All language subtitles for 1 Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrelllish

He's a magician!

No, he smells too nice.

Morning.

- Your book, sir.
- I'm obliged to you.

Some years ago, there was
in the city of York a society of magicians.

They met up on the third Wednesday of every
month and read each other long, dull papers

upon the history of English magic.

They were gentlemen magicians, which is to say
they had never harmed anyone by magic,

nor ever done anyone the slightest good.

In fact, to own the truth, not one of these
magicians had ever cast the smallest spell.

Nor by magic caused one leaf to tremble upon
a tree, made one mote of dust after its course

or changed a single hair upon anyone's head.

With this one minor reservation,

they enjoyed a reputation as some of the wisest
and most magical gentlemen in Yorkshire.

Mr...

Mr Segundus.

Yes. Excuse me.

Er...

It has been no small inducement
in my coming to York

that your excellent and er...
distinguished society exists here.

Not to mention your extensive library
of magical books.

I have studied magic, gentlemen,
for many years.

The histories of the Raven King,
the great magicians of long ago.

I've read the new publications and even made
my small contribution to their number.

Excuse me.

But I have recently begun to wonder why
the great feats of magic that I read about

remain in the pages of my books

and are not seen on the street
or... on the battlefield.

I have begun to wonder why modern magicians

are unable to work the magic
that they write about.

In short, gentlemen, I wish to know...

Why is magic no longer done in England?

It is a wrong question, Mr... Segundus.

Magicians study magic, the history of magic.

We do not perform it.

You don't expect an astronomer
to create stars, eh?

Or a botanist to invent new flowers, eh?

It is a child's question, I appreciate,
but no one else...

Classical magic, sir,
is not a thing for the gentlemen of this society.

Nor any gentleman.

I do hope that you have not been
trying to cast spells, sir.

You told me certainly
that there would be books coming in.

You took a guinea from me.

Good day to you, sir.

Mr Segundus, I say!

Honeyfoot. I was there at
the Society last night.

May I?

- I have made myself disagreeable.
- No, sir.

I think you hit upon it quite correct.
Why is magic no longer done?

I cannot find it answered anywhere.

Can you believe there are no books of magic
to be had?

In York!

- Books about magic are rare enough.
- Books of magic.

Oh, my dear fellow,
they're more precious than rubies.

Even the Society only has a few pages.

I have tried everywhere else.
The Society is my last throw of the dice. Sir!

We're growing stale,
we need fresh opinions.

Oh, I'm... I'm afraid that those books
have been sold, sir.

- I reserved them!
- Yes, I am sorry for it, sir.

Oh, it is no matter. Do you have anything upon
the nature of clouds, rain, atmospheres?

Yes, sir. Yes, I do, as a matter of fact.

Oh, that's interesting.
I'm most fascinated by clouds myself.

- Keep an eye open.
- Mr Segundus...

At least I can find the devil
who keeps swiping my books.

- There!
- Norrell.

Hurtfew Abbey.

- It is not an age for magic.
- Why then do you persist, sir?

What is it?

Tremendously dirty.

From a street magician in London.

“A spell to join together articles
which have been parted."

Does it work?

No.

He was a vagabond, you see.
Yellow curtain sort of fellow.

Persuaded me to part with
a rather large sum of money for that.

But then he called me back,
said he'd tell me a secret, for nothing.

Told me that one day magic would be restored
to England by two magicians.

- Old prophecies are nonsense.
- I know.

- But it set me upon my present path.
- We are two magicians.

John Segundus and Mr Honeyfoot. Sounds well.

One would expect him to pretend
that I was one of the two,

but in the end,
he told me rather plainly that I was not.

Mr Norrell?

Come in.

Watch your step, gentlemen.

The way is... convoluted.

it's Mr Honeyfoot and Mr Segundus
of the York Society of Magicians.

I read your account of the careers of
Martin Pale's fairy servants, sir.

It's a creditable piece of work.

Well, there was Master Fallowthought,
was there not?

