Shakespeare (78 page)

He was back in London three months later, when he was asked to testify in a case concerning the Mountjoy family of Silver Street with whom he had lodged. The case had been brought by one of Mountjoy’s apprentices, Stephen Belott, who had married Mary Mountjoy but had still not received from Mountjoy himself the dowry that he had been promised. So he called William Shakespeare to testify on his behalf. The case was heard at the Court of Requests, at Westminster, on 11 May. Shakespeare was described as “of Stratford-upon-Avon,” which suggests that he had no residence in London during this period. He had been called as a witness because, as it transpired,
he had acted as an intermediary between Belott and the Mountjoys in the matter of the marriage and the dowry.

A maidservant, Joan Johnson, declared the Mountjoys had encouraged “the shewe of goodwill betweene the plaintiff [Belott] and defendants daughter Marye.” She also recalled Shakespeare’s role in the affair. “And as she Remembreth the defendant [Mountjoy] did send and perswade one mr Shakespeare that laye in the house to perswade the plaintiff to the same marriadge.” It would seem, then, that Shakespeare had some skill as a “persuader” in affairs of the heart. A friend of the family, Daniel Nicholas, then amplified the picture of Shakespeare with his testimony that

It is not clear if these are the exact words that Shakespeare used to Nicholas on this occasion; given the interval of eight years, it is unlikely. But it is clear that he played an intimate part in all the arrangements for the marriage portion, and in fact took upon himself the task of match-making. To be “made sure” was to perform a troth plight, pledging marriage one to another.

The testimony of Shakespeare himself, as transcribed in the court, is non-committal. This must have been a peculiarly sensitive moment, assuming that Shakespeare still retained the trust of Mountjoy himself. He was in practice being asked to testify against him. So there is a measure of caution in his reported testimony. It is most interesting, however, as the only recorded transcript of Shakespeare’s voice. The dramatist stated that “he knoweth the parties plaintiff and deffendant and hath known them bothe as he now remembrethe for the space of tenne yeres or thereabouts.” Stephen Belott “did well and honestly behave himselfe” and was a “very good and industrious servant in the said service,” although Shakespeare had never heard him state that he “had gott any great profitt and comodytye by the service.” Perhaps this was in answer to a question about Belott’s recompense from
Mountjoy. Mrs. Mountjoy had been the one to solicit Shakespeare’s help in the marriage when she did “entreat” him “to move and perswade” Stephen Belott. He testified that she and her husband did “sundrye tymes saye and reporte that the said complainant was a very honest fellow.”

It seems that at some point Belott had then asked Daniel Nicholas to get some specific answer from Shakespeare about “how muche and what” Mountjoy was promising him on marriage to Mary. Shakespeare then replied, according to Nicholas, “that he promised yf the plaintiff would marrye with Marye … he the defendant [Mountjoy] would by his promise as he Remembered geve the plaintiff with her in marriadge about the some of ffyftye poundes in money and Certayn houshould stuffe.” But in subsequent questioning Shakespeare was extremely vague. He recalled that a dowry of some kind had been promised but, in contrast to Nicholas, he could not remember the sum “nor when to be payed.” Nor could he remember any occasion when Mountjoy “promised the plaintiff twoe hundered poundes with his daughter Marye at the tyme of his decease.” Nor could Shakespeare describe “what implementes and necessaries of houshold stuff”
¹
Mountjoy gave with his daughter. In fact Belott and his new wife had received only the sum of £10, and some old furniture. It seems that Mrs. Mountjoy had urged her husband to be more generous, but she had died in 1606. From Belott’s point of view, it was all very unsatisfactory. And Shakespeare had not been of any help. He could not remember any details of any conversations. It might even be concluded that he was being deliberately vague or forgetful, for the sake of his old friendship with Mountjoy.

A second hearing took place on 19 June, when Shakespeare’s memory would have been further put to the test, but Shakespeare did not appear on that occasion. Like many such cases it grumbled on without any definite conclusion. It was referred to arbitration, and Belott was awarded a little over £6, but no payment by Mountjoy is recorded. The details of this ancient case are no longer of any consequence, except in so far as they help to illuminate Shakespeare’s life in the ordinary world. He seems to have been willing to act as a “go-between” in delicate marital negotiations, no doubt because he had a reputation for finesse in such matters. He was clearly not a forbidding or unapproachable man; quite the contrary. But when called to account for his actions he becomes non-committal or impartial, maintaining a studied neutrality. He withdraws; he becomes almost invisible.

T
here is a curious mention
of a play performed at Whitehall on 8 June 1612, in front of the Ambassador of the Duke of Savoy. It was entitled
Cardenna
. It was then performed again at court in the following year, under the title of
Cardenno
. It is curious because, at a later date, a play was registered for publication under the title of “
The History of Cardenio
by Mr. Fletcher & Shakespeare.” It is well known that in this period Shakespeare and Fletcher were indeed collaborating upon dramas for the King’s Men. The fruits of their joint endeavours were to include
All Is True
and
The Two Noble Kinsmen
. It may be that Shakespeare had entered semi-retirement and that Fletcher had in fact taken over from Shakespeare as the company’s principal dramatist.
Cardenio
would then have as much claim to authenticity as the two other plays which have now formally entered the Shakespearian canon. But
Cardenio
has not survived. It is a lost play. It may have been derived from the first part of Cervantes’s
Don Quixote
, in which the character of Cardenio emerges, and in 1758 Lewis Theobald, a distinguished editor of Shakespeare’s works, published a play on the story of Cardenio which he claimed to be “revised and adapted” from a manuscript in his possession “written originally by W. Shakespeare.” No trace of the manuscript has been found.

