(Applause and cheering)
My government will assist you in any way you wish.
Mr g*n has it in mind to establish a school for magicians.
I think this will suit our purpose nicely.
You of all people should know that Gilbert Norrell does not look favourably on other magicians.
But you are his equal, Mr Strange. You are his equal.
Look at what one magician has been able to accomplish.
Only consider what two might do.
(She yells) No, I must NOT go to sleep.
The doctors found nothing?
I'm sorry. Magic cannot cure madness.
'Send him to Portugal?'
I'm astonished you would suggest such a thing.
Every man must be prepared to make sacrifices for his country in time of w*r.
Jonathan, when I saw Lady Pole at Harley Street, I promised her that I should tell you something.
What is it?
She told me that...
He awoke to find the carpet covered in legions of tiny people about two inches high.
They rode white polecats.
Lady Pole is not in her wits.
She hates Mr Norrell, Jonathan.
Mr Strange should know what kind of a man he is dealing with.
What a strikingly attractive woman.
(She breathes heavily)
The bargain is done. Half her life.
I have need of new companions.
(Whispering and echoing)
Mrs Strange! Oh, do you visit Lady Pole?
How very Christian of you. How is she?
She's very well.
Sir Walter puts me off with one excuse after another.
It is always the same - Her Ladyship is unwell or a little better, but never quite well enough to see anybody.
Apart from you, it would seem.
If she is ill, then, of course, the rabble must be kept away, but I saw her when she was a corpse.
You know, some people think that her resurrection has made her proud and unwilling to mix with ordinary mortals, but I think the truth is quite different.
I think it has bred in her a taste for morbid experiences.
What do YOU say?
I beg your pardon, Mr Drawlight, but I am quite unable to give you the information that you require.
It'll be found out in the end.
I ALWAYS find it out.
Odious, odious little man.
I am cheered to see you so occupied, my Lady.
This would look very pretty with a little flower sewn on the sleeves.
You may cut up those dresses.
But they are so very fine.
Perhaps. I have a more important use for them now.
Is this your wedding dress?
Cut it up.
M-My Lady, it may seem a long time distant, but you may have a daughter one day. It would give you great sorrow...
I will have no daughter.
I would not offer up a child, least of all a little girl.
They save up all their children to pay off their tithes to the Lord of Hell.
What does Your Ladyship sew?
And who do you sew it for?
She is as secret as the grave, sir.
There is no gossip to be had about Lady Pole anywhere in town.
I fear we shall never discover her secrets.
If you're done with me relieving folks of letters, I'll be off to see a man about a school.
How is your husband? Is he still... wherever he is?
I, er... I have not heard from him.
He is sure to be bored at home, Madam, as soon as he has tasted w*r.
(Door opens then closes, clock chimes)
Excuse me? Excuse me?
Hello, I am the magician.
I wonder where in Lisbon I might find Wellington?
LORD Wellington is not in Lisbon.
Well, where am I to find him?
Lord Wellington does not stay in one place, sir.
Lord Wellington goes wherever he is needed.
And Lord Wellington is needed everywhere.
His Lordship's in the Lines, sir.
Ah, the Lines. Capital, capital.
Altogether, come on.
Can we get one of your friends and find out what the Lines are, hmm?
Excuse me, my good man. Er...
Er... excuse me, I say...
Winespill! The g*n! Winespill!
Yes, sir! Right away, sir!
Hello. I'm the magician.
Are you indeed? Winespill!
Do you, by any chance, know when Lord Wellington will come back?
I do not. Lord Wellington is...
In the Lines, yes. Yes, I know.
They're only sh**ting squirrels.
Norrell was quite correct - the position of magician is, by no means, well enough respected.
I have them, sir.
Some idiot was sitting in front.
My orders were perfectly clear. I think you were to take the cannon into the caves at Cartaxo.
In fairness to ourselves and the Portuguese...
Senator Hawkins, ask him how he considers we feed 200 men on eight chickens.
Yes, my Lord.
You and the Portuguese drew attention to the convoy, got my new a*tillery captured. I had considered you my best Intelligence Officer, Grant.
I'm gravely disappointed. Who the devil do you think YOU are?
The magician, my Lord.
