Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (5 page)

Mr Norrell was wandering from room to room, wishing only to go away again, when he was stopped in mid-perambulation by the sound of his own name and the following enigmatic words: “… assures me that he is never to be seen without a mystic robe of midnight blue, adorned with otherlandish symbols! But Drawlight — who knows this Norrell very well — says that …”

The noise of the room was such that it is to be marvelled at that Mr Norrell heard anything at all. The words had been spoken by a young woman and Mr Norrell looked frantically about him to try and discover her, but without success. He began to wonder what else was being said about him.

He found himself standing near to a lady and a gentleman.
She
was unremarkable enough — a sensible-looking woman of forty or fifty —
he
, however, was a style of man not commonly seen in Yorkshire. He was rather small and was dressed very carefully in a good black coat and linen of a most exquisite whiteness. He had a little pair of silver spectacles that swung from a black velvet ribbon around his neck. His features were very regular and rather good; he had short, dark hair and his skin was very clean and white — except that about his cheeks there was the faintest suggestion of rouge. But it was his eyes that were remarkable: large, well-shaped, dark and so very brilliant as to have an almost liquid appearance. They were fringed with the longest, darkest eyelashes. There were many little feminine touches about him that he had contrived for himself, but his eyes and eyelashes were the only ones which nature had given him.

Mr Norrell paid good attention to their conversation to discover if they were talking about him.

“… the advice that I gave Lady Duncombe about her own daughter,” said the small man. “Lady Duncombe had found a most unexceptional husband for her daughter, a gentleman with nine hundred a year! But the silly girl had set her heart upon a penniless Captain in the Dragoons, and poor Lady Duncombe was almost frantic. ‘Oh, your ladyship!’ I cried the instant that I heard about it, ‘Make yourself easy! Leave everything to me. I do not set up as any very extraordinary genius, as your ladyship knows, but my odd talents are exactly suited to this sort of thing.’ Oh, madam! you will laugh when you hear how I contrived matters! I dare say no one else in the world would have thought of such a ridiculous scheme! I took Miss Susan to Gray’s in Bond-street where we both spent a very agreeable morning in trying on necklaces and earrings. She has passed most of her life in Derbyshire and has not been accustomed to really
remarkable
jewels. I do not think she had ever thought
seriously
upon such things before. Then Lady Duncombe and I dropt one or two hints that in marrying Captain Hurst she would put it quite out of her power to make such delightful purchases ever again, whereas if she married Mr Watts she might make her choice of the best of them. I next took pains to get acquainted with Captain Hurst and persuaded him to accompany me to Boodle’s where — well I will not deceive you, madam — where there is gambling!” The small man giggled. “I lent him a little money to try his luck — it was not my own money you understand. Lady Duncombe had given it to me for the purpose. We went three or four times and in a remarkably short space of time the Captain’s debts were — well, madam,
I
cannot see how he will ever get clear of them! Lady Duncombe and I represented to him that it is one thing to expect a young woman to marry upon a small income, but quite another to expect her to take a man encumbered with debts. He was not inclined to listen to us at first. At first he made use of — what shall I say? — some rather
military
expressions. But in the end he was obliged to admit the justice of all we said.”

Mr Norrell saw the sensible-looking woman of forty or fifty give the small man a look of some dislike. Then she bowed, very slightly and coldly, and passed without a word away into the crowd; the small man turned in the other direction and immediately hailed a friend.

Mr Norrell’s eye was next caught by an excessively pretty young woman in a white-and-silver gown. A tall, handsome-looking man was talking to her and she was laughing very heartily at everything he said.

“… and what if he should discover two dragons — one red and one white — beneath the foundations of the house, locked in eternal struggle and symbolizing the future destruction of Mr Godesdone? I dare say,” said the man slyly, “you would not mind it if he did.” She laughed again, even more merrily than before, and Mr Norrell was surprized to hear in the next instant someone address her as “Mrs Godesdone”.

