Historical Novels

"“Who the hell is that man in the robe, and why is he eating my saltpeter?” demanded Sword of Divine Fire. Everyone looked over to see that, indeed, a figure in a long off-white robe—a cross between a Frankish monk’s robe and an Arab djellaba—was nibbling at a handful of saltpeter-slush that he’d scooped up from one of the trays. … As he drew closer to the robed man, Jack was surprised—but then again, not really—to observe a red beard."

"“But you have not actually conducted an offensive operation against him in years.” “What, I’m besieging his citadel.” “You call it a Siege—others would describe it as a very long Picnic.”"

"When several elephants with razor-sharp blades all over their tusks decide to pirouette in the midst of a tightly packed mob, there is apt to be disorder, and such was the case now; Jack…could infer as much from the vocalizations of the Marathas, which sounded like every Italian opera ever written being sung at once."

"“Northeast…so our destination is Shahjahanabad?” Jack inquired. “He would prefer to say Delhi,” Padraig put in, after Surendranath failed to answer. “Of course, because he is a Hindoo, and Shahjahanabad is the Mogul name,” Jack said. “Leave it to an Irishman.” “The English have given our cities any number of inventive names,” Padraig allowed."

"Industrious monkeys had evidently been opening up bird-cages. The entire Flamingo Ward emerged at once. It looked as if a hogshead of fuchsia paint had been spilled down the steps of the hospital. Most of them were in for broken wings, so all they could do was mill around until one of them appointed himself leader and led them away on a random migration into the Habitation of Dust, pursued or accompanied by a couple of Japalura lizards making eerie booming noises."

"But these Moguls, like conquerors everywhere, had a keen sense of how to profit from local controversies, and their dark eyes were wide open…examining the guilty parties. Surendranath was obviously a Banyan, which was to say that he and his lineage had been more or less condemned by God to engage in foreign trade and make vast amounts of money all their lives. Jack, on the other hand, was a Frank wearing a snatch of leather held on by a crusty thong wedged up his butt-crack. The numerous scars on his back testified to his having been in trouble before—a nearly inconceivable amount of trouble."

"Padraig, the big Irishman, stepped forward and spat into the fire. “We’ve a saying,” he said to Jack in English. “'Is this a private fight, or can anyone join in?' Well, I’m in, which ought to suffice. But if you want me to swear by something, then I do swear on my mother’s grave above the sea in Kilmacthomas, and damn you if you think that’s not as good as being a samurai.”"

"“Very good then,” said Surendranath, “You have shown extreme wisdom in establishing your batna.” “Avast! We are all People of the Book here, and have no use for your idolatrous claptrap,” said Jeronimo. “Steady there, Caballero,” said Jack, “I know from personal experience that Books of India contain much of interest. What else can you tell us about this batna, Surendranath?” “I learnt it from English traders in Surat,” said the befuddled Surendranath, “It stands for 'Best Alternative To a Negotiated Agreement.'” A recess, now, as the phrase was translated into diverse languages."

"Now Cairo was a sort of accomplice in everything that happened there. It was large enough to engulf any army, and wise enough to comprehend any Plan, and old enough to’ve outlived whole races, nations, and religions. So nothing could really happen there without the city’s consent. Even if Jack had not known, when he’d disembarked from the galleot, that Egypt was the world’s oldest country, he’d have figured it out after an hour’s slow progress through Cairo’s streets. …all the space had been claimed, and there was nothing to do but shift the available materials from one site to another, much as the Nile continually built and dissolved the sand-bars of the Delta… Cairo was like the bottom of a vast pit whence the inhabitants had been madly trying to escape for thousands of years, and the only way out was to dig up clay, quarry limestone, and tear down empty houses and defenseless monuments, and pile the proceeds ever higher."

"The next few hours provided more reminders of their lowly station in the world as they stroked upstream with the sun clawing at their faces. Van Hoek cursed almost without letup, and Jack reflected that, for an officer, nothing could be more humiliating than to face backwards, and never see where you were headed."