Um, Norrell, my Lord.
But he is in London. I am Strange.
Indeed. Grant, talk to Capitan Saornil and the Guerrilleros. Offer them as much gold as they can fill their pockets with.
I must have those g*n for the advance.
Er... my Lord.
What I chiefly require, sir, is more a*tillery and more men.
Can you make them appear?
An interesting question, my Lord.
In the book De Generibus Artium Magicarum...
I don't care about the book De Generibus Artium Magicarum, sir.
Can you make them appear or not?
I can make it rain, my Lord.
It's rained all winter. It's only just stopped raining.
You and this other gentleman have been a great nuisance to the army, sir. These visions you've shown the ministers have convinced them they know how matters stand in Portugal.
They do not. Only I know what needs to be done in Portugal, sir, because only I am acquainted with all the circumstances.
What I say is, I have no need of a magician here.
I could bring down a plague of locusts upon the French, my Lord.
You'd do just as good to drop roast chickens on them, sir!
It looks very splendid, sir.
You cannot do this, sirs. You must give up this notion.
He'll get to know, sirs.
And it would be better that you wind up the business before he does.
I did not sign that agreement.
Do you think it matters? You must choose some other business, not a school for magicians.
The next time I hear that a lord or a lady has need of such a place, I will send them your way.
I do not want another kind of business.
I'll be seeing you.
This is tyranny, sir. This is tyranny, pure and plain!
Damn you, sir, and damn Mr Norrell!
This way of doing business will come back and haunt him!
Well, my Lady, your tapestry has come a long way.
It is for you... to show the freedom that has been taken from me.
Come closer, I will show you.
This is Stephen. This is Stephen, the king-to-be.
Here I am, with a rose at my mouth.
The reason I cannot speak clearly of it.
Will you write to your husband of this?
Well, I write to my husband of everything.
I hope my letters cheer him.
One from him would certainly cheer me.
We live in blackness and misery, all the days of our lives.
My Lady, you are surrounded by many wonderful things.
The love of your husband - do you not consider it a blessing?
My husband's love has never done me any good.
Never shortened a dreary ball by so much as a minute.
Do you consider your husband's love to have ever saved you from anything?
Well, I think I am more in the habit of saving HIM.
Mr Strange is not the most patient of men.
Often, when people hector him about magic...
You will tell him. You will write to Mr Strange.
If Your Ladyship wishes, of course.
He is the King of Lost-Hope.
It's very striking.
I thought I had explained myself. I am making it for you.
And I am very flattered...
It is not a present for you because you are my particular friend.
It is because you are the only person who will see me.
It is because your husband is who he is.
Um... Perhaps I should, um...
Mrs Strange, if I cannot say it to you, I must show it.
Lady Pole is there.
Tell your husband! Stephen, does she see?
She doesn't see.
She doesn't see.
She doesn't see.
'It is not easy for me to ask,'
Sir Walter, I... I hope you do not take it amiss.
But it is a very hard thing for a lady, or anyone, to fix their mind upon cheerful thoughts when their circumstances are so enclosed and dreary.
Do you suppose I have not done everything I can for my wife?
No, I merely...
She does not have the will to go out.
Bells, crowds, society - all these things distress her. And if...
Forgive me, Mrs Strange, this is to remain strictly between ourselves.
If she is allowed freedom to go about the house, she has more than once hurt herself very badly.
Can you not speak to Mr Norrell?
Mr Norrell says that magic cannot cure... madness.
She was not mad before the magic.
She was d*ad, Madam.
Perhaps there was some irregularity with the spell?
I asked Mr Strange about that.
He could not bring himself to broach the subject with his tutor.
Your wife has asked me to write to my husband, sir, and to tell him, well, of the details of her...
To the world beyond the doors of Harley Street, Madam, beyond ourselves, Norrell and her doctors, my wife is... merely unwell.
You made me a promise when you asked if you might continue to visit her that you would say nothing of what she told.
I expect you to keep that promise. Even between husband and wife.
Whatever are we doing here, sir?
This is the magician's house.
Why, to discover her heart's desires, Stephen.
The very thing that she would give her world for.
Sir, must you take people like this?
From the order of their house, from those who love them?
