Jonathan Strange And Mr Norrell Part 38

Starecross Late September-December 1815 FORTUNE, IT SEEMED, could not be persuaded to smile upon Mr Segundus. He had come to live in York with the aim of enjoying the society and conversation of the city's many magicians. But no sooner had he got there than all the other magicians were deprived of their profession by Mr Norrell, and he was left alone. His little stock of money had dwindled considerably and in the autumn of 1815 he was forced to seek employment.

"And it is not to be supposed," he remarked to Mr Honeyfoot with a sigh, "that I shall be able to earn very much. What am I qualified to do?"

Mr Honeyfoot could not allow this. "Write to Mr Strange!" he advised. "He may be in need of a secretary."

Nothing would have pleased Mr Segundus better than to work for Jonathan Strange, but his natural modesty would not allow him to propose it. It would be a shocking thing to put himself forward in such a way. Mr Strange might be embarra.s.sed to know how to answer him. It might even look as if he, John Segundus, considered himself Mr Strange's equal!

Mr and Mrs Honeyfoot a.s.sured him that if Mr Strange did not like the idea he would very soon say so and so there could be no possible harm in asking him. But upon this point Mr Segundus proved unpersuadable.

Their next proposal, however, pleased him better. "Why not see if there are any little boys in the town who wish to learn magic?" asked Mrs Honeyfoot. Her grandsons stout little fellows of five and seven were just now of an age to begin their education and so the subject rather occupied her mind.

So Mr Segundus became a tutor in magic. As well as little boys, he also discovered some young ladies whose studies would have more usually been confined to French, German and music, but who were now anxious to be instructed in theoretical magic. Soon he was asked to give lessons to the young ladies' older brothers, many of whom began to picture themselves as magicians. To young men of a studious turn of mind, who did not desire to go into the Church or the Law, magic was very appealing, particularly since Strange had triumphed on the battlefields of Europe. It is, after all, many centuries since clergymen distinguished themselves on the field of war, and lawyers never have.

In the early autumn of 1815 Mr Segundus was engaged by the father of one of his pupils upon an errand. This gentleman, whose name was Palmer, had heard of a house in the north of the county that was being sold. Mr Palmer did not wish to buy the house, but a friend had told him that there was a library there worth examining. Mr Palmer was not at leisure just then to go and see for himself. Though he trusted his servants in many other matters, their talents did not quite run to scholarship, so he asked Mr Segundus to go in his place, to find out how many books there were and what their condition might be and whether they were worth purchasing.

Starecross Hall was the princ.i.p.al building in a village which otherwise comprised a handful of stone cottages and farmhouses. Starecross itself stood in a most isolated spot, surrounded on all sides by brown, empty moors. Tall trees sheltered it from storms and winds yet at the same time they made it dark and solemn. The village was amply provided with tumbledown stone walls and tumbledown stone barns. It was very quiet; it felt like the end of the world.

There was a very ancient and worn-looking packhorse bridge that crossed a deep beck of fast-running water. Bright yellow leaves flowed swiftly upon the dark, almost-black water, making patterns as they went. To Mr Segundus the patterns looked a little like magical writing. "But then," he thought, "so many things do."

The house itself was a long, low, rambling building, constructed of the same dark stone as the rest of the village. Its neglected gardens, garths and courts were filled with deep drifts of autumn leaves. It was hard to know who would wish to buy such a house. It was much too large for a farmhouse, yet altogether too gloomy and remote for a gentleman's residence. It might have done for a parsonage except that there was no church. It might have done for an inn, except that the old pack-road that had once pa.s.sed through the village had fallen into disuse and the bridge was all that remained of it.

No one came in answer to Mr Segundus's knock. He observed that the front door was ajar. It seemed rather impertinent simply to go inside, but after four or five minutes of fruitless knocking he did so.

