Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (2015): Season 1, Episode 5 - Chapter Five: Arabella - full transcript
Having used his magic to help Wellington win the battle of Waterloo Jonathan returns home to Arabella and the publication of his book on the history of magic. The latter is strongly opposed both by Norrell and the government, who see the Raven King as an influence on the Luddite movement. Meanwhile Lady Pole predicts something bad will befall Arabella and she is proved to be right as the Gentleman spirits her away to visit the fairy kingdom. On her return she is pronounced dead and, after Norrell refuses to revive her, she is buried. Jonathan is now more determined to publish the book as a tribute to his wife and anxious to summon the Gentleman to bring her back to life.
I am a king, you are a king.
Let's all be kings together.
Your Majesty.
Sir!
No!
My reputation has been ruined and
my servant has been shot, sir.
~ Let me go!
~ Everyone will ask why she did this.
But nobody knows who shot at you.
Lady Pole may be put in an asylum.
You are Norrell's men.
I am sold once more.
~ Stephen! Turn me...
~ We are no friends to Mr Norrell.
~ What happened behind the mirror?
~ The King's Roads.
Promise me you will not go
out on those roads again.
No.
Damn magic to hell.
Damn where it's lead us.
Can a magician kill a man by magic?
I suppose a magician might.
But a gentleman never could.
He has murdered my book.
We must not let this stand.
You must not!
I am home.
Oh, God...
We'll go back to Shropshire, and
I will cease to do practical magic.
I will write down my
thoughts in a book.
Once again, it is the stupid
magician who thwarts us.
We must find and awaken a Moss-Oak.
He will bargain her life away
and he will have no notion
that he has done so.
~ Napoleon is back.
~ What?
The Duke, he asks you to
renew your commission.
I am sorry, Mrs Strange,
but your husband is the army's
magician, and we have need of him.
Keep going, come on!
Move, move. Come on!
Hold the gates. Hold the gates!
Hold the gates!
Not rain, Merlin! Not rain!
You may have this rain, or that fire!
~ Aim on the wall.
~ Merlin. Where is Wellington?
Can you see him? Find him.
Merlin!
Merlin. They are scaling the wall!
Merlin!
Merlin, they're breaking through!
Stop messing around and
find my reinforcements!
These gates won't hold much longer!
Down!
I attack!
Charge!
No!
Salut!
['Merlin! Hold the gates!
Hold the gates!']
Jonathan?
Have you written much today?
Oh. Yes, quite a bit.
I was told you were dead.
I felt certain you would be.
Well, gentlemen...
.. the war is over.
What do you think they'll
do with us now?
Come. I want to show you something.
The King's Roads. They're
almost finished.
Bell, you are clever.
That's four of them
done, but, of course,
Mr Murray will want them engraved.
This is just how it looked.
You make me very proud.
The light's very good in here.
But why publish Strange's
book, Mr Murray?
I am a book publisher, Mr Norrell.
Surely it should be no great
surprise that I publish a book?
Magic is a very popular subject.
The Friends Of English
Magic sells well.
Mr Lascelles' book sold very well,
until Mr Strange reviewed it.
Why undo all this good
work by putting out a book
so at odds with the orthodoxy?
That would be with your
orthodoxy, Mr Norrell.
~ And how do we know that it...?
~ Because that is what he does, sir!
Three volumes, laying
English Magic naked
for all who choose to salivate over!
I do not know what
the end of it will be!
Well, the beginning
of it will be that
volume one of Mr Strange's
book is published in August.
It is the most dangerous and seditious
thing of which I have ever heard!
Publish and you shall
have no more editions of
The Friends Of English Magic, sir.
That is Mr Norrell's prerogative.
You have made an enemy of us, sir.
Aye, well...
There you go.
"The History And Practice
Of English Magic.
"Marvel at what he has done.
"Dare to dream of what he may yet do.
"Mr Strange's remarkable
book of magic."
Why on earth does he insist on
punishing me in this manner?
~ Whatever wrong did I do him?
~ None, sir.
It is not for myself I fear,
Mr Lascelles. It is for England.
There is a danger, both
in what he will say
and in the very fabric
of the books themselves.
Really, it would be
most agreeable to me
to never see or hear
from that man again.
Madam!
Madam! Madam, I beg your pardon!
Madam?
Mrs Strange?
Mrs Strange!
Mrs Strange!
Mrs Strange!
~ A bell?
~ Yes, sir.
What bell could there
have been, Mr Hyde?
Well, that was just the beginning.
I looked to the South, and I...
I saw a lady, walking away from me.
Just walking on, into the snow.
Black gown, no shawl, not
even a pair of shoes.
Only, when I reached the
top, she was nowhere.
Forgive me, I do not
see why you come to me.
~ You should ride to the Magistrate.
~ It was Mrs Strange, sir.
My mother? My mother is dead.
You... you believe you saw her ghost?
Your wife, sir.
It could not have been my wife.
Mrs Strange's father was curate
of my parish 47 years.
I've known her since she took her
first steps in Clunbury churchyard.
Arabella has not left Ashfair
these past five days.
Besides, she never wears black.
I hate to see her in black.
I'm not the first to have seen a
woman in black wandering hereabouts.
Well, whoever the poor woman
is, she is not my wife.
~ We may call Mrs Strange here.
You may see with your own eyes.
~ No.
I do not wish to distress her.
Sir, could it not be something
to do with... your magic?
I have ceased to do practical magic.
I did my last at Waterloo.
I just write my book now.
And Mrs Strange spends most of her
time encouraging me to finish it.
Well, I'm glad Mrs Strange is safe.
Well... sorry for
disturbing you, sir.
Thank you.
Look after her, sir.
Do you think there
will be another war?
It is my most fervent hope
that there will not be.
And how do you think things between
you and Norrell will fall out?
Oh... like any other dull,
academic controversy.
Books, articles, factions...
One of us will win, posterity will
take a little from us both...
and then we shall both be forgotten.
As for my own future...
~ I wish to spend it quietly, with my wife.
~ Hmm.
I should also like to cut down
the copper beeches
that my father planted
and do something about
the East garden.
And what about a child?
That would be a fine
thing, would it not?
Then we should see what
we can do about it.
Mr Segundus, Mr Segundus!
Mr Honeyfoot!
Good Lord. Whatever is it?
Mr Segundus!
You must send a message
to Jonathan Strange.
Something terrible is going
to happen. You must send word.
What did she say?
She says we must go to
Jonathan Strange's house.
It is very important that you
listen to me. Do you understand?
Wait a moment.
On a May morning in 1310,
the wife of a Christian
lighthouse keeper
found a cupboard in her kitchen.
Do you understand?
No. I'm so sorry.
The cupboard kept calling
to her, again and again.
She told her husband,
who thought she was mad.
But when she stepped inside the
cupboard, she was never seen again.
I mean to say that
she was stolen away.
Your friend, madam -
she's in great distress.
May I take you to her?
You must send word to Jonathan
Strange at Ashfair House.
Tell him he must not make
the bargain. He must not.
I'm sorry, madam.
I do not understand.
I mean... I mean to say Moss-Oak!
Moss-Oak!
Moss-Oak!