Upon reflection Mr Norrell thought that he ought to have spoken to her but by then she was nowhere to be seen. He was sick of the noise and sight of so many people and determined to go quietly away, but it so happened that just at that moment the crowds about the door were particularly impenetrable; he was caught up in the current of people and carried away to quite another part of the room. Round and round he went like a dry leaf caught up in a drain; in one of these turns around the room he discovered a quiet corner near a window. A tall screen of carved ebony inlaid with mother-of-pearl half-hid — ah! what bliss was this! — a bookcase. Mr Norrell slipped behind the screen, took down John Napier’s
A Plaine Discouverie of the Whole Revelation of St John
and began to read.

He had not been there very long when, happening to glance up, he saw the tall, handsome man who had been speaking to Mrs Godesdone and the small, dark man who had gone to such trouble to destroy the matrimonial hopes of Captain Hurst. They were discoursing energetically, but the press and flow of people around them was so great that, without any ceremony, the tall man got hold of the small man’s sleeve and pulled him behind the screen and into the corner which Mr Norrell occupied.

“He is not here,” said the tall man, giving each word an emphasis with a poke of his finger in the other’s shoulder. “Where are the fiercely burning eyes that you promised us? Where the trances that none of us can explain? Has any one been cursed? — I do not think so. You have called him up like a spirit from the vasty deep, and he has not come.”

“I was with him only this morning,” said the small man defiantly, “to hear of the wonderful magic that he has been doing recently and he said then that he would come.”

“It is past midnight. He will not come now.” The tall man smiled a very superior smile. “Confess, you do not know him.”

Then the small man smiled in rivalry of the other’s smile (these two gentlemen positively jousted in smiles) and said, “No one in London knows him better. I shall confess that I am a little — a very little — disappointed.”

“Ha!” cried the tall man. “It is the opinion of the room that we have all been most abominably imposed upon. We came here in the expectation of seeing something very extraordinary, and instead we have been obliged to provide our own amusement.” His eye happening to light upon Mr Norrell, he said, “
That
gentleman is reading a book.”

The small man glanced behind him and in doing so happened to knock his elbow against
A Plaine Discouverie of the Whole Revelation of St John
. He gave Mr Norrell a cool look for filling up so very small a space with so very large a book.

“I have said that I am disappointed,” continued the small man, “but I am not at all surprized. You do not know him as I do. Oh! I can assure you he has a pretty shrewd notion of his value. No one can have a better. A man who buys a house in Hanover-square knows the style in which things ought to be done. Oh, yes! He has bought a house in Hanover-square! You had not heard that, I dare say? He is as rich as a Jew. He had an old uncle called Haythornthwaite who died and left him a world of money. He has — among other trifles — a good house and a large estate — that of Hurtfew Abbey in Yorkshire.”

“Ha!” said the tall man drily. “He was in high luck. Rich old uncles who die are in shockingly short supply.”

“Oh, indeed!” cried the small man. “Some friends of mine, the Griffins, have an amazingly rich old uncle to whom they have paid all sorts of attentions for years and years — but though he was at least a hundred years old when they began, he is not dead yet and it seems he intends to live for ever to spite them, and all the Griffins are growing old themselves and dying one by one in a state of the most bitter disappointment. Yet I am sure that
you
, my dear Lascelles, need not concern yourself with any such vexatious old persons — your fortune is comfortable enough, is it not?”

The tall man chose to disregard this particular piece of impertinence and instead remarked coolly, “I believe that gentleman wishes to speak to you.”

The gentleman in question was Mr Norrell who, quite amazed to hear his fortune and property discussed so openly, had been waiting to speak for some minutes past. “I beg your pardon,” he said.

“Yes?” said the small man sharply.

“I am Mr Norrell.”

The tall man and the small man gave Mr Norrell two very broad stares.

