Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell

“[I]ts members were clergymen of the poorer sort, respectable ex-tradesmen, apothecaries, lawyers, retired mill owners who had got up a little Latin and so forth, such people as might be termed half-gentlemen. I believe Dr Foxcastle was glad when they disbanded—he does not think that people of that sort have any business becoming magicians. And yet, you know, there were several clever men among them. They began, as you did, with the aim of bringing back practical magic to the world. They were practical men and wished to apply the principles of reason and science to magic as they had done to the manufacturing arts. They called it ‘Rational Thaumaturgy. ”

Another reason why the York magicians value theory over practice is their endless concern with maintaining their position at the top of the social hierarchy. They associate practical magic with labor, and labor is something that only members of the working and middle-class engage in. The contempt that the York magicians feel for the middle-class men of Manchester is also a reflection of their fear of a burgeoning middle class, especially in places at the heart of the Industrial Revolution.

“But he must see that such knowledge as he possesses must be shared with others for the Nation’s good. He is a gentleman: he knows his duty and will do it, I am sure.”

Honeyfoot assumes that Mr. Norrell will share his knowledge with Jonathan Strange because Honeyfoot believes the quest for knowledge is enhanced by collaboration. His too-generous assessment of Norrell is rooted in his naive belief that gentlemen are not swayed by self-interest. His misreading of Norrell shows his fundamental incomprehension of the dynamics of power.

“A gentleman in Mr Norrell’s position with a fine house and a large estate will always be of interest to his neighbours and, unless those neighbours are very stupid, they will always contrive to know a little of what he does.”

This quote resembles the work of Jane Austen in terms of style and content. The clever observation of how the landed gentry behaves and the importance of money to status are typical of the 19th-century novel of manners. This quote is a prime example of Clarke’s strategic use of pastiche to create a modern-day amalgamation of the tone, attitudes, and style of the traditional 19th-century English novel.

“‘I had no master. I taught myself.’

‘How?’

‘From books.’

‘Books!‘ (This in a tone of the utmost contempt.)”

The fairy scoffs at Norrell as he explains how he came to learn magic. The fairy last recalls England as a place where magicians served an apprenticeship and learned through practice and collaboration between magicians and apprentices. The fairy’s comment shows that the contemporary England of the novel has veered too far in the emphasis of theory over practical magic.

“[Emma] told [her husband] that she expected things to continue much the same after they were married. She did not appear to resent it. Instead, with her new, lively spirits, she seemed quite entertained that he should ever have deceived himself that matters could be otherwise.”

Emma Pole’s encounter with magic changes her, making her a more assertive woman who isn’t particularly interested in her husband’s preconception of the behavior of a married woman. This encounter is just one small example of how magic upends the mundane world.

“‘What! Old Norrell!’ The draymen both climbed into the carriage to shake Mr Norrell’s hand and breathe sherry fumes all over him and assure him that they would lose no time in moving everything out of the way so that he – the hero of the French Blockade – might pass. Which promise they kept and respectable people found their horses unhitched and their carriages pushed and shoved into tanners’ yards and other nasty places, or backed into dirty brick-lanes where they got stuck fast and all the varnish was scraped off.”

Although Norrell wants to make magic respectable, the laborers and other working-class people who hear of his work in blockading the French have other ideas. As is usual with Norrell, his efforts fail because magic is too powerful a force to be long controlled by one man.

“It is the easiest thing in the world to turn a review to one’s own ends. One only need mention the book once or twice and for the rest of the article one may develop one’s theme just as one chooses. It is, I assure you, what every body else does.”

Lascelles’s advice to Norrell shows his understanding that engaging in an academic community is about competing with and denigrating others instead of exchanging ideas. Norrell agrees with him because he, too, sees potential collaborators as rivals for control over magic.

“What is the fate of one young woman compared to the success of English magic?”

Norrell’s dismissal of the importance of Emma Pole’s enchantment characterizes him as a man who is so invested in making magic part of the mundane world that he has no ethical qualms about the damage to her as a result of his magic. Her lack of value to him also comes from his sense that women are unimportant in the large scheme of things, except as passive vessels or vehicles that exist solely to either fulfill men’s desires or further their ambitions.

“[A] place full of horror—a hot, rank, closed-in place. There were shadows in the darkness and the slither and clank of heavy iron chains.”

Stephen Black’s encounter with the fairy upsets the butler’s notion that the Poles are simply kind, generous employers. Ironically, the Poles are indeed the oppressors that the fairy claims them to be. This vision may also be one that the fairy places in Stephen’s head. When Clarke shows how magic changes Stephen’s view of himself and his relationship to Englishness, she is using the concept of magic to engage in a larger social critique of the inequality and racism rampant throughout historical 19th-century England.

“D—!”

Leaving out the “amn” at the end of this curse is a convention of 19th-century novels in which writers avoid direct representation of anything that could be construed as impropriety. Then as now, people did curse, so the euphemism here is another instance in which Clarke engages in pastiche to deliberately reproduce the written conventions of the time period in which her novel is set.

“I believe it is the first duty of every modern magician to publish. I am surprized [sic] Norrell does not publish.“

Honeycutt and Segundus are on their way to the Shadow House, where they will encounter Strange for the first time, when Honeycutt makes this statement. Honeycutt assumes that magical knowledge should circulate. Norrell doesn’t publish because he believes hoarding books and knowledge make him more powerful. That this conversation takes place just before the full introduction of Strange is foreshadowing of the power struggle between Strange and Norrell.

“Jonathan Strange of Shropshire. Two thousand pounds a year.”

