Often it is difficult to decide upon the morality of USKGLASS’s actions because his motives are so obscure. Of all the AUREATE magicians he is the most mysterious. No one knows why in 1138 he caused the moon to disappear from the sky and made it travel through all the lakes and rivers of England. We do not know why in 1202 he quarrelled with Winter and banished it from his kingdom, so that for four years Northern England enjoyed continual Summer. Nor do we know why for thirty consecutive nights in May and June of 1345 every man, woman and child in the kingdom dreamt that they had been gathered together upon a dark red plain beneath a pale golden sky to build a tall black tower. Each night they laboured, waking in the morning in their own beds completely exhausted. The dream only ceased to trouble them when, on the thirtieth night, the tower and its fortifications were completed. In all these stories – but particularly in the last – we have a sense of great events going on, but what they might be we cannot tell. Several scholars have speculated that the tall black tower was situated in that part of Hell which USKGLASS was reputed to lease from LUCIFER and that USKGLASS was building a fortress in order to prosecute a war against his enemies in Hell. However, MARTIN PALE thought otherwise. He believed that there was a connexion between the construction of the tower and the appearance in England three years later of the Black Death. JOHN USKGLASS’s kingdom of Northern England suffered a good deal less from the disease than its southern neighbour and PALE believed that this was because USKGLASS had constructed some sort of defence against it.
But according to the Essay on the Extraordinary Revival of English Magic we have no business even to wonder about such things. According to Mr NORRELL and Lord PORTISHEAD the Modern Magician ought not to meddle with things only half-understood. But I say that it is precisely because these things are only half-understood that we must study them.
English Magic is the strange house we magicians inhabit. It is built upon foundations that JOHN USKGLASS made and we ignore those foundations at our peril. They should be studied and their nature understood so that we can learn what they will support and what they will not. Otherwise cracks will appear, letting in winds from God-knows-where. The corridors will lead us to places we never intended to go.
In conclusion PORTISHEAD’s book – though containing many excellent things – is a fine example of the mad contradiction at the heart of Modern English Magic: our foremost magicians continually declare their intention of erasing every hint and trace of JOHN USKGLASS from English Magic, but how is this even possible? It is JOHN USKGLASS’s magic that we do.
39
The two magicians
February 1815
Of all the controversial pieces ever published in The Edinburgh Review, this was the most controversial by far. By the end of January there scarcely seemed to be an educated man or woman from one end of the country to the other who had not read it and formed an opinion upon it. Though it was unsigned, everyone knew who the author was – Strange. Oh, certainly at the beginning some people hesitated and pointed to the fact that Strange was as much criticized as Norrell – perhaps more. But these people were judged very stupid by their friends. Was not Jonathan Strange known to be precisely the sort of whimsical, contradictory person who would publish against himself? And did not the author declare himself to be a magician? Who else could it possibly be? Who else could speak with so much authority?
When Mr Norrell had first come to London, his opinions had seemed very new and not a little eccentric. But since then people had grown accustomed to them and he had seemed no more than the Mirror of the Times when he said that magic, like the oceans themselves, should agree to be governed by Englishmen. Its boundaries were to be drawn up and all that was not easily comprehensible to modern ladies and gentlemen – John Uskglass’s three-hundred-year reign, the strange, uneasy history of our dealings with fairies – might be conveniently done away with. Now Strange had turned the Norrellite view of magic on its head. Suddenly it seemed that all that had been learnt in every English childhood of the wildness of English magic might still be true, and even now on some long-forgotten paths, behind the sky, on the other side of the rain, John Uskglass might be riding still, with his company of men and fairies.
Most people thought the partnership between the two magicians must be broken up. In London there was a rumour that Strange had been to Hanover-square and the servants had turned him away. And there was another, contradictory rumour to the effect that Strange had not been to Hanover-square, but that Mr Norrell was sitting night and day in his library, waiting for his pupil, pestering the servants every five minutes to go and look out of the window to see if he were coming.
On a Sunday evening in early February Strange did at last call upon Mr Norrell. This much was certain because two gentlemen on their way to St George’s, Hanover-square saw him standing on the steps of the house; saw the door opened; saw Strange speak to the servant; and saw him instantly admitted as one who had been long expected. The two gentlemen continued on their way to church where they immediately told their friends in the neighbouring pews what they had seen. Five minutes later a thin, saintly-looking young man arrived at the church. Under the pretext of saying his prayers, he whispered that he had just spoken to someone who was leaning out of the first-floor window of the house next door to Mr Norrell’s and this person believed he could hear Mr Strange ranting and haranguing his master. Two minutes later it was being reported throughout the church that both magicians had threatened each other with a kind of magical excommunication. The service began and several of the congregation were seen to gaze longingly at the windows, as if wondering why those apertures were always placed so high in ecclesiastical buildings. An anthem was sung to the accompaniment of the organ and some people said later that above the sound of the music they had heard great rolls of thunder – a sure sign of magical disturbances. But other people said that they had imagined it.