Houses, like people, are apt to become rather eccentric if left too much on their own; this house was the architectural equivalent of an old gentleman in a worn dressing-gown and torn slippers, who got up and went to bed at odd times of day, and who kept up a continual conversation with friends no one else could see. As Mr Segundus wandered about in search of whoever was in charge, he found a room which contained nothing but china cheese-moulds, all stacked one upon another. Another room had heaps of queer red clothes, the like of which he had never seen before something between labourers' smocks and clergymen's robes. The kitchen had very few of those articles that usually belong to kitchens, but it did have the skull of an alligator in a gla.s.s case; the skull had a great grin and seemed very pleased with itself, though Mr Segundus did not know why it should be. There was one room that could only be reached by a queer arrangement of steps and staircases, where the pictures all seemed to have been chosen by someone with an inordinate love of fighting; there were pictures of men fighting, boys fighting, c.o.c.ks fighting, bulls fighting, dogs fighting, centaurs fighting and even a startling depiction of two beetles locked in combat. Another room was almost empty except for a doll's house standing on a table in the middle of the floor; the doll's house was an exact copy of the real house except that inside the doll's house a number of smartly dressed dolls were enjoying a peaceful and rational existence together: making doll-sized cakes and loaves of bread, entertaining their friends with a diminutive harpsichord, playing casino with tiny cards, educating miniature children, and dining upon roast turkeys the size of Mr Segundus's thumbnail. It formed a strange contrast with the bleak, echoing reality.

He seemed to have looked in every room, but he still had not found the library and he still had not found any people. He came to a small door half-hidden by a staircase. Behind it was a tiny room scarcely more than a closet. A man in a dirty white coat with his boots propped up on the table was drinking brandy and staring at the ceiling. After a little persuasion this person agreed to shew him where the library was.

The first ten books Mr Segundus looked at were worthless books of sermons and moralizing from the last century, or descriptions of persons whom no one living cared about. The next fifty were very much the same. He began to think his task would soon be done. But then he stumbled upon some very interesting and unusual works of geology, philosophy and medicine. He began to feel more sanguine.

He worked steadily for two or three hours. Once he thought he heard a carriage arrive at the house, but he paid it no attention. At the end of that time he was suddenly aware that he was extremely hungry. He had no idea whether any arrangements had been made for his dinner or not, and the house was a long way from the nearest inn. He went off in search of the negligent man in the tiny room to ask him what could be done. In the labyrinth of rooms and corridors he was lost immediately. He wandered about opening every door, feeling more and more hungry, and more and more out of temper with the negligent man.

He found himself in an old-fashioned parlour with dark oak panelling and a mantelpiece the size of a young triumphal arch. Directly before him a lovely young woman was sitting in a deep window-seat, gazing out at the trees and the high, bare hills beyond. He had just time enough to notice that her left hand lacked a little finger, when suddenly she was not there at all or perhaps it was more accurate to say she changed. In her place was a much older, stouter woman, a woman about Mr Segundus's own age, dressed in a violet silk gown, with an Indian shawl about her shoulders and a little dog in her lap. This lady sat in exactly the same att.i.tude as the other, gazing out of the window with the same wistful expression.

All these details took but a moment to apprehend, yet the impression made upon Mr Segundus by the two ladies was unusually vivid almost supernaturally so like images in a delirium. A queer shock thrilled through his whole being, his senses were overwhelmed and he fainted away.

When he came to himself he was lying on the floor and two ladies were leaning over him, with exclamations of dismay and concern. Despite his confusion he quickly comprehended that neither lady was the beautiful young woman with the missing finger whom he had seen first. One was the lady with the little dog whom he had seen second second, and the other was a thin, fair-haired, equally mature lady of unremarkable face and figure. It appeared that she had been in the room all along, but she had been seated behind behind the door and so he had not observed her. the door and so he had not observed her.

The two ladies would not permit him to stand up or attempt any movement of his limbs. They would scarcely allow him to speak; they warned him sternly it would bring on another fainting fit. They fetched cushions for his head, and blankets to keep him warm (he protested he was perfectly warm to begin with, but they would not listen to him). They dispensed lavender water and sal volatile sal volatile. They stopt a draught they thought might be coming from under one of the doors. Mr Segundus began to suspect that they had had an uneventful morning, and that when a strange gentleman had walked into the room and dropt down in a swoon, they were rather pleased than otherwise.

