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Do you know what he said to me last time?
I said to him, "Are you the jolliest at home?"
And he said, "Yes, except for the door knob because that gives everyone a handshake."
Oi!
Aye, aye, me damsel.
Welcome home, Mr Billy.
- We've been worried to death about you. - For why?
On account of that explosion.
- What was that? - At Ostend.
Oh, yes. I heard tell of that at Antwerp.
Dreadful.
Dirty linen.
Mr William's been getting in a stew about it.
- Is he out and about his business? - That he is.
You faring well?
Thank you.
- How was your journey home? - It was execrable.
You in need of anything else?
Tea?
- Good morning, Signor Grande. - Mr Turner! Buongiorno.
- Joshua. - Morning, sir.
- We have damn rats. - No shortage of them in this city.
Wretched things! It's an epidemic.
- What can I do for you today? - Well, let me see.
- He is back? - We are expecting him any day now.
Bravo! The prodigal son.
- Pronti. What do we need? - An ounce of chrome yellow.
- Chrome yellow, Joshua. - Chrome yellow, sir.
- A large packet of flake white. - Flake white.
What is your price for a bladder of ultramarine?
My price is the best price.
And what might that price be?
Blue ultramarine is coming from far, far away: Afghanistan.
- What else do you need? - Bottle of poppy oil, some Indian red.
- Poppy oil, Joshua. - Yes, sir.
There's your prize porker.
Is he handsome?
He has a big smile on his face.
- You're making the sauce? - It's all but done, save the brains.
Good. Oh... dearie me!
- Will you take a dish of tea, Mr William? - Oh, thank ye, Hannah.
Shall you be putting those chattels away? I should.
- Best do it now. - Yes.
Then I can rest me weary legs.
You're home, Billy boy!
Hey, Daddy!
I thought you was exploded.
I been down on my knees and praying you was safe.
Well, you been chafing your old pedestals for naught, Daddy.
I was a hundred miles distant.
- Oh, you heard tell of it, then? - I did indeed.
Terrible, they pour souls as perished, two score or more.
Took a few brave soldiers with it an' all.
I was vexed to learn you been entertaining concerns, old Dadda.
'Twas only natural.
Oh, Daddy!
How was your crossing?
Set fair on departure, lumpy in the middle.
- Did you sail from Rotterdam? - No, Dieppe.
Night coach from Brighton proved to be an heinous travail.
How so?
It was stuffed full of yacking and cackling females.
Pox-ridden harridan as broad in the beam as the old Victory at Trafalgar.
- Were your travels productive? - Exceeding refreshing, old Daddy.
Yeah, Amsterdam.
Had a gander at the Rembrandt.
Militia Company, Antwerp Cathedral.
Rubens, the triptych.
Flanders, still as flat as a witch's tit.
Thank you, Hannah. You sly girl.
Did you find tolerable diggings?
Stinking flea pit at Dieppe, then moved to the harbour.
Westerly aspect, fine sunset.
Oh, Daddy, I'm in need of an eight-by-six.
I have a seven by five-and-a-half ready sized and primed.
- That should suit. - Right you be.
More's to the point, how you been faring?
In good health, thank the Lord.
- Bronchioles still rattling? - No.
He was wheezing last week.
October ain't quite come round the corner yet, has it?
I've been over to Grande's.
Ultramarine's gone up to a guinea a bladder.
Gawd's truth!
That brigand still robbing us, is he?
- You're in need of a shave. - Yeah, well, be that as it may, Daddy.
Presently I'm gonna throw myself into the arms of Morpheus.
No!
I took a trip down west, Exeter, last week.
- How fares the old uncle? - Bearing up, considering.
- Considering what? - Well, his age, living alone.
Here's the thing.
He wants to arrange a family gathering.
Will you take some more cheek?
Yeah, cast us another morsel.
Missing your button, Mr Billy.
Be so kind as to enter the vestibule.
The darkness is to a purpose.
I shall return by and by.
Madam.
Gentlemen.
Behold.
Three steps down.
Pray, view at your leisure.
- Good day to you, Hannah. - Good day to you, Aunt Sarah.
- And how are you faring? - Very well, thank you.
- Are you coming in? - I most certainly am. Is he at home?
- He is. I'll tell him you're here. - I can inform him myself, thank you kindly.
- Good day to you, sir. - And a very good day to you, Mrs D.
And how do we find you on this fair morning?
Exceedingly preoccupied, madam.
'Twas ever thus. You've always been preoccupied.
You're too preoccupied for your own good, sir.
Nothing comes from nothing, madam.
And we have had nothing from you, sir.
Evelina, Georgiana, come and greet your father.
Good day, Father. May I present my child to you?
- Your granddaughter. - Rosalie Adelaide.
Your only surviving grandchild.
Georgiana, cease your dithering!
May I suggest, Mrs D, with the utmost respect,
that you withdraw to the drawing room?
Good day to you, Mrs Danby. Would you care to step this way?
Good day to you, Mr Turner.
And will you be gracing us with your presence
in the withdrawing room, sir?
I sincerely hope you will. And, pray, do not keep us waiting.
We have our own lives to lead. Come along, daughters.
The vapours in this room are most noxious to a child's lungs.
Ladies, pray, sit yourselves.
Sarah, if you please.
I shall be seated, William, when it suits me and not before.
So be it.
- She's a pretty little thing. - Thank you, Grandfather.
- We are most proud of her. - We are indeed.
- Have you been out strolling, Aunt Sarah? - No, niece.
I've been to collect my pension at Leicester Fields,
- it being the first of the month. - Indeed.
- Your latest infant? - To be sure, Father.
- Of robust constitution? - She has an excellent character.
One must trust in providence. Colour of eye?
- Blue, as yourself. - Splendid.
Do not forget your other daughter, sir,
whom you have deigned to neglect these past two years.
Sit down, Georgiana.
- She is learning French. - And music.
She is having an education.
Reading, writing, arithmetic and geography with the globe.
Sit up straight, Georgie!
Say something in French.
- Bonjour. - Bonjour, Papa.
- Are you keeping well? - I am.
I was not addressing you, sir.
I enjoy good health, thank'ee. And yourself?
We are surviving as best we can under the circumstances.
- And what circumstances might they be? - Straightened circumstances, sir.
But we manage to keep body and soul together,
no thanks to your ungrateful son.
How dare you take your leave of me, Billy Turner!
You insult me, as you have always insulted me!
Billy!
Good evening, William.
Felicitations of the evening to you, your Lordship.
You faring well?
Bit breathless. Been up to the farm.
Watch the sunset, say goodnight to the milkmaids.
Any further consideration to mechanicalising the thresher?
You can't beat the old oxen.
- Is that so, your Lordship? - Indeed.
We had a ploughing competition last spring
between teams of horses and teams of oxen.
- And the victor? - The horses.
- Well, the ox is a sluggish beast. - Yes, but strong.