I mean to say Moss-Oak. Moss-Oak!
Bell! No.
Bell! No.
Mary, where is Mrs Strange?
Is she not still in bed, sir?
No.
Would you find her for me, please?
An hour ago, I saw Mrs Strange
upon the Welsh hills.
I am in no doubt, sir. It was her.
Bell? Arabella?
She is not in the house, sir.
We do not know where she is.
She'll freeze herself to death.
Bring me some water, Mary.
Now!
Fill it up.
~ Mr Strange, ought we not ride out...
~ Quiet. Quiet.
Sir, what is this meant to do?
Find her.
Not in England, not in
Wales, not in Scotland...
Yah! Yah!
Mary? Mary!
Fetch my coat and boots.
Mrs Strange! Mrs Strange!
Madam! Madam! Mrs Strange!
Arabella! Arabella!
Mrs Strange!
Arabella!
Mrs Strange? Madam!
Where are you?
~ Bell!
~ Mrs Strange!
~ Arabella!
~ Mrs Strange!
Madam!
Mrs Strange!
Mrs Strange!
So, we have Clunbury, Ashfair,
and the Marches.
I think I woke last night.
You did not say this before.
I did not remember before.
Arabella was getting out of the bed.
Whoa!
I thought I had dreamt it.
Bell. Oh, thank God.
Where on earth have you been?
Walking... in the woods...
with my brothers and sisters.
~ Madam, you are as cold as the grave.
~ Bell, what have you got on?
It's this way, madam.
Please!
Madam. Madam, please. Quickly.
Am I... Am I your wife?
Of course you are. Of
course you're my wife.
Do you... accept me as your wife?
Yes, yes. What...
Madam, madam. We must
make haste. Please.
You renounce all other wives?
Bell, of course I do. Of course.
With all my heart.
Where is my friend?
I'm sorry, madam.
Madam...
Welcome to Lost-Hope.
Oh, she's dreadful cold, sir.
Bell, my love. What
were you thinking?
You are a poor husband.
Your husband has bargained
you away, madam.
He has sold you to me in exchange
for a piece of wood.
You are to be mine for all
time... and never leave.
I tried to tell you of this.
~ Emma...
~ Bell.
~ Emma!
Take us home, Stephen.
Shh...
I do not offer anything that will
not be exquisitely agreeable to you.
My husband will hear of this.
There is no husband. Not any more.
Bell...
Bell? Bell, no!
It's me!
No! Bell! No!
Bell, no! It's me.
Stop!
She is quite peaceful now.
What is this you do?
My mother used to tell me tales
of magicians, different creatures.
It... it was really what first drew
me to magic - er, the romance of it.
The tales I heard when I was a boy.
When she d... When she...
when she died, I went around
collecting folk-tales,
writing them up.
And that story Lady
Pole told last night -
the lighthouse keeper
and his cupboard -
it made me think I
have heard it before.
It is much like a tale told by
the fishwives of Flamborough,
about a man called Bloodworth,
who lit the lamp in the
lighthouse during the 1500s.
Is it a common story?
No, and the way she told it,
it's not quite the same as
I have it in my book. But...
And what do you mean to say?
I do not believe Lady Pole's
stories are nonsense.
I believe there is a pattern to them.
Bell?
Oh, God, Bell.
And what do you consider so
dangerous about this book?
Everything!
Do you think I take the books
of English magic to myself
because I am some sort of miser, sir?
Because I rub my hands in glee,
desiring to have it all?
No, sir, no. No, I gather
these books because they are
so very powerful and dangerous -
and Mr Strange's book is
the most dangerous of all.
You consider that his book will
give ammunition to the Johannites?
It is not a matter of consideration,
my lord, it is a matter of...
I beg your pardon.
Give ammunition to...?
The Johannites. Machine-breakers.
The rioters in the North.
I do not understand. What do
rioters have to do with magic?
~ Do you never look in a newspaper, sir?
~ No.
These men have lost their
employment to the new machines.
They destroy factories and looms
and proclaim themselves to be
the followers of the Raven King.
They carry his banner, they daub
his blazon on the walls of...
There is a ragged preacher
going around the North
telling people that the
Raven King is coming back.
He's not coming back... is he?
That is a ridiculous notion.
But I see your anxiety.
I... I see your anxiety.
After all, the Raven King
has always been associated
with riot and revolution.
You think Strange's book
will support the Raven King?
Everything he's done
and said would say so.
Then we must hope he sees sense.
Or that something occurs to stop him.
Yes. Yes, indeed.
~ Not now, Henry. Not now!
~ Whoa. Whoa.
I hope you'll forgive the mess,
I rather thought it was...
Now, Henry, do not take
on. It is all right.
Come, now. Let's have
something to eat.
I can spare half an hour.
May I conduct the funeral?
Funeral, Henry? What would
be the point of that?
But, well - how else...?
There is to be no funeral, Henry.
I'm going to bring her back to life.
I must get on.
Jonathan, what do you mean?
Precisely what I say.
But... such a thing is not
possible. You cannot just...
It is perfectly possible,
Henry, believe me.
I did such a thing, of
a rough sort, in Spain.
"Of a rough sort?"
Damn it, Jonathan, she's
my flesh and blood.
And she is my heart and soul.
What is magic to me, otherwise?
How did it go?
It is the problem of the
Johannites which concerns them.
Of course, you are aware
of the Johannites?
Aye.
I fear, and I said it to them,
that Mr Strange's book will
put fire into their hearts.
Mr Lascelles is of the opinion
~ that I should have an attorney
serve Mr Strange...
~ Forgive me, sir.
I think you take the advice of
Mr Lascelles a little too freely.
Do you indeed? Well, I may say
that it was you who suggested
that I turn to him and Drawlight
in the first place.
Yes, sir, I know...
If I did not have Mr Lascelles,
I would be quite alone.
Then Mr Strange would be free
to dictate the direction
that English magic will take, and
spoil everything I have done.
I will not have this
book, Childermass,
and Mr Lascelles will
help me to ensure that.
I do not think Mr Strange
will be publishing anything
any time soon, sir.
His wife is dead.
Dead?
She went walking in the
snow and caught a chill.
Mr Strange will feel that very badly.
"And so I beg of you, dear sir,
"for the sake of any friendship
that once we enjoyed,
"you tell me what magic you employed
"to bring her Ladyship
back to the bloom of life.
"Tell me but this one thing,
whatever magic it is,
"and I promise you
I shall tell no-one
"and that furthermore, I shall
put aside magic entirely,
"cease to call myself magician,
and trouble you no more.
"Your affectionate friend,
Jonathan Strange."
What shall I do?
Nothing, sir. There's no need. There
is already talk in Shropshire
that he killed his
wife by black magic -
that he has another wife somewhere.
If it were now known he plans to
raise the original from the dead,
as he did those Italians -
his reputation will be ruined.
And no-one would buy his book.
I rather think Mr Norrell was asking
what he should do to help.
Were you not?
Can we talk without the
servants present, sir?
No, let's not talk without
the servants present.
Strange has made his promise.
He's a man of his word.
You and he can bring Mrs Strange
back between you, I'm sure.
I presume you now understand
what went amiss with Lady Pole.