Oh, who loves her, Stephen? Not the magician, he has abandoned her.
Who loves Lady Pole with her dreary disposition?
And who loves you?
No, it is best for you all to be at my house, where it is known you are of kingly birth and no-one frowns at this.
I am so very tired, sir.
We must listen to her, Stephen.
We must pay very close attention to what she says and what she does.
We must find the correct moment.
And when we have it... we can carry her to Lost-Hope, where she will be loved and admired as no man has loved or admired her before.
Evening, Ned, Winespill.
A devil of a job keeping the dust out of one's tobacco.
It is, sir.
Would you like some of mine?
Thank you, sir. Drink, sir?
Winespill, what is it that you chiefly desire?
What could a chap help you with?
I know it is an odd question...
Magic woman, sir.
Toasted bloody cheese.
Oh, thank you, Jeremy.
Excuse me, sir?
Er... you're the fella with all the books, isn't it?
Do... do you need... magic?
(He clears his throat)
"My dearest Ned.
"It pains my heart to say it to you, my love, but..."
".. but I have spoiled our wedding china by spilling a pan of jam upon it."
Bloody old bitch.
Who is it, then?
Thomas Potter, eh? Bloody Thomas Potter.
I am expecting a parcel.
Does she not say anything about me boots?
I asked her to send new boots, sir.
I'm sorry, she... she merely sends her love.
Damn Portuguese roads, they tear a man's boots to ribbons.
What's the use in love, when she could have sent boots?
Man: Break it up, lads. Heads down, heads down.
(Man shouts indistinctly)
.. Reverend Wilson called out, "Vive la France!"
Ah, been sleeping in the mountains, have you? Have some breakfast.
Thank you, my Lord.
How do you like the w*r, Mr... um...?
Oh, it was rather confusing at first, but I grow used to it.
I have been robbed once. I have been sh*t at once.
Once I found a Frenchman in the tent and had to chase him out.
And once, the house I was sleeping in was set on f*re.
By the French?
No. No, sir. By the English.
It was a company of the 43rd, who were very cold that night.
Set f*re to the house, to warm themselves.
Oh, that always happens.
Finest fellows in the world, the British Army.
I heard Your Lordship refers to them as "the scum of the earth".
Well, they're both. At one and the same time.
We've been talking - arguing, rather - about magic, how it's done.
Major Grant here says you and this other chap have given every word in the Bible a number.
And then you think of words to make up a spell and you add up the numbers and then...
That... That is not what I said, my Lord.
You have not understood, at all.
I'm afraid I've done nothing resembling it.
It seems rather complicated and I do not think it would work.
As to doing magic, my Lord, there are many procedures, as many, I dare say, as for making w*r.
Good and evil.
Can a magician k*ll a man by magic?
I suppose a magician might... but a gentleman never could.
This road, sir, which you have been so good as to offer us - what sort of road would it be?
Give me Stokesy, Jeremy.
(He hums quietly)
That should do it.
Come on, Jeremy.
(Fife and drum play)
No, really, I have hardly any criticisms to make.
It's an excellent road.
Only, make it a little straighter tomorrow, if you will, Merlin(!)
Er...not Merlin, my Lord, if you please.
Why ever not?
Merlin, if indeed he existed, was a very vagabonding type, not the modern kind of magician, at all.
Mr Norrell and I are endeavouring to make magic respectable, my Lord.
You'll have a job, sir. This is w*r.
Besides, I've got to call you something.
Merlin, it is, then.
(Man shouts orders)
What are you tutting at?
This post-boy, is he to be trusted?
I'm giving him a pound a week. What does the letter say?
A deal about love.
He writes to her of love and doggerel poems and she writes to him of heartache and dresses...
I'm not easy about this business, Mr Norrell.
I have to say it.
There, you have said it.
I want to know what the matter is.
If you wish my assistance in these matters...
These concerns are not frivolous or prurient, Childermass.
I should think you knew me better.
I know you very well.
I am concerned Lady Pole m...
Well, as you know, she is visited by Mrs Strange.
I am concerned that they talk.
Well, naturally they talk. They are women.
What should they talk about that might harm you, Mr Norrell?