With the added benefit, when it comes to the end of its working life,
it makes a very succulent dish.
Unlike the horse.
Good for glue.
Ahem... your Lordship!
- A very good evening to you, sir. - Evening, Manners.
Mr Turner.
Are we not blessed by the heavens
to witness so glorious a crepuscular time of day?
Imbecile.
Continuing satisfaction as to the arrangement, your Lordship?
I think we have successfully achieved the correct effect, William.
Thank you.
- Good evening, Nat. - Oh, good evening, my Lord.
- Good evening, Miss Coggins. - Your Lordship, Turner.
- How's your father faring, William? - Oh, bearing up, your Lordship.
Very gracious of you to inquire.
We thought we'd lost him this last winter, a very harsh one.
He came through. He's a hardy old cove.
Excellent.
- See you at dinner. - Indeed.
Exceedingly beautiful.
You are too kind.
I'm familiar with the melody, but...
Herr Beethoven.
The "Pathétique".
I possess a rare fondness for... Henry Purcell.
As do I.
Yes.
"Dido's Lament."
May my wrongs create
Create
No sorrow...
- Trouble. - Trou...
No trouble
- In thy breast... thy breast... - Thy breast.
In thy brea... breast
Remember me
But...
- Ah! Forget my fate. - Ah!
Forget my fate
Remember me
But ah!
Forget my fa...
My fate
A song of lost love.
Indeed.
I thank you.
Thank you, Mr Turner.
Madam.
Mr Turner?
I have often pondered, might there be a distinction
between the way you paint a sunrise as opposed to a sunset?
Oh, there is indeed, Lady Stuckley.
Yeah, cos one is going up whilst the other...
- The other is going down! - Oh, Eliza, do hush.
And might it also be determined by the angle of the light?
Well, it's weather,
vapour,
wind,
frangibility and such like.
Eliza, look at his nails!
Whilst you goddesses are languishing in the kingdom of Hypnos,
I am up before the lark to witness Helios popping his head above the parapet,
with the only benefit that the sunrise is not afflicted...
with diminishing light.
- Carew. - Oh!
Turner!
I'm by way of observing poor Saint Sebastian here.
The artist is not known to me.
- Flemish. - Oh.
Uncommonly capacious rump on the cherub.
It might have gained in potency with an increase of arrows.
Well, yon celestial fellow is tugging them all out.
I can hardly bear to look upon it.
The pain on his face, the mark of resignation in it.
'Tis a willing sacrifice, is it not?
'Twas not how the poor soul perished.
He was brought back to full health by a good Samaritan.
Then the heathens cudgelled him to death and deposited him in a sewer.
I would question the veracity of that telling.
No good deed goes unpunished.
What a curious fate is mine.
Last month in the King's Bench Prison in the company of debtors,
this month a guest of quality, rank and fashion.
Rejoice, Haydon. You find yourself in a veritable Bacchanalia.
His Lordship keeps a very fine wine cellar.
Be sanguine, fill your boots.
Might I ask you to loan me some money, Turner?
I beg your pardon?
I am in dire and pressing need of 100 pounds.
Out of the question.
My landlord, he's a good man, a patient man,
but he will not wait forever.
I need to pay the wine merchant, my colour man...
And your dear wife, Mrs Haydon, is she faring well?
Mrs Haydon is presently with child.
Well, you have my hearty congratulations, Haydon.
Congratulations are not in order. I'm in torment.
I am not unsympathetic to your impecunity, Haydon.
Therefore I can advance you 50 pounds.
Turner, if 100 pounds will not spare me from this predicament,
what in Jesu's name can 50 pounds do?
Then you are refusing to accept the 50 pounds?
- It is damned inadequate. - I wish you good day, sir.
- Turner? - Hey, hey!
My word is my bond.
I may not yet be an Academician but I am a gentleman.
I have a painting presently with the King at Windsor.
I am assured he will buy it from me for 500 guineas or more.
Furthermore, I have another fine painting in mind,
a companion piece,
which he is most certain to purchase in addition.
Who has made these assurances?
- The King's private secretary, Knighton. - Oh.
Well, I can furnish you with five pounds this morning.
Five pounds?
50 pounds is not sufficient. Five pounds is tantamount to an insult.
Sir, I beseech you, brook your ire.
If you attend my residence at London,
I will loan you 50 pounds.
In addition to the five?
Mr Haydon, you are exceedingly tiresome.
I am gratified.
I humbly accept the 50 pounds.
Might I find you at the same address?
I may swim.
"And the spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness."
A tormented soul, for sure.
I sympathise, but he attributes all of his failures
- to anything other than his own behaviour. - Indeed.
His complaint with life is as absurd as that of a spoke in a wheel,
railing against the motion that it must of necessity partake.
I concur. He suffers the fate of Tantalus.
He reaches for the fruit, the branch moves.
When he stoops to drink the water goes down.
If only he would consider the wishes of his public
rather than pursuing his own peculiar convictions,
it would be his salvation.
And yet, my dear Beechey, as his personal troubles increase,
so the quality of his painting suffers.
- But still, the man can paint. - For sure, he can paint a Haydon.
The return of one prodigal is worth more than gold.
An essential quality for a prodigal, sir, is humility.
He is a cracked pot.
He's heading for a fall.
Gentlemen, are we as one?
Sadly... I cannot give him my support.
He is not of our temper.
Alas, the Academy does not have need of Haydon
so much as Haydon has need of the Academy.
Here the rose that decks thy door
Here the thorn that spreads thy bower
Here the willow on the moor
The birds at rest
Above thee
Had they light of life to see
Sense of soul like thee and me
Soon might each a witness be
How dotingly
I love thee
Here we meet too soon to part
Here to leave would raise a smart
Here I'll press thee to my heart
Where none have place
Above thee
With your Lordship's permission,
ladies and gentlemen, our next offering, we hope,
is of a somewhat more playful nature.
- Playful as you wish. - Thank you.
Oh! No, it isn't!
I'm a poor simple girl so excuse me, sir, pray
I am just one and twenty the first of next May
I never do harm but I tend to my farm
I'm up early and late and though humble my state
I don't envy my betters but bear 'em good will
And I'm called Pretty Kitty
Pretty Kitty
The maid of the mill
I have lovers in plenty come hither to woo...
If they will be so teasing, pray, what can I do?
I'm good-tempered and kind and a youth to my mind
Who is open and free would be happy with me
But they all are so stupid that none of them will
Pop the question to Kitty
Pretty Kitty
The maid of the mill
- Good day to you, sir. - Good day to thee.
You be a lodgings, then?
It be.
- This chamber, 'tis available? - It is, aye.
May I peruse it?
Mrs Booth!
There be a gentleman.
- Good day to you, sir. - Good day to you, madam.
- Are you seeking lodgings? - Indeed I am.
Here, Mr Booth.
- Your top front, 'tis available? - Maybe, sir, yes.
