot refugees like the Mountjoys, "and we may well believe that the members of the French colony within the walls of the city at that time were more or less acquainted with each other." In 1586 or 1587, Vautrollier died and Richard Field, then a freeman of the Stationers' Company, married the widow and became a master printer.[265] His friendship with Shakespeare is a well-attested fact: both Venus and Adonis and Lucrece were issued by Field's press, in 1593 and 1594. What wonder then that Shakespeare should have known the Mountjoys through his friend's wife.
How long did Shakespeare lodge with the Mountjoys? In his deposition, dated 11th May 1612, he states, as we have just seen, that he has known them for the space of ten years or thereabouts, therefore since 1602.
Thanks to Professor C. W. Wallace, the site of the Mountjoys' house has been identified. It stood in Aldersgate, at the corner of Silver Street and Monkwell Street (formerly Mugwell Street). Let us add that lovers of Shakespeare need not try to summon up visions of the past before the commonplace building taking the place of what might have been a sacred pile. A passing reflection, just a rapid recollection of poor Yorick, is enough. Modern London, grey, noisy, colossal, and vulgar, ill suits the brightness and the distinction of Elizabethan England.
Does the discovery throw any light on Shakespeare's character? M. Jusserand thinks so. "It shows us," he says, "Shakespeare unwittingly thrown by events into a quarrel; his efforts to minimise his rôle and to withdraw and disappear are the most conspicuous trait in the new-found documents."[266]
In conclusion, the chief fact to be remembered is that Shakespeare lived with French artisans during the most important period of his literary life. Macbeth, Othello, King Lear, perhaps Hamlet, were most probably written in the house at the corner of Silver Street. The mystery of the scene in French in Henry v. is now cleared up: the Vautrolliers, the Mongoyes and their circle taught Shakespeare French.
And yet there is about Professor C. W. Wallace's discovery something unsatisfactory that will be readily understood. The voice that reaches us over the bridge of time seems terribly disappointing: known only by the illuminating utterances in his works, the poet lived on in our memory surrounded with a halo of idealism; he was as an eagle soaring on high and whose wings were never soiled by touching earth. A pity it is that, instead of a formal deposition before a judge's clerk, chance did not bring to light a conversation with Ben Jonson. The veil is just lifted, we draw near, and the god we had figured dwindles into a mere man.