She need not come back mad.
Could we talk without the
servants present, sir?
It is most vexing.
I mean to say, his first
reaction when his wife dies
is to turn to black magic.
It is the measure of the man, sir.
But perhaps Childermass is...
Well, perhaps if I just explained...
Childermass has his own reasons
for doing anything.
Mr Strange has broken with you, sir.
He has gone against your
wishes, time and again.
Sir, all you have done is for
the good of English magic.
You are the good of English magic.
Do not allow your goodness
to be used against you.
Yes, but...
Write to him if you wish, but
I could not, in all conscience,
stand by and see you inflict
such damage upon your own cause.
I fear I could no longer
be your friend.
Poor man.
There is no need to
whisper, dear Stephen.
He can neither see nor hear us.
He is attempting to summon me.
Ignorant fool.
He may be ignorant, but
he still succeeded, sir.
What?
After all, you are here, sir.
Yes, I dare say.
But if I choose not to make
myself heard, nor seen,
what use is that?
Stephen, quick, turn
the pages of that book.
There is no breeze in the room
and it will perplex him.
Really, watching this
fellow try to do magic
is like seeing a man sit down to eat
dinner with his coat on backwards.
He has just lost his wife, sir.
Yes - and what a delicious
irony that he summons me.
Oh, give his neck a pinch, Stephen.
He will think it is a gnat.
It is said the Raven King brought
the son of a nobleman,
with whom he quarrelled back to life.
Henry Barbatus, died of a fever -
the King had his body
dug up out of its grave.
Perhaps it involved
some exchange of...
.. the life of trees, or dogs, or...
Jonathan...
The Raven King was nothing
if not practical.
You will not come back speaking
in the tongues of Hell.
You will come back with
the voices of Heaven.
Bell? Wake up.
If you please.
Please, wake up.
I am sorry, my love.
There.
Nothing from Norrell. Nothing!
It is seven days, Jonathan.
One more day, I beg you.
No, Jonathan. I believe in the
resurrection to eternal life.
Norrell does not want to tell me.
~ I will go to him. I will make him.
~ Jonathan, stop!
Get out of my way.
Do you honestly believe this
is what Arabella would wish?
Do you think she would
be pleased with you?
She would be alive, Henry.
I wish her to be alive!
But she's dead.
The corpse lying upstairs is no
longer your wife or my sister.
What would it be if you
brought it back now?
Please, stop.
Please, respect her
and respect yourself.
It breaks my heart
to say this, Jonathan.
She's the only family
I will ever have.
She's my most beloved sister.
But she must... be let go.
You were the very reason I did magic.
You were the reason I did anything.
The excitement of it was very much
to see how you would look at me.
The excitement of life was very much
to see how you would look at me.
Goodbye, my love.
I know that my redeemer liveth
and that I shall rise out of
the earth in the last day.
And shall be covered
again with my skin.
And shall see God in my flesh.
Yea, and I myself shall behold him.
Not with other, but
with these same eyes.
For as much as it has
pleased Almighty God
to take unto himself the soul of
our dear sister here departed,
we therefore commit her
body to the ground.
Earth to earth,
ashes to ashes,
dust to dust.
In the sure and certain hope
of resurrection to eternal life,
through our Lord Jesus Christ.
Amen.
It seems a waste for you to have
come all this way, Stephen.
Sir Walter wished you
to be told in person.
He wishes me to stay by you.
He considered you might
be very distressed
by the death of Mrs Strange.
I am very distressed
by what has happened.
No-one is more distressed than I.
I had considered at least it would
have given me someone to talk to.
But she is so very, very far away.
So it is, when someone is dead.
Mr Black, my colleague and I consider
we would fail in our duty of care
if we did not ask you something.
What is it, gentleman?
We know how impatient
you and her Ladyship are of
magicians, sir, but, um...
The nonsense that she speaks, sir - well,
we have been listening to it when it comes.
I have been reading my old notes
and I believe it has a pattern, sir.
We were wondering if you
think we might induce her
to speak in that way,
in order to study...
No. I think you may not.
But, you see, sir, she
speaks in faerie tales,
~ as we would call them...
~ Gentlemen. Do not meddle in such things.
You have no idea where it will end.
And you are not fit to do it.
But, surely if we can help...
No, you cannot. No-one can help.
We must accept that
she cannot be cured.
And yourself?
You do not have my permission.
And I do not want
any more talk of it.
Did you see it?
No.
Well, I see it plainly
on both of them.
I vote we go ahead.
You are changed.
Truth to tell, I was not
quite myself for a time.
Would you give this to Lady Pole?
I think Bell would be pleased
to know that your wife
had something to remember her by.
I'm sure she would be most comforted.
You have not given up magic, then?
It is just... I had heard...
What had you heard?
I am no longer a practical magician.
That does not mean I
have abandoned magic.
Norrell is in agonies whenever
your book is mentioned.
Agonies?
Well, the book is only the beginning.
I mean to say, when you
consider the matter,
what does our so-called "restoration
of English magic" really amount to?
What have Norrell
and I actually done?
Illusions. Storms and bad weather.
His silly sea-beacons.
He still has not completed them.
Compare our sorry reckoning with
the magicians of the Golden Age.
They transformed themselves
into mice, foxes, rivers.
They made ships out of cobwebs
and houses out of rose-bushes...
Mr Strange, I...
I do not much like saying it,
but it occurs to me
Norrell may be right.
These kinds of magic will
not suit us nowadays.
How can you say that when none
of us knows what magic it is?
No, we must turn our attention to the
life and magic of the Raven King,
~ and when we do...
~ I am sorry, Mr Strange.
That is the one thing we must not do.
I am serious. I tell
you this as a friend.
Too much talk of other kings
is bound to make the
Government nervous.
How can we restore English magic
until we know what it is we're
supposed to be restoring?
We do not require English
magic to be restored
any more than it already has been.
Leave John Uskglass in the obscurity
Mr Norrell has placed him.
Norrell has poisoned your minds.
Literally, in your case.
Do you not consider...
Do you not consider what
happened to your wife?
Do you not question why she went mad?
~ This idea is madness.
~ Madness is what it is not.
~ Whatever you hope to gain from this...
~ My liberty, Stephen -
mine and hers.
~ You cannot fight him.
~ .. Page 72.
Mrs Strange. She doesn't
know what is done.
She is happy.
You and I...
We have survived, so far.
What would you suggest, Stephen?
We should accept our position...
.. and be thankful for it.
He has poisoned your mind.
So, gentlemen - what are we to do?
Try and, er... describe...
.. what most distresses you, my lady.
'Bell, no! It's me!
'Bell!'
There was once a Christian who went
hunting in a wood of wych-elm.
His horse got its hoof caught in
a rabbit-hole and he tumbled in.
He found himself in
a strange country,
lit by its own sun and
nurtured by its own rain.
In a wood very much like
the one he had just left,
he found a brugh where
a party of gentlemen -
some of them rather odd
- were playing napdraw.
Here. The Huntsman
And The Rabbit-Hole.
Er... but you heard her say "brugh"?
~ Hmm. And, um, "napdraw" - what is that?
~ Er...
I think it is a card game,
rather like what we would
call "Spoil Five".
