Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell (70 page)

“But two days ago you wished to challenge him to a duel!"

Strange gave him an angry look. “That is quite another thing!"

“In any case," continued Mr Norrell, “I scarcely think Draw- light more to blame than you!"

“Me?" cried Strange, startled. “Why? What have I done?"

“Oh, you know very well what I mean! What in the world possessed you to go upon the King's Roads? Alone and entirely without preparation! You could hardly suppose that I would approve such a wild adventure! Your actions that night will do as much to bring magic into disrepute as anything that man has done. Indeed they will probably do more! No one ever did think well of Christopher Drawlight. It is no surprize to any one that he turns out a villain. But you are known everywhere as my pupil! You are the Second Magician in the land! People will think that I approved what you did. People will think that this is part of my plan for the restoration of English magic!"

Strange stared at his master. “God forbid, Mr Norrell, that you should feel compromised by any action of mine. Nothing, I assure you, could be further from my wishes. But it is easily remedied. If you and I part company, sir, then each of us may act independently. The world will judge each of us without reference to the other."

Mr Norrell looked very shocked. He glanced at Strange, glanced away again and muttered in a low voice that he had not meant
that
. He hoped Mr Strange knew he had not meant
that
. He cleared his throat. “I hope Mr Strange will make some allowance for the irritation of my spirits. I hope Mr Strange cares enough for English magic to bear with my fretfulness. He knows how important it is that he and I speak and act together for the good of English magic. It is altogether too soon for English magic to be exposed to the buffeting of contrary winds. If Mr Strange and I begin to contradict each other upon important matters of magical policy, then I do not believe that English magic will survive."

A silence.

Strange rose from his chair and made Mr Norrell a stiff, formal bow.

The next few moments were awkward. Mr Norrell looked as if he would have been glad to say something but was at a loss for a subject.

It so happened that Lord Portishead's new book, the
Essay on the Extraordinary Revival of English Magic, &c
., had just arrived from the printer and was lying to hand upon a little table. Mr Norrell seized upon it. “What an excellent little work this is! And how devoted to our cause is Lord Portishead! After such a crisis one does not feel much inclined to trust any body - and yet I think we may always rely upon Lord Portishead!"

He handed Strange the book.

Strange turned the pages, thoughtfully. “He has certainly done everything we asked. Two long chapters attacking the Raven King and scarcely a mention of fairies at all. As I remember, his original manuscript had a long description of the Raven King's magic."

“Yes, indeed," said Mr Norrell. “Until you made those corrections, it was worthless. Worse than worthless - dangerous! But the long hours you spent with him, guiding his opinions, have all borne fruit! I am excessively pleased with it."

By the time Lucas brought in the tray with the tea-things the two magicians seemed like their natural selves again (though Strange was perhaps a little quieter than usual). The quarrel seemed mended.

Just before Strange left he asked if he might borrow Lord Portishead's book.

“Certainly!" cried Mr Norrell. “Keep it as your own! I have several other copies."

Despite all that Strange and Childermass had said against it Mr Norrell was unable to give up his plan to revive the Cinque Dragownes. The more he thought of it, the more it seemed to him that he would never enjoy peace again until there was a proper court of magical law in England. He felt that no punishment that might be meted out to Drawlight from any other quarter could ever satisfy him. So later that same day he sent Childermass to Lord Liverpool's house to beg the favour of a few minutes' conversation with his lordship. Lord Liverpool sent back a message that he would see Mr Norrell upon the following day.

At the appointed hour Mr Norrell waited upon the Prime Minister and explained his plan. When he had finished Lord Liverpool frowned.

“But magical law has fallen into disuse in England," said his lordship. “There are no lawyers trained to practise in such a court. Who would take the cases? Who would judge them?"

“Ah!" exclaimed Mr Norrell, producing a thick sheaf of papers. “I am glad your lordship asks such pertinent questions. I have drawn up a document describing the workings of the Cinque Dragownes. Sadly there are many lacunae in our knowledge, but I have suggested ways in which we might restore what has been lost. I have taken as my model the ecclesiastical courts of the Doctors Commons. As your lordship will see, we have a great deal of work before us."