After quarter of an hour of this treatment he was permitted to sit in a chair and sip weak tea unaided.

"The fault is entirely mine," said the lady with the little dog. "Fellowes told me that the gentleman had come from York to see the books. I ought to have made myself known to you before. It was too great a shock coming upon us like that!"

The name of this lady was Mrs Lennox. The other was Mrs Blake, her companion. They generally resided in Bath and they had come to Starecross so that Mrs Lennox might see the house one more time before it was sold.

"Foolish, is it not?" said Mrs Lennox to Mr Segundus. "The house has stood vacant for years and years. I ought to have sold it long ago, but when I was a child I spent several summers here which were particularly happy."

"You are still very pale, sir," offered Mrs Blake. "Have you eaten any thing today?"

Mr Segundus confessed that he was very hungry.

"Did not Fellowes offer to fetch your dinner?" asked Mrs Lennox in surprize.

Fellowes was presumably the negligent servant in the tiny room. Mr Segundus did not like to say that he had barely been able to rouse Fellowes to speak to him.

Fortunately, Mrs Lennox and Mrs Blake had brought an ample dinner with them and Fellowes was, at that moment, preparing it. Half an hour later the two ladies and Mr Segundus sat down to dine in an oak-panelled room with a melancholy view of autumn trees. The only slight inconvenience was that the two ladies wished Mr Segundus, in his invalid character, to eat light, easily digestible foods, whereas in truth he was very hungry and wanted fried beefsteaks and hot pudding.

The two ladies were glad of a companion and asked him a great many questions about himself. They were most interested to learn that he was a magician; they had never met one before.

"And have you found any magical texts in my library?" asked Mrs Lennox.

"None, madam," said Mr Segundus. "But magical books, valuable ones, are very rare indeed. I would have been most surprized to find any."

"Now that I think of it," mused Mrs Lennox, "I believe there were a few. But I sold them all years ago to a gentleman who lived near York. Just between ourselves I thought him a little foolish to pay me such a great sum for books no one wanted. But perhaps he was wise after all."

Mr Segundus knew that "the gentleman who lived near York" had probably not paid Mrs Lennox one quarter the proper value of the books, but it does no good to say such things out loud and so he smiled politely, and kept his reflections to himself.

He told them about his pupils, both male and female, and how clever they were and how eager to learn.

"And since you encourage them with such praise," said Mrs Blake, kindly, "they are sure to fare better under your tutelage than they would with any other master."

"Oh! I do not know about that," said Mr Segundus.

"I had not quite understood before," said Mrs Lennox, with a thoughtful air, "how universally popular the study of magic has become. I had thought that it was confined to those two men in London. What are their names? Presumably, Mr Segundus, the next step is a school for magicians? Doubtless that is where you will direct your energies?"

"A school!" said Mr Segundus. "Oh! But that would require well, I do not know what exactly but a great deal of money and a house."

"Perhaps there would be difficulty in acquiring pupils?" said Mrs Lennox.

"No, indeed! I can think of four young men immediately."

"And if you were to advertise . . ."

"Oh! But I would never do that!" said Mr Segundus, rather shocked. "Magic is the n.o.blest profession in the world well, the second n.o.blest perhaps, after the Church. One ought not to soil it with commercial practices. No, I would only take young men upon private recommendation."

"Then all that remains is for someone to find you a little money and a house. Nothing could be easier. But I dare say your friend, Mr Honeyfoot, of whom you speak with such regard, would wish to lend you the money. I dare say he would want to claim that honour for his own."

"Oh, no! Mr Honeyfoot has three daughters the dearest girls in the world. One of them is married and another is engaged and the third cannot make up her mind. No, Mr Honeyfoot must think of his family. His money is quite tied up."

"Then I can tell you my hope with a clear conscience! Why should I not lend you the money?"

Mr Segundus was all amazement and for several moments quite at a loss for an answer. "You are very kind, madam!" he stammered at last.

Mrs Lennox smiled. "No, sir. I am not. If magic is as popular as you say and I shall, of course, ascertain the opinion of other people upon this point then I believe the profits will be handsome."