I think it best if you
speak generally, my lady.
If you aim right for the truth, you
veer off at even stranger angles.
~ Yes.
~ Speak around it, this time.
There was once a farmer of Harrogate,
who desired very greatly...
.. to grow broad beans bigger
than any in Yorkshire.
To this end, he enlisted the
assistance of Col Tom Blue,
who helped him grow beans
as large as a man's foot.
~ Madam. Please, we must stop this.
~ Go on.
Col Tom Blue had enchanted the beans
as a means to capture the souls
of the little children.
The little children
were then carried off
to the Castles of the Five.
I have it. She said
"Castles of the Five."
That's a common story about
a faerie, but he is unnamed.
You called him "Col Tom Blue".
I think what you are telling,
my lady, are faerie tales -
but told, in some way, from the point
of view of the faerie himself.
"Human tales", as it were.
Is this the madhouse?
Yes, it most certainly is.
I've a madman for you. He's blue.
Blue?
With your permission, madam, we
would like to write to Mr Strange.
Yes. Please!
Mr Segundus, Mr Honeyfoot?
Excuse us, ma'am.
I don't know, he's been going
round markets pinching,
shouting all sorts of nonsense
about "Raven King".
I need all of you to bring him.
~ What is the matter?
~ Madman.
I've met you before.
And you.
I have a message for you...
nameless slave.
Unhand me.
~ The rain shall make a door for
me and I shall go through it.
~ Unhand me!
Do you see anything in this that
might be called seditious?
I see that he will tear
England to pieces.
I see that he will spoil magic
for generations to come.
Why did you not let me
have my magical court?
From what I understand
from my man at Murray's,
there is no direct call for the
restoration of the Raven King.
But such a call would
not be against the law -
as it currently stands.
May we keep this... for a while?
We will remain in touch.
I do not know how
I shall prevent him.
I do not know.
Oh, what do you want
to prevent him for?
Call a halt to this
bloody stupid feud.
~ It won't end well for you both.
~ Join him, if you wish.
Join him and Murray and
the other traitors.
I'm not going anywhere. Don't worry.
That is a shame.
I agree with you, though.
Between us, I'm sure we can
put a halt to Strange's book.
Childermass?
Is that you?
I've been expecting you.
How is your master?
Poorly, sir.
Colds and headaches and
tremblings in the limbs.
All the usual symptoms when
someone has vexed him.
And no-one vexes him as you do.
And what does he think about you
turning yourself into shadows
and making yourself invisible?
I have been 18 years
in Mr Norrell's service,
and before that, I was a pickpocket.
I would have to be a dull fellow
to have learnt nothing at all.
That was not what I asked.
Well, come and see what
you were sent to see.
I have nothing to hide.
They are very beautiful.
I aim for the whole book
to be a work of beauty.
So, these are the King's Roads?
Built by the Raven King himself.
What is the country that
the bridges cross?
I do not know.
What is your opinion, Magician?
I suppose it is Faerie.
Was the magic difficult?
You need a spell of revelation
- I used Doncaster -
and another of dissolution,
to melt the mirror's surface.
~ Do you follow me?
~ Yes, sir.
Have these landscapes
always been there?
I believe so.
Well, why have magicians not
been able to go about upon them?
These roads were all closed,
hidden behind mirrors.
But now, something has occurred
to open up them up again.
Now, there is more magic in England
than either you or I can understand.
I think that is true.
Is it not time, Childermass,
that you left Gilbert Norrell's
service and came to me?
There need be none of
this "servant" nonsense.
You would be my pupil and assistant.
Thank you, sir. Thank you.
But Mr Norrell and I are not
done with each other yet.
And besides, I think I would
make a very bad pupil.
Worse, even, than you.
Was I so very bad?
I merely asked questions.
Surely that is the
prerogative of any pupil?
I do not know how it will
end with you and Norrell,
but I tell you what I'll do.
If you fail and Norrell wins,
I shall leave his service.
I'll take up your cause,
and then there will still
be two magicians in England
and two opinions upon magic.
But, if he should fail and you win,
I'll do the same against you.
Good enough?
Yes.
Thank you for your frankness, sir.
It is Norrell who likes
to keep secrets, not I.
Besides, I have told you nothing
that is not already in my book.
Within a month, every man,
woman and child in the kingdom
will be able to read it and
form his own opinions on it.
Which is just as it should be.
Regarding that, sir - I think
I should warn you to be careful.
Of what?
Of your book, sir.
~ What do you mean?
~ He's trying to have it stopped.
How?
By whatever means he can, I think.
God damn him.
God damn him.
What have I ever done
to him, Childermass?
What did I ever do, apart
from be frank and pleasant?
This book will stand
as tribute to my wife.
~ Mr Strange...
~ God damn him!
No!
Bloody idiot!
Mr Norrell! Mr Norrell!
It is your former pupil
and former friend!
Mr Norrell is not at home, sir...
Oh!
Mr Norrell! What is this?
You quarrel with my book?
Your book cannot be published,
sir. We will not allow it.
Why? What on earth does
it matter? Leave me be!
Do you not consider you
have hurt me enough?
Do you not consider you have
hurt Mr Norrell enough?
What hurt? I wrote, begging
with everything I could offer
that he help do for my wife
what he did for Lady Pole!
I pleaded, sir, on any condition,
that he help me bring my wife
back, and he did not even reply.
What was the magic?
Why will you not tell me?
I know why.
I know why!
Charlatan!
You're no friend of mine!
~ Hey!
~ Housebreaker!
~ Hold him there!
Get on your feet.
Merlin.
I'm here to help you.
The most terrible things
are being done against you.
They seek to arraign you for
breaking into Norrell's house.
They say I killed Bell.
They say that if a charge can
be found under modern law,
they plan to try you for
murder by witchcraft.
Ah.
So, what do you mean to do?
I shall summon a faerie.
I do not think that germane
to your situation.
You are wrong. You wonder if
such a thing is even possible.
The received opinion is that faeries
do not visit England any more.
But I tell you, I was in company
with one at Windsor Castle.
No magician, of any era, could
help me as much as a faerie.
I've tried every spell
I know, this way and that.
Nothing seems to work.
But then I thought on it.
I did not see the faerie.
That is the difficulty
- to see and hear them.
Yet there was one present who
perceived him very clearly.
Why could he, when I could not?
Merlin, let me bring you out of here.
It is very important
that I do this, Grant.
Well, was this fellow a magician?
No, no. This man was just... mad.
Now, what must be done is
to get you away from here.
We will enlist Sir Wellington's help.
Sir - open this door. This is
the Duke of Wellington's man!
He will not have you slandered so.
But then again, madness is
not such a very queer notion.
Think of the magicians
of the Golden Age.
They were the faeries' near-neighbours
in wildness, insanity...
Perhaps I am too tame...
Mr Strange, listen...
But how does one work up
a little madness in oneself?
Perhaps I should go wandering.
Perhaps the wilderness
will make me mad.
I think you've hit upon something,
Grant. My book is finished.
London is set against me.
It is time for me to become the
magician I am destined to become.
Merlin, you cannot propose that you
purposely become a... a lunatic.
You'll only help your enemies.