Drawlight knows exactly what Strange’s income is. The number makes it clear that Strange is a member of the landed gentry. Drawlight’s open talk of the income is typical of the novel of manners, which exposes to view the importance of class and status to the landed gentry.

“Here sat the only two English magicians of the Modern Age. One confessed he had no books; the other, as was well known, had two great libraries stuffed with them. Mere common politeness seemed to dictate that Mr Norrell make some offer of help, however slight; but Mr Norrell said nothing.”

This first meeting between Strange and Norrell reveals what will become a source of conflict between the two characters—their different notions of the role of collaboration in the pursuit of knowledge. Strange thinks he has found a peer who can help him learn more about magic, but Norrell initially sees Strange as a direct threat to his power.

“[O]f the two, London preferred Mr Strange. Strange was everyone’s idea of what a magician ought to be. He was tall; he was charming; he had a most ironical smile; and, unlike Mr Norrell, he talked a great deal about magic and had no objection to answering any body’s questions on the subject.”

Appearances matter in the status-conscious world of London. In this case, Strange gains status rapidly because he knows how to socialize with others and because he looks the part of a powerful magician. Norrell is an expert in the theory of magic, but he guards it as such a secret that few people are able to see the practical applications of that magic. Ironically, his very attempts to consolidate and hoard magical power cause him to lose social power within the upper class, where good manners and active, positive contributions are required to gain status in the eyes of others.

“The masters and pilots of Portsmouth complained to the port-admiral that Strange had permanently altered the channels and shoals in Spithead so that the Navy would now have all the expense and trouble of taking soundings and surveying the anchorage again. However, in London, where the Ministers knew as little of ships and seamanship as Strange, only one thing was clear: Strange had saved a ship, the loss of which would have cost the Admiralty a vast amount of money.”

Strange quickly gains power in the mundane world because he is capable of using his natural ability in magic in practical ways. The downside of that gift for innovation is that his spells go awry in some cases, leading to unintended consequences like these.

“[T]he practice of magic makes the theory so much easier to understand.”

Strange here makes the case to Norrell for going to the war in Portugal alongside Wellington. Strange understands at this point that theory and practice are intertwined. Although his knowledge of the theory of magic has increased under Norrell’s tutelage, Strange hasn’t had an arena to apply what he has learned from Norrell. This moment is a pivotal one that leads to the rupture of the relationship between the magicians over the question of the balance between theory and practice.

“‘Can a magician kill a man by magic?’ Lord Wellington asked Strange.

Strange frowned. He seemed to dislike the question.

‘I suppose a magician might,’ he admitted, ‘but a gentleman never could.’”

Wellington is a soldier and a commander, so his thinking about magic naturally tends to what use magic will be in battle. Strange’s response here implies that the practice of magic should be bound by restraints rooted in the status of the powerful. His actions in the war show that a gentleman and a magician are both capable of killing.

“Strange was obliged to invent most of the magic he did, working from general principles and half-remembered stories from old books.”

Strange has ample opportunity to hone practical aspects of his magical powers while fighting alongside Wellington. The magic he does there allows him to engage in innovation as a route to knowledge. His lack of a firm grounding in the history and theory of magic leads to trouble later, as when he resurrects the soldiers but cannot return them to death.

“If other magicians think differently from you, then you must battle it out with them. You must prove the superiority of your opinions, as I do in politics. You must argue and publish and practise your magic and you must learn to live as I do—in the face of constant criticism, opposition and censure. That, sir, is the English way.”

Lord Liverpool firmly rejects Norrell’s attempt to use mundane authority to prevent others from performing and disseminating magic. Liverpool believes in debate and the free circulation of ideas. That approach to the quest for knowledge is foreign to Norrell, who is at heart an authoritarian. Also of note is that Liverpool associates this approach to knowledge with “Englishness.” When Strange later brings the Raven King’s magic back to England, the presence of magic does have a democratizing force (more than Liverpool imagines in this passage, however).

“All magicians lie and this one more than most.”

Vinculus intimates to Childermass that there is something deceptive about Norrell’s account of how he resurrected Emma Pole. Vinculus labels all magicians as liars, a statement that is a direct contrast to Norrell’s claim that magic can be respectable.

“What we fear is a great deal more mundane—in a word, revolution. John Uskglass’s banner is flying everywhere.”

Walter Pole, an agile political operator and member of the government, encourages Strange not to place the Raven King at the center of his book. Strange is so focused on his pursuit of knowledge that he becomes more like Norrell in ignoring the implications of his magical work on the mundane world. Uskglass’s banner as the standard of organized labor is also further evidence of the anarchic power of magic. This section of the novel is one in which it becomes clear that the boundary between the magical and mundane world is collapsing.

“They had good reason to fear that he had lost all restraint and was prepared to indulge in any and all kinds of magic.”

Even Strange’s friends understand that Norrell was a moderating influence on Strange. Without the one other intellectual peer in England by his side, Strange takes his pursuit of knowledge to extremes, showing the importance of moderation as a part of the practice of magic.

“‘This house,’ he told them at last, ‘is disordered and dirty. Its inhabitants have idled away their days in pointless pleasures and in celebrations of past cruelties— things that ought not to be remembered, let alone celebrated. I have often observed it and often regretted it. All these faults, I shall in time set right.’”

Stephen Black ends the novel as a king of Faerie, a reversal that shows how disruptive magic can be to the social order of England. Like Uskglass, Stephen becomes a source of order. Restoration is also an important concept associated with the end of fantastical narratives. Stephen’s promise to restore order provides closure to one subplot of the novel.