All of which would have greatly astonished the two magicians who were at that moment standing silently in Mr Norrell’s library, regarding each other warily. Strange, who had not seen his tutor for some days, was shocked at his appearance. His face was haggard and his body shrunken – he looked ten years older.
“Shall we sit down, sir?” said Strange. He moved towards a chair and Mr Norrell flinched at the suddenness of the movement. It was almost as if he were expecting Strange to hit him. The next moment, however, he had recovered himself enough to sit down.
Strange was not much more comfortable. In the last few days he had asked himself over and over again if he had been right to publish the review, and repeatedly he had come to the conclusion that he had been. He had decided that the correct attitude to take was one of dignified moral superiority softened by a very moderate amount of apology. But now that he was actually sitting in Mr Norrell’s library again, he did not find it easy to meet his tutor’s eye. His gaze fixed itself upon an odd succession of objects – a small porcelain figure of Dr Martin Pale; the doorknob; his own thumbnail; Mr Norrell’s left shoe.
Mr Norrell, on the other hand, never once took his eyes from Strange’s face.
After several moments’ silence both men spoke at once.
“After all your kindness to me …” began Strange.
“You think that I am angry,” began Mr Norrell.
Both paused and then Strange indicated that Mr Norrell should continue.
“You think that I am angry,” said Mr Norrell, “but I am not. You think I do not know why you have done what you have done, but I do. You think you have put all your heart into that writing and that every one in England now understands you. What do they understand? Nothing. I understood you before you wrote a word.” He paused and his face worked as if he were struggling to say something that lay very deep inside him. “What you wrote, you wrote for me. For me alone.”
Strange opened his mouth to protest at this surprizing conclusion. But upon consideration he realized it was probably true. He was silent.
Mr Norrell continued. “Do y
ou really believe that I have never felt the same … the same longing you feel? It is John Uskglass’s magic that we do. Of course it is. What else should it be? I tell you, there were times when I was young when I would have done any thing, endured any thing, to find him and throw myself at his feet. I tried to conjure him up – Ha! That was the act of a very young, very foolish man – to treat a king like a footman and summon him to come and talk to me. I consider it one of the most fortunate circumstances of my life that I was unsuccessful! Then I tried to find him using the old spells of election. I could not even make the spells work. All the magic of my youth was wasted in trying to find him. For ten years I thought of nothing else.”
“You never said any of this before, sir.”
Mr Norrell sighed. “I wished to prevent you from falling into my error.” He raised his hands in a gesture of helplessness.
“But by your own account, Mr Norrell, this was long ago when you were young and inexperienced. You are a very different magician now, and I flatter myself that I am no ordinary assistant. Perhaps if we were to try again?”
“One cannot find so powerful a magician unless he wishes to be found,” declared Mr Norrell, flatly. “It is useless to make the attempt. Do you think he cares what happens to England? I tell you he does not. He abandoned us long ago.”
“Abandoned?” said Strange, frowning. “That is rather a harsh word. I suppose years of disappointment would naturally incline one towards a conclusion of that sort. But there are many accounts of people who saw John Uskglass long after he had supposedly left England. The glovemaker’s child in Newcastle,1 the Yorkshire farmer,2 the Basque sailor …”3
Mr Norrell made a small sound of irritation. “Hearsay and superstition! Even if those stories are true – which I am very far from allowing – I have never understood how any of them knew that the person they had seen was John Uskglass. No portraits of him exist. Two of your examples – the glovemaker’s child and the Basque sailor – did not in fact identify him as Uskglass. They saw a man in black clothes and other people told them later that it was John Uskglass. But it is really of very little consequence whether or not he returned at this or that time or was seen by this or that person. The fact remains that when he abandoned his throne and rode out of England he took the best part of English magic with him. From that day forth it began to decline. Surely that is enough in itself to mark him as our enemy? You are familiar, I dare say, with Watershippe’s A Faire Wood Withering?”4
“No, I do not know it,” said Strange. He gave Mr Norrell a sharp look that seemed to say he had not read it for the usual reason. “But I cannot help wishing, sir, that you had said some of this before.”
“Perhaps I have been wrong to keep so much of my mind from you,” said Mr Norrell, knotting his fingers together. “I am almost certain now that I have been wrong. But I decided long ago that Great Britain’s best interests were served by absolute silence on these subjects and old habits are hard to break. But surely you see the task before us, Mr Strange? Yours and mine? Magic cannot wait upon the pleasure of a King who no longer cares what happens to England. We must break English magicians of their dependence on him. We must make them forget John Uskglass as completely as he has forgotten us.”
Strange shook his head, frowning. “No. In spite of all you say, it still seems to me that John Uskglass stands at the very heart of English magic and that we ignore him at our peril. Perhaps I will be proved wrong in the end. Nothing is more likely. But on a matter of such vital importance to English magic I need to understand for myself. Do not think that I am ungrateful, sir, but I believe the period of our collaboration is over. It seems to me that we are too different …”
“Oh!” cried Mr Norrell. “I know that in character …” He made a gesture of dismissal. “But what does that matter? We are magicians. That is the beginning and end of me and the beginning and the end of you. It is all that either of us cares about. If you leave this house today and pursue your own course, who will you talk to? – as we are talking now? —there is no one. You will be quite alone.” In a tone almost of pleading, he whispered, “Do not do this!”