You left him out.

A minor spirit, but nevertheless...

Fallowthought?

I have never even heard of him.

Forgive me, sir, but what a library!

Yes, I forget. Of course he is described
in Holgarth and Pickles' Histories

of their own dealings with Master Fallowthought,
which you can scarcely have read.

You have that book?

May we... May we be permitted to...

Nothing would be more agreeable to me.

How To Putte Questions To The Dark
And Understand Its Answers.

It's a foolish work.

This is Belasis's Instructions!

Every copy of this was
destroyed centuries ago.

I did devote a great deal of time to Belasis
in my youth, but no longer.

He is mystical when he should be clear
and clear when he should be mystical.

These are all... books of magic!

Mr Norrell, such...
Surely you will find your answer here.

- Answer?
- To a simple question, sir.

In the past,
magic was done as a matter of course.

It was as much a part of
this country as the rain.

Then 300 years ago,
it died, seemingly overnight.

We wish to know why magic has fallen
from its once-great state.

We wish to know,
why is there no more magic done in England?

It is a wrong question, sir.

Magic is not ended in England.

I myself am quite a tolerable,
practical magician.

- Well done.
- Well, it is done.

Show these gentlemen out, Childermass.

Absolute tripe.

Oh, I'm so sorry, sirs,

to see you bringing magic into such disrepute.

This Norrell is lying.

I dis... I disagree. I believe Mr Norrell.

Did you see magic done or did you not?

Gentlemen, the answer is a simple one, eh?

We shall invite Mr Norrell
to prove his ridiculous assertion,

to do magic for us.

And if he cannot, or will not,
to lay off disturbing our peace of mind!

Waste of time.

Freezing cold night.

This is the hour and place he appointed,
and he doesn't come.

Mr Norrell concedes defeat.

Not at all.

Who are you, sir?

A word or two before you go in.

If Mr Norrell fails to do the magic
he has promised,

he will publicly withdraw his claim
to be a practical magician,

indeed a magician of any sort.

And swears never to make
any such claim again.

Here's his hand on it.

He needn't go so far.
We have no desire to punish him.

However, my master only thinks it's fair

to extract the same promise
from each of you...

...should he succeed.

There's the paper and the stuff
to sign your name.

Well, I do not believe he
can do magic, and so...

I will sign because I believe he can.

And I hope he achieves recognition

and will use his powers for the good
of the nation in this time of war.

Sir.

I will not sign. Magic is my life, sir.

What shall I do when it is taken from me?

We shall say Mr Norrell's contract is with all
members of the Society, except Mr Segundus.

Come here. Come here.
Come here.

We saw him. We saw him.

He murdered her. We know. We know.

We saw him. We saw it.
There was no one to see but the stones.

No one saw but the stones.

The stones, the stones.
He murdered her and no one saw!

The stones. Dig up his bones.
Let him be punished for his wickedness!

He has brought them alive.

Oh...

- You are too fat!
- Usurper.

Usurper? How dare you?

- Lady Catherine. Catherine of Winchester.
- You killed my horse, sir!

Oh, forever upon that damned horse!

Get you gone, Father!

My boot is on the wrong foot
and it is paining my bunion.

I don't know what you're talking about.

I don't know!

We have not seen the likes
of that for three centuries!

- I am sorry for it, sirs.
- Do not be.

Magic is restored to England.

I hope it can do some good.

Do you think Mr Norrell would be offended
if I wrote to the London newspapers of this?

I very much think he would be.

But I rather think my master
has hidden his talent long enough.

It is time for him to take his place.

And London is where I shall take him.

Well, if that is how the first magician behaves,
I dare not think what the second will be like.

The Lord be with you. Let us pray.

In the desolate plateau of
the Iberian peninsula...

...and on the battlefields of France
and the Low Countries,

Lord, we beseech your help in these times
for our country,

fighting a godless enemy.

Lord, we ask for courage, wisdom,

for the support of your grace
and the endurance of your providence...

