Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell (Paperback)

Chapter One

Autumn 1806-January 1807

Some years ago there was in the city of York a society of magicians.They met upon the third Wednesday of every month and read eachother long, dull papers upon the history of English magic.

They were gentleman-magicians, which is to say they had never harmedany one by magic - nor ever done any one the slightest good. In fact, to ownthe truth, not one of these magicians had ever cast the smallest spell, nor bymagic caused one leaf to tremble upon a tree, made one mote of dust to alterits course or changed a single hair upon any one''s head. But, with this oneminor reservation, they enjoyed a reputation as some of the wisest and mostmagical gentlemen in Yorkshire.

A great magician has said of his profession that its practitioners "... mustpound and rack their brains to make the least learning go in, but quarrellingalways comes very naturally to them," and the York magicians had provedthe truth of this for a number of years.

In the autumn of 1806 they received an addition in a gentleman calledJohn Segundus. At the first meeting that he attended Mr Segundus rose andaddressed the society. He began by complimenting the gentlemen upon theirdistinguished history; he listed the many celebrated magicians and historiansthat had at one time or another belonged to the York society. He hinted thatit had been no small inducement to him in coming to York to know of theexistence of such a society. Northern magicians, he reminded his audience,had always been better respected than southern ones. Mr Segundus said thathe had studied magic for many years and knew the histories of all the greatmagicians of long ago. He read the new publications upon the subject andhad even made a modest contribution to their number, but recently he hadbegun to wonder why the great feats of magic that he read about remained onthe pages of his book and were no longer seen in the street or written about inthe newspapers. Mr Segundus wished to know, he said, why modernmagicians were unable to work the magic they wrote about. In short, hewished to know why there was no more magic done in England.

It was the most commonplace question in the world. It was the questionwhich, sooner or later, every child in the kingdom asks his governess or hisschoolmaster or his parent. Yet the learned members of the York society didnot at all like hearing it asked and the reason was this: they were no more ableto answer it than any one else.

The President of the York society (whose name was Dr Foxcastle) turned toJohn Segundus and explained that the question was a wrong one. "Itpresupposes that magicians have some sort of duty to do magic - which isclearly nonsense. You would not, I imagine, suggest that it is the task ofbotanists to devise more flowers? Or that astronomers should labour to rearrangethe stars? Magicians, Mr Segundus, study magic which was donelong ago. Why should any one expect more?"

An elderly gentleman with faint blue eyes and faintly-coloured clothes (calledeither Hart or Hunt - Mr Segundus could never quite catch the name) faintlysaid that it did not matter in the least whether any body expected it or not. Agentleman could not do magic. Magic was what street sorcerers pretended to doin order to rob children of their pennies. Magic (in the practical sense) was muchfallen off. It had low connexions. It was the bosom companion of unshaven faces,gypsies, house-breakers; the frequenter of dingy rooms with dirty yellowcurtains. Oh no! A gentleman could not do magic. A gentleman might studythe history of magic (nothing could be nobler) but he could not do any. Theelderly gentleman looked with faint, fatherly eyes at Mr Segundus and said thathe hoped Mr Segundus had not been trying to cast spells.

Mr Segundus blushed.

But the famous magician''s maxim held true: two magicians - in this case DrFoxcastle and Mr Hunt or Hart - could not agree without two more thinkingthe exact opposite. Several of the gentlemen began to discover that they wereentirely of Mr Segundus''s opinion and that no question in all of magicalscholarship could be so important as this one. Chief among Mr Segundus''ssupporters was a gentleman called Honeyfoot, a pleasant, friendly sort of manof fifty-five, with a red face and grey hair. As the exchanges became morebitter and Dr Foxcastle grew in sarcasm towards Mr Segundus, Mr Honeyfootturned to him several times and whispered such comfort as, "Do not mindthem, sir. I am entirely of your opinion;" and "You are quite right, sir, do notlet them sway you;" and "You have hit upon it! Indeed you have, sir! It wasthe want of the right question which held us back before. Now that you arecome we shall do great things."

Such kind words as these did not fail to find a grateful listener in JohnSegundus, whose shock shewed clearly in his face. "I fear that I have mademyself disagreeable," he whispered to Mr Honeyfoot. "That was not myintention. I had hoped for these gentlemen''s good opinion."