- May I peruse it? - Indeed, sir, if you'd care to follow me.
- You just come off the boat? - Indeed.
- The Maggie or the Billy? - The Maggie.
- Oh, 'twas early today! - We'd the best of the tide.
There.
- This be my better most chamber. - Exceeding homely.
Oh, I do thank you, sir.
You're looking at the finest view in Margate.
They do say this town be the first place in England
that the sun do reach of a morning.
Now, all my linen is freshly aired, clean and sweet-smelling,
and I can lay a fire for you, should you require.
Now, sir...
my terms is one guinea for the week with no meals
or full board for an extra 15 and sixpence.
And I'm afraid I do have to ask for a small deposit and a reference.
- Five pound. - 'Tis my reference and deposit.
Oh, I can't take this, sir. It is far too much.
Refund of balance on departure. That suit you, madam?
I do thank ye, sir.
Well, I should introduce myself. My name is Mrs Booth.
- And you, sir? - Beg your pardon?
- I was asking your name, sir. - Mallard.
Oh... Mr Mallard.
Well, I do hope you'll be most comfortable here, Mr Mallard.
Now, is there anything else I can provide for you?
A small bowl of water, madam, if you'd be so kind.
- Might that be a glass of water? - No, a bowl.
Very well, sir. I shall bring that up for you.
Yes?
I found you a small bowl, sir. I hope this do suit your requirements.
Indeed.
Where would you like I should put it for you?
Upon the window sill, if you'd be so kind.
Good. Oh, dear! Do be coming along blowing now.
Well... I shall serve your supper downstairs in the parlour at six of the clock.
And if you ever feel the need of a bit of company
you'd be more than welcome to join Mr Booth and I in our kitchen.
- I would not wish to impose, madam. - Oh, not at all, Mr Mallard.
We should be glad of your company.
- I'll top up your ale, Mr Mallard. - Thank you kindly, madam.
I hope you're enjoying your supper.
Oh, good.
Some folk do find shackles too salty for their taste.
Can never be too salty for me, madam.
There, Mr Mallard. This'll warm you up.
No, no, you sit yourself down.
I can squeeze around here just about these days.
- So, you had a good walk, then? - As far as Broadstairs and back.
Oh, dear! That is a long way. You'll sleep well tonight.
Your very good health, madam, sir.
- Very good health to you too, sir. - Will you not take a drink yourself?
I ain't touched a drop this many a long year.
He did used to enjoy a tipple, though that were long before I knew him.
- Man of the sea? - He was, weren't he?
- Ship's carpenter. - Carpenter? Noble craft.
What'd you ply?
Whalers? Spicers?
- Traders? - Slavers.
- For my sins. - He don't like to talk about it, though.
Africa, Zanzibar, the Indies.
Such terrible sufferings I did see.
Treated like animals, they was.
Worse than.
The howling sound of sorrow.
Yes.
- Changed my life, it did. - Oh, it did there.
Led me back to chapel.
Humans.
Humans can be dreadful cruel.
I watch them boys down there in the sands whipping them poor donkeys.
Mind you, you're better off being a donkey
than them wretched souls on the slave ships.
So, are you familiar with Margate, Mr Mallard?
As a boy.
Oh, there. You come here on your holidays, then?
Schooling, two years.
Oh, yes, Margate be famous for its schools.
- Coleman's. - Oh.
Mr Coleman? I do remember he.
- Up there by the Dane. - Back of the old town.
I lost two dear friends.
- I am sorry. - Scrofula.
- Oh, yes. Terrible sickness. - Aye.
Long time ago.
- Oh! Good afternoon. - Good afternoon, madam.
- It is Mrs Somerville. - Yes, you are expected.
Thank you most kindly.
Oh, what an elegant residence.
Have you come far, Mrs Somerville?
Oh, yes, indeed. All the way from Chelsea.
I took the steamer to Westminster, about an hour.
- Was the river busy? - Extremely.
You can see the whole world on the Thames.
- Mrs Somerville. - Oh, good afternoon, Mr Turner.
My apologies if I have forced you to wait upon me.
Oh, not at all. I have enjoyed a most pleasant interlude with your father.
- You find yourself well? - Passing fair, thank you. And you?
Indeed. Dr Somerville likewise?
Oh, yes, he's much engaged in administering to the poor veterans.
Well, now, it's a beautiful sunny day,
just perfect for our experiment.
I have everything I need here in my wee bag.
Are we going to witness an explosion?
Oh, goodness me! No, I hope not.
I'm astounded you have all your paraphernalia
- contained in yon small pouch. - Indeed it is, Mr Turner.
Everything except God's good sunlight.
Daddy, Mrs Somerville is a natural philosopher.
- Is she, now? - Mathematician, astronomer, geologist.
The universe is a wondrous thing, is it not, Mr Turner?
It is, to be sure.
The planets and the stars,
the oceans and the tides,
the clouds and the air,
mountains, volcanoes...
The tides be subject to the effect of the moon.
Quite so, the mysterious force of gravity.
It is my strong belief
that all things on this earth are connected.
- Nothing exists in isolation. - Indeed.
The rain falls, the sun shines
and the onions grow.
Oh, yes.
Daddy likes to affect the pretence of being a dunce.
He is in fact a man of high intellect.
- He taught me how to read and write. - Is that so?
- Education is an important thing. - It is indeed, most important for everyone.
I myself am presently engaged in the tutoring of my children.
That is indeed commendable.
It is a privilege that was not afforded to me.
I am an uneducated, self-taught Scotch woman.
Mrs Somerville, you are what you are.
- As are we, Daddy. - True.
Thank you.
And what was your profession, Mr Turner?
Daddy was the finest barber in Covent Garden.
I had some success in the business.
Wig maker.
He was a master of the razor and the brush.
You're the master of the brush now, Mr Turner.
Well...
My little lad could draw afore he could read and write.
Sat in the corner of the shop, scratching away with the chalk and charcoal.
I'd stick his pictures in the window.
And sell 'em, all of 'em.
For two or three shillings apiece on occasion.
Do you have children yourself, Mr Turner?
I do not, Mrs Somerville.
Thank you, Mr Turner.
- Have you ever seen a prism? - I have not.
There it is.
That is a thing of beauty.
Shortly you shall witness a rainbow passing through it.
Sir Isaac Newton, Daddy.
Gentlemen, might I request that you close the shutters, please?
Daddy.
Tell us when to cease, Mrs Somerville.
We need to create an aperture...
to strengthen the colours.
- There. - Daddy!
- Aha! - Let us put the paper in place.
- Daddy, some tacks for Mrs Somerville. - No, no tacks, Mr Turner.
The metal could contaminate the experiment.
A wee nub of wax.
Paper.
And what is the purpose of the small piece of paper?
I shall cover the bottom half of the needle so that it is not exposed.
And what is it you are about now, Mrs Somerville?
You'll have to wait and see, won't you?