...which daily strengthens us.

- Amen.
- Amen.

Well done, Henry. You're using your voice
much better. More authority.

Yes, I think you have definitely improved.
Especially the erm... the voice.

Thank you, Jonathan.

We'd saved a place for you.

Oh, I did not see. I was at the back.

Yes. Right at the back.

Enjoying your Sunday, Mr Atkinson?

I've done everything you want in the way of...
I hardly play cards.

I drink very, very little,
scarcely more than a bottle a day.

And, well... I've no objection
to going to church more often.

Twice a week if you'd like it better.

I leave such matters to your own conscience.

I do not know, perhaps you don't like
my going to Bath or Brighton or...

But really, the ladies there,
you have nothing to fear from them.

They are without doubt very charming, but...

That hadn't even occurred to me.

Oh...

- Arabella.
- Jonathan.

I only wish that you would...
find a way to occupy your time.

No one loves a holiday better than I,
but perpetual holidays...

- Does it make you happy?
- You make me happy.

A man needs an occupation, Jonathan.

- You know perfectly well that my lather...
- I'm going away.

- What?
- With Henry, to his new parish, help him settle.

Oh.

I'd not thought to do this now,
but I see I must act.

Jonathan?

Do not act.

Think.

I'll not be gone forever.

It is cruel, sir, for a fellow of my age to be kept
from taking up any useful position in the world.

It is no wonder that I go to seed in this manner
of which you so desperately disapprove.

Which useful position had you in mind?

Any, sir. Give it to me and I shall fill it.

(Almighty sneeze}

One more of those and you'll
lose your position, sir.

As for you, let me see, you have...

- Good God, man!
- For pity's sake.

Father, have him close the window,
he is clearly ill.

Open all the windows.

I'm not blind, my son.

This clergyman's girl wishes you
to be a man of destiny.

She does not know that you, like your mother,

are weak and skittish

and doomed to fulfill no function more useful
than that of a clothes horse.

- My dear fellow!
- Leave him! On your feet, sir.

Stand beside the window.

And you, sir, you've proved yourself
a failure in everything you've done.

And you shall have no assistance
in finding any occupation

whilst I am yet living and
master in this house.

I had thought to ask your permission
to marry your sister.

But it is her permission I'd struggle to get.

Have some brandy in that.
It makes it taste much better.

It is Sunday, Jonathan.
I have a carriage to catch.

Arabella loves you. She merely...

- I have tried.
- She just wishes you to have purpose.

I have tried to buy an ironworks,
the smelting room gave me a headache.

I have tried to establish a business
to collect fossils at Lyme Regis.

- Yes?
- Too rainy. Have you been to Lyme Regis?

- Cannot your father...
- My father delights in torturing me,

as he tortures his servants.

As he tortured my mother.

Jonathan... God will...

A way will become clear to you, Jonathan.

All I've ever truly wished for is your sister.

It often happens
in the most unexpected of ways.

Goodbye, Jonathan.

Do not drown yourself.

I will have one more.

What?

- I fear there's been a quarrel.
- The door, it's quite jammed.

Come on, together.

The poor fellow is ill!

This room is as cold as a Scotsman's chimney!

Father!

Father?

She regrets her absence in Cumberland.
She does not like to think of me being alone

and friendless at such a time.

Well, I have an estate to run.
I'm not to be without an occupation now.

- What sort of an interval is appropriate?
- Eh?

For me to ride up there and ask for her hand,
Jeremy! To Cumberland!

What sort of period of mourning
do you think is fit? A month? Two weeks?

Three days?

"...Mr Norrell, having taken a London house
for the season..."

I have not taken it, I have bought it.

210 guineas.

"...having taken a London
house for the season,

leaves us hungry to see which,
if any, new wonders he will perform

after the miracle of York."

Miracle?

The miracle of York.

"Are we to see the proof of his genius
with our own eyes?

Has magic truly returned

or is Mr Norrell simply a wealthier version
of the familiar conjurer

in his yellow-curtained tent?"