Lord Liverpool glanced at the papers. “Too much work by far, Mr Norrell," he declared flatly.

“Oh, but it is very necessary I assure you! Very necessary indeed! How else will we regulate magic? How else will we guard against wicked magicians and their servants?"

“What wicked magicians? There is only Mr Strange and you."

“Well, that is true, but . . ."

“Do you feel particularly wicked at present, Mr Norrell? Is there some pressing reason that the British Government should establish a separate body of law to control your vicious tendencies?"

“No, I . . ."

“Or perhaps Mr Strange is exhibiting a strong inclination to murder, maim and steal?"

“No, but . . ."

“Then all we are left with is this Mr Drawlight - who, as far as I can tell, is not a magician at all."

“But his crimes are specifically magical crimes. Under English law he ought to be tried by the court of Cinque Dragownes - it is the proper place for him. These are the names of his crimes." Mr Norrell placed yet another list before the Prime Minister. “There! False Magic, Evil Tendings and Malevolent Pedagogy. No ordinary court is competent to deal with them."

“No doubt. But, as I have already observed, there is no one who can try the case."

“If your lordship will only cast your eye over page forty-two of my notes, I propose employing judges, advocates and proctors from the Doctors Commons. I could explain the principles of thaumaturgic law to them - it will take no more than a week or so. And I could lend them my servant, John Childermass, for as long as the trial lasts. He is a very knowledgeable man and could easily tell them when they were going wrong."

“What! The judge and lawyers to be coached in their duties by the plaintiff and his servant! Certainly not! Justice recoils from the idea!"

Mr Norrell blinked. “But what other security do I have that other magicians might not arise to challenge my authority and contradict me?"

“Mr Norrell, it is not the duty of the court - any court - to exalt one person's opinions above others! Not in magic nor in any other sphere of life. If other magicians think differently from you, then you must battle it out with them. You must prove the superiority of your opinions, as I do in politics. You must argue and publish and practise your magic and you must learn to live as I do - in the face of constant criticism, opposition and censure. That, sir, is the English way."

“But . . ."

“I am sorry, Mr Norrell. I will hear no more. That is an end of it. The Government of Great Britain is grateful to you. You have done your country immeasurable service. Any one may know how highly we prize you, but what you ask is quite impossible."

Drawlight's deception soon became common knowledge and, as Strange had predicted, a certain amount of blame attached to the two magicians. Drawlight was, after all, the bosom companion of one of them. It made an excellent subject for the caricaturists and several quite startling examples were published. One by George Cruikshank shewed Mr Norrell making a long speech to a group of his admirers about the nobility of English magic, while in a backroom Strange dictated a sort of bill of fare to a servant who chalked it upon a blackboard; “For killing a slight acquaintance by magic - twenty guineas. For killing a close friend - forty guineas. For killing a relation - one hundred guineas. For killing a spouse - four hundred guineas." In another caricature by Row- landson a fashionable lady was walking in the street leading a fluffy little dog upon a leash. She was met by some of her acquaintance who began exclaiming over her dog: “La! Mrs Foulkes, what a sweet little pug!" “Yes," replied Mrs Foulkes, “it is Mr Foulkes. I paid Mr Strange and Mr Norrell fifty guineas to make my husband obedient to my every desire and this is the result."

There is no doubt that the caricatures and malicious paragraphs in the newspapers did the cause of English magic considerable damage. It was now possible for magic to be considered in quite a different light - not as the Nation's Greatest Defence, but as the tool of Malice and Envy.

And what of the people whom Drawlight had harmed? How did they view matters? There is no doubt that Mr Palgrave - the ancient, sick and disagreeable person who had hoped to live for ever - intended to prosecute Drawlight for fraud, but he was prevented from doing so by the circumstance of his dying suddenly the next day. His children and heirs (who all hated him) were rather pleased than otherwise to discover that his last days had been characterized by frustration, misery and disappointment. Nor did Drawlight have any thing to fear from Miss Gray or Mrs Bullworth. Miss Gray's friends and relations would not allow her to become embroiled in a vulgar court case and Mrs Bullworth's instructions to Drawlight had been so malicious as to make her culpable herself; she was powerless to strike at him. That left Gatcombe and Tantony, the Nottinghamshire brewers. As a practical man of business Mr Gatcombe was chiefly concerned to recover the money and sent bailiffs to London to fetch it. Unfortunately, Drawlight was unable to oblige Mr Gatcombe in this small particular, as he had spent it all long ago.

Andso we come toDrawlight's real downfall, for no sooner had he escaped the gallows than his true Nemesis appeared in the already- cloudysky of his existence,whirling throughthe airuponblack wings to crush him. He had never been rich, indeed quite the reverse. He lived chiefly upon credit and by borrowing from his friends. Some- times he won money at gambling clubs, but more often he encouraged foolish young Toms and Jerrys to gamble, and when they lost (which they invariably did) he would take them by the arm and, talking all the while,would lead them to this or that money-lender of his acquaintance. “I could not honestly recommend you to any other money-lender," he would tell them solicitously, “they require such monstrous amounts of interest - but Mr Buzzard is quite another sort. He is such a kindly old gentleman. He cannot bear to see any body denied a pleasure when he has the means of obtaining it for them. I truly think that he considers the lending of small sums of money more in the light of a work of charity than a business venture!" For this small but important role in luring young men into debt, vice and ruination,Drawlight received payment from the money-lenders - generally four per cent of the first year's interest for the son of a commoner, six per cent for the son of a viscount or baronet and ten per cent for the son of an earl or duke.

News of his disgrace began to circulate. Tailors, hatters and glovemakers to whom he owed money became anxious and began to clamour for payment. Debts which he had confidently supposed might be put off for another four or five years were suddenly revived and made matters of urgency. Rough-faced men with sticks in their hands came pounding upon his door. He was advised by several people to go abroad immediately, but he could not quite believe that he was so entirely forsaken by his friends. He thought Mr Norrell would relent; he thought Lascelles, his dear, dear Lascelles, would help him. He sent them both respectful letters requesting the immediate loan of four hundred guineas. But Mr Norrell never replied and Lascelles only wrote to say that he made it a rule never to lend money to any one. Drawlight was arrested for debt upon the Tuesday morning and by the following Friday he was a prisoner in the King's Bench Prison.

On an evening towards the end of November, a week or so after these events, Strange and Arabella were sitting in the drawing- room at Soho-square. Arabella was writing a letter and Strange was plucking absent-mindedly at his hair and staring straight ahead of him. Suddenly he got up and went out of the room.

He reappeared an hour later with a dozen sheets of paper covered in writing.

Arabella looked up. “I thought the article for
The Friends of English Magic
was done," she said.

“This is not the article for
The Friends of English Magic
. It is a review of Portishead's book."

Arabella frowned. “But you cannot review a book which you yourself helped write."

“I believe I might. Under certain circumstances."

“Indeed! And what circumstances are those?"

“If I say it is an abominable book, a wicked fraud perpetrated upon the British public."

Arabella stared at him. “Jonathan!" she said at last.

“Well, it
is
an abominable book."

He handed her the sheaf of papers and she began to read them. The mantelpiece clock struck nine and Jeremy brought in the tea- things. When she had finished, she sighed. “What are you going to do?"

“I do not know. Publish it, I suppose."

“But what of poor Lord Portishead? If he has written things in his book that are wrong, then of course someone ought to say so. But you know very well that he only wrote them because you told him to. He will feel himself very ill used."

“Oh, quite! It is a wretched business from start to finish," said Strange unconcernedly. He sipped his tea and ate a piece of toast. “But that is not the point. Ought I to allow my regard for Portishead to prevent me from saying what I think is true? I do not think so. Do you?"

“But must it be you?" said Arabella with a miserable look. “Poor man, he will feel it so much more coming from you."

Strange frowned. “Of course it must be me. Who else is there? But, come. I promise you I will make him a very handsome apology just as soon as the occasion arises."