Daddy, I wager that is the first time
you've witnessed a hammer being produced from a lady's reticule.
For certain 'tis!
You have the arm of a blacksmith, Mrs Somerville.
There, now.
That has thrown all those wee particles into chaos.
Particles into chaos.
What is the element contained within the violet light
such as magnetises the material?
That is what, as yet, Mr Turner, I do not know.
- The majesty of mystery. - Indeed.
Now, let us allow nature to take its course.
Although we will have to adjust the position of the easel from time to time.
Indeed, as mighty Apollo moves across his heavenly tract.
Yes!
- Three steps down, Mrs Somerville. - Take care.
Oh, my goodness me!
Oh, Mr Turner, I am quite overwhelmed.
Do as you wish, view as you wish.
Oh, my! These are breathtaking, are they not?
My dear late father would have much appreciated them.
- A naval man, I believe. - Indeed, he was a vice admiral.
- We have the Battle of Trafalgar over here. - Was he there, your father?
Er, no, he was at Camperdown.
- Lord Nelson's flagship, the Victory. - Indeed.
- It's a sketch for the painting. - Oh?
- Commissioned by the King. - Is that so?
Two years in the making.
- He didn't like it. - Did he not?
- No. - Too good for him.
Two years!
It takes me only half an hour to paint a picture.
So you are an artist, Mrs Somerville?
Oh, I don't think we can quite use that term in the presence of Mr Turner.
Nevertheless, Daddy, Mrs Somerville is a fine watercolourist.
Oh, you flatter me. Oh, what an epic storm scene!
Rock crushing a house in Switzerland.
Calais sands, women digging for bait.
I don't care for that much.
Oh, my! What have we here?
Oh, it's Hannibal crossing the Alps.
Do you see the elephant?
- An elephant? - He's in there somewhere.
- Are you teasing me, Mr Turner? - By no means, madam.
Can you find him?
Well, no, I cannot.
There he is.
- Oh! Ha, ha! - Daddy's little jest.
Oh, it is a terrifying scene!
The elements dwarfing the elephants.
Hubris.
There.
Shall I make it do a wee dance?
So, the end of the needle that was exposed to the violet light
has produced a magnetic north pole.
- Like a compass? - Exactly so.
Whereas, Mr Turner, had I done the same experiment
using the red end of the spectrum,
this needle would not have been magnetised.
I have, from time to time, attempted it with the green and the blue,
and it has succeeded on occasion but not consistently.
Colour is contradictory.
Well, is it, Mr Turner?
Colour is absolute.
Sublime but contradictory yet harmonious.
You are a man of great vision, Mr Turner.
The universe is chaotic and you make us see it.
In natural philosophy
nothing can ever be proved, only disproved.
The purity of your prism, the contamination of my palette.
Natural light, blackness.
White is the power of good, black is the devil.
Transparent bodies depend so much upon what is opposed to them,
having no colour,
that they take every one offered.
Water often possesses colour
but colour is not imparted to its reflections...
or refractions like a coloured glass
when everything seen is vitiated by that colour.
Even the purest mirror gives a tone to the sky
and as the colour is increased,
it destroys all the colour of nature by its...
by its own dullness,
while water often seems to challenge the sky for...
brightness and...
and when possessing colour...
its reflections of objects appear more possible.
In short, their effects are like their qualities.
One repels the immediate ray.
The other absorbs it.
The one transparent while the mirror...
is opa... is opaque.
How can they appear the same?
Daddy, cease your labour. Go and sit in your chair.
I can't leave this.
It'll keep for the half-hour. Go and peruse your newspaper.
Do not stoop.
Go and rest your bones.
- What's occurring? - He's struggling.
Are you rattling?
Come on, bring it up.
No, indeed not, sir.
I shall. I shall tell her. I will tell her.
I ought to have told her afore.
- Years ago. - Who do you speak of, Daddy?
Afore they took her away.
Eastertide, the good Lord took her from us.
We did not do right by her, poor woman.
She was a lunatic.
We didn't have no choice, Daddy.
She made our life a living hell.
She was your mother. Curse her!
Show her due respect, boy.
The bitch!
My little lad.
Daddy.
- Good afternoon, sir. - Good day to you, madam.
- It's been a long while, ain't it? - Yeah.
- May I offer you a refreshment? - No, thank you kindly.
- Champagne? - No, no.
No mind, sir,
I regret all my lovely girls are occupied but we do have young Eliza here
who I do not believe you've had the pleasure of previous.
She has a pleasing countenance, when she smiles.
- Good day, sir. - Good day to you, miss.
Show the gentleman to your chamber, dear.
It's this way, sir.
Very fine.
I do extras.
No, no, no, no, no.
Remove the bodice.
Expose your breasts.
No, no... no.
Lay upon the bed.
Part your legs.
Crook your knee.
Right arm as thus.
Hand upon the head. No... as in despair.
Yes.
Eliza... or Liza?
Eliza.
Or Liza.
- Your age? - Twenty-two, sir.
Twenty-two?
Would you like something to drink, sir?
No... thank you, miss.
Now...
expose your breasts.
- Good day, sir. - Madam.
- You be seeking lodgings? - Indeed.
Oh... I do know'ee.
Er, Mr Duckworth.
- Mallard. - Oh, Mr Mallard. Of course!
Well, you be lucky. The room is free.
- Splendid. - Well, do come in.
There. Oh, it be most pleasant to see you again.
Oh, Mr Mallard. Everything satisfactory in your chamber?
Most agreeable.
Good. Well, you sit there and make yourself comfy.
I expect you'll be tired after your journey.
Now, I have not poured your tea for it is fresh in the pot.
No matter. Suits me, brewed and stewed.
Now, that I do remember, Mr Mallard. And will you take a biscuit?
No, thank you, madam. I purchased a potato on the boat.
I should think that were all you could manage on the steamer.
It was somewhat turbulent.
I shall leave you to take your refreshment.
Madam, may I apprehend you with my condolences?
I do thank you, sir.
My sympathies, commiserations, for the loss of your dear departed man.
Well, he were a dear man.
'Tis twice in my life now I have found myself a widow.
My first husband were taken from me when I was but a young woman.
How was he taken?
He were foying over there on Goodwin Sands.
- A life-saver. - Aye. He did save many a life.
But in the end... he could not save his own.
We never did find him, poor soul.
My boy were eight year old when he did lose his father.
I was eight when I lost my little sister.
Oh? Oh, I am sorry.
Well... 'tis the way of things.
You still making your nice little pictures, Mr Mallard?
There.
Mr Billy.
Welcome home.
Dirty water.
Pleasant trip?
Your order came.
- Did he send the cobalt blue? - I put it in a jar.
Chrome yellow, scarlet lake, lead white.
- Canvases? - He put 'em downstairs for me.
Two six-by-fours, three four-by-threes.
- Megilp? - Next week.
Was it a pleasant trip?
- Good morning, Mr Turner. - Martin, Sir Billy, Gussy.