At first Mr Segundus was inclined to be downcast but a particularly spitefuloutburst from Dr Foxcastle roused him to a little indignation. "That gentleman,"said Dr Foxcastle, fixing Mr Segundus with a cold stare, "seems determined thatwe should share in the unhappy fate of the Society of Manchester Magicians!"

Mr Segundus inclined his head towards Mr Honeyfoot and said, "I had notexpected to find the magicians of Yorkshire quite so obstinate. If magic doesnot have friends in Yorkshire where may we find them?"

Mr Honeyfoot''s kindness to Mr Segundus did not end with that evening.He invited Mr Segundus to his house in High-Petergate to eat a good dinnerin company with Mrs Honeyfoot and her three pretty daughters, which MrSegundus, who was a single gentleman and not rich, was glad to do. Afterdinner Miss Honeyfoot played the pianoforte and Miss Jane sang in Italian.The next day Mrs Honeyfoot told her husband that John Segundus wasexactly what a gentleman should be, but she feared he would never profit by itfor it was not the fashion to be modest and quiet and kind-hearted.

The intimacy between the two gentlemen advanced very rapidly. Soon MrSegundus was spending two or three evenings out of every seven at the housein High-Petergate. Once there was quite a crowd of young people presentwhich naturally led to dancing. It was all very delightful but often MrHoneyfoot and Mr Segundus would slip away to discuss the one thing whichreally interested both of them - why was there no more magic done inEngland? But talk as they would (often till two or three in the morning) theycame no nearer to an answer; and perhaps this was not so very remarkable,for all sorts of magicians and antiquarians and scholars had been asking thesame question for rather more than two hundred years.

Mr Honeyfoot was a tall, cheerful, smiling gentleman with a great deal ofenergy, who always liked to be doing or planning something, rarely thinkingto inquire whether that something were to the purpose. The present task puthim very much in mind of the great mediaeval magicians, who, wheneverthey had some seemingly impossible problem to solve, would ride away for ayear and a day with only a fairy-servant or two to guide them and at the end ofthis time never failed to find the answer. Mr Honeyfoot told Mr Segundus thatin his opinion they could not do better than emulate these great men, some ofwhom had gone to the most retired parts of England and Scotland and Ireland(where magic was strongest) while others had ridden out of this world entirelyand no one nowadays was quite clear about where they had gone or what theyhad done when they got there. Mr Honeyfoot did not propose going quite so far- indeed he did not wish to go far at all because it was winter and the roads werevery shocking. Nevertheless he was strongly persuaded that they should gosomewhere and consult someone. He told Mr Segundus that he thought they wereboth growing stale; the advantage of a fresh opinion would be immense. But nodestination, no object presented itself. Mr Honeyfoot was in despair: and thenhe thought of the other magician.

Some years before, the York society had heard rumours that there was anothermagician in Yorkshire. This gentleman lived in a very retired part of the countrywhere (it was said) he passed his days and nights studying rare magical texts in hiswonderful library. Dr Foxcastle had found out the other magician''s name andwhere he might be found, and had written a polite letter inviting the othermagician to become a member of the York society. The other magician hadwritten back, expressing his sense of the honour done him and his deep regret: hewas quite unable - the long distance between York and Hurtfew Abbey - theindifferent roads - the work that he could on no account neglect - etc., etc.

The York magicians had all looked over the letter and expressed theirdoubts that any body with such small handwriting could ever make atolerable magician. Then - with some slight regret for the wonderful librarythey would never see - they had dismissed the other magician from theirthoughts. But Mr Honeyfoot said to Mr Segundus that the importance of thequestion, "Why was there no more magic done in England?" was such that itwould be very wrong of them to neglect any opening. Who could say? - theother magician''s opinion might be worth having. And so he wrote a letterproposing that he and Mr Segundus give themselves the satisfaction ofwaiting on the other magician on the third Tuesday after Christmas at halfpast two. A reply came very promptly; Mr Honeyfoot with his customarygood nature and good fellowship immediately sent for Mr Segundus andshewed him the letter. The other magician wrote in his small handwritingthat he would be very happy in the acquaintance. This was enough. MrHoneyfoot was very well pleased and instantly strode off to tell Waters, thecoachman, when he would be needed.