What must be done now is
to take you away from here.
My man...
Gaoler? Gaoler?
Come on, man.
Unlock this door.
~ Look sharp.
~ At the double, man. Come on.
Come on, man. At the double.
Merlin?
~ The prisoner is missing.
~ Guards!
~ The magician has escaped.
~ Guards, search the jail.
Move it, move it!
Let's all be kings together.
Your Majesty.
Sir!
No!
My reputation has been ruined and
my servant has been shot, sir.
~ Let me go!
~ Everyone will ask why she did this.
But nobody knows who shot at you.
Lady Pole may be put in an asylum.
You are Norrell's men.
I am sold once more.
~ Stephen! Turn me...
~ We are no friends to Mr Norrell.
~ What happened behind the mirror?
~ The King's Roads.
Promise me you will not go
out on those roads again.
No.
Damn magic to hell.
Damn where it's lead us.
Can a magician kill a man by magic?
I suppose a magician might.
But a gentleman never could.
He has murdered my book.
We must not let this stand.
You must not!
I am home.
Oh, God...
We'll go back to Shropshire, and
I will cease to do practical magic.
I will write down my
thoughts in a book.
Once again, it is the stupid
magician who thwarts us.
We must find and awaken a Moss-Oak.
He will bargain her life away
and he will have no notion
that he has done so.
~ Napoleon is back.
~ What?
The Duke, he asks you to
renew your commission.
I am sorry, Mrs Strange,
but your husband is the army's
magician, and we have need of him.
Keep going, come on!
Move, move. Come on!
Hold the gates. Hold the gates!
Hold the gates!
Not rain, Merlin! Not rain!
You may have this rain, or that fire!
~ Aim on the wall.
~ Merlin. Where is Wellington?
Can you see him? Find him.
Merlin!
Merlin. They are scaling the wall!
Merlin!
Merlin, they're breaking through!
Stop messing around and
find my reinforcements!
These gates won't hold much longer!
Down!
I attack!
Charge!
No!
Salut!
['Merlin! Hold the gates!
Hold the gates!']
Jonathan?
Have you written much today?
Oh. Yes, quite a bit.
I was told you were dead.
I felt certain you would be.
Well, gentlemen...
.. the war is over.
What do you think they'll
do with us now?
Come. I want to show you something.
The King's Roads. They're
almost finished.
Bell, you are clever.
That's four of them
done, but, of course,
Mr Murray will want them engraved.
This is just how it looked.
You make me very proud.
The light's very good in here.
But why publish Strange's
book, Mr Murray?
I am a book publisher, Mr Norrell.
Surely it should be no great
surprise that I publish a book?
Magic is a very popular subject.
The Friends Of English
Magic sells well.
Mr Lascelles' book sold very well,
until Mr Strange reviewed it.
Why undo all this good
work by putting out a book
so at odds with the orthodoxy?
That would be with your
orthodoxy, Mr Norrell.
~ And how do we know that it...?
~ Because that is what he does, sir!
Three volumes, laying
English Magic naked
for all who choose to salivate over!
I do not know what
the end of it will be!
Well, the beginning
of it will be that
volume one of Mr Strange's
book is published in August.
It is the most dangerous and seditious
thing of which I have ever heard!
Publish and you shall
have no more editions of
The Friends Of English Magic, sir.
That is Mr Norrell's prerogative.
You have made an enemy of us, sir.
Aye, well...
There you go.
"The History And Practice
Of English Magic.
"Marvel at what he has done.
"Dare to dream of what he may yet do.
"Mr Strange's remarkable
book of magic."
Why on earth does he insist on
punishing me in this manner?
~ Whatever wrong did I do him?
~ None, sir.
It is not for myself I fear,
Mr Lascelles. It is for England.
There is a danger, both
in what he will say
and in the very fabric
of the books themselves.
Really, it would be
most agreeable to me
to never see or hear
from that man again.
Madam!
Madam! Madam, I beg your pardon!
Madam?
Mrs Strange?
Mrs Strange!
Mrs Strange!
Mrs Strange!
~ A bell?
~ Yes, sir.
What bell could there
have been, Mr Hyde?
Well, that was just the beginning.
I looked to the South, and I...
I saw a lady, walking away from me.
Just walking on, into the snow.
Black gown, no shawl, not
even a pair of shoes.
Only, when I reached the
top, she was nowhere.
Forgive me, I do not
see why you come to me.
~ You should ride to the Magistrate.
~ It was Mrs Strange, sir.
My mother? My mother is dead.
You... you believe you saw her ghost?
Your wife, sir.
It could not have been my wife.
Mrs Strange's father was curate
of my parish 47 years.
I've known her since she took her
first steps in Clunbury churchyard.
Arabella has not left Ashfair
these past five days.
Besides, she never wears black.
I hate to see her in black.
I'm not the first to have seen a
woman in black wandering hereabouts.
Well, whoever the poor woman
is, she is not my wife.
~ We may call Mrs Strange here.
You may see with your own eyes.
~ No.
I do not wish to distress her.
Sir, could it not be something
to do with... your magic?
I have ceased to do practical magic.
I did my last at Waterloo.
I just write my book now.
And Mrs Strange spends most of her
time encouraging me to finish it.
Well, I'm glad Mrs Strange is safe.
Well... sorry for
disturbing you, sir.
Thank you.
Look after her, sir.
Do you think there
will be another war?
It is my most fervent hope
that there will not be.
And how do you think things between
you and Norrell will fall out?
Oh... like any other dull,
academic controversy.
Books, articles, factions...
One of us will win, posterity will
take a little from us both...
and then we shall both be forgotten.
As for my own future...
~ I wish to spend it quietly, with my wife.
~ Hmm.
I should also like to cut down
the copper beeches
that my father planted
and do something about
the East garden.
And what about a child?
That would be a fine
thing, would it not?
Then we should see what
we can do about it.
Mr Segundus, Mr Segundus!
Mr Honeyfoot!
Good Lord. Whatever is it?
Mr Segundus!
You must send a message
to Jonathan Strange.
Something terrible is going
to happen. You must send word.
What did she say?
She says we must go to
Jonathan Strange's house.
It is very important that you
listen to me. Do you understand?
Wait a moment.
On a May morning in 1310,
the wife of a Christian
lighthouse keeper
found a cupboard in her kitchen.
Do you understand?
No. I'm so sorry.
The cupboard kept calling
to her, again and again.
She told her husband,
who thought she was mad.
But when she stepped inside the
cupboard, she was never seen again.
I mean to say that
she was stolen away.
Your friend, madam -
she's in great distress.
May I take you to her?
You must send word to Jonathan
Strange at Ashfair House.
Tell him he must not make
the bargain. He must not.
I'm sorry, madam.
I do not understand.
I mean... I mean to say Moss-Oak!
Moss-Oak!
Moss-Oak!
I mean to say Moss-Oak. Moss-Oak!
Bell! No.
Bell! No.
Mary, where is Mrs Strange?
Is she not still in bed, sir?
No.
Would you find her for me, please?
An hour ago, I saw Mrs Strange
upon the Welsh hills.
I am in no doubt, sir. It was her.
Bell? Arabella?
She is not in the house, sir.