- Good day to you, Billy. - Delighted you could join us.
Damn fine spectacle this year, Billy.
A very fine day to you, Mr Stothard!
What? Oh!
Mr Turner, sir!
- Constable. - Turner.
- Jonesy, Carlo. - William.
The Hanging Committee.
- You approve? - 'Tis well hung.
- Grazie. - Prego.
Would everything be to your satisfaction, Mr Turner?
It is indeed, Mr President.
- 'Tis a splendid cornucopia. - Cornucopia!
- Good morning, Turner. - Good morning to you, Mr Leslie.
- Rabbie. - Good morning, Mr Turner.
My other piece, where is it located?
- We placed it in the anteroom. - The anteroom.
- Mr Carew! - Turner!
- Stanny. - Hello, Mr Turner, sir.
- Is it for His Majesty? - Indeed.
- I hope it meets his expectations. - It will.
- Grout. - Mr Turner.
- Sir John Soane! - J.M.W. Turner, esquire!
- As I live and breathe. - My dear friend.
Find yourself well, John?
- Relishing the day. - Capital.
Only now I was admiring your seascape.
There she is.
- Mr Pickersgill. - Good morning, William.
He has the air of despondency upon him.
- He is slighted. - For why?
Yet again in the anteroom.
They hang us where they will, Pickers. Take a guzzle of brown sherry.
Damn fine storm you have there, Billy.
Nimbus, Sir Billy, nimbus.
Oh, beg your pardon, sir.
- Carlo the Salamander. - Amico mio.
- Harmony and unity, William - Chemise.
- Chemise? - Lower.
- Molto bene. - Jonesy!
- I want you to see... - What?
- Remember? - Remind me.
- Pisa. - Oh, Pisa!
- Fine around there, Gussy. - You think so?
Oh, yeah.
- Nelson? - With two arms.
- Mr Leslie. - Turner.
Little maid, gamboge gown, left foot instep, touch of highlight.
Thank you, Turner.
Paintings always benefit his remarks.
Carew! This your man?
'Tis he.
Sports an elegant nostril, does he not, Sir John?
- Splendid nostrils. - Thank you kindly.
What did you say?
Elegant pair of nostrils, Mr Stothard!
Oh, yes. Yes, indeed.
Why on earth would he go and do that?
Oh, I believe Mr Turner knows well enough what he's doing, Sir Martin.
Do you think so?
- He's ruined a masterpiece. - I think not.
That's too bad. That's too bad.
He's been here and fired a gun.
Oh, no, no.
John, you must not upset yourself like this.
The man's impossible.
I mean, why would he go and destroy a perfectly good painting?
Sheer mockery.
My sympathy is with Constable.
He's got a damn fine picture here and he's made a damn mockery of it.
There's method in the madness, gentlemen.
- If that is method, it is pure madness. - But, what is it? Is it...
Oh, do stop that prattling laughter, Mr Carew!
I wager we've not seen the end of this, gentlemen.
He may surprise us yet.
Haydon.
Hey!
Mr Turner. We were just wondering if...
I said he wasn't finished.
It's a buoy! Bravo!
Bravo! Marvellous!
Can you explain your rendition?
It needs no explanation, sir.
'Tis our Redeemer's conveyance into Jerusalem, plain as day.
Blasphemy!
You faring well, Mr Haydon?
- This will be the finish of me! - 50 pounds!
Thank you, sir. Thank you, sir, for your charity.
- Haydon? - You have been most kind.
Most kind in your placement. You have finished me.
You might as well have taken my painting and put it in the outhouse.
Better yet, taken it out of this building and thrown it in the Fleet.
Haydon, I am hard... hard set
- to understand your indignation. - And as for you, my pupil...
Your painting, sir, is hanging next-door to that of Mr Turner.
- It is in fine company. - This is treachery!
- And do not talk to me of Turner's work. - Please lower your voice, Mr Haydon.
His pictures look as if they were painted by somebody born without hands!
Mr Haydon, what is your quarrel?
What principles have you applied other than those that I gave?
- Mr Haydon, please lower your voice. - I will not, sir!
- What is your quarrel here? - I have no respect for you.
I certainly do not acknowledge your presidency.
It should have been Wilkie.
Mr Haydon, I will not have personal attacks like this on the Academy floor.
You will have what I choose to give you, sir.
This would be one of the many reasons
why you were never accepted here, Mr Haydon.
This man... this man has spent a quarter of a century
doing everything in his power to malign me...
- I have done nothing of the sort. - ...and spoil my genius.
- Refrain from this shouting, Mr Haydon. - I will not!
- I will have you forcibly removed. - Yes, do it!
Do it! Remove me from your nest of portrait painters!
Have a care!
What, sir, is wrong with being a portrait painter?
What does it do to elevate the art?
I received the accolade from the King for painting portraits.
- Oh, God! I bow to him! - And damn good ones too, sir!
Haydon, can I point out that I, too, hang in the inferior chamber?
I care not for your work, sir. I care not a fig.
At least my work does not represent self-portrait as ass.
Give me those...
- Unhand me! - Remove this man!
You swines! You swines!
Mr Haydon, sir, with deep regret I must inform you
that I am on my way to the porters,
unless you feel free to leave of your own volition.
Please, sir.
Stretch me no longer on this rough world.
I'm done with you.
'Tis nice to have a bit of company for a change.
So you had a good walk, then? Weren't too chippy up there by Reculver?
Somewhat blowy and the wind did kick up some white horses.
Can do this time of year.
In summertime, though, 'tis a lovely calm spot for a picnic
up there by the Two Sisters,
but in wintertime I have known the whole of Marine Terrace down here
without a pane of glass left in the entire place.
Oh, the glaziers do get rich.
When Mr Booth and I moved in here, we had the whole place polished up,
spick and span, ready for our first visitors
and the wind did blow and the sea come up.
We had broken glass everywhere. It were terrible.
Mrs Booth.
Would you be so kind as to look out of the window?
Where? What am I looking at?
From the tip of your nose to the bridge to the curve of your brow
you put me in mind of a Greek sculpture I'm familiar with, of Aphrodite,
the goddess of love.
Oh, now!
No one's ever said that about my nose before.
This old snout!
Truth to tell, my eyes aren't so good these days
so when I do look in the looking-glass I be glad I cannot see so well.
When I peruse myself in the looking-glass, I see a gargoyle.
Now, you be fishing for compliments,
and my old ma used to say, them what fish for compliments don't get none.
Besides, 'tis what's within a person that do matter.
I do not know you, Mr Mallard,
and I'm sure there be things about you that are beyond my understanding,
but I believe you to be...
a man of great... spirit and fine feeling.
Mrs Booth...
you are a woman of profound beauty.
Mr Mallard...
I am lost for words.
Good night, Mr Mallard, sir.
I've cleaned your boots for'ee.
They're by the door here.
Mrs Booth.
I thank you for a most convivial evening.