If you tell it me, it may be I can help.
There is something.
There's another encampment over the other side of the forest, my Lord.
French soldiers of the 9th. And they have with them all of the armaments from Cartaxo.
My cannon? My pretty new a*tillery?
Exactly so, my Lord. Now, if we were to take the 7th up along the hill...
No, that would take too much time. I am in a hurry.
Where's the magician?
I would counsel against placing too much reliance...
Yes, Grant, I'm sure you would. Ah, there you are.
There, the assorted gentlemen of the 7th Division, and here, General D'Erlon's French, with their backs to us.
Now, if you'd be so kind as to move this forest, I think we might very well give them an unpleasant surprise.
A forest, my Lord?
That is a different kind of magic to that which...
It is not modern magic.
It is not straightforward.
I would think one would have to negotiate with the trees.
You've moved churches and rivers. I cannot think it would be so difficult to move a forest - it is not so very large.
These are living things, my Lord.
They will have humours of their own.
They may not care for soldiers.
Perhaps we have reached the limits of your abilities, Mr Strange.
Grant. Daylight, take a few men and escort Mr Strange into the forest.
Do your best to see he's not sh*t... at least till he's moved it.
We wait your convenience, sir.
Jeremy, pack my books.
Which ones, sir?
All of them.
Must you crunch and crackle like that, Mr Strange?
I have no wish to disturb the French. It is lunchtime.
They will not be happy.
I must find the oldest tree.
I can't see much of an age from here.
Perhaps we should cut them all down and count the rings(!)
This one, perhaps?
(Distant french chatter)
Is he... talking to the trees?
(Creaking and moaning)
His Lordship asked you to move these trees, not lead them in song.
Do your work quietly, sir.
I am trying.
Les Anglaises sont la!
You have drawn their notice!
On your right, f*re!
Mr Strange, move this forest!
Can I not call down a mist?
They are turning their cannon about. Follow your orders.
Jeremy, find me Ormskirk.
(Muffled voices echo)
Oh, sir. Your books.
I'm sorry for it, sir.
Here is one... that's left.
Stand your ground!
Captain, let's fill this flank!
Hold your places!
Mr Strange. Mr Strange, this mist - is it yours?
General D'Erlon and the French have fled, my Lord.
Singing trees and sudden miasmas seemed to be too much for them.
Taking my cannon with them. I did not ask for mist, Merlin.
I asked you to move those trees.
I lost my books, my Lord. I apologise.
I've exhausted everything I know.
I've a good mind to put you on a charge.
Well, do it!
You've made me rely upon you. I will not have you let me down again.
I regularly demand the impossible of my engineers, generals and officers. I see no reason to make an exception in your case.
I'm at the limit of my magic.
Find other magic!
Do not give yourself too much grief.
Your mist may have lost him his cannon, but... it saved our lives.
Most of us.
Come. Mackenzie has a burial detail. He'll see your man right.
How has she been, Stephen?
I know it's not my place, but may I speak frankly?
I do not think it's wise for you to visit Her Ladyship.
I thought you were my friend in this, Mr Black.
I am your friend, please believe it, but I fear there is danger for you.
Lady Pole. Madam, please, will you help me?
Get Sir Walter.
My dear, Sir Walter...
Er, Sir Walter. If you'd be so kind.
Please excuse me.
What is your distress, Madam?
I am sad for my friend.
Why in the world would you be sad for her?
Because she is beset by such horrors.
Lady Pole has no horrors.
She merely has a rose... at her mouth.
Why, I could take that away... as easy as breathing.
What do you mean?
That I could remove what they please to call my Lady's... madness.
And how would you do that?
I would need your help, Madam.
But I should not ask for anything that would not be exquisitely desirable to you.
You ask for something in return, sir?
If you can do such a thing, if it is with in your power to help, then, for the love of God, do it.
But do not make a bargain of my friend.
You will forgive me, sir.
We should not meet again without my husband present.
General Caffarelli was intending to bring the cannon to the French at Vitoria. The good news is that the cannon never arrived.
Caffarelli made up his escort of the first 30 soldiers that came to hand.
10 of those 30 were Neapolitan.
Were they indeed?