If Shakespeare did indeed play a part in writing
Cardenio
in 1612, it is the only drama of that year with which he can be associated. All subsequent
plays would also be collaborative works. So there is clear evidence of a diminution of activity, the reasons for which are unclear. It may have been encroaching ill-health; it may have been the pleasures of Stratford and of retirement; it may simply have been the loss or lack of inspiration. He may have done as much as he had ever wanted to do. It is not an unusual scene in the last years or months of a writer’s life. He did not necessarily “know” that he would be dead within three years; when his imagination dimmed, death may have intervened naturally.

There was one unwanted and unwarranted publication, however, in this year. The printer William Jaggard brought out a third edition of
The Passionate Pilgrim
in which five of Shakespeare’s poems, purloined for the occasion, were added to much inferior stuff and the whole advertised as “by W. Shakespeare.” One of the authors whose work had been pirated for this collection, Thomas Heywood, then complained of the “manifest injury” done to him. He went on to claim that “the Author,” or Shakespeare himself, was “I know much offended with M.
Jaggard
(that altogether unknowne to him) presumed to make so bold with his name.”
¹
Shakespeare’s remonstrances must have had some effect, because a second title-page was added without any attribution to him. It is a trivial incident that displays the extent of Shakespeare’s literary fame.

In his preface to
The White Devil
, published this year, John Webster adverts to “the right happy and copious industry of M.
Shake-speare
, M.
Decker
& M.
Heywood.”
²
It may seem odd at this late date to include Shakespeare with such manifestly inferior writers, but the disparity would not have occurred to anyone at the time. Contemporaries lack the subtle discrimination of posterity. In this case the emphasis is being placed upon the three dramatists’ fluency and speed of production. Ben Jonson had said as much in the same year, with his address to the reader in
The Alchemist
in which he disparaged those dramatists who “to gain the opinion of copy”
³
or facility, will not check or polish their invention. Jonson’s disguised complaint was that Shakespeare had written too much. It is not likely to have been a criticism upheld by the audiences of the period.

From Christmas 1612 through to 20 May 1613, the King’s Men played continually at court as well as Blackfriars and the Globe. Among the royal performances were those of
Much Ado About Nothing, The Tempest, The Winter’s Tale, Othello
and
Cardenio
. For the betrothal and marriage of King
James’s daughter, Princess Elizabeth, the King’s Men played on no fewer than fourteen occasions. For these performances they received the large sum of £153 6
s
8
d
.

Despite the evident fact that Shakespeare was writing less there is no indication that he was losing his interest in, or enthusiasm for, the theatre itself. In March 1613, for example, he completed negotiations to buy the gatehouse of Blackfriars. It was described as a “dwelling house or Tenement” partly built over “a great gate.” It was against the building known as the King’s Wardrobe on the west side, and on the east bordered a street that led down to Puddle Dock; the price also included a plot of ground and a wall. Part of it had once been a haberdasher’s shop. He was now very close to the Blackfriars playhouse and, by means of a wherry from Puddle Dock, in easy reach of the Globe on the other side of the river. Shakespeare paid £140 for the property, of which £80 was in cash and the other £60 tied up with a kind of mortgage.

The purchase may have been purely an investment on Shakespeare’s part, but then why break the habit of a lifetime and invest in London rather than in Stratford property? It may have been the propinquity to the playhouses that steered his decision. Did he still think of himself as a man of the theatre? He was now collaborating with Fletcher, and could hardly have done so from Stratford. He may simply have grown tired of living in lodgings, and wanted some permanent home in the capital. He was still only in his forties and, despite the deaths of two of his brothers, he may have had little reason to doubt his longevity.

There were, as so frequently in seventeenth-century legal transactions, complications. Shakespeare brought in with him three co-purchasers or trustees to safeguard his interest. One of them was Heminges, his colleague from the King’s Men, and another was the landlord of the Mermaid Tavern, William Johnson. This suggests some familiarity on Shakespeare’s part with the famous drinking-place. The third trustee was John Jackson—also an habitué of the Mermaid—whose brother-in-law, Elias James, owned a brewery by Puddle Dock Hill. They were three local men of some repute, therefore, and represent precisely the kind of society to which Shakespeare had become accustomed. It has been suggested that Shakespeare chose these trustees so that a third of the property would not automatically be inherited by his wife, as her “dower” right, and there may have been some agreement (no longer extant) on its use after his death. In 1618, two years after his death, the trustees did in fact convey the gatehouse to John Greene of Clement’s
Inn and to Matthew Morrys of Stratford “in performance of the confidence and trust in them reposed by William Shakespeare deceased, late of Stretford aforesaid, gent., … and according to the true intent and meaning of the last will and testament of the said William Shakespeare.”
⁴

Morrys and Greene were part of Shakespeare’s extended family. Morrys had been the confidential secretary of William Hall, who was the father of John Hall, Shakespeare’s son-in-law, and had been entrusted with William Hall’s books on alchemy, astrology and astronomy in order to instruct John Hall on these arcane matters. Greene was a friend and neighbour, the brother of Thomas Greene who had resided for a while in New Place. It looks very much as if these two men were acting as agents on behalf of John Hall and his wife Susannah Shakespeare. It was the only London property owned by the Shakespeare family, and the beneficiaries may have wished to make good use of it. So by means of complication and indirection Shakespeare made sure that the house reverted to his oldest daughter rather than to his wife. Any interpretation is possible, the most likely being that Anne Shakespeare had neither need nor use for a house in the capital. She never actually visited London, as far as is known, and is hardly likely to have done so after the death of her husband. Or the whole matter may have simply been a technical or legal device to expedite a quick mortgage without incurring a fine. It is all too easy to over-interpret ancient documents.