"“Tied up alongside one of the great ships is a barque flying the glorious colors of His Majesty the Deformed, Monstrous Imbecile.” Then he paused to mutter a little prayer and cross himself. When Jeronimo attemped to say the words “King Carlos II of Spain,” this, or even less flattering expressions, would frequently come out of his mouth. “More than likely, this is the boat used by the tapeworms.”"

"“‘Moses of the Cross?’ What the hell kind of name is that?” Moseh did not appear to find it especially funny. “It is a long story—even by your standards, Jack. Suffice it to say that the Iberian Peninsula is a complicated place to be Jewish.”"

"Entries that are relatively reliable, according to scholarly sources, are in Roman type. Entries in italics contain information that is more likely to produce confusion, misunderstanding, severe injury, and death if relied upon by time travelers visiting the time and place in question."

"When he and Hooke and Wilkins had cut open live dogs during the Plague Year, Daniel had looked into their straining brown eyes and tried to fathom what was going on in their minds. He'd decided, in the end, that nothing was, that dogs had no conscious minds, no thought of past or future, living purely in the moment, and that this made it worse for them. Because they could neither look forward to the end of the pain, nor remember times when they had chased rabbits across meadows. Hooke took up his blade and reached for Daniel."

"”Is longevity much on your mind, Mr. Waterhouse?" "It is on the mind of every man. And I am a man. Who or what are you?" Enoch had got a look as if he were trying to be patient—which was not the same as being patient. "There's a certain unexamined arrogance to your question, Daniel. … you presume it is all perfectly natural and pre-ordained that the earth should be populated by men, whose superstitions ought to be the ruler by which all things are judged; but why might I not ask of you, 'Daniel Waterhouse, who or what are you? And why does Creation teem with others like you, and what is your purpose?' … Nor am I of a humour to be rated a hobgoblin or any other figment of the humane imagination; for 'twas God who imagined me, just as He did you, and thereby brought us into being.""

"Revolution is like the wheeling of stars round the pole. It is driven by unseen powers, it is inexorable, it moves all things at once, and men of discrimination may understand it, predict it, benefit from it."

""Shall we then say, like Newton, that all such truths are made arbitrarily by God? Shall we seek truths in the occult? For if God has laid these rules down arbitrarily, then they are occult by nature. To me, this notion is offensive; it seems to cast God in the role of a capricious despot who desires to hide the truth from us. In some things, such as the Pythagorean Theorem, God may not have had any choice when He created the world. In others, such as the inverse square law of gravity, He may have had choices; but in such cases, I like to believe he would have chose wisely and according to some coherent plan that our minds--insofar that they are in God's image--are capable of understanding."

"When Newton encounters a truth — such as the inverse square law of gravity—he does not even consider trying to understand it, but instead says that the world simply is this way, because that is how God made it. To his way of thinking, any truths of nature lie outside the realm of Natural Philosophy and belong to a realm he thinks is best approached through the study of alchemy. Let me tell you why Newton is wrong."

"Ah but since — since you've been immured here — why, the King has begun to fall apart." "So far I've learned nothing remarkable, sergeant, other than that there is a sergeant in the King's service who actually knows how to use the word 'immured.'"

""This may not however elevate your stature during the years you have remaining; for fame's a weed, but repute is a slow-growing oak, and all we can do during our lifetimes is hop around like squirrels and plant acorns.”"

"“So, all hail Isaac Newton! Let us give him his due, and glorify and worship whatever generative force can frame such a mind. Now, consider Hooke. Hooke has perceived things that no man before has ever perceived. … Newton makes his discoveries in geometrickal realms where our minds cannot go, he strolls in a walled garden filled with wonders, to which he has the only key. But you, Hooke, are cheek-by-jowl with all of humanity in the streets of London. … You are the millionth human to look at a spark, a flea, a raindrop, the moon, and the first to see it. For anyone to say that this is less remarkable than what Newton has done, is to understand things in but a hollow and jejune way, 'tis like going to a Shakespeare play and remembering only the sword-fights.""