I have never...

I have contended with this for 40 years.

Sniggers and disapproval.

This is why we have come here, is it not?

We have some to change that.

The Star has reprinted Mr Segundus's letter,
with illustrations.

Why is London so expensive? So noisy?

And the smell!

Is that supposed to be me?
With a beard and a pointy hat?

They intend no disrespect, sir. That is what
most folk believe a magician to look like.

The magic of the old country.

The magic of the Raven King,
300 years gone...

and turned to feathers.

The Raven King.

These men give the practice of magic
such an appalling name.

Well, if nothing else, sir,
you should pull that picture out of their heads.

Whoa!

Listen. This is what you have worked for.

This is your great opportunity.

If all goes as ii should here,
when folk think of a magician...

They will think of myself.

Courage, sir. Charm.

He's the Secretary of State for War.

Remember what a gift it is that you offer,
then I am sure he will be your friend.

You, sir, are an embarrassment to your party
and to this whole house.

Our forces are hopelessly outnumbered
by the French.

We stay in Salamanca and be massacred

or lead our troops over the mountains
and leave them to the snow.

This is a final disgrace,

the final act of a criminally incompetent
government.

Shame upon you. Shame!

Shame!

- No! No!
- Answer! Answer!

Order. Sir Walter Pole.

The Honourable Gentleman is well known for
his excellent impromptu speeches

and it is good to know that the time he
spends preparing them is not wasted.

I would have been happy to hear less of it.

But as Napoleon himself has said,
you should never interrupt your enemy

when he is making a mistake.

There will be no retreat from Salamanca.

But I am a man of my word
and a custodian of English blood.

There will be no retreat!

There will be a massacre!

Well done, Sir Walter. Well done.

Sir Walter!

Sir Walter!

Sir Walt...

What assistance may I be to you, sir?

I have an appointment with Sir Walter
to talk about... magic.

Ah, you're the magician. Mr Norris.

Norrell.

Sir Walter begs humbly to receive you
at his private residence.

A-ha! I'm very glad to meet you, sir.

It seems London talks of little else
but the extraordinary Mr Norrell. Please.

Mr Norrell is a magician, ma'am.

A person of great reputation
in his native county of Yorkshire.

And where are your fairy servants, sir?

Are they visible only to yourself,
or may others see them?

Oh, fairies are mythological
creatures, madam.

Mythological?

I meant to say that they do not.

They did not exist in the way
the stories have them.

They're a poisonous race, their help is
always regretted, it is always a heavy price.

You are not at all what I
expected, eh, Stephen?

I had not formed a picture of Mr Norrell, sir.

I had heard you were a practical magician.
I hope you're not offended.

It's a great relief to see
you're nothing of the sort.

You are a theoretical magician, I imagine.

They say you have something to ask me?

I...

That is to say, I beg your pardon,
but I am in fact a practical erm... magician.

But I very earnestly hope that I will not
by this admission lose your good opinion.

No, by no means.

The misapprehension under which you labour,

by which I mean, of course, the belief
that all practical magicians are charlatans,

arises from the appalling idleness of English
magicians in the last 300 years.

I have performed one small feat of
modern magic,

which the people of York were kind enough
to say they found astounding.

I am come, Sir Walter, to offer you my help
in our present difficulties.

- You mean the war?
- Yes.

My dear sir, what has
magic to do with the war?

I believe I have heard what you did in York and
I am sure the housewives were very grateful.

But I can scarcely see how such magic
maybe applied to the war.

True enough, soldiers get very dirty.

Sir, I made half-a-hundred stone figures
talk in York Minster.

It was nothing to do with housewives.

- My fiancée, Miss Wintertowne.
- Oh, er... enchanté, miss.

Very fond of magic myself.

There's a wonderful street magician, Winculus.
He's all lies and...

Oh, well, no, street magicians
are the very worst.

All magicians are vagabonds.

