Jonathan Strange And Mr Norrell Part 42

Volume III

JOHN USKGLa.s.s.

It is the contention of Mr Norrell of Hanover-square that everything belonging to John Uskgla.s.s must be shaken out of modern magic, as one would shake moths and dust out of an old coat. What does he imagine he will have left? If you get rid of John Uskgla.s.s you will be left holding the empty air.

Jonathan Strange, Prologue to The History and Practice of English Magic The History and Practice of English Magic, pub. John Murray, London, 1816

45.

Prologue to The History and Practice of English Magic by Jonathan Strange.

IN THE LAST months of 1110 a strange army appeared in Northern England. It was first heard of near a place called Penlaw some twenty or thirty miles north-west of Newcastle. No one could say where it had come from it was generally supposed to be an invasion of Scots or Danes or perhaps even of French.

By early December the army had taken Newcastle and Durham and was riding west. It came to Allendale, a small stone settlement that stands high among the hills of Northumbria, and camped one night on the edge of a moor outside the town. The people of Allendale were sheep-farmers, not soldiers. The town had no walls to protect it and the nearest soldiers were thirty-five miles away, preparing to defend the castle of Carlisle. Consequently, the townspeople thought it best to lose no time in making friends with the strange army. With this aim in mind several pretty young women set off, a company of brave Judiths determined to save themselves and their neighbours if they could. But when they arrived at the place where the army had their camp the women became fearful and hung back.

The camp was a dreary, silent place. A thick snow was falling and the strange soldiers lay, wrapped in their black cloaks, upon the snowy ground. At first the young women thought the soldiers must be dead an impression which was strengthened by the great mult.i.tude of ravens and other black birds which had settled over the camp, and indeed upon the prostrate forms of the soldiers themselves yet the soldiers were not dead; from time to time one would stir himself and go attend to his horse, or brush a bird away if it tried to peck at his face.

At the approach of the young women a soldier got to his feet. One of the women shook off her fears and went up to him and kissed him on the mouth.

His skin was very pale (it shone like moonlight) and entirely without blemish. His hair was long and straight like a fall of dark brown water. The bones of his face were unnaturally fine and strong. The expression of the face was solemn. His blue eyes were long and slanting and his brows were as fine and dark as penstrokes with a curious flourish at the end. None of this worried the girl in the least. For all she knew every Dane, Scot and Frenchman ever born is eerily beautiful.

He took well enough to the kiss and allowed her to kiss him again. Then he paid her back in kind. Another soldier rose from the ground and opened his mouth. Out of it came a sad, wailing sort of music. The first soldier the one the girl had kissed began to coax her to dance with him, pushing her this way and that with his long white fingers until she was dancing in a fashion to suit him.

This went on for some time until she became heated with the dance and paused for a moment to take off her cloak. Then her companions saw that drops of blood, like beads of sweat, were forming on her arms, face and legs, and falling on to the snow. This sight terrified them and so they ran away.

The strange army never entered Allendale. It rode on in the night towards Carlisle. The next day the townspeople went cautiously up to the fields where the army had camped. There they found the girl, her body entirely white and drained of blood while the snow around her was stained bright red.

By these signs they recognized the Daoine Sidhe Daoine Sidhe the Fairy Host. the Fairy Host.

Battles were fought and the English lost every one. By Christmas the Fairy Host was at York. They held Newcastle, Durham, Carlisle and Lancaster. Aside from the exsanguination of the maid of Allendale the fairies displayed very little of the cruelty for which their race is famed. Of all the towns and fortifications which they took, only Lancaster was burnt to the ground. At Thirsk, north of York, a pig offended a member of the Host by running out under the feet of his horse and causing it to rear up and fall and break its back. The fairy and his companions hunted the pig and when they had caught it they put its eyes out. Generally, however, the arrival of the Host at any new place was a cause of great rejoicing among animals both wild and domesticated as if they recognized in the fairies an ally against their common foe, Man.