It is my view that they k*lled the others and will shortly try to sell the cannon to the highest bidder.
Why have we not heard from them?
They have been sending messages to their relatives in the French army to desert and join them.
They believe that, with the money they will get for the cannon, they will all be able to sail back to Naples together in a golden ship.
And they do not wish to return home to face their mothers and aunts without bringing their relatives back with them.
Yes, I've always heard Italian women are rather fierce.
But we cannot wait for 100 Neapolitans to desert.
All we need do is find some Neapolitans and question them.
They will have been informed of where the thieves are and where they have put the g*n.
Unfortunately, the only Neapolitans we've encountered have been d*ad ones on the b*ttlefield.
Sir, make yourself useful.
I require a vision of some Neapolitans and some g*n.
As I said, my Lord, visions are precisely the wrong kind of magic for this sort of thing.
I must have the location of my g*n, by morning.
Kindly bend yourself to it.
Do you recognise anything, Merlin?
Olive groves and pine trees. Could be anywhere within 100 miles.
Perhaps they're saying something useful.
I do not understand the language.
It mostly concerns the food they wish they were eating and the charms of their absent wives.
Are you married, Major Grant?
A soldier has no business marrying, sir.
It is unfair on the man and unfair on the wife.
You did not think to come to w*r for jokes and picnics, Mr Strange?
I did not consider it.
I'm sorry, Major Grant, I can think of nothing else.
Perhaps you have some Neapolitans among the prisoners?
No, sir, we do not. You might expect that we checked.
We have some d*ad ones, for all the good that will do us.
What? What is it?
The magic I will do this night is not... modern magic.
In fact, it is very ancient.
It is the magic of the Raven King.
I do not wish it to be mentioned in dispatches.
You have my word, Merlin.
Enough. That's enough.
Is that for the magic?
It is for the smell.
I thought I told you no-one was to interfere with these corpses.
None of the lads has touched them, Mr Strange.
I do not see they are so mutilated. Does it matter if they are?
I suppose not. Only, I have to look at them.
Sharp Kn*fe, please, Ned.
(Creaking and rumbling)
(Thud, creaking stops)
(Speaks another language)
Dear God. What language is that?
I believe it may be one of the dialects of Hell.
They've learnt it very quickly. Can YOU speak this language?
Is that Italian?
Be my guest.
Ah, that's more like it.
Come along, Grant, ask them where our g*n are.
Quindici cannoni - tuo amico ha rubato dal Generale Caparelli. Dove sono?
(He replies indistinctly)
Dove hanno viso i cannoni?
La chiesa... San Giacomo...
We have it, sir. It's in a small town called San Giacomo on the road to Vitoria. They've hidden it by the church.
We shall have the g*n by morning.
This is it, my dear Merlin!
That was easy. Come on.
Good man, Merlin.
My Lady. You have m*rder me.
No, that was not my intention.
Do you know what you did, sir?
Madam, I was tricked.
Were it not for the very particular circumstances, I would...
What I did, I did to further the cause of English magic and to help win this w*r in which innocent people must suffer, too.
What can be done?
I cannot free you of this enchantment, my Lady.
You have opened a door to Hell and invited the devil into England.
Shh... I beg you.
I beg you to stop trying to persuade Mrs Strange or anyone else to understand your predicament. Please, please...
Do not try to communicate using tapestries or the like.
It cannot do you any good and it may cause you further harm.
How old are you, my Lady? Forgive me.
I am 19.
I may tell you that you will live another 75 years under these circumstances.
No! Mr Norrell. Mr Norrell!
Mr Norrell! Mr Norrell!
Nothing at all has changed.
Thank you for your help, sir.
Nothing can be gained by her excitement.
I understand that certain ladies wish to occupy themselves in what they consider charity.
But it seems to me that all that has been achieved has been to harm Her Ladyship even further.
I worry that these two ladies merely exercise one another's emotion.
I would suggest that these visits are curtailed.
Merlin? Merlin, where are you?
What the devil are you doing up there?
I do not know how to make them d*ad again.
Set them loose and let them wander in the bushes.
We have the French on the run and we need to press on.
His Lordship is asking for you.
We haven't seen you in days, man.
Look at them, poor wretches - what do they say?
