Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell (48 page)

"But will they not dissolve?" asked one of the crowd.

"And what are they for?" asked Captain Gilbey.

Strange said, "They are made of sand and sea-water and magic, and they will last as long as there is work for them to do. Captain Gilbey, get one of the boats to take a message to the Captain of the
False Prelate
to say that his men should lash the horses to the ship, as many of them as they can. The horses will pull the ship off the shoal."

"Oh!" said Captain Gilbey. "Very well. Yes, of course."

Within half an hour of the message reaching the
False Prelate
, the ship was clear of the shoal and the sailors were busy putting the sails to rights and doing the thousand and one things which sailors do (things which are quite as mysterious in their way as the actions of magicians). However, it ought to be said that the magic did not work quite as Strange intended. He had not imagined there would be much difficulty in capturing the horses. He supposed that the ship would have plenty of ropes to make the halters and he had tried to regulate the magic so that the horses would be as biddable as possible. But sailors in general do not know much of horses. They know the sea and that is all. Some of the sailors did their best to catch hold of the horses and harness them, but many had not the least idea how to begin or they were too afraid of the silvery, ghostly creatures to go anywhere near them. Of the hundred horses that Strange created only about twenty were eventually harnessed to the ship. These twenty were certainly instrumental in pulling the
False Prelate
off the sand, but equally useful was the great trough in the sandbank which appeared as more and more horses were created out of it.

In Portsmouth opinion was divided over whether Strange had done something glorious in saving the
False Prelate
or whether he had merely used the disaster to improve his own career. Many of the captains and officers about the place said that the magic he had done had been of a very showy sort and was obviously intended more to draw attention to his own talent and impress the Admiralty than to save the ship. Nor were they best pleased about the sand-horses. These did not just disappear when their work was done, as Strange had said they would; instead they swam about Spithead for a day and a half, after which they lay down and became sandbanks in new and entirely unexpected places. The masters and pilots of Portsmouth complained to the port-admiral that Strange had permanently altered the channels and shoals in Spithead so that the Navy would now have all the expense and trouble of taking soundings and surveying the anchorage again.

However, in London, where the Ministers knew as little of ships and seamanship as Strange, only one thing was clear: Strange had saved a ship, the loss of which would have cost the Admiralty a vast amount of money.

"One thing that the rescue of the
False Prelate
demonstrates," remarked Sir Walter Pole to Lord Liverpool, "is the very great advantage of having a magician upon the spot, able to deal with a crisis as it occurs. I know that we considered sending Norrell somewhere and were forced to give it up, but what of Strange?"

Lord Liverpool considered this. "I think," he said, "we could only justify sending Mr Strange to serve with one of the generals if we were reasonably confident of that general shortly achieving some sort of success against the French. Anything else would be an unforgivable waste of Mr Strange's talents which, God knows, we need badly enough in London. Frankly the choice is not great. Really there is no one but Lord Wellington."

"Oh, quite!"

Lord Wellington was in Portugal with his army and so his opinion could not be easily ascertained, but by an odd coincidence his wife lived at no. 11 Harley-street, just opposite Sir Walter's own house. When Sir Walter went home that evening he knocked at Lady Wellington's door and asked her ladyship what she thought Lord Wellington would say to the idea of a magician. But Lady Wellington, a small, unhappy person whose opinion was not much valued by her husband, did not know.

Strange, on the other hand, was delighted with the proposal. Arabella, though somewhat less delighted, gave her assent very readily. The greatest obstacle to Strange's going proved to be, to no one's great surprize, Norrell. In the past year Mr Norrell had grown to rely a great deal upon his pupil. He consulted Strange upon all those matters which in bygone days had been referred to Drawlight and Lascelles. Mr Norrell talked of nothing but Mr Strange when Strange was away, and talked to no one
But
Strange when Strange was present. His feelings of attachment seemed all the stronger for being entirely new; he had never felt truly comfortable in any one's society before. If, in a crowded drawing-room or ballroom, Strange contrived to escape for a quarter of an hour, Mr Norrell would send Drawlight after him to discover where he had gone and whom he was talking to. Consequently, when Mr Norrell learnt there was a plan to send his only pupil and friend to the war he was shocked. "I am astonished, Sir Walter," he said, "that you should even suggest such a thing!"

"But every man must be prepared to make sacrifices for the sake of his country during a war," said Sir Walter with some irritation, "and thousands have already done so, you know."

"But they were
soldiers
!" cried Mr Norrell. "Oh! I dare say a soldier is very valuable in his way but that is nothing to the loss the Nation would sustain if any thing were to happen to Mr Strange! There is, I understand, a school at High Wycombe where 300 officers are trained every year. I would to God that I were so fortunate as to have 300 magicians to educate! If I had, then English magic might be in a much more promising situation than it is at present!"

After Sir Walter had tried and failed, Lord Liverpool and the Duke of York undertook to speak to Mr Norrell on the subject, but Mr Norrell could not be persuaded by any of them to view Strange's proposed departure with any thing other than horror.

"Have you considered, sir," said Strange, "the great respect that it will win for English magic?"

"Oh, I dare say it might," said Mr Norrell peevishly, "but nothing is so likely to evoke the Raven King and all that wild, mischievous sort of magic as the sight of an English magician upon a battlefield! People will begin to think that we raise fairy-spirits and consult with owls and bears. Whereas it is my hope for English magic that it should be regarded as a quiet, respectable sort of profession — the sort of profession in fact . . ."

"But, sir," said Strange, hastily interrupting a speech he had heard a hundred times before, "I shall have no company of fairy knights at my back. And there are other considerations which we would do very wrong to ignore. You and I have often lamented that we are continually asked to do the same sorts of magic over and over again. I dare say the exigencies of the war will require me to do magic that I have not done before — and, as we have often observed to each other, sir, the practice of magic makes the theory so much easier to understand."

But the two magicians were too different in temperament ever to come to an agreement upon such a point. Strange spoke of braving the danger in order to win glory for English magic. His language and metaphors were all drawn from games of chance and from war and were scarcely likely to find favour with Mr Norrell. Mr Norrell assured Mr Strange that he would find war very disagreeable. "One is often wet and cold upon a battlefield. You will like it a great deal less than you suppose."

For several weeks in January and February 1811 it seemed as if Mr Norrell's opposition would prevent Strange's going to war. The mistake that Sir Walter, Lord Liverpool, the Duke of York and Strange had all made was to appeal to Mr Norrell's nobility, patriotism and sense of duty. There is no doubt that Mr Norrell possessed these virtues, but there were other principles which were stronger in him and which would always counter any higher faculty.

Fortunately there were two gentlemen at hand who knew how to manage matters rather better. Lascelles and Drawlight were as anxious as every body else that Strange should go to Portugal and in their opinion the best method to achieve it was to play upon Mr Norrell's anxiety over the fate of the Duke of Roxburghe's library.

This library had long been a thorn in Mr Norrell's side. It was one of the most important private libraries in the kingdom — second only to Mr Norrell's own. It had a curious, poignant history. Some fifty years before, the Duke of Roxburghe, a most intelligent, civilized and respectable gentleman, had chanced to fall in love with the Queen's sister and had applied to the King for permission to marry her. For various reasons to do with court etiquette, form and precedence the King had refused. Heart- broken, the Duke and the Queen's sister made a solemn promise to love each other for ever and never upon any inducement to marry any one else. Whether the Queen's sister kept her side of the bargain I do not know, but the Duke retired to his castle in the Scottish borders and, to fill his lonely days, he began to collect rare books: exquisite illuminated mediaeval manuscripts and editions of the very first printed books produced in the workshops of men of such genius as William Caxton of London and Valdarfer of Venice. By the early years of the century the Duke's library was one of the wonders of the world. His Grace was fond of poetry, chivalry, history and theology. He had no particular interest in magic, but all old books delighted him and it would have been very odd if one or two magical texts had not found their way into his library.

Mr Norrell had written to the Duke a number of times begging to be allowed to examine and perhaps purchase any books of magic which the Duke possessed. The Duke, however, felt no inclination to satisfy Mr Norrell's curiosity and, being immensely wealthy, he did not want Mr Norrell's money. Having been true to his promise to the Queen's sister through many a long year, the Duke had no children and no obvious heir. When he died a large number of his male relatives were seized by a strong conviction that they were the next Duke of Roxburghe. These gentlemen took their claims before the Committee of Privileges of the House of Lords. The Committee considered and came to the conclusion that the new Duke was either Major-General Ker or Sir James Innes, but as to which of them it might be the Committee was not quite certain and it settled itself to consider the matter further. By early 1811 it had still not come to a decision.

On a cold, wet Tuesday morning Mr Norrell was seated with Mr Lascelles and Mr Drawlight in the library at Hanover-square. Childermass was also in the room, writing letters to various Government departments upon Mr Norrell's behalf. Strange had gone to Twickenham with Mrs Strange to visit a friend.

Lascelles and Drawlight were speaking of the lawsuit between Ker and Innes. One or two seemingly random allusions upon Lascelles's part to the famous library caught Mr Norrell's attention.

"What do we know of these men?" he asked Lascelles. "Have they any interest in the practice of magic?"

Lascelles smiled. "You may be easy on that score, sir. I assure you the only thing that Innes or Ker cares for is to be Duke. I do not think I have ever seen either of them so much as open a book."

"Indeed? They do not care for books? Well, that is most reassuring." Mr Norrell thought for a moment. "But supposing one of them were to come into possession of the Duke's library and chanced to find some rare magical text upon a shelf and become curious about it. People are curious about magic, you know. That has been one of the more regrettable consequences of my own success. This man might read a little and find himself inspired to try a spell or two. It is, after all, exactly how I began myself when as a boy of twelve I opened a book from my uncle's library and found inside a single page torn from a much older volume. The instant I read it, the conviction took hold of me that I must be a magician!"

"Indeed? That is most interesting," said Lascelles, in tones of complete boredom. "But it is hardly, I think, likely to happen to Innes or Ker. Innes must be in his seventies and Ker about the same. Neither man is in search of a new career."

"Oh! But have they no young relatives? Relatives who are perhaps avid readers of
The Friends of English Magic
and
The Modern Magician
? Relatives who would seize upon any books of magic the instant they laid eyes upon them! No, forgive me, Mr Lascelles, but I cannot regard the advanced age of the two gentlemen as any security at all!"

"Very well. But I doubt, sir, if these young thaumatomanes
³
whom you describe so vividly will have any opportunity to view the library. In order to pursue their claim to the dukedom, both Ker and Innes have incurred vast legal expenses. The first concern of the new Duke, whoever he may be, will be to pay off his lawyers. His first act upon entering Floors Castle will be to look around for something to sell.
⁴
I shall be very much surprized if the library is not put up for sale within a week of the Committee giving its decision."

"A book sale!" exclaimed Mr Norrell in alarm.

"What are you afraid of now?" asked Childermass, looking up from his writing. "A book sale is generally the thing most calculated to please you."

"Oh! but that was before," said Mr Norrell, "when no one in the kingdom had the least interest in books of magic except me, but now I fear a great many people might try to buy them. I dare say there might be accounts in
The Times
."

"Oh!" cried Drawlight. "If the books are bought by someone else you may complain to the Ministers! You may complain to the Prince of Wales! It is not in the interests of the Nation that books of magic should be in any one's possession but your own, Mr Norrell."

"Except Strange," said Lascelles. "I do not think the Prince of Wales or the Ministers would have any objections to Strange's owning the books."

"That is true," agreed Drawlight. "I had forgot Strange."

Mr Norrell looked more alarmed than ever. "But Mr Strange will understand that it is proper for the books to be mine," he said. "They should be collected together in one library. They ought not to be separated." He looked about hopefully for someone to agree with him. "Naturally," he continued, "I shall have no objection to Mr Strange reading them. Everyone knows how many of my books — my own precious books — I have lent to Mr Strange. That is . . . I mean, it would depend upon the subject."