My dear Emma is to be married to
Sir Walter at St George's in ten days' time.

Many congratulations.

I am often ill myself.
I find some warm lemon and nutmeg...

Mr Norrell, I'm not sure what help
you hope to offer us.

I'm sorry to say it will not do.

Magic is not respectable, sir.

The Government cannot meddle in such things.

Frankly, had I better understood what
you were proposing to offer,

I would not have agreed to meet you.

- How'd it go?
- Very well.

- Tolerably well.
- As bad as that, eh?

Did you do any magic for him?

This is not the way to the house.
Hanover Square is that way.

We are going to Lady Godesdone's house.
It's a soirée.

A party?

I wish to go home and read a book.

Powerful gentlemen spend more time at parties
than they do in Parliament.

You cannot do this from the comfort
of your own fireside, sir.

We're not in Yorkshire any more.

Pardon me. Excuse me.

Excuse me.

I heard the ladies of Yorkshire
put out their dirty linen in baskets at night,

and in the morning, it is magically clean.

A wealthy uncle died, leaving him a large
estate, Hurtfew Abbey. It's in Yorkshire.

Wealthy uncles are in short supply these days.

I was with him only this morning, to hear of
the wonderful magic he's been doing.

What kind of wonderful magic
are we talking about?

The cleaning of laundry is commonly known.

Admit it, you don’t know him.

On the contrary,
nobody in London knows him better.

We came here expecting to see something
extraordinary, such as we read in The Times,

and instead we've been forced to make
our own entertainment.

- Thai gentleman is reading a book!
- I beg your pardon.

No, no, you do not know him as I.

Mr Norrell has a shrewd
notion of his own value.

A gentleman who buys a house
in Hanover Square.

- I beg your pardon.
- What?

I am Mr Norrell.

Oh...

Mr Norr-ell...

...I can scarcely begin to express my
delight in making your acquaintance.

I had mistook you, sir.

But now that I behold you,

I plainly see you have the measured
and dignified air of a magical scholar.

Lascelles, do you not think Mr Norrell has
the grave and sober bearing of a scholar?

S'pose so.

My name is Drawlight.

I have been your John the Baptist, sir,

preparing the way for you.

I knew we would befriends.

Here we are, chatting so comfortably...
to one another.

This is all for you, sir.

Yes, I am becoming aware of that.

Let me announce you.

And I pray, do not think it would be
considered an insult lo the company

if you were to perform a
trick or two of magic.

No, no, no. No, I...

My lords...

My lords, ladies and gentlemen,

may I introduce to you my dear friend,

the saviour of English magic,
the magician of Hanover Square, Mr Norr-ell!

He has disappeared.

Can I help you, sir?

The rain shall make a door for me.
And I shall walk through it.

Oh, yes, you think yourself a very fine fella.

Hoarding books like a miser hoards gold.

- Open up!
- Well, I have a book, sir.

A book you won't find in your library,
or any other.

It's written by the Raven King,

and it tells me all about you.

Vinculus, magician of Threadneedle Street,
at your service.

Well, know this, magician...

Your coming was foretold long ago.

I've been expecting you these past 20 years.

Now I've come to explain your destiny to you,
as is written in my book.

Oh, prophecies, is it?

Well, magic cannot see into the future,
and rascals who claim otherwise are liars.

- Childermass!
- These are the words of the Raven King.

He was a charlatan, sir! Childermass!

- Two magicians shall appear in England.
- Two?

The name of one shall be Fearfulness,
the name of the other, Arrogance.

- Did you say two?
- Sssh!

The first shall fear me,
the second shall long to behold me.

The first shall bury his heart in
the dark wood beneath the snow,

yet still feel its ache.

The second shall see his dearest possession
in his enemy's hand.

Both will fail.

The nameless slave shall be a king
in a strange land.

I will return.

His words, sir, not mine.

“I will... return."

There.

Goodbye.

Childermass!

I want that man gone.

I want him run out of London,
you shall have some spells.

- I don't need any spells. What did he want?
- What?

The man put himself to much trouble
and risked a hanging. What did he want?

To give a prophecy from the Raven King.
Nonsense.

- The Raven King?
- He said he had a book. Nonsense.

But if he does have a book, I want it,
and then I want to go home to Yorkshire.

To Yorkshire? We've only just moved here!

This house is not respectable enough.
Such a tiny library.

No, you're doing it wrong.
You've got dozens of invitations to fancy houses

and you, you either turn them down
or you scarper.

That's not how you get things done.
Why do you not at least do some magic here?

Just show them.

I'm not a performing monkey.

- Have Davey bring down the packing boxes.
- Do you wish to make a success of this?

Or do you not?

There. Take these spells.

Use them if you must.

One-penny spells. Two-penny spells.

I've got a guinea spell for you, sir.

Let me importune some fortune
into your sorry little life, sir.

Pull out your purses and procure some curses.

All right, darling?
For five shillings I'll confer with the Thames

and find that runaway husband of yours.
Eh? No?

- How much for your pies, mate?
- More than you've got.

Ahh, Mr Norr-ell, sir!

Drawlight, hm?

Your John the Baptist.

A moment of your time, sir.

Ah, a spell to make an obstinate man
leave London.

One spell to discover
what my enemy is doing presently.

Cheap. Tell the magician of Hanover Square
that his spells have no effect on me.

Because I haven't cast them yet.
There's a true magician in England now.

I know magicians and I know magic and I say
this... All magicians lie, that one more than most.

Oh, yes.

I think you and I had better have a chat,
don't you?

Why?

You left so suddenly last night, sir,

and I had so much to say,
and I'm sure we will be such friends.

Davey, use some calf-skin gloves.

Do mind the spines, Lucas. The spines.

You are not leaving, sir?

I came hereto restore magic to respectability
and to do some good for the war.

I am bound to fail.
These men in Government will not listen.

Sir, if you will permit me, I know these men.

Just a spell or two would have them
embracing you like a brother.

I only ask that I be the gentleman
to introduce you to society.

- Just one small piece of magic.
- Like you did for the housewives in Yorkshire.

I have never washed any linen in my life,
by magical means or otherwise.

Who invented this nonsense?

I suppose it is no matter who.

- So where's this book of yours?
- You'll never have my book, nor even see it.

- It's my inheritance.
- From who? The Raven King?

Well, you can't hide the truth from me.

The cards of Marseilles.

Shall we see your fortune?

Curses!
Curses upon your neighbour!

For the present, your actions are governed
by a hermit. Norrell.

We knew that already.

Ah, this one tells me you've weighed
your choices and made a decision.

This one tells me what it is...

You're going wandering.

You have a message to deliver. To him.

The Knight of Wands.

You may expect a meeting, leading to an
ordeal of some sort, perhaps even death.

The cards don't say
whether or not you'll survive.

But regardless, you will
achieve your purpose.

Do you know what I am yet?

Nothing here says you're anything more
than a charlatan.

Then you won't mind if I tell a
fortune myself, then, will you?

My fortune won't interest you.

Not yours. His!

- Norrell's?
- He's at a crossroads, your magician.

Let's see which path he chooses, shall we?

Someone's left a dirty thumbprint on t'card.

I drew these myself.
There's only one king in the pack.

Tell that to the magician of Hanover Square.
His past. His present. His future.

He is coming, you know.

The Raven... is coming.

And his spell is about to be cast.
Ha!

I do not wish to attend soirées,
dinner parties or salons.

I offered my services to the country, they
were declined. I shall return to Yorkshire.

Good day, gentlemen.

Well, sir, you have your revenge,
at least as far as Walter Pole is concerned.

- Sorry?
- Sir Walter's bride is dead.

Poor thing. £1,000 a year, and quite dead.

She only contrived to remain alive
till the end of the week.

Dead? The young lady?

- That is most unexpected.
- On the contrary, nothing was more likely.

Sir Walter's need of the money is desperate.

He spent £1,000 on the last election alone.

It is a very dangerous thing
to bring someone back from the dead.

It has not been done in 300 years.

No, no, I could not attempt it.

Indeed, sir, no one proposes that you should.

Well, no, I know the form of it.

But it is precisely the sort of magic
I've set my face against.

It relies so much upon...

Well, that is to say, the outcome,
it is quite unpredictable.

It is quite out of the magician's power.

No, no, no, no. No, I shall
not even think of it.

No, sir, I understand.

You have in mind a great act of magic,

a testament to your... extraordinary powers.

I must say, I think the idea an excellent one.

Should you succeed, all the Poles in England
will be on your doorstep.

I have laboured all this time to make magic,
my profession,

respectable in the eyes of these men,
and then still they despise me.

Oh, my dear Mr Norr-ell,

such an opportunity is
unlikely to occur again.

With one stroke,
you return to us that sweet young woman

whose death no one can hear of
without shedding a tear.

And you re-establish magic
as a power in the realm for...

...generations to come.

There is scarcely any form of magic
more dangerous.

It is dangerous to the magician, and...

...furthermore, it is
dangerous to the subject.

But the subject, as you term her, is dead.

What worse fate can befall her?

And a brave magician surely...

I will need to send for more books.

I'll make an excellent landowner, Jeremy.

She will tell me that I will be bored, but I
shall tell her about my plans for alms houses

and demonstrate my concern
for the plight of the common man.

The common man over there is attempting to
violently accost the other common man, sir.

- I don't suppose you brought a set of pistols?
- No, sir.

Jeremy, go and fetch me a large stick.

I Say! You!

We are armed and ready.

- Sir, shush.
- What?

- You'll wake him up.
- Who?

The man under the hedge. He's a magician.

If you wake a magician before his time,
his dreams come after you and haunt you.

He's woken up!

Don't touch him.

- Knight of Wands.
- What did he say?

- Two magicians shall appear in England.
- What did he say?

- The name of one shall be Fearfulness.
- Get back! Get back!

The name of the other, Arrogance.

Both will fail.

My name is Vinculus, sir.

For three days, I have been walking westward

in search of a man destined
to become a great magician.

Due to certain mystical signs...

...I can see that it is you.

Two magicians shall appear in England.
The first shall fear me.

The second shall long to behold me. The first
shall be governed by thieves and murderers,

the second conspire at his own destruction.

You do not make it sound very appealing.
Choose someone else.

I did not choose you, magician.

You were chosen long ago.

Whoever chose will be disappointed.
I am no magician.

Then buy these two spells from me.
They'll get you started.

I got them from a great magician in London.

- How much do you want for them?
- Seven shillings and sixpence. Cough up.

All right, all right.

The nameless slave shall be a king.

Here, you! Let's have you. Workhouse!

- That's your lot.
- Vagrancy!

I'm not a vagrant, sir. I have money.

- Who gave him money?
- I think it's time we were going, Jeremy.

I pray remember me, upon the moors,
beneath the stars.

- Good day, gentlemen.
- I will return. His words, sir, not mine.

I will return.

When I take over the management
of my own estate...

You always told me you hated farming,
Jonathan.

- Will such a thing do for you?
- Well...

You once said you would rather put out
your own eyes

than spend one moment managing the estate.

- All right, I'm going to study magic. Will that do?
- Why on earth would you want to do that?

I met a man under a hedge
who told me I was a magician.

- Did you indeed?
- You do not believe me.

No. On the contrary, it's all of a piece
with your usual way of doing things.

I purchased two spells from the man under
the hedge. Would you like 10 see one?

- Very dirty.
- We magicians do not regard a little dirt.

Ancient, mysterious spells such as these.

2nd February? Three days ago.

Indeed.

“A spell to make an obstinate man
leave London."

"One spell to discover what mine enemy
is doing presently."

Why on earth would you want
to make people leave London?