Mr Segundus was left alone in the room with the letter in his hand. He read:"... I am, I confess, somewhat at a loss to account for the sudden honour doneto me. It is scarcely conceivable that the magicians of York with all thehappiness of each other''s society and the incalculable benefit of each other''swisdom should feel any necessity to consult a solitary scholar such as myself ..."

There was an air of subtle sarcasm about the letter; the writer seemed tomock Mr Honeyfoot with every word. Mr Segundus was glad to reflect thatMr Honeyfoot could scarcely have noticed or he would not have gone withsuch elated spirits to speak to Waters. It was such a very unfriendly letter thatMr Segundus found that all his desire to look upon the other magician hadquite evaporated. Well, no matter, he thought, I must go because MrHoneyfoot wishes it - and what, after all, is the worst that can happen?We will see him and be disappointed and that will be an end of it.

The day of the visit was preceded by stormy weather; rain had made longragged pools in the bare, brown fields; wet roofs were like cold stone mirrors;and Mr Honeyfoot''s post-chaise travelled through a world that seemed tocontain a much higher proportion of chill grey sky and a much smaller one ofsolid comfortable earth than was usually the case.

Ever since the first evening Mr Segundus had been intending to ask MrHoneyfoot about the Learned Society of Magicians of Manchester which DrFoxcastle had mentioned. He did so now.

"It was a society of quite recent foundation," said Mr Honeyfoot, "and itsmembers were clergymen of the poorer sort, respectable ex-tradesmen,apothecaries, lawyers, retired mill owners who had got up a little Latinand so forth, such people as might be termed half-gentlemen. I believe DrFoxcastle was glad when they disbanded - he does not think that people ofthat sort have any business becoming magicians. And yet, you know, therewere several clever men among them. They began, as you did, with the aim ofbringing back practical magic to the world. They were practical men andwished to apply the principles of reason and science to magic as they had doneto the manufacturing arts. They called it `Rational Thaumaturgy''. When itdid not work they became discouraged. Well, they cannot be blamed for that.But they let their disillusionment lead them into all sorts of difficulties. Theybegan to think that there was not now nor ever had been magic in the world.They said that the Aureate magicians were all deceivers or were themselvesdeceived. And that the Raven King was an invention of the northern Englishto keep themselves from the tyranny of the south (being north-country menthemselves they had some sympathy with that). Oh, their arguments werevery ingenious - I forget how they explained fairies. They disbanded, as I toldyou, and one of them, whose name was Aubrey I think, meant to write it alldown and publish it. But when it came to the point he found that a sort offixed melancholy had settled on him and he was not able to rouse himselfenough to begin."

"Poor gentleman," said Mr Segundus. "Perhaps it is the age. It is not an agefor magic or scholarship, is it sir? Tradesmen prosper, sailors, politicians, but notmagicians. Our time is past." He thought for a moment. "Three years ago," hesaid, "I was in London and I met with a street magician, a vagabonding, yellow-curtainsort of fellow with a strange disfiguration. This man persuaded me topart with quite a high sum of money-in return for which he promised to tell me agreat secret. When I had paid him the money he told me that one day magicwould be restored to England by two magicians. Now I do not at all believe inprophecies, yet it is thinking on what he said that has determined me to discoverthe truth of our fallen state - is not that strange?"

"You were entirely right - prophecies are great nonsense," said MrHoneyfoot, laughing. And then, as if struck by a thought, he said, "Weare two magicians. Honeyfoot and Segundus," he said trying it out, as ifthinking how it would look in the newspapers and history books, "Honeyfootand Segundus - it sounds very well."

Mr Segundus shook his head. "The fellow knew my profession and it wasonly to be expected that he should pretend to me that I was one of the twomen. But in the end he told me quite plainly that I was not. At first it seemedas if he was not sure of it. There was something about me ... He made mewrite down my name and looked at it a good long while."

"I expect he could see there was no more money to be got out of you," saidMr Honeyfoot.

Hurtfew Abbey was some fourteen miles north-west of York. The antiquitywas all in the name. There had been an abbey but that was long ago; thepresent house had been built in the reign of Anne.





Continues...

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Excerpted from Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrellby Susanna Clarke Copyright © 2005 by Susanna Clarke. Excerpted by permission.
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