I do thank you too, sir.
If I may be so bold as to say, mate,
as I see it,
you're a loose cannon rolling round the deck.
And out.
Cover yourself up.
Good man.
Well, Mr Mallard is suffering from bronchitis.
Oh... there.
For which we prescribe the three Bs:
- bed, balsam and broth. - Oh.
To be administered in this case by the fourth B: the admirable Mrs Booth.
- Oh! - Thank you.
Now, Mrs Booth, if you would be so good as to come up to the house after four,
I shall have the balsam prepared.
- Indeed I shall, sir. - Good day, Mr Mallard.
Rest the body, sir, and the soul shall find solace.
I do thank ye, Doctor. Let me show ye out.
- Good day to you, Mrs Booth. - Good day to you, sir.
Gentlemen.
Mr Turner.
My father and I are marvelling at this glorious work.
Er... might I be correct in remembering
that we had the good fortune of viewing it at the Academy last summer?
Indeed.
Well, I must say, it is no less impressive on its second viewing.
Perhaps even more so. Is it not, Father?
Indeed so.
I recall it provoked much heated and stimulating discussion
long after our viewing.
- It did not sell. - Indeed not?
No, Mr Ruskin.
- I'm astonished. - But it is a masterpiece.
- Thackeray reviles it. - How so?
- Sublime or ridiculous, he says. - Well, perhaps he should make up his mind.
He has a sharp and cynical tongue.
There is no place for cynicism in the reviewing of art.
- 'Tis of no consequence. - Quite.
It is purchasable.
Enticing.
Perhaps.
Typhus epidemic amongst the cargo, slaves die on board, no insurance.
Sling 'em in the drink, drowned dead, cash.
I am struck by the column of bright white,
placed precisely off centre here,
applied over the darkened background, impasto,
contrasting with the scarlet and ochre hues in the upper left corner,
which in turn contrasts with the presence of God,
revealing to us that hope exists
even in the most turbulent and illimitable of deaths.
Bluebottles.
- Eh? - Up in the muslin. Knock 'em out.
Well, I didn't put 'em there.
Would it not sit splendidly above the fireplace in the library, Father?
It would, but I fear it may be beyond our purse, John.
I'm sure some arrangement can be come to, sir.
Mind your heads.
You're just... you're just knocking 'em up and down.
Scrape 'em out.
Now you've... Now you've knocked it over there.
There. 'Tis a nice day for'ee.
Au revoir, madame.
T'other way.
- Morning, Mrs Stokes. - Morning.
Dr Price, Mrs Booth has summoned you here under false pretences.
Let the doctor do his work.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Have you been exerting yourself unduly, Mr Mallard?
No more than is usual, sir.
Remind me again, what is your profession?
- Master of Chancery. - Breathe in.
Forgive me, sir, but I beg to differ.
Breathe out.
I suggest that you are Mr Turner, the illustrious painter,
and I am greatly honoured to make your acquaintance.
My apologies to you both,
but rest assured that my discretion can be relied upon.
Now, allow me to examine your eyes.
The eyes of a master.
Open wide.
Look up.
Mr Turner, you are suffering from a disorder of the heart.
There is no immediate cause for concern, Mrs Booth.
- But he will have to be careful. - Oh, dear.
Live moderately, sir, and you shall enjoy a long and fruitful life.
Exert yourself unduly and you will go to an early grave.
Oh, dear.
There, now.
Good day, sir.
Have you nothing to say to me?
I am most sorry for your loss.
Our loss, Father!
Your own dear daughter's funeral.
Indeed.
I did not find myself in the city.
As ever, sir, painting your ridiculous shipwrecks.
Have you no feelings?
Speak!
Come, Evelina.
There is nothing here for us.
You're tired, my dear.
'Tis too much of a strain for you these days,
trawling back and forth on that old steamer every time you wants to see me.
And even when they've finished building that new railway,
we none of us do know what lies ahead.
I have bethought me of a plan
and here is what we must do.
If you will find a little house for us,
somewhere by your beloved River Thames, but not too far from London Town,
with good, solid, wooden floors,
nice bright light for you to work by...
then I will buy the lease.
I can sell this house.
I think we would be happy,
the two of us.
There she is.
- The saucy Temeraire. - Going to her death, I fear.
She's served her time.
The auctioneer's hammer has struck that final blow.
Indeed.
If not for her, the Victory might never again have seen our shores.
Aye, nor the body of Lord Nelson.
The little saviour of Trafalgar.
They say 5,000 oaks went into making that ship.
Now she's destined to be reduced to 5,000 tables and chairs.
To be sat on by 5,000 fat arses.
Gentlemen, a toast.
Raise your pot of grog. To the fine, fighting Temeraire!
- The Temeraire! - The Temeraire!
Here's to her.
- A ghost of the past. - No, Rabbie.
The past is the past. We're observing the future.
Smoke, iron, steam.
She'd make a fine subject for you to paint, Turner.
Oh, is that so, Stanny? I shall cogitate upon it.
Thank you. Yeah, yeah.
It's that Mr Haydon.
He's brought a cold blast of air in with him.
Mr Haydon, to what do I owe the honour of your presence this morning?
I trust that this is not an inconvenience to you, Turner.
Now, will you accept ten pounds?
- Ten pounds, sir? - I wish to be free of the debt.
- It weighs heavily upon me. - Sir, you owe me 50 pounds.
Manchester, Leeds, Newcastle. I have been giving my lecture.
Edinburgh, fair city.
Only in London is my genius not appreciated.
Consider this as a statement of intent.
- Mr Haydon, pray be seated. - I had rather not.
I do not wish to prevail upon your time more than is necessary.
And I prevail upon you, sir, to take a seat.
- Where would you have me sit? - Wherever you wish.
- Will this suffice? - Indeed.
Mr Haydon, do you still find yourself in a position of impecuniousness?
Impecunity? Turner, that has been my constant state these 30 years.
You are most well-appointed here.
I do not recall the last time we had as much coal in our scuttle as that.
I fear we shall be burning our furniture this winter.
Does Mrs Haydon find herself faring well?
She does not. She has not recovered.
I fear that she may never do so.
What ails her, sir?
We have buried five children.
- Indeed? - In Paddington old churchyard
they remove the soil, extract the coffins,
dig the hole deeper,
then reinter the coffins with another atop.
Five times she has had to suffer that indignity.
- 'Tis pitiable. - It is pitiable, Turner.
You have never had to endure the loss of a child.
I have not, sir.
A dying child,
'tis a potent subject for a painting, is it not?
And what is your present endeavour, Turner?
- Er... marine piece. - A marine piece?
Do not you tire of boats and the fiery firmament?
I do not, sir.
Sometimes I consider it might make a better course for me
were I to set light to the house
with my wife, my surviving children and myself within it.
Then they would no longer be saddled with me.
Your pain is your own, sir. Do not inflict it upon your loved ones.