After a silence of some moments the small gentleman, who had begun by looking offended, had passed through a stage of looking blank and was beginning to look puzzled, asked Mr Norrell to repeat his name.

This Mr Norrell did, whereupon the small gentleman said, “I do beg your pardon, but … Which is to say … I hope you will excuse my asking so impertinent a question, but is there at your house in Hanover-square someone all dressed in black, with a thin face like a twisted hedge-root?”

Mr Norrell thought for a moment and then he said, “Childermass. You mean Childermass.”

“Oh, Childermass!” cried the small man, as if all was now perfectly plain. “Yes, of course! How stupid of me! That is Childermass! Oh, Mr Norrell! I can hardly begin to express my delight in making your acquaintance. My name, sir, is Drawlight.”

“Do you know Childermass?” asked Mr Norrell, puzzled.

“I …” Mr Drawlight paused. “I have seen such a person as I described coming out of your house and I … Oh, Mr Norrell! Such a noodle I am upon occasion! I mistook him for you! Pray do not be offended, sir! For now that I behold you, I plainly see that whereas
he
has the wild, romantic looks one associates with magicians,
you
have the meditative air of a scholar. Lascelles, does not Mr Norrell have the grave and sober bearing of a scholar?”

The tall man said, without much enthusiasm, that he supposed so.

“Mr Norrell, my friend, Mr Lascelles,” said Drawlight.

Mr Lascelles made the slightest of bows.

“Oh, Mr Norrell!” cried Mr Drawlight. “You cannot imagine the torments I have suffered tonight, in wondering whether or not you would come! At seven o’clock my anxieties upon this point were so acute that I could not help myself! I actually went down to the Glasshouse-street boiling-cellar expressly to inquire of Davey and Lucas to know their opinions! Davey was certain that you would not come, which threw me, as you may imagine, into the utmost despair!”

“Davey and Lucas!” said Mr Norrell in tones of the greatest astonishment. (These, it may be remembered, were the names of Mr Norrell’s coachman and footman.)

“Oh, yes!” said Mr Drawlight. “The Glasshouse-street boiling-cellar is where Davey and Lucas occasionally take their mutton, as I dare say you know.”Mr Drawlight paused in his flow of chatter, just long enough for Mr Norrell to murmur that he had not known that.

“I have been most industriously talking up your extraordinary powers to all my wide acquaintance,” continued Mr Drawlight. “I have been your John the Baptist, sir, preparing the way for you! — and I felt no hesitation in declaring that you and I were great friends for I had a presentiment from the first, my dear Mr Norrell, that we would be; and as you see I was quite right, for now here we are, chatting so comfortably to one another!”

5
Drawlight

Spring to autumn 1807

Early next morning Mr Norrell’s man of business, Childermass, answered a summons to attend his master in the breakfast-room. He found Mr Norrell pale-faced and in a state of some nervous agitation.

“What is the matter?” asked Childermass.

“Oh!” cried Mr Norrell, looking up. “You dare to ask me that! You, who have so neglected your duties that any scoundrel may put a watch upon my house and question my servants without fear of disturbance! Aye, and get answers to those questions, too! What do I employ you for, I should like to know, if not to protect me from such impertinence as this?”

Childermass shrugged. “You mean Drawlight, I suppose.”

A short, astonished silence.

“You knew of it?” cried Mr Norrell. “Good God, man! What were you thinking of? Have you not told me a hundred times that, in order to secure my privacy, the servants must be kept from gossiping?”

“Oh! certainly!” said Childermass. “But I am very much afraid, sir, that you must give up some of your habits of privacy. Retirement and seclusion are all very well in Yorkshire, but we are not in Yorkshire any more.”

“Yes, yes!” said Mr Norrell irritably. “I know that we are not. But that is not the question. The question is: what does this Drawlight want?”

“To have the distinction of being the first gentleman in London to make the acquaintance of a magician. That is all.”

But Mr Norrell was not to be reasoned out of his fears. He rubbed his yellow-white hands nervously together, and directed fearful glances into the shadowy corners of the room as though suspecting them of harbouring other Drawlights, all spying upon him. “He did not look like a scholar in those clothes,” he said, “but that is no guarantee of any thing. He wore no rings of power or allegiance but still …”

“I do not well understand you,” said Childermass. “Speak plainly.”

“Might he not have some
skill
of his own, do you suppose?” said Mr Norrell. “Or perhaps he has friends who are jealous of my success! Who are his associates? What is his education?”

Childermass smiled a long smile that went all up one side of his face. “Oh! You have talked yourself into a belief that he is the agent of some other magician. Well, sir, he is not. You may depend upon me for that. Far from neglecting your interests, after we received Mrs Godesdone’s letter I made some inquiries about the gentleman — as many, I dare say, as he has made about you. It would be an odd sort of magician, I think, that employed such a creature as he is. Besides, if such a magician had existed you would have long since found him out, would not you? — and discovered the means to part him from his books and put an end to his scholarship? You have done it before, you know.”

“You know no harm of this Drawlight then?”

Childermass raised an eyebrow and smiled his sideways smile. “Upon the contrary,” he said.

“Ah!” cried Mr Norrell, “I knew it! Well then, I shall certainly make a point of avoiding his society.”

“Why?” asked Childermass. “I did not say so. Have I not just told you that he is no threat to you? What is it to you that he is a bad man? Take my advice, sir, make use of the tool which is to hand.”

Then Childermass related to Mr Norrell what he had discovered about Drawlight: how he belonged to a certain breed of gentlemen, only to be met with in London, whose main occupation is the wearing of expensive and fashionable clothes; how they pass their lives in ostentatious idleness, gambling and drinking to excess and spending months at a time in Brighton and other fashionable watering places; how in recent years this breed seemed to have reached a sort of perfection in Christopher Drawlight. Even his dearest friends would have admitted that he possessed not a single good quality.
¹

Despite Mr Norrell’s tuttings and suckings-in of air at every new revelation, there is no doubt that this conversation did him good. When Lucas entered the room ten minutes later with a pot of chocolate, he was composedly eating toast and preserves and appeared entirely different from the anxious, fretful creature he had been earlier that morning.

A loud rap was heard at the door and Lucas went to answer it. A light tread was next heard upon the stairs and Lucas re-appeared to announce, “Mr Drawlight!”

“Ah, Mr Norrell! How do you do, sir?” Mr Drawlight entered the room. He wore a dark blue coat, and carried an ebony stick with a silver knob. He appeared to be in excellent spirits, and bowed and smiled and walked to and fro so much that five minutes later there was scarcely an inch of carpet in the room that he had not stood upon, a table or chair he had not lightly and caressingly touched, a mirror he had not danced across, a painting that he had not for a moment smiled upon.

Mr Norrell, though confident now that his guest was no great magician or great magician’s servant, was still not much inclined to take Childermass’s advice. His invitation to Mr Drawlight to sit down at the breakfast-table and take some chocolate was of the coldest sort. But sulky silences and black looks had no effect upon Mr Drawlight whatsoever, since he filled up the silences with his own chatter and was too accustomed to black looks to mind them.

“Do you not agree with me, sir, that the party last night was the most charming in the world? Though, if I may say so, I think you were quite right to leave when you did. I was able to go round afterwards and tell everyone that the gentleman that they had just espied walking out of the room was indeed Mr Norrell! Oh! believe me, sir, your departure was not unobserved. The Honourable Mr Masham was quite certain he had just caught sight of your esteemed shoulder, Lady Barclay thought she had seen a neat grey curl of your venerable wig, and Miss Fiskerton was quite ecstatic to think that her gaze had rested momentarily upon the tip of your scholarly nose! And the little that they have seen of you, sir, has made them desire more. They long to view the complete man!”