"I would wager he had a father who was very strong, probably older brothers, too. That he has been checked and baffled many times, never married, never enjoyed even the small homely success of having a child, and has come to that time in his life when he must make his mark, or fail. This has become all confused, in his thinking, with the coming rebellion against the English King. He has decided to gamble his life on it—not in the sense of living or dying, but in the sense of making something of his life, or not." William winced. "I pray you never see that deep into me. …there is a placid cruelty about you." "About me? What of you? To fight wars is kindness?" "Most men would rather be shot through with a broad-headed arrow than be described by you."

"Your fascination with Negroes is very odd. But I have observed that the best people are frequently odd in one way or another. I have got in the habit of seeking them out, and declining to trust anyone who has no oddities. Your queer ideas concerning slavery are of no interest to me whatever. But the fact that you harbor queer ideas makes me inclined to place some small amount of trust in you."

"... those two belong to a common sect, or something—they knew and recognized each other. They dislike each other and work at cross-purposes but betrayal, corruption, any straying from whatever common path they have chosen, these are inconceivable. Is it the same sect as Gomer Bolstrood?" "No and yes. The Puritans are like Hindoos—impossibly various, and yet all of a type."

""I do not think you see what we can make of England now if we only try. I was brought up to believe that an Apocalypse was coming. I have not believed that for many years. But the people who believe in that Apocalypse are my people, and their way of thinking is my way. … there is something to the idea of an Apocalypse—a sudden changing of all, an overthrow of old ways—and that Drake and the others merely got the particulars wrong, they fixed on a date certain, they, in a word, idolized. If idolatry is to mistake the symbol for the thing symbolized, then that is what they did with the symbols that are set down in the Book of Revelation.”"

"She said a lot then, in five words of French." "She was pithy, for she credits me with wit. I am discursive, for I can extend you no such consideration."

"What!? Jack Ketch's performance made no impression on you at all?" "Oh, that? I assume you arranged it that way in order to buttress your position as the King's token Puritan bootlick — whilst in fact stirring rebellious spirits in the hearts and minds of the rich and powerful. Forgive me for not tossing out a compliment. Twenty years ago I'd have admired it, but by my current standards it is only a modestly sophisticated ploy."

"Burning books…is that not a favorite practice of the Spanish Inquisition?" "I have never been to Spain, Sir Richard, and so the only way I know that they burn books is because of the vast number of books that have been published on the subject."

"Where do we find God in the world? That is all I want to know. I have not found Him yet. But when I see anything that does not rot — the workings of the solar system, or a Euclidean proof, or the perfection of gold — I sense I am drawing nearer to the Divine."

"If Solomon knew all of this, why didn't he just come out and say, 'The sun is in the middle of the solar system and planets go round about it in ellipses?'" "I believe he did say so, in the design of his temple." "Yes, but why are God and Solomon alike so damned oblique in everything? Why not just come out and say it?" “… If you were to use me thus in a letter, I would conclude you were in the employ of the Beast, as some say you are." "What, merely for suggesting that the world does something other than rot?"

"It's right there in the Bible, Daniel. First chapter: the Garden of Eden. Last chapter: the Apocalypse." "I know, I know, the world started out perfectly good and has gotten worse and worse since then, and the only question is how bad will it get before God brings down the curtain. I was raised to believe that this tendency was as fixed and unavoidable as gravity, Isaac. But the Apocalypse did not come in 1666." "It will occur not long after 1867," Isaac said. "That is the year when the Beast will fall." "Most Anglican cranks are guessing 1700 for the demise of the Catholic Church." "It is not the only way that the Anglicans are wrong."

""I am only trying to recover what Solomon knew," Isaac said. "I can't help but wonder if you — perhaps even I — don't know a hell of a lot more about practically every subject than Solomon ever did," Daniel said. Isaac said nothing for a moment, but something about his silhouette looked wounded, or sad."

"He is still alive, I see," Roger mused. "If Hooke spent any more time lingering at Death's door, Satan himself would have the man ejected for vagrancy. Yet just as I am wondering whether I can make time for his funeral, I learn from Sources that he is campaigning like a French regiment through every whorehouse in Whitechapel."