We do not know where she is.
She'll freeze herself to death.
Bring me some water, Mary.
Now!
Fill it up.
~ Mr Strange, ought we not ride out...
~ Quiet. Quiet.
Sir, what is this meant to do?
Find her.
Not in England, not in
Wales, not in Scotland...
Yah! Yah!
Mary? Mary!
Fetch my coat and boots.
Mrs Strange! Mrs Strange!
Madam! Madam! Mrs Strange!
Arabella! Arabella!
Mrs Strange!
Arabella!
Mrs Strange? Madam!
Where are you?
~ Bell!
~ Mrs Strange!
~ Arabella!
~ Mrs Strange!
Madam!
Mrs Strange!
Mrs Strange!
So, we have Clunbury, Ashfair,
and the Marches.
I think I woke last night.
You did not say this before.
I did not remember before.
Arabella was getting out of the bed.
Whoa!
I thought I had dreamt it.
Bell. Oh, thank God.
Where on earth have you been?
Walking... in the woods...
with my brothers and sisters.
~ Madam, you are as cold as the grave.
~ Bell, what have you got on?
It's this way, madam.
Please!
Madam. Madam, please. Quickly.
Am I... Am I your wife?
Of course you are. Of
course you're my wife.
Do you... accept me as your wife?
Yes, yes. What...
Madam, madam. We must
make haste. Please.
You renounce all other wives?
Bell, of course I do. Of course.
With all my heart.
Where is my friend?
I'm sorry, madam.
Madam...
Welcome to Lost-Hope.
Oh, she's dreadful cold, sir.
Bell, my love. What
were you thinking?
You are a poor husband.
Your husband has bargained
you away, madam.
He has sold you to me in exchange
for a piece of wood.
You are to be mine for all
time... and never leave.
I tried to tell you of this.
~ Emma...
~ Bell.
~ Emma!
Take us home, Stephen.
Shh...
I do not offer anything that will
not be exquisitely agreeable to you.
My husband will hear of this.
There is no husband. Not any more.
Bell...
Bell? Bell, no!
It's me!
No! Bell! No!
Bell, no! It's me.
Stop!
She is quite peaceful now.
What is this you do?
My mother used to tell me tales
of magicians, different creatures.
It... it was really what first drew
me to magic - er, the romance of it.
The tales I heard when I was a boy.
When she d... When she...
when she died, I went around
collecting folk-tales,
writing them up.
And that story Lady
Pole told last night -
the lighthouse keeper
and his cupboard -
it made me think I
have heard it before.
It is much like a tale told by
the fishwives of Flamborough,
about a man called Bloodworth,
who lit the lamp in the
lighthouse during the 1500s.
Is it a common story?
No, and the way she told it,
it's not quite the same as
I have it in my book. But...
And what do you mean to say?
I do not believe Lady Pole's
stories are nonsense.
I believe there is a pattern to them.
Bell?
Oh, God, Bell.
And what do you consider so
dangerous about this book?
Everything!
Do you think I take the books
of English magic to myself
because I am some sort of miser, sir?
Because I rub my hands in glee,
desiring to have it all?
No, sir, no. No, I gather
these books because they are
so very powerful and dangerous -
and Mr Strange's book is
the most dangerous of all.
You consider that his book will
give ammunition to the Johannites?
It is not a matter of consideration,
my lord, it is a matter of...
I beg your pardon.
Give ammunition to...?
The Johannites. Machine-breakers.
The rioters in the North.
I do not understand. What do
rioters have to do with magic?
~ Do you never look in a newspaper, sir?
~ No.
These men have lost their
employment to the new machines.
They destroy factories and looms
and proclaim themselves to be
the followers of the Raven King.
They carry his banner, they daub
his blazon on the walls of...
There is a ragged preacher
going around the North
telling people that the
Raven King is coming back.
He's not coming back... is he?
That is a ridiculous notion.
But I see your anxiety.
I... I see your anxiety.
After all, the Raven King
has always been associated
with riot and revolution.
You think Strange's book
will support the Raven King?
Everything he's done
and said would say so.
Then we must hope he sees sense.
Or that something occurs to stop him.
Yes. Yes, indeed.
~ Not now, Henry. Not now!
~ Whoa. Whoa.
I hope you'll forgive the mess,
I rather thought it was...
Now, Henry, do not take
on. It is all right.
Come, now. Let's have
something to eat.
I can spare half an hour.
May I conduct the funeral?
Funeral, Henry? What would
be the point of that?
But, well - how else...?
There is to be no funeral, Henry.
I'm going to bring her back to life.
I must get on.
Jonathan, what do you mean?
Precisely what I say.
But... such a thing is not
possible. You cannot just...
It is perfectly possible,
Henry, believe me.
I did such a thing, of
a rough sort, in Spain.
"Of a rough sort?"
Damn it, Jonathan, she's
my flesh and blood.
And she is my heart and soul.
What is magic to me, otherwise?
How did it go?
It is the problem of the
Johannites which concerns them.
Of course, you are aware
of the Johannites?
Aye.
I fear, and I said it to them,
that Mr Strange's book will
put fire into their hearts.
Mr Lascelles is of the opinion
~ that I should have an attorney
serve Mr Strange...
~ Forgive me, sir.
I think you take the advice of
Mr Lascelles a little too freely.
Do you indeed? Well, I may say
that it was you who suggested
that I turn to him and Drawlight
in the first place.
Yes, sir, I know...
If I did not have Mr Lascelles,
I would be quite alone.
Then Mr Strange would be free
to dictate the direction
that English magic will take, and
spoil everything I have done.
I will not have this
book, Childermass,
and Mr Lascelles will
help me to ensure that.
I do not think Mr Strange
will be publishing anything
any time soon, sir.
His wife is dead.
Dead?
She went walking in the
snow and caught a chill.
Mr Strange will feel that very badly.
"And so I beg of you, dear sir,
"for the sake of any friendship
that once we enjoyed,
"you tell me what magic you employed
"to bring her Ladyship
back to the bloom of life.
"Tell me but this one thing,
whatever magic it is,
"and I promise you
I shall tell no-one
"and that furthermore, I shall
put aside magic entirely,
"cease to call myself magician,
and trouble you no more.
"Your affectionate friend,
Jonathan Strange."
What shall I do?
Nothing, sir. There's no need. There
is already talk in Shropshire
that he killed his
wife by black magic -
that he has another wife somewhere.
If it were now known he plans to
raise the original from the dead,
as he did those Italians -
his reputation will be ruined.
And no-one would buy his book.
I rather think Mr Norrell was asking
what he should do to help.
Were you not?
Can we talk without the
servants present, sir?
No, let's not talk without
the servants present.
Strange has made his promise.
He's a man of his word.
You and he can bring Mrs Strange
back between you, I'm sure.
I presume you now understand
what went amiss with Lady Pole.
She need not come back mad.
Could we talk without the
servants present, sir?
It is most vexing.
I mean to say, his first
reaction when his wife dies
is to turn to black magic.
It is the measure of the man, sir.
But perhaps Childermass is...
Well, perhaps if I just explained...
Childermass has his own reasons
for doing anything.
Mr Strange has broken with you, sir.