“Ah!” said Mr Norrell, with some satisfaction.

Mr Drawlight’s repeated assurances that the ladies and gentlemen at Mrs Godesdone’s party had been utterly enchanted by Mr Norrell went some way to diminish Mr Norrell’s prejudices against his guest. According to Mr Drawlight, Mr Norrell’s company was like seasoning: the smallest pinch of it could add a relish to the entire dish. Mr Drawlight made himself so agreeable that Mr Norrell grew by degrees more communicative.

“And to what fortunate circumstance, sir,” asked Mr Drawlight, “do we owe the happiness of your society? What brings you to London?”

“I have come to London in order to further the cause of modern magic. I intend, sir, to bring back magic to Britain,” answered Mr Norrell gravely. “I have a great deal to communicate to the Great Men of our Age. There are many ways in which I may be of service to them.”

Mr Drawlight murmured politely that he was sure of it.

“I may tell you, sir,” said Mr Norrell, “that I heartily wish this duty had fallen to the lot of some other magician.” Mr Norrell sighed and looked as noble as his small, pinched features would allow. It is an extraordinary thing that a man such as Mr Norrell — a man who had destroyed the careers of so many of his fellow-magicians — should be able to convince himself that he would rather all the glory of his profession belonged to one of them, but there is no doubt that Mr Norrell believed it when he said it.

Mr Drawlight murmured sympathetically. Mr Drawlight was sure that Mr Norrell was too modest. Mr Drawlight could not suppose for a moment that anyone could be better suited to the task of bringing back magic to Britain than Mr Norrell.

"But I labour under a disadvantage, sir,” said Mr Norrell.

Mr Drawlight was surprized to hear it.

“I do not know the world, sir. I know that I do not. I have a scholar’s love of silence and solitude. To sit and pass hour after hour in idle chatter with a roomful of strangers is to me the worst sort of torment — but I dare say there will be a good deal of that sort of thing. Childermass assures me that there will be.” Mr Norrell looked wistfully at Drawlight as if hopeful that Drawlight might contradict him.

“Ah!” Mr Drawlight considered a moment. “And that is exactly why I am so happy that you and I have become friends! I do not pretend to be a scholar, sir; I know next to nothing of magicians or magical history, and I dare say that, from time to time, you may find my society irksome, but you must set any little irritations of that nature against the great good that I may do you in taking you about and shewing you to people. Oh, Mr Norrell, sir! You cannot imagine how useful I may be to you!”

Mr Norrell declined to give his word there and then to accompany Mr Drawlight to all the places that Mr Drawlight said were so delightful and to meet all those people whose friendship, Mr Drawlight said, would add a new sweetness to Mr Norrell’s existence, but he did consent to go with Mr Drawlight that evening to a dinner at Lady Rawtenstall’s house in Bedford-square.

Mr Norrell got through the dinner with less fatigue than he expected, and so agreed to meet Mr Drawlight upon the morrow at Mr Plumtree’s house. With Mr Drawlight as his guide, Mr Norrell entered society with greater confidence than before. His engagements became numerous; he was busy from eleven o’clock in the morning to past midnight. He paid morning-visits; he ate his dinner in dining-parlours all over the Town; he attended evening-parties, balls and concerts of Italian music; he met baronets, viscounts, viscountesses, and honourable thises and thats; he was to be met with walking down Bond-street, arm-in-arm with Mr Drawlight; he was observed taking the air in a carriage in Hyde-park with Mr Drawlight and Mr Drawlight’s dear friend, Mr Lascelles.

On days when Mr Norrell did not dine abroad Mr Drawlight took his mutton at Mr Norrell’s house in Hanover-square — which Mr Norrell imagined Mr Drawlight must be very glad to do, for Childermass had told him that Mr Drawlight had scarcely any money. Childermass said that Drawlight lived upon his wits and his debts; none of his great friends had ever been invited to visit him at home, because home was a lodging above a shoemaker’s in Little Ryder-street.