""It is an error for you to feign modesty when you are talking to me," the King said, firmly but not angrily. I saw my error. We use humility when we fear that someone will consider us a rival or a threat; and while this may be true of common or even noble men, it can never be true of le Roi and so to use humility in His Majesty's presence is to imply that the King shares the petty jealousies and insecurities of others. "Forgive me for being foolish, Sire." "Never; but I forgive you for being inexperienced.”"

"Godspeed? Godspeed! What kind of a thing is that to say to a fucking galley-slave?"

"But he mastered his rage, and answered in a tight voice: "Understand: Louis is not like us—he does not trifle with reasons. He is a reason. Which is why he must be destroyed.” "And it's your ambition to do the destroying?" "Humor me, girl, by using the word 'destiny' instead of 'ambition.'""

"It was a superior sort of shop with an uncluttered interior and elegant modern chairs for the customers to sit upon; in fact is was so very refined an establishment that is was by no means clear what it sold."

"Drawlight had the strangest feeling. It was something he had felt before when magic was about to happen. Invisible doors seemed to be opening all around him; winds blew on him from far away, bringing scents of woods, moors and bogs."

"Tree speaks to stone; stone speaks to water. It is not so hard as we have supposed. Tell them to read what is written in the sky. Tell them to ask the rain! All of John Uskglass's old alliances are still in place. I am sending messengers to remind the stones and the sky and the rain of their ancient promises."

"England is full of magicians. Hundreds! Thousands perhaps! Norrell refused them. Norrell denied them. Norrell silenced them. but they are magicians nonetheless."

"A lovely young Italian girl passed by. Byron tilted his head to a very odd angle, half-closed his eyes and composed his features to suggest that he was about to expire from chronic indigestion. Dr. Greysteel could only suppose that he was treating the young woman to the Byronic profile and the Byronic expression."

"- she bore so many of the signs and disfigurings of extreme old age that she was losing her resemblance to other human beings and began instead to resemble other orders of living creatures. Her arms lay in her lap, so extravagantly spotted with brown that they were like two fish."

"You are a magician, sir?" said Mrs Wintertowne. "I am sorry to hear it. It is a profession I have a particular dislike to." She looked keenly at him as she said so, as though her disapproval might in itself be enough to make him renounce magic instantly and take up some other occupation."

"Mr. Norrell, thought confident now that his guest was no great magician or a great magician's servant, was still not much inclined to take Childermass's advice. His invitation to Mr Drawlight to sit down at the breakfast-table and take some chocolate was the coldest sort. But slky silences and black looks had no effect upon Mr Drawlight whatsoever, since he filled up the silences with his own chatter and was too accustoned to black looks to mind them."

"Long, long ago, (said the voice,) five hundred years ago or more, on a winter's day at twilight, a young man entered the Church with a young girl with ivy leaves in her hair. There was no one else there but the stones. No one to see him strangle her but the stones. He let her fall dead upon the stones and no one saw but the stones. He was never pnished for his sin because there were no witnesses but the stones. The years went by and whenever the man entered the church and stood among the congregation the stones cried out that this was the man who had murdered the girl with ivy leaves wound into her hair, but no one ever heard us. But it is not too late! We know where he is buried! Pull up the paving stones. Dig up his bones! Let them be snashed with the shovel! Dash his skull against the pillars and brak it!Let the stones have vengeance too! It is not too late! It is not too late!"

"²The Great church at York is both a cathedral (meaning the church where the throne of the bishop or archbishop is housed) and a minster (meaning a church founded by a missionary in ancient times). It has borne both these names at different periods. In early centuries it was more usualy called the Minster, but nowadays the people of York perfer the term Cathedral as one which elevates their church above those of the nearby towns of Ripon and Beverly. Piopn and Beverly have minsters, but no cathedrals."

"Bell," he said, "do not wear black. Do not be a widow. Be happy. That is how I wish to think of you."

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

"5There are very few modern magician who do not declare themselves to be either Strangite or Norrellite, the only notable exception being John Childermass himself. Whenever he is asked he claims to be in some degree both. As this is like claiming to be both a Whig and Tory at the same time, no one understands what he means."

"So many people dead, just to find my name," sighed Stephen."