"But my experience of business is woefully small," said Mr Segundus. "I should fear to make a mistake and lose you your money. No, you are very kind and I thank you with all my heart, but I must decline."

"Well, if you dislike the notion of becoming a borrower of money and I know it does not suit everyone then that is easily solved. The school shall be mine mine alone. I will bear the expence and the risk. You will be master of the school and our names will appear upon the prospectus together. After all, what better purpose for this house could there be than as a school for magicians? As a residence it has many drawbacks, but its advantages as a school are considerable. It is a very isolated situation. There is no shooting to speak of. There would be little opportunity for the young men to gamble or hunt. Their pleasures will be quite restricted and so they will apply themselves to their studies."

"I would not chuse young men who gamble!" said Mr Segundus, rather shocked.

She smiled again. "I do not believe you have ever given your friends a moment's anxiety except for worrying that this wicked world would quickly take advantage of someone so honest."

After dinner Mr Segundus dutifully returned to the library and in the early evening he took his leave of the two ladies. They parted in a most friendly manner and with a promise on Mrs Lennox's side that she would soon invite him to Bath.

On the way back he gave himself stern warnings not to place any reliance on these wonderful plans for Future Usefulness and Happiness, but he could not help indulging in ideal pictures of teaching the young men and of their extraordinary progress; of Jonathan Strange coming to visit the school; of his pupils being delighted to discover that their master was a friend and intimate of the most famous magician of the Modern Age; of Strange saying to him, "It is all excellent, Segundus. I could not be better pleased. Well done!"

It was after midnight when he got home, and it took all his resolve not to run to Mr Honeyfoot's house immediately to tell them the news. But the following morning when he arrived at the house at a very early hour, their raptures were scarcely to be described. They were full of the happiness he had hardly dare allow himself to feel. Mrs Honeyfoot still had a great deal of the schoolgirl in her and she caught up her husband's hands and danced around the breakfast-table with him as the only possible means of expressing what she felt. Then she took Mr Segundus's hands and danced around the table with him him, and when both magicians protested against any more dancing, she continued by herself. Mr Segundus's only regret (and it was a very slight one) was that Mr and Mrs Honeyfoot did not feel the surprize surprize of the thing quite as he intended they should; their opinion of him was so high that they found nothing particularly remarkable in great ladies wishing to establish schools solely for his benefit. of the thing quite as he intended they should; their opinion of him was so high that they found nothing particularly remarkable in great ladies wishing to establish schools solely for his benefit.

"She may consider herself very lucky to have found you!" declared Mr Honeyfoot. "For who is better fitted to direct a school for magicians? No one!"

"And after all," reasoned Mrs Honeyfoot, "what else has she to do with her money? Poor, childless lady!"

Mr Honeyfoot was convinced that Mr Segundus's fortune was now made. His sanguine temper would not permit him to expect less. Yet he had not lived so long in the world without acquiring some sober habits of business and he told Mr Segundus that they would make some inquiries about Mrs Lennox, who she was and whether she was as rich as she seemed.

They wrote to a friend of Mr Honeyfoot's who lived in Bath. Fortunately Mrs Lennox was well known as a great lady, even in Bath, a city beloved by the rich and the elevated. She had been born rich and married an even richer husband. This husband had died young and not much regretted, leaving her at liberty to indulge her active temperament and clever mind. She had in- creased her fortune with good investments and careful management of her lands and estates. She was famed for her bold, decisive temper, her many charitable activities and the warmth of her friendship. She had houses in every part of the kingdom, but resided chiefly at Bath with Mrs Blake.

Meanwhile Mrs Lennox had been asking the same sort of questions about Mr Segundus, and she must have been pleased with the answers because she soon invited him up to Bath where every detail of the projected school was quickly decided.

The next months were spent in repairing and fitting up Starecross Hall. The roof leaked, two chimneys were blocked and part of the kitchen had actually fallen down. Mr Segundus was shocked to discover how much everything would cost. He calculated that if he did not clear the second chimney, made do with old country settles and wooden chairs instead of buying new furniture, and confined the number of servants to three, he could save 60. His letter to this effect produced an immediate reply from Mrs Lennox; she informed him he was not spending enough. His pupils would all be from good families; they would expect good fires and comfort. She advised him to engage nine servants, in addition to a butler and a French cook. He must completely refurnish the house and purchase a cellar of good French wines. The cutlery, she said, must all be silver and the dining-service Wedgwood.