These are horrible, Jonathan.

I require a mirror and something dead.

Er... Jeremy, those flowers.

I think we can find you a mirror, Jonathan.

Now, madam, an occupation.

If I make a success of this,
may I then presume that...

Here we are.

Thank you.

And er... now...

The flowers must be... arranged like so.

Then I draw a circle on
the mirror, like this.

And then I quarter the circle.

Jonathan, where did you get this nonsense?

From the man under the hedge. Do try it.

Henry, that... That is not your ceiling.

Who on earth is he?
And why is he your enemy?

- Do you owe him money?
- I do not think so.

He could be a banker.
It looks a little like a counting house.

Well, Arabella, good magicians conjure up
fairy spirits and long-dead kings.

I appear to have summoned
the spirit of a banker.

But....at least I am a magician.

I wish with all my heart, Sir Walter, that I might
invite you up with me to see what it is I do.

But the nature of this
magic demands solitude.

I will, I hope, have the honour of showing
you some magic on another occasion.

No, do not send them away, sir.

Gather as many of them around the bed
as possible. Impress the servants.

We should have brought some
Chinese powders to throw on the fire! Bang!

I wish to go to where Miss Wintertowne is.

This way, sir.

We will stand quietly in the comer, sir,
and afford any assistance.

- No.
- But, sir, we...

Gentlemen...

I have in mind to write a play
based on this sorry affair.

I shall call it...'Tis Pity She's A Corpse.

Argh!

Who in the world... are you?

I am the greatest magician of the age.

I am the man who is destined
to restore magic to England.

Well, obviously you are that...
or I should not be here.

But who are you?

What magic have you done?

Who was your master?

- I had no master. I taught myself... from books.
- From books.

There are some rather helpful books
these days.

At least they... might be helpful
when they're considered altogether.

Should I agree...

...to restore this beautiful
young woman to life...

...what would be my reward?

What... What sort of thing...

My wishes are the most moderate things
in the world.

I simply wish to be able to aid you
in your endeavours.

To advise you in all matters
and to guide your studies.

Oh, and you must take care to tell the world

that your greatest achievements are due,
in large part, to me.

Were I the sort of magician who entrusts
his business to other persons,

then I would...

But I fear, unfortunately,

that I have no notion to employ you

or indeed any other member of your race
ever again.

Well, this is most ungrateful indeed.

Perhaps I would do better...
to speak to the other one.

- The other who?
- The other magician.

No, there is no other magician.
I am the only one.

Of course there is another magician.

He is your dearest friend in all the world.

I have no friends.

So you will not help me?

I must confess that in recent centuries,

I have grown somewhat tired of the society
of my cousins and servants.

I have need of new companions

and this young woman would be
a charming companion indeed.

Grant me half her life...

and the deal is done.

- What would her friends and family say if...
- Half a life is better than none.

- How long is a life?
- How long would you like?

Well, let us suppose that she might
have lived until she was... 94...

...and she's 19.

That's another 75 years.

75 years, then.

Exactly half of which belongs to me.

- Shall we sign something?
- No.

No.

I should take something of the Lady's
to signify my claim.

- One of her rings?
- No.

Ah, I have it.

And then you will go back?

I am sorry?

After you've finished the spell.

You'll go away not to come back any more?

You need never see me... again.

Emma! Miss Wintertowne!

What are you doing, man?

Open this door!
For the love of Christ, sir, open this door!

What have you done?

Oh, my Lord, my Lord.

Emma.

You've been wicked.

It is not right you did not tell me
how poorly I was.

I do believe for a moment
I may have been dead.

Though I do not seem to be dead presently.
How unusual.

And Walter, I rather like you in black.
Let us dance.

Emma. Your finger.

I don't feel it.

Dance with me.

A miracle! The magician of Hanover Square
has restored the young lady to life!

My dear friend, Mr Norr-ell.

He has performed that
which medicine could not.

Physicians had abandoned her.

The poor young lady lies recumbent,
restored to life!