At Christmas, King Henry summoned his earls, bishops, abbots and the great men of his realm to his house in Westminster to discuss the matter. Fairies were not unknown in England in those days. There were long-established fairy settlements in many places, some hidden by magic, some merely avoided by their Christian neighbours. King Henry's counsellors agreed that fairies were naturally wicked. They were lascivious, mendacious and thieving; they seduced young men and women, confused travellers, and stole children, cattle and corn. They were astonishingly indolent: they had mastered the arts of masonry, carpentry and carving thousands of years ago but, rather than take the trouble to build themselves houses, most still preferred to live in places which they were pleased to call castles but which were in fact brugh brugh earth barrows of great antiquity. They spent their days drinking and dancing while their barley and beans rotted in the fields, and their beasts shivered and died on the cold hillside. Indeed, all King Henry's advisers agreed that, had it not been for their extraordinary magic and near immortality, the entire fairy race would have long since perished from hunger and thirst. Yet this f.e.c.kless, improvident people had invaded a well-defended Christian kingdom, won every battle they had fought and had ridden from place to place securing each stronghold as they came to it. All this spoke of a measure of purposefulness which no fairy had ever been known to possess. earth barrows of great antiquity. They spent their days drinking and dancing while their barley and beans rotted in the fields, and their beasts shivered and died on the cold hillside. Indeed, all King Henry's advisers agreed that, had it not been for their extraordinary magic and near immortality, the entire fairy race would have long since perished from hunger and thirst. Yet this f.e.c.kless, improvident people had invaded a well-defended Christian kingdom, won every battle they had fought and had ridden from place to place securing each stronghold as they came to it. All this spoke of a measure of purposefulness which no fairy had ever been known to possess.

No one knew what to make of it.

In January the Fairy Host left York and rode south. At the Trent they halted. So it was at Newark on the banks of the Trent that King Henry and his army met the Daoine Sidhe Daoine Sidhe in battle. in battle.

Before the battle a magic wind blew through the ranks of King Henry's army and a sweet sound of pipe music was heard, which caused a great number of the horses to break free and flee to the fairy side, many taking their unlucky riders with them. Next, every man heard the voices of his lovedones-mothers, fathers, children, lovers call out to him to come home. A host of ravens descended from the sky, pecking at the faces of the English and blinding them with a chaos of black wings. The English soldiers not only had the skill and ferocity of the Sidhe Sidhe to contend with, but also their own fear in the face of sucheeriemagic. It is scarcely to be wondered at that the battle was short and that King Henry lost. At the moment when all fell silent and it became clear beyond any doubt that King Henry had been defeated the birds for miles around began singing as if for joy. to contend with, but also their own fear in the face of sucheeriemagic. It is scarcely to be wondered at that the battle was short and that King Henry lost. At the moment when all fell silent and it became clear beyond any doubt that King Henry had been defeated the birds for miles around began singing as if for joy.

The King and his counsellors waited for some chieftain or king to step forward. The ranks of the Daoine Sidhe Daoine Sidhe parted and someone appeared. parted and someone appeared.

He was rather less than fifteen years old. Like the Daoine Sidhe Daoine Sidhe he was dressed in ragged clothes of coa.r.s.e black wool. Like them his dark hair was long and straight. Like them, he spoke neither English nor French the two languages current in England at that time but only a dialect of Faerie. he was dressed in ragged clothes of coa.r.s.e black wool. Like them his dark hair was long and straight. Like them, he spoke neither English nor French the two languages current in England at that time but only a dialect of Faerie.1 He was pale and handsome and solemn-faced, yet it was clear to everyone present that he was human, not fairy. He was pale and handsome and solemn-faced, yet it was clear to everyone present that he was human, not fairy.

By the standards of the Norman and English earls and knights, who saw him that day for the first time, he was scarcely civilized. He had never seen a spoon before, nor a chair, nor an iron kettle, nor a silver penny, nor a wax candle. No fairy clan or kingdom of the period possessed any such fine things. When King Henry and the boy met to divide England between them, Henry sat upon a wooden bench and drank wine from a silver goblet, the boy sat upon the floor and drank ewe's milk from a stone cup. The chronicler, Orderic Vitalis, writing some thirty years later, describes the shock felt by King Henry's court when they saw, in the midst of all these important proceedings, a Daoine Sidhe Daoine Sidhe warrior lean across and begin solicitously plucking lice out of the boy's filthy hair. warrior lean across and begin solicitously plucking lice out of the boy's filthy hair.

There was among the Fairy Host a young Norman knight called Thomas of Dundale.2Though he had been a captive in Faerie for many years he remembered enough of his own language (French) to make the boy and King Henry understand each other.

King Henry asked the boy his name.

The boy replied that he had none.3 King Henry asked him why he made war on England.

The boy said that he was the only surviving member of an aristocratic Norman family who had been granted lands in the north of England by King Henry's father, William the Conqueror. The men of the family had been deprived of their lands and their lives by a wicked enemy named Hubert de Cotentin. The boy said that some years before his father had appealed to William II (King Henry's brother and predecessor) for justice, but had received none. Shortly afterwards his father had been murdered. The boy said that he himself had been taken by Hubert's men while still a baby and abandoned in the forest. But the Daoine Sidhe Daoine Sidhe had found him and taken him to live with them in Faerie. Now he had returned. had found him and taken him to live with them in Faerie. Now he had returned.