He has gone against your
wishes, time and again.
Sir, all you have done is for
the good of English magic.
You are the good of English magic.
Do not allow your goodness
to be used against you.
Yes, but...
Write to him if you wish, but
I could not, in all conscience,
stand by and see you inflict
such damage upon your own cause.
I fear I could no longer
be your friend.
Poor man.
There is no need to
whisper, dear Stephen.
He can neither see nor hear us.
He is attempting to summon me.
Ignorant fool.
He may be ignorant, but
he still succeeded, sir.
What?
After all, you are here, sir.
Yes, I dare say.
But if I choose not to make
myself heard, nor seen,
what use is that?
Stephen, quick, turn
the pages of that book.
There is no breeze in the room
and it will perplex him.
Really, watching this
fellow try to do magic
is like seeing a man sit down to eat
dinner with his coat on backwards.
He has just lost his wife, sir.
Yes - and what a delicious
irony that he summons me.
Oh, give his neck a pinch, Stephen.
He will think it is a gnat.
It is said the Raven King brought
the son of a nobleman,
with whom he quarrelled back to life.
Henry Barbatus, died of a fever -
the King had his body
dug up out of its grave.
Perhaps it involved
some exchange of...
.. the life of trees, or dogs, or...
Jonathan...
The Raven King was nothing
if not practical.
You will not come back speaking
in the tongues of Hell.
You will come back with
the voices of Heaven.
Bell? Wake up.
If you please.
Please, wake up.
I am sorry, my love.
There.
Nothing from Norrell. Nothing!
It is seven days, Jonathan.
One more day, I beg you.
No, Jonathan. I believe in the
resurrection to eternal life.
Norrell does not want to tell me.
~ I will go to him. I will make him.
~ Jonathan, stop!
Get out of my way.
Do you honestly believe this
is what Arabella would wish?
Do you think she would
be pleased with you?
She would be alive, Henry.
I wish her to be alive!
But she's dead.
The corpse lying upstairs is no
longer your wife or my sister.
What would it be if you
brought it back now?
Please, stop.
Please, respect her
and respect yourself.
It breaks my heart
to say this, Jonathan.
She's the only family
I will ever have.
She's my most beloved sister.
But she must... be let go.
You were the very reason I did magic.
You were the reason I did anything.
The excitement of it was very much
to see how you would look at me.
The excitement of life was very much
to see how you would look at me.
Goodbye, my love.
I know that my redeemer liveth
and that I shall rise out of
the earth in the last day.
And shall be covered
again with my skin.
And shall see God in my flesh.
Yea, and I myself shall behold him.
Not with other, but
with these same eyes.
For as much as it has
pleased Almighty God
to take unto himself the soul of
our dear sister here departed,
we therefore commit her
body to the ground.
Earth to earth,
ashes to ashes,
dust to dust.
In the sure and certain hope
of resurrection to eternal life,
through our Lord Jesus Christ.
Amen.
It seems a waste for you to have
come all this way, Stephen.
Sir Walter wished you
to be told in person.
He wishes me to stay by you.
He considered you might
be very distressed
by the death of Mrs Strange.
I am very distressed
by what has happened.
No-one is more distressed than I.
I had considered at least it would
have given me someone to talk to.
But she is so very, very far away.
So it is, when someone is dead.
Mr Black, my colleague and I consider
we would fail in our duty of care
if we did not ask you something.
What is it, gentleman?
We know how impatient
you and her Ladyship are of
magicians, sir, but, um...
The nonsense that she speaks, sir - well,
we have been listening to it when it comes.
I have been reading my old notes
and I believe it has a pattern, sir.
We were wondering if you
think we might induce her
to speak in that way,
in order to study...
No. I think you may not.
But, you see, sir, she
speaks in faerie tales,
~ as we would call them...
~ Gentlemen. Do not meddle in such things.
You have no idea where it will end.
And you are not fit to do it.
But, surely if we can help...
No, you cannot. No-one can help.
We must accept that
she cannot be cured.
And yourself?
You do not have my permission.
And I do not want
any more talk of it.
Did you see it?
No.
Well, I see it plainly
on both of them.
I vote we go ahead.
You are changed.
Truth to tell, I was not
quite myself for a time.
Would you give this to Lady Pole?
I think Bell would be pleased
to know that your wife
had something to remember her by.
I'm sure she would be most comforted.
You have not given up magic, then?
It is just... I had heard...
What had you heard?
I am no longer a practical magician.
That does not mean I
have abandoned magic.
Norrell is in agonies whenever
your book is mentioned.
Agonies?
Well, the book is only the beginning.
I mean to say, when you
consider the matter,
what does our so-called "restoration
of English magic" really amount to?
What have Norrell
and I actually done?
Illusions. Storms and bad weather.
His silly sea-beacons.
He still has not completed them.
Compare our sorry reckoning with
the magicians of the Golden Age.
They transformed themselves
into mice, foxes, rivers.
They made ships out of cobwebs
and houses out of rose-bushes...
Mr Strange, I...
I do not much like saying it,
but it occurs to me
Norrell may be right.
These kinds of magic will
not suit us nowadays.
How can you say that when none
of us knows what magic it is?
No, we must turn our attention to the
life and magic of the Raven King,
~ and when we do...
~ I am sorry, Mr Strange.
That is the one thing we must not do.
I am serious. I tell
you this as a friend.
Too much talk of other kings
is bound to make the
Government nervous.
How can we restore English magic
until we know what it is we're
supposed to be restoring?
We do not require English
magic to be restored
any more than it already has been.
Leave John Uskglass in the obscurity
Mr Norrell has placed him.
Norrell has poisoned your minds.
Literally, in your case.
Do you not consider...
Do you not consider what
happened to your wife?
Do you not question why she went mad?
~ This idea is madness.
~ Madness is what it is not.
~ Whatever you hope to gain from this...
~ My liberty, Stephen -
mine and hers.
~ You cannot fight him.
~ .. Page 72.
Mrs Strange. She doesn't
know what is done.
She is happy.
You and I...
We have survived, so far.
What would you suggest, Stephen?
We should accept our position...
.. and be thankful for it.
He has poisoned your mind.
So, gentlemen - what are we to do?
Try and, er... describe...
.. what most distresses you, my lady.
'Bell, no! It's me!
'Bell!'
There was once a Christian who went
hunting in a wood of wych-elm.
His horse got its hoof caught in
a rabbit-hole and he tumbled in.
He found himself in
a strange country,
lit by its own sun and
nurtured by its own rain.
In a wood very much like
the one he had just left,
he found a brugh where
a party of gentlemen -
some of them rather odd
- were playing napdraw.
Here. The Huntsman
And The Rabbit-Hole.
Er... but you heard her say "brugh"?
~ Hmm. And, um, "napdraw" - what is that?
~ Er...
I think it is a card game,
rather like what we would
call "Spoil Five".
I think it best if you
speak generally, my lady.
If you aim right for the truth, you
veer off at even stranger angles.
~ Yes.
~ Speak around it, this time.
There was once a farmer of Harrogate,
who desired very greatly...
.. to grow broad beans bigger
than any in Yorkshire.