They, er... plead with you not to send them back to Hell.
They ask you to send them home to their little sons and daughters.
There is such power in this magic.
I cannot in any way reverse it. I've tried everything.
Merlin, oblige me by leaving off trying to k*ll people who are already d*ad, cheering yourself up and moving the bridge at the end of the valley.
The bridge, sir - away from General D'Erlon's French and where my cannons may cross.
Victory is within our sights and we may lance this Spanish ulcer and return home to our wives and mistresses.
That is an order.
At your command, my Lord.
Grant, lock these corpses in and set the mill on f*re.
They're distracting my magician.
I'll lead your horse around, sir.
Thank you, Winespill.
May I come in?
What is the matter, Stephen?
I am instructed that Lady Pole is not to receive visitors.
Let me through, Stephen. This is ridiculous.
Believe me when I tell you that it is for the best.
Madam, in 1349 there was a parson called Dundridge.
He was followed by a tiny man that dragged him into a pot to meet his many wives.
I'm sorry, madam.
You were right. It is best she does not come.
(Church bell chimes)
I have been meaning to offer you an apology, Stephen, and an explanation.
No explanation is necessary, sir.
My recent concern for the magician's wife has rather prevented us discussing the matter of you becoming a king.
But I have g*n to realise how very useful such a thing might be.
It has been the cruellest thing in the world, how she has spurned me.
I cannot break her resolve.
The husband will soon return, and I am sorry to say, a magician is not an easy thing to k*ll.
Especially not one who seems intent on monopolising me.
But if you were to be a king...
Sir, I have been for some years the king of my own little land in Harley Street.
I flatter myself known amongst the best servants in London.
If you wish to do me a kindness...
It is not unusual, Stephen, for a sl*ve to take his master's side.
The Raven King himself began life as a nameless sl*ve in a fairy kingdom, and rose to great heights.
I am not a sl*ve, sir.
No man who stands on English soil can be a sl*ve.
Sir Walter's father - he was kind to me.
He had me christened and educated.
What was the name... your mother gave you?
I... I don't know.
Out of my love for you, Stephen, I have prised guts out of dying men to discover your future.
Magic cannot tell the future but it can throw shadows.
It is said you are to k*ll the king and take his place.
What is this place?
Why, this is the place of your birth, Stephen!
There is your mother... about to whisper your name.
This is the ship of Sir Walter's family, where you were born a sl*ve and your mother d*ed a sl*ve.
This is what has been done to you.
This is what has been taken from you.
I can make you king.
What is it?
I am home.
(Church bells chime)
Jonathan, I cannot keep my countenance if you stare at me like that.
Sorry to disappoint you, but you never do look at me so very often.
You always had your nose in some dusty old book.
I had entirely forgotten how quarrelsome you are, Mrs Strange.
Beg pardon, sir. Mr Norrell to see you.
(Church bells chime)
(Muffled voices echo)
It's all very well for you, Henry, you have periodicals to edit.
You're writing your book about him.
I need some new lorgnettes.
Answer some of his letters, I will give you a guinea.
Tell them Mr Norrell does not accept commissions.
What on earth are you doing?
Has Strange been here?
Of course he's not.
Where's Norrell? Someone is doing magic here.
I'm so glad that you're home, sir. I am so relieved.
Lascelles and Drawlight have been in my house a great deal.
I'm sure of it.
But there is no talking to them of magic.
No. No, you must come to my house tomorrow. You must...
Thank you... You must come for breakfast, sir.
And you can tell me in great detail all the different types of magic that you employed and you can return my books.
It's in the square.
What on earth are you talking about?
What is in the square?
What are you doing, man?
Tell me. Tell me. Tell me.
It's Mr Norrell's carriage.
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01x03 - The Education Of A Magician
Episode transcripts for the 2015 UK TV show "Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell". Aired June 2015.
"Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell" is a seven-part British fantasy adapted from Susanna Clarke's book of the same name. Set in England at the beginning of the 19th century, the series presents an alternate history where magic is widely acknowledged, but rarely practiced. Two men are destined to bring it back; the reclusive Mr. Norrell and daring novice Jonathan Strange. So begins a dangerous battle between two great minds.
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