Like every new house, the house in Hanover-square — which had seemed perfection at first — was soon discovered to be in need of every sort of improvement. Naturally, Mr Norrell was impatient to have it all accomplished as soon as possible, but when he appealed to Drawlight to agree with him that the London workmen were extraordinarily slow, Drawlight took the opportunity to ascertain all Mr Norrell’s plans for colours, wallpapers, carpets, furniture and ornaments, and to find fault with all of them. They argued the point for a quarter of an hour and then Mr Drawlight ordered Mr Norrell’s carriage to be got ready and directed Davey to take him and Mr Norrell straight to Mr Ackermann’s shop in the Strand. There Mr Drawlight shewed Mr Norrell a book which contained a picture by Mr Repton of an empty, old-fashioned parlour, where a stony-faced old person from the time of Queen Elizabeth stared out of a painting on the wall and the empty chairs all gaped at each other like guests at a party who discover they have nothing to say to one another. But on the next page, ah! what changes had been wrought by the noble arts of joinery, paper-hanging and upholstery! Here was a picture of the same parlour, new-furnished and improved beyond all recognition! A dozen or so fashionably-dressed ladies and gentlemen had been enticed into the smart new apartment by the prospect of refreshing their spirits by reclining in elegant postures upon the chairs, or walking in the vine-clad conservatory which had mysteriously appeared on the other side of a pair of French windows. The moral, as Mr Drawlight explained it, was that if Mr Norrell hoped to win friends for the cause of modern magic, he must insert a great many more French windows into his house.

Under Mr Drawlight’s tutelage Mr Norrell learnt to prefer picture-gallery reds to the respectable dull greens of his youth. In the interests of modern magic, the honest materials of Mr Norrell’s house were dressed up with paint and varnish, and made to represent things they were not — like actors upon a stage. Plaster was painted to resemble wood, and wood was painted to resemble different sorts of wood. By the time it came to select the appointments for the dining-parlour, Mr Norrell’s confidence in Drawlight’s taste was so complete that Drawlight was commissioned to chuse the dinner-service without reference to any one else.

“You will not regret it, my dear sir!” cried Drawlight, “for three weeks ago I chose a set for the Duchess of B—— and she declared the moment she saw it that she never in her life saw anything half so charming!”

On a bright May morning Mr Norrell was seated in a drawing-room in Wimpole-street at the house of a Mrs Littleworth. Among the people gathered there were Mr Drawlight and Mr Lascelles. Mr Lascelles was exceedingly fond of Mr Norrell’s society, indeed he came second only to Mr Drawlight in this respect, but his reasons for courting Mr Norrell’s notice were quite different. Mr Lascelles was a clever, cynical man who thought it the most ridiculous thing in the world that a scholarly old gentleman should have talked himself into the belief that he could perform magic. Consequently, Mr Lascelles took great pleasure in asking Mr Norrell questions about magic whenever the opportunity arose so that he might amuse himself with the answers.

"And how do you like London, sir?” he asked.

"Not at all,” said Mr Norrell.

“I am sorry to hear it,” said Mr Lascelles. “Have you discovered any brother-magicians to talk to?”

Mr Norrell frowned and said he did not believe there were any magicians in London, or if so, then all his researches had not been able to uncover them.

“Ah, sir!” cried Mr Drawlight. “There you are mistaken! You have been most abominably misinformed! We have magicians in London — Oh! forty at least. Lascelles, would not you agree that we have hundreds of magicians in London? One may see them upon practically every street corner. Mr Lascelles and I will be very happy to make you acquainted with them. They have a sort of king whom they call Vinculus — a tall, ragged scarecrow of a man who has a little booth just outside St Christopher Le Stocks, all splashed with mud, with a dirty yellow curtain and, if you give him two pennies, he will prophesy.”