To this end, he enlisted the
assistance of Col Tom Blue,
who helped him grow beans
as large as a man's foot.
~ Madam. Please, we must stop this.
~ Go on.
Col Tom Blue had enchanted the beans
as a means to capture the souls
of the little children.
The little children
were then carried off
to the Castles of the Five.
I have it. She said
"Castles of the Five."
That's a common story about
a faerie, but he is unnamed.
You called him "Col Tom Blue".
I think what you are telling,
my lady, are faerie tales -
but told, in some way, from the point
of view of the faerie himself.
"Human tales", as it were.
Is this the madhouse?
Yes, it most certainly is.
I've a madman for you. He's blue.
Blue?
With your permission, madam, we
would like to write to Mr Strange.
Yes. Please!
Mr Segundus, Mr Honeyfoot?
Excuse us, ma'am.
I don't know, he's been going
round markets pinching,
shouting all sorts of nonsense
about "Raven King".
I need all of you to bring him.
~ What is the matter?
~ Madman.
I've met you before.
And you.
I have a message for you...
nameless slave.
Unhand me.
~ The rain shall make a door for
me and I shall go through it.
~ Unhand me!
Do you see anything in this that
might be called seditious?
I see that he will tear
England to pieces.
I see that he will spoil magic
for generations to come.
Why did you not let me
have my magical court?
From what I understand
from my man at Murray's,
there is no direct call for the
restoration of the Raven King.
But such a call would
not be against the law -
as it currently stands.
May we keep this... for a while?
We will remain in touch.
I do not know how
I shall prevent him.
I do not know.
Oh, what do you want
to prevent him for?
Call a halt to this
bloody stupid feud.
~ It won't end well for you both.
~ Join him, if you wish.
Join him and Murray and
the other traitors.
I'm not going anywhere. Don't worry.
That is a shame.
I agree with you, though.
Between us, I'm sure we can
put a halt to Strange's book.
Childermass?
Is that you?
I've been expecting you.
How is your master?
Poorly, sir.
Colds and headaches and
tremblings in the limbs.
All the usual symptoms when
someone has vexed him.
And no-one vexes him as you do.
And what does he think about you
turning yourself into shadows
and making yourself invisible?
I have been 18 years
in Mr Norrell's service,
and before that, I was a pickpocket.
I would have to be a dull fellow
to have learnt nothing at all.
That was not what I asked.
Well, come and see what
you were sent to see.
I have nothing to hide.
They are very beautiful.
I aim for the whole book
to be a work of beauty.
So, these are the King's Roads?
Built by the Raven King himself.
What is the country that
the bridges cross?
I do not know.
What is your opinion, Magician?
I suppose it is Faerie.
Was the magic difficult?
You need a spell of revelation
- I used Doncaster -
and another of dissolution,
to melt the mirror's surface.
~ Do you follow me?
~ Yes, sir.
Have these landscapes
always been there?
I believe so.
Well, why have magicians not
been able to go about upon them?
These roads were all closed,
hidden behind mirrors.
But now, something has occurred
to open up them up again.
Now, there is more magic in England
than either you or I can understand.
I think that is true.
Is it not time, Childermass,
that you left Gilbert Norrell's
service and came to me?
There need be none of
this "servant" nonsense.
You would be my pupil and assistant.
Thank you, sir. Thank you.
But Mr Norrell and I are not
done with each other yet.
And besides, I think I would
make a very bad pupil.
Worse, even, than you.
Was I so very bad?
I merely asked questions.
Surely that is the
prerogative of any pupil?
I do not know how it will
end with you and Norrell,
but I tell you what I'll do.
If you fail and Norrell wins,
I shall leave his service.
I'll take up your cause,
and then there will still
be two magicians in England
and two opinions upon magic.
But, if he should fail and you win,
I'll do the same against you.
Good enough?
Yes.
Thank you for your frankness, sir.
It is Norrell who likes
to keep secrets, not I.
Besides, I have told you nothing
that is not already in my book.
Within a month, every man,
woman and child in the kingdom
will be able to read it and
form his own opinions on it.
Which is just as it should be.
Regarding that, sir - I think
I should warn you to be careful.
Of what?
Of your book, sir.
~ What do you mean?
~ He's trying to have it stopped.
How?
By whatever means he can, I think.
God damn him.
God damn him.
What have I ever done
to him, Childermass?
What did I ever do, apart
from be frank and pleasant?
This book will stand
as tribute to my wife.
~ Mr Strange...
~ God damn him!
No!
Bloody idiot!
Mr Norrell! Mr Norrell!
It is your former pupil
and former friend!
Mr Norrell is not at home, sir...
Oh!
Mr Norrell! What is this?
You quarrel with my book?
Your book cannot be published,
sir. We will not allow it.
Why? What on earth does
it matter? Leave me be!
Do you not consider you
have hurt me enough?
Do you not consider you have
hurt Mr Norrell enough?
What hurt? I wrote, begging
with everything I could offer
that he help do for my wife
what he did for Lady Pole!
I pleaded, sir, on any condition,
that he help me bring my wife
back, and he did not even reply.
What was the magic?
Why will you not tell me?
I know why.
I know why!
Charlatan!
You're no friend of mine!
~ Hey!
~ Housebreaker!
~ Hold him there!
Get on your feet.
Merlin.
I'm here to help you.
The most terrible things
are being done against you.
They seek to arraign you for
breaking into Norrell's house.
They say I killed Bell.
They say that if a charge can
be found under modern law,
they plan to try you for
murder by witchcraft.
Ah.
So, what do you mean to do?
I shall summon a faerie.
I do not think that germane
to your situation.
You are wrong. You wonder if
such a thing is even possible.
The received opinion is that faeries
do not visit England any more.
But I tell you, I was in company
with one at Windsor Castle.
No magician, of any era, could
help me as much as a faerie.
I've tried every spell
I know, this way and that.
Nothing seems to work.
But then I thought on it.
I did not see the faerie.
That is the difficulty
- to see and hear them.
Yet there was one present who
perceived him very clearly.
Why could he, when I could not?
Merlin, let me bring you out of here.
It is very important
that I do this, Grant.
Well, was this fellow a magician?
No, no. This man was just... mad.
Now, what must be done is
to get you away from here.
We will enlist Sir Wellington's help.
Sir - open this door. This is
the Duke of Wellington's man!
He will not have you slandered so.
But then again, madness is
not such a very queer notion.
Think of the magicians
of the Golden Age.
They were the faeries' near-neighbours
in wildness, insanity...
Perhaps I am too tame...
Mr Strange, listen...
But how does one work up
a little madness in oneself?
Perhaps I should go wandering.
Perhaps the wilderness
will make me mad.
I think you've hit upon something,
Grant. My book is finished.
London is set against me.
It is time for me to become the
magician I am destined to become.
Merlin, you cannot propose that you
purposely become a... a lunatic.
You'll only help your enemies.
What must be done now is
to take you away from here.
My man...
Gaoler? Gaoler?
Come on, man.
Unlock this door.
~ Look sharp.
~ At the double, man. Come on.
Come on, man. At the double.
Merlin?
~ The prisoner is missing.
~ Guards!
~ The magician has escaped.
~ Guards, search the jail.
Move it, move it!