In early December Mr Segundus received a letter of congratulation from Jonathan Strange, who promised to visit the school the following spring. But in spite of everyone's good wishes and everyone's endeavours, Mr Segundus could not get rid of the feeling that the school would never actually come into being; something would occur to prevent it. This idea was constantly at the back of his thoughts, do what he would to suppress it.

One morning around the middle of December he arrived at the Hall and found a man seated, quite at his ease, upon the steps. Though he did not believe he had ever seen the man before, he knew him instantly: he was Bad Fortune personified; he was the Ruin of Mr Segundus's Hopes and Dreams. The man was dressed in a black coat of an old-fashioned cut, as worn and shabby as Mr Segundus's own, and he had mud on his boots. With his long, ragged dark hair he looked like the portent of doom in a bad play.

"Mr Segundus, you cannot do this!" he said in a Yorkshire accent.

"I beg your pardon?" said Mr Segundus.

"The school, sir. You must give up this notion of a school!"

"What?" cried Mr Segundus, bravely pretending that he did not know the man spoke an inevitable truth.

"Now, sir," continued the dark man, "you know me and you know that when I say a thing is so, that thing will be so however much you and I might privately regret it."

"But you are quite mistaken," said Mr Segundus. "I do not know you. At least I do not believe I ever saw you before."

"I am John Childerma.s.s, Mr Norrell's servant. We last talked nine years ago, outside the Cathedral in York. When you confined yourself to a few pupils, Mr Segundus, I was able to turn a blind eye. I said nothing and Mr Norrell remained in ignorance of what you were doing. But a regular school for grown-up magicians, that is a different matter. You have been too ambitious, sir. He knows, Mr Segundus. He knows and it is his desire that you wind up the business immediately."

"But what has Mr Norrell or Mr Norrell's desires to do with me? I I did not sign the agreement. You should know that I am not alone in this undertaking. I have friends now." did not sign the agreement. You should know that I am not alone in this undertaking. I have friends now."

"That is true," said Childerma.s.s, mildly amused. "And Mrs Lennox is a very rich woman, and an excellent woman for business. But does she have the friendship of every Minister in the Cabinet like Mr Norrell? Does she have his influence? Remember the Society of Learned Magicians, Mr Segundus! Remember how he crushed them!"

Childerma.s.s waited a moment and then, since the conversation appeared to be at an end, he strode off in the direction of the stables.

Five minutes later he reappeared on a big, brown horse. Mr Segundus was standing, just as before, with his arms crossed, glaring at the paving-stones.

Childerma.s.s looked down at him. "I am sorry it ends like this, sir. Yet, surely all is not lost? This house is just as suited to another kind of school as it is for a magical one. You would not think it to look at me, but I am a very fine fellow with a wide acquaintance among great people. Chuse some other sort of school and the next time I hear that a lord or lady has need of such an establishment for their little lordlings, I will send them your way."

"I do not want another kind of school!" said Mr Segundus, peevishly.

Childerma.s.s smiled his sideways smile and rode away.

Mr Segundus travelled to Bath and informed his patroness of their dismal situation. She was full of indignation that some gentleman she had never even met should presume to instruct her in what she could and could not do. She wrote Mr Norrell an angry letter. She got no reply, but her bankers, lawyers and partners in other business ventures suddenly found themselves in receipt of odd letters from great people of their acquaintance, all complaining in an oblique fashion of Mr Segundus's school. One of the bankers an argumentative and obdurate old person was unwise enough to wonder publicly (in the lobby of the House of Commons) what a school for magicians in Yorkshire could possibly have to do with him. The result was that several ladies and gentlemen friends of Mr Norrell withdrew their patronage from his bank.