Strange stared in perplexity at his master. This was by no means what he had expected. Far from being driven into a passion of fury by Strange’s review, Mr Norrell seemed only to have been provoked into an outburst of honesty and humility. At that moment it seemed to Strange both reasonable and desirable to return to Mr Norrell’s tutelage. It was only pride and the consciousness that he was certain to feel differently in an hour or two which prompted him to say, “I am sorry, Mr Norrell, but ever since I returned from the Peninsula it has not felt right to me to call myself your pupil. I have felt as if I was acting a part. To submit my writings for your approval so that you can make changes in any way that you see fit – it is what I can no longer do. It is making me say what I no longer believe.”
“All, all is to be done in public,” sighed Mr Norrell. He leaned forward and said with more energy, “Be guided by me. Promise me that you will publish nothing, speak nothing, do nothing until you are quite decided upon these matters. Believe me when I tell you that ten, twenty, even fifty years of silence is worth the satisfaction of knowing at the end that you have said what you ought – no more, no less. Silence and inaction will not suit you – I know that. But I promise to make what amends I can. You will not lose by it. If you have ever had cause to consider me ungrateful, you shall not find me so in future. I shall tell everyone how highly I prize you. We shall no longer be tutor and pupil. Let it be a partnership of equals! Have I not in any case learnt almost as much from you as you have from me? The most lucrative business shall all be yours! The books …” He swallowed slightly. “The books which I ought to have lent you and which I have kept from you, you shall read them! We will go to Yorkshire, you and I together – tonight if you wish it! – and I will give you the key to the library and you shall read whatever you desire. I …” Mr Norrell passed his hand across his brow, as if in surprize at his own words. “I shall not even ask for a retraction of the review. Let it stand. Let it stand. And in time, you and I, together, will answer all the questions you raise in it.”
There was a long silence. Mr Norrell watched the other magician’s face eagerly. His offer to shew Strange the library at Hurtfew was not without effect. For some moments Strange was clearly wavering in his determination to part with his master, but at last he said, “I am honoured, sir. You are not usually a man for a compromise, I know. But I think I must follow my own course now. I think we must part.”
Mr Norrell closed his eyes.
At that moment the door opened. Lucas and one of the other footmen entered with the tea-tray.
“Come, sir,” said Strange.
He touched his master’s arm to rouse him a little and England’s only two magicians took tea together for the last time.
Strange left Hanover-square at half past eight. Several people, lingering by their downstairs windows, saw him go. Other people, who scorned to watch themselves, had sent their maids and footmen to stand about the square. Whether Lascelles had made some arrangement of this sort is not known, but ten minutes after Strange had turned the corner into Oxford-street Lascelles knocked upon Mr Norrell’s door.
Mr Norrell was still in the library, still in the chair he had been sitting in when Strange had left. He was staring fixedly at the carpet.
“Is he gone?” asked Lascelles.
Mr Norrell did not answer.
Lascelles sat down. “Our conditions? How did he receive them?”
Still no reply.
“Mr Norrell? You told him what we agreed? You told him that unless he publishes a retraction we shall be forced to reveal what we know of the Black Magic done in Spain? You told him that under no circumstances would you accept him any longer as a pupil?”
“No,” said Mr Norrell. “I said none of those things.”
“But …”
Mr Norrell sighed deeply. “It does not matter what I said to him. He i
s gone.”
Lascelles was silent a moment and looked with some displeasure at the magician. Mr Norrell, still lost in his own thoughts, did not observe this.
Finally, Lascelles shrugged. “You were right in the beginning, sir,” he said. “There can be only one magician in England.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that two of any thing is a most uncomfortable number. One may do as he pleases. Six may get along well enough. But two must always struggle for mastery. Two must always watch each other. The eyes of all the world will be on two, uncertain which of them to follow. You sigh, Mr Norrell. You know that I am right. Henceforth we must consider Strange in all our plans – what he will say, what he will do, how to counter him. You have often told me that he is a remarkable magician. His brilliance was a great advantage when it was employed in your service. But that is all over now. Sooner or later he is sure to turn his talents against you. We cannot begin to guard against him too soon. I am speaking quite literally. His genius for magic is so great and his materials so poor and the end of it will be that he comes to believe that all things are permitted to a magician – be they house-breaking, theft or deception.” Lascelles leant forward. “I do not mean that he is so depraved as to steal from you at this moment, but if a day ever comes when he is in great need, then it will appear to his undisciplined mind that any breach of trust, any violation of private property is justified.” He paused. “You have made provision against thieves at Hurtfew? Spells of concealment?”
“Spells of concealment would be no protection against Strange!” declared Mr Norrell, angrily. “They would only serve to attract his eye! It would bring him straight to my most precious volumes! No, no, you are right.” He sighed. “Something more is needed here. I must think.”
Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell Page 50