Will you take my ten pounds?
I will not, sir. You are free of your debt.
- Free? How so? - 'Tis expunged.
Er... no, sir. I do not come here a seeker after charity or pity.
You have neither charity nor pity nor debt.
I do not wish it in such a circumstance.
Mr Haydon, I am much preoccupied.
Me damsel, be so kind as to escort the gentleman into the street.
Good day to you, sir.
This does not sit well with me, Turner.
Damn his eyes.
- Turner and Jones. - Mr Turner, Captain Jones.
- It's a pleasure to see you. - Mr Ruskin!
Good evening to you.
I trust you had a pleasant journey?
Indeed. You find yourself well, sir?
I do indeed, thank you. Pride of place, Mr Turner.
Splendid.
As though the house was built around it.
- Please, come through. - Jonesy.
Er, my good husband is of the opinion
that the gooseberry prefers the colder climate,
whereas I consider that all fruits benefit from the warmth.
My dear late mother always insisted that both the gooseberry and the rhubarb
favour the colder climes of our victorious isles.
I do not doubt that the gooseberry for its preference may enjoy the warm,
however I am convinced that a cold start promotes the more vigorous specimen.
Are we not to take as empirical evidence
our many expeditions to the warmer climes of the Mediterranean
where we do not exactly encounter an abundance of gooseberries?
- Ha! Indeed. - Exactly so.
I did not myself savour many gooseberries in Jerusalem.
The holy city, Mr Turner.
And yet we do enjoy fine gooseberries in Scotland,
do we not, Mr Ruskin?
Aye, and no better a cold start than a good Scottish sun.
Exactly that.
Surely, regardless of how cold the start of the life of the gooseberry might be,
it is almost certainly destined for a warm ending.
To which we have all borne witness in Mrs Ruskin's excellent gooseberry pie.
I thank you, Captain Jones.
May I propose as a topic for discussion
the question as to the depiction of the seas and the oceans
in pictorial art?
Now, I appreciate that I am honoured
to be in the presence of two of our most distinguished marine painters,
Mr Turner and Mr Stanfield,
not to forget Captain Jones and Mr Roberts, of course,
whose realisations are confined to mere naked terra firma,
exemplary though they are.
My point being that, alas,
I find myself harbouring a perhaps rather controversial opinion
regarding the long deceased Claude.
- Indeed? - I am afraid so, Captain Jones.
I must confess
that I find his rendering of the sea rather insipid, dull and uninspiring.
That is an extremely bold statement, young Mr Ruskin.
Thank you very much.
Claude was a man of his time.
My point exactly, Mr Turner,
but that time is now long past.
When I experience a modern masterpiece such as yours,
I am struck by the clarity with which you have captured the moment.
Take, for example, your slave ship,
"Slavers Throwing Overboard the Dead and Dying - Typhoon Coming On",
by which I have the good fortune to be greeted every morning
on my way into my meagre breakfast.
The impact of the foaming brine incarnadine
consuming those unfortunate Negro slaves
never ceases to quicken the beat of my heart.
Yet when I gaze upon a work of Claude
I find myself enduring nothing more
than a mere collection of precise brushstrokes
which instil in me no sense of awe whatsoever,
let alone the sea.
Preposterous!
I do beg your pardon, Mrs Ruskin.
- Claude Lorrain was a genius. - Quite so.
I sense an excess of modesty in Mr Turner and there is no need for such humility.
Mr Ruskin, sir,
to conjecture upon the matter of seascape painting is one thing
but to stand amongst the elements
and to experience and to interpret what one sees
is something quite other.
- Hear, hear. - Quite.
That is as it may be.
Claude painted from the land, looking at the sea becalmed by the harbour.
- Oh, indeed. - "Bless the Lord, oh my soul
"Who layeth the beams of his chambers in the waters
"and walketh upon the wings of the wind."
How apt, Mother.
Thank you, John.
When my son was but a small boy,
he was overheard to remark that...
"waves of sea are indeed lovely to watch
"but they are always coming or gone,
"never in any taken shape to be seen..."
- For a second. - "...a second."
I find myself marvelling at my own wealth of perception,
even at the early age of four.
Quite so.
Mr Ruskin, can I pose you a somewhat conundrous question?
Please do, Mr Turner.
To which do you find yourself the more partial,
a... steak and kidney pie or a veal and ham pie?
I must confess, Mr Turner,
that I find myself quite unable to answer your question
with the precision that I would wish.
Your Majesty.
Terribly flat.
- Dull. - It's rather dark, isn't it?
- Sir Martin. - Sir?
- Who is the artist? - I believe, sir, it's...
Mr John Ferneley, sir.
Oh, Mr Ferneley.
Turner.
He is clearly losing his eyesight.
And this one is vile.
Unbelievable.
- What it that? - I don't know.
A dirty, yellow mess.
It is a truly frightful piece.
It is indicative of mental disease.
It is wretched and abortive.
Sad.
Mr Turner seems to have taken leave of form altogether.
He has on former occasion chosen to paint
with cream or chocolate, yolk of egg or currant jelly.
But here he uses his whole array of kitchen stuff.
- Eggs and spinach. - No, soap suds and whitewash.
Jam tarts! Jam tarts! Fresh jam tarts!
Where is that wretched baker's boy?
His fate, I fear, he won't enjoy.
He will indeed the lad destroy!
I have an inspiration.
- What's that? - We're filled with fascination.
- What is he doing? - And why is he doing it?
Whatever he's brewing, we'll soon be viewing it.
A masterpiece I here present which Mr Turner has just sent.
While mostly blessed with good intent, we have our doubts.
But who's this gent?
Ye common throng and hoi polloi,
I am a rich and cultured boy.
My wealth derives from tricking knaves
and selling coffee, tea and slaves.
My house is full of things of beauty,
paintings, sculpture and other booty.
I like to drink and gourmandise...
But what is this that greets my eyes?
It is the latest thing in art.
It looks like bits of old jam tart.
'Tis Mr Turner's latest piece, which placed above your mantelpiece...
Oh, cease your costermonger sounds!
I'll buy it.
- Here's 1,000 pounds. - Oh, I thank you in my humble way.
- Don't grovel, send it round today. - I'll do so, sir, without delay.
Rejoice! Hurrah! Hip, hip, hooray!
Though ignorant of art and taste,
I'm filled with boundless glee,
for what's good enough for Turner... is good enough for me!
Mr Ruskin, I fail to see wherein lies the charity
in misleading people as to the amount of talents they possess.
Talent is something that lies dormant
and needs to be drawn out in the right circumstances.
If one has the opportunity to have it drawn out.
My wife, Effie,
I am still waiting for her talents to arise and be drawn out.
I think talents can be crushed as much as they may be drawn out.
Precisely.
Perhaps it is the duty of the husband...
Plutarch said, "Painting is silent poetry."
Are you interested in poetry, sir?
Sublime.
Loneliness...
solitude...