He had a very young man's belief in the absolute rightness of his own cause and the absolute wrongness of everyone else's. He had settled it in his own mind that the stretch of England which lay between the Tweed and the Trent was a just recompense for the failure of the Norman kings to avenge the murders of his family. For this reason and no other King Henry was suffered to retain the southern half of his kingdom.

The boy said that he was already a king in Faerie. He named the fairy king who was his overlord. No one understood.4 That day he began his unbroken reign of more than three hundred years. That day he began his unbroken reign of more than three hundred years.

At the age of fourteen he had already created the system of magic that we employ today. Or rather that we would employ if we could; most of what he knew we have forgotten. His was a perfect blending of fairy magic and human organization their powers were wedded to his own terrifying purposefulness. There is no reason that we know of to explain why one stolen Christian child should suddenly emerge the greatest magician of any age. Other children, both before and since, have been held captive in the borderlands of Faerie, but none other ever profited from the experience in the way he did. By comparison with his achieve- ments all our efforts seem trivial, insignificant.

It is the contention of Mr Norrell of Hanover-square that everything belonging to John Uskgla.s.s must be shaken out of modern magic, as one would shake moths and dust out of an old coat. What does he imagine he will have left? If you get rid of John Uskgla.s.s you will be left holding the empty air.

From The History and Practice of English Magic The History and Practice of English Magic, volume I, by Jonathan Strange, published by John Murray, 1816 1 No one in England nowadays knows this language and all we have left of it is a handful of borrowed words describing various obscure magical techniques. Martin Pale wrote in De Tractatu Magicarum Linguarum De Tractatu Magicarum Linguarum that it was related to the ancient Celtic languages. that it was related to the ancient Celtic languages.

2 Variously Thomas de Dundelle or Thomas de Donvil. It seems that several of Henry's n.o.blemen recognized Thomas as the younger son of a powerful Norman magnate who had disappeared one Christmas fourteen years before. Given the circ.u.mstances of his return it is doubtful whether they felt particularly pleased to have him back.

3 When he was a child in Faerie the Sidhe Sidhe had called him a word in their own language which, we are told, meant "Starling", but he had already abandoned that name by the time he entered England. Later he took to calling himself by his father's name John d'Uskgla.s.s but in the early part of his reign he was known simply by one of the many t.i.tles his friends or enemies gave him: the King; the Raven King; the Black King; the King in the North. had called him a word in their own language which, we are told, meant "Starling", but he had already abandoned that name by the time he entered England. Later he took to calling himself by his father's name John d'Uskgla.s.s but in the early part of his reign he was known simply by one of the many t.i.tles his friends or enemies gave him: the King; the Raven King; the Black King; the King in the North.

4 The name of this Daoine Sidhe Daoine Sidhe King was particularly long and difficult. Traditionally he has always been known as Oberon. King was particularly long and difficult. Traditionally he has always been known as Oberon.

46.

"The sky spoke to me . . ."

January 1816

IT WAS A dark day. A chill wind blew snowflakes against the windows of Mr Norrell's library where Childerma.s.s sat writing business letters. Though it was only ten o'clock in the morning the candles were already lit. The only sounds were the coals being consumed in the grate and the scratch of Childerma.s.s's pen against the paper.

Hanover-square To Lord Sidmouth, the Home Secretary Jan. 8th, 1816. Jan. 8th, 1816.

My lord, Mr Norrell desires me to inform you that the spells to prevent flooding of the rivers in the County of Suffolk are now complete. The bill will be sent to Mr Wynne at the Treasury today . . .

Somewhere a bell was tolling, a mournful sound. It was very far away. Childerma.s.s barely noticed it and yet, under the influence of the bell, the room around him grew darker and lonelier.

. . . The magic will keep the waters within the confines of the rivers' customary courses. However Mr Leeves, the young engineer employed by the Lord Lieutenant of Suffolk to a.s.sess the strength of the present bridges and other structures adjacent to the rivers, has expressed some doubts . . .

The image of a dreary landscape was before him. He saw it very vividly as if it were somewhere he knew well or a painting that he had seen every day for years and years. A wide landscape of brown, empty fields and ruined buildings beneath a bleak, grey sky . . .

. . . whether the bridges over the Stour and the Orwell are capable of withstanding the more violent flow of water which will certainly ensue at times of heavy rains. Mr Leeves recommends an immediate and thorough examination of the bridges, mills and fords in Suffolk, beginning with the Stour and Orwell. I am told that he has already written to your lordship about this matter . . .

He was no longer merely thinking of the landscape. It seemed to him that he was actually there. He was standing in an old road, rutted and ancient, that wound up a black hill towards the sky where a great flock of black birds was gathering . . .

. . . Mr Norrell has declined to put a period to the magic. It is his private opinion that it will last as long as the rivers themselves, however he begs leave to recommend to your lordship that the spells be re-examined in twenty years. On Tuesday next Mr Norrell will begin to put in place the same magic for the County of Norfolk . . .

The birds were like black letters against the grey of the sky. He thought that in a moment he would understand what the writing meant. The stones in the ancient road were symbols foretelling the traveller's journey.

Childerma.s.s came to himself with a start. The pen jerked from his hand and the ink splattered over the letter.

He looked around in confusion. He did not appear to be dreaming. All the old, familiar objects were there: the shelves of books, the mirror, the ink pot, the fire-irons, the porcelain figure of Martin Pale. But his confidence in his own senses was shaken. He no longer trusted that the books, the mirrors, the porcelain figure were really there. It was as if everything he could see was simply a skin that he could tear with one fingernail and find the cold, desolate landscape behind it.

The brown fields were partly flooded; they were strung with chains of chill, grey pools. The pattern of the pools had meaning. The pools had been written on to the fields by the rain. The pools were a magic worked by the rain, just as the tumbling of the black birds against the grey was a spell that the sky was working and the motion of grey-brown gra.s.ses was a spell that the wind made. Everything had meaning.

Childerma.s.s leapt up away from the desk and shook himself. He took a hurried turn around the room and rang the bell for the servant. But even as he waited the magic began to rea.s.sert itself. By the time Lucas appeared he was no longer certain if he were in Mr Norrell's library or standing upon an ancient road . . .

He shook his head violently and blinked several times. "Where is my master?" he said, "Something is wrong."

Lucas gazed at him in some concern. "Mr Childerma.s.s? Are you ill, sir?"

"Never mind that. Where is Mr Norrell?"

"He is at the Admiralty, sir. I thought you knew. The carriage came for him over an hour ago. I dare say he will be back shortly."

"No," said Childerma.s.s, "that cannot be. He cannot have gone. Are you sure that he is not upstairs doing magic?"

"Quite sure, sir. I saw the carriage leave with the master inside it. Let me send Matthew for a physician, Mr Childerma.s.s. You look very ill."

Childerma.s.s opened his mouth to protest that he was not ill at all, but just at that moment . . .

. . . the sky looked at him. He felt the earth shrug because it felt him upon its back.

The sky spoke to him.

It was a language he had never heard before. He was not even certain there were words. Perhaps it only spoke to him in the black writing the birds made. He was small and unprotected and there was no escape. He was caught between earth and sky as if cupped between two hands. They could crush him if they chose.

The sky spoke to him again.

"I do not understand," he said.

He blinked and found that Lucas was bending over him. His breath was coming in gasps. He put out his hand and his hand brushed something at his side. He turned to look at it and was puzzled to discover that it was a chair-leg. He was lying on the floor. "What . . . ?" he asked.

"You are in the library, sir," said Lucas. "I think you fainted."

"Help me up. I need to talk to Norrell."

"But I told you already, sir . . ."

"No," said Childerma.s.s. "You are wrong. He must be here. He must be. Take me upstairs."

Lucas helped him up and out of the room, but when they reached the stairs he very nearly collapsed again. So Lucas called for Matthew, the other footman, and together they half-supported, half-carried Childerma.s.s to the little study upon the second floor where Mr Norrell performed his most private magic.

Lucas opened the door. Inside, a fire was burning in the grate. Pens, pen-knives, pen-holders and pencils were placed neatly in a little tray. The inkwell was filled and the silver cap placed on it. Books and notebooks stood stacked neatly or tidied away. Everything was dusted and polished and in perfect order. Clearly Mr Norrell had not been there that morning.

Childerma.s.s pushed the footmen away from him. He stood and gazed at the room in some perplexity.

"You see, sir?" said Lucas. "It is just as I told you. The master is at the Admiralty."

"Yes," said Childerma.s.s.

But it made no sense to him. If the eerie magic was not Norrell's, then whose could it be? "Has Strange been here?" he asked.

"No, indeed!" Lucas was indignant. "I hope I know my duties better than to let Mr Strange in the house. You still look queer, sir. Let me send for a physician."

"No, no. I am better. I am a great deal better. Here, help me to a chair." Childerma.s.s collapsed into a chair with a sigh. "What in G.o.d's name are you both staring at?" He waved them both away. "Matthew, have you no work to do? Lucas, fetch me a gla.s.s of water!"

He was still dazed and dizzy, but the sick feeling in his stomach had lessened. He could picture the landscape in every detail. The image of it was fixed in his head. He could taste its desolation, its otherworldliness, but he no longer felt in danger of losing himself in it. He could think.