In Mrs Honeyfoot's drawing-room in York a few evenings later Mr Segundus sat with his head in his hands, lamenting. "It is as if some evil fortune is determined to torment me, holding out great prizes in front of me, only to s.n.a.t.c.h them away again."

Mrs Honeyfoot clucked sympathetically, patted his shoulder and offered the same d.a.m.ning censure of Mr Norrell with which she had consoled both Mr Segundus and Mr Honeyfoot for the past nine years: to wit, that Mr Norrell seemed a very odd gentleman, full of queer fancies, and that she would never understand him.

"Why not write to Mr Strange?" said Mr Honeyfoot, suddenly. "He will know what to do!"

Mr Segundus looked up. "Oh! I know that Mr Strange and Mr Norrell have parted, but still I should not like to be a cause of argument between them."

"Nonsense!" cried Mr Honeyfoot. "Have you not read the recent issues of The Modern Magician The Modern Magician? This is the very thing Strange wants! some principle of Norrellite magic that he can attack openly and so bring the whole edifice tumbling down. Believe me, he will consider himself obliged to you for the opportunity. You know, Segundus, the more I think of it, the more I like this plan!"

Mr Segundus thought so too. "Let me only consult Mrs Lennox and if she is in agreement, then I shall certainly do as you suggest!"

Mrs Lennox's ignorance concerning recent magical events was extensive. She knew very little of Jonathan Strange other than his name and that he had some vague connexion to the Duke of Wellington. But she was quick to a.s.sure Mr Segundus that if Mr Strange disliked Mr Norrell, then she was very much in his favour. So on the 20th December Mr Segundus sent Strange a letter informing him of Gilbert Norrell's actions in regard to the school at Starecross Hall.

Unfortunately, far from leaping to Mr Segundus's defence, Strange never even replied.

42.

Strange decides to write a book June-December 1815 IT MAY VERY easily be imagined with what pleasure Mr Norrell received the news that on his return to England Mr Strange had gone straight to Shropshire.

"And the best part of it is," Mr Norrell told Lascelles, "that in the country he is unlikely to publish any more of those mischievous articles upon the magic of the Raven King."

"No indeed, sir," said Lascelles, "for I very much doubt that he will have time to write them."

Mr Norrell took a moment to consider what this might mean.

"Oh! Have you not heard, sir?" continued Lascelles. "Strange is writing a book. He writes to his friends of nothing else. He began very suddenly about two weeks ago and is, by his own account, making very rapid progress. But then we all know with what ease Strange writes. He has sworn to put the entirety of English magic into his book. He told Sir Walter that he would be greatly astonished if he could cram it all into two volumes. He rather thinks that it will need three. It is to be called The History and Practice of English Magic The History and Practice of English Magic and Murray has promised to publish it when it is done." and Murray has promised to publish it when it is done."

There could scarcely have been worse news. Mr Norrell had always intended to write a book himself. He intended to call it Precepts for the Education of a Magician Precepts for the Education of a Magician and he had begun it when he had first become tutor to Mr Strange. His notes already filled two shelves of the little book-lined room on the second floor. Yet he had always spoken of his book as something for the distant future. He had a quite unreasonable terror of committing himself to paper which eight years of London adulation had not cured. All his volumes of private notes and histories and journals had yet to be seen by anyone (except, in a few instances, by Strange and Childerma.s.s). Mr Norrell could never believe himself ready to publish: he could never be sure that he had got at the truth; he did not believe he had thought long enough upon the matter; he did not know if it were a fit subject to place before the public. and he had begun it when he had first become tutor to Mr Strange. His notes already filled two shelves of the little book-lined room on the second floor. Yet he had always spoken of his book as something for the distant future. He had a quite unreasonable terror of committing himself to paper which eight years of London adulation had not cured. All his volumes of private notes and histories and journals had yet to be seen by anyone (except, in a few instances, by Strange and Childerma.s.s). Mr Norrell could never believe himself ready to publish: he could never be sure that he had got at the truth; he did not believe he had thought long enough upon the matter; he did not know if it were a fit subject to place before the public.

As soon as Mr Lascelles had gone, Mr Norrell called for a silver dish of clear water to be brought to him in his room on the second floor.