'tis not the same.
Indeed not, Mr Turner.
It will come.
Mrs Ruskin... it will come.
Love.
What is the hour?
- Five-and-twenty to seven. - Oh.
Oh, God!
The sun's up in all its glory.
I must get on.
- Don't you want your breakfast? - No, thank you kindly.
Are you faring well?
Yes, thank you.
- And yourself? - Yes, yes.
Will I be seeing you tonight?
- Unlikely. - Tomorrow?
- No. - Oh.
I might as well stop changing the bed sheets in here.
Mr Booth!
Good day to you.
- 'Tis warmer now. - Sultry day.
- Ooh, what d'you have there? - Bit of drift bark.
Has the look of a fallen angel.
Pretty colours.
Oh! Sticky.
Horrid parched.
- Good morning, sir. - A very good day to you, sir.
Nice day, sir.
Good morning, sir.
Greetings and welcome.
A hearty good morning to you, sir.
- Now, you would be Mr... - Mr Booth.
Booth, yes. Mr Booth.
- At the appointed hour, I believe. - Indeed, sir.
Mayall, John Mayall.
I had made that assumption, sir.
At your service, Mr Booth.
Now, if you would be so kind as to make yourself comfortable...
- This is the contraption? - Indeed, sir.
That is what we call the camera.
- The cam-ra? - Yes, sir.
Not the cam-er?
Er... no, sir. The camera.
- The camera? - Yes, sir.
As in camera obscura?
Precisely, sir. The camera.
Now, if I may ask you to take a seat, please, here.
- Name of manufacturer? - Er...
It comes to us from the United States, sir.
The name eludes you?
Oh, no, sir.
My name eludes me from time to time.
Indeed, sir?
Now...
I denote from your brogue that you hail from the Americas.
From the fine city of Philadelphia, sir.
Philadelphia? 'Tis on the eastern coast, is it not?
That is correct, sir.
You shall have to forgive the whip-crack of my knees.
- Hat on or hat off? - Er... may I ask your profession, sir?
Master of Chancery.
- A man of the law. - Indeed.
Then I should recommend the hat on, sir.
Now, if I might deploy this device...
Hey!
What is this heinous implement?
Merely a gentle holding brace, sir.
Puts me in mind of a surgical instrument.
- Does it hurt? - Not in the slightest, I assure you.
So, if I may...
Not too uncomfortable for you, Mr Booth?
Thank you, sir.
What is the significance of the looking-glass?
It is to illuminate your good self, sir.
As the sun upon a lake.
Oh! Most droll, Mr Booth.
Most droll.
What is concealed behind the small brass cap?
- An optic? - Yes, sir, a glass lens.
As a telescope?
Not unlike a telescope, sir.
Thank you, Cornelius.
- It is prismatic? - I fear not, sir.
- It is an achromatic lens. - Achromatic.
Now, let me peruse you.
Why are you shrouded in the manner of a condemned monk?
I am simply shutting out the light, Mr Booth.
Splendid, sir.
The image you create is not of colour.
For why?
Er... I am afraid that is a question we have yet to answer, sir.
It is a mystery.
Thank you, Cornelius.
And long may it remain so.
Now, if I may ask you to focus your gaze here, on the flowers,
and we are almost ready.
Thank you, Cornelius.
Now...
I will require your absolute stillness for the next ten seconds.
And... we begin.
And there we have it.
- 'Tis done? - It is finished, sir.
I fear that I, too, am finished.
Oh, come, come, sir.
This be one of them there photographs.
The Queen had one of these taken with Prince Albert.
- Did she so? - She did.
Oh, you do look most handsome.
- 'Tis known as a daguerreotype. - Oh.
Whatever next?
- Where'd you have this done, then? - Up in town on the Strand.
Fellow with a box.
- We're going there. - Where?
- Have our likeness taken. - When?
- Thursday. - Oh.
I've arranged an appointment.
- Well, you'll have to cancel it. - 'Tis painless.
Oh, I care not.
You don't want my old face in one of these.
I do, the two of us together.
Forever.
I do thank you for this.
But I ain't going.
'Tis the camera.
Mr Mayall, may I beg your indulgence with a question?
Why, certainly, sir.
Do you take landscapes with your contraption?
- I do, sir, from time to time. - Such as what?
Why, I have recorded the great falls of Niagara, sir.
- The Niagara Falls? - Indeed, sir.
The greatest wonder in nature.
It was there that I was once able to capture a rainbow.
I'm green-eyed with envy.
The Niagara Falls...
is a natural phenomenon that I have long desired to witness.
Is that so, sir?
Now, madam, sir, if I may ask you to fix your gaze here
upon these beautiful flowers.
Thank you, Cornelius.
Niagara Falls.
Soon painters will go about the world
with a box, like a tinker,
instead of a portfolio under their arms.
Well, I'm sure they will, sir. I'm sure they will.
Now, if you are comfortable, madam, sir,
we may proceed.
- Thank you, miss. - Thank you, sir.
- Your good health, sir. - And yours, Mr Gillott.
- Turner. - Sir.
- I have a proposition to make. - Oh?
- I like your pictures. - Well, thank you, sir.
My wife is especially partial
to your companion pieces that grace our drawing room.
Please convey my felicitations to your dear lady.
I will, thank you.
And now I wish to show you one of my pictures.
Oh, indeed, sir? I am much intrigued.
Five-pound note, exceeding pretty.
Quite so.
For all of your paintings, I will give you 20,000 of these,
100,000 pounds.
All your oils, your watercolours, your drawings, your sketchbooks,
everything you've ever produced.
100,000 pounds. What do you say?
Turner, I am a man of wealth,
a self-made man.
Throughout the world three quarters of everything that is written
is written with a Gillott pen nib, one of my nibs.
I enjoy my wealth.
Two things delight me in my life:
fashioning a nib from steel and making money,
and I like to spend my money on things that give me pleasure.
And your pictures give me much pleasure.
I want them, all of them.
Sir...
with a modicum of regret
and somewhat of a heavy heart,
I'm sorry to say, 'tis out of the question.
- How so? - They are bequeathed.
Bequeathed? To whom?
To the British nation, sir.
And what will the British nation pay you?
- Nothing. - Nothing?
Turner, I am offering you a price you will never see again.
Indeed, sir, by which I am much humbled.
- Then accept my offer. - I cannot, sir.
I wish to see my work...
displayed in one place,
all together,
viewed by the public,
gratis.
Turner, this is perverse.
- So be it. - You cannot give your pictures away.
They are too valuable. Don't be a fool, man. See sense.
- I wish you good day, sir. - I wish you good day, sir.
Me damsel, be so kind as to show the gentleman out?
Oh, there! Oh!
Oh, there.
Oh! Oh, there. Stay there, stay there.
- Don't move. - I... slipped.
Oh, Lord.
- Oh, dear. All right? - It's passing.
There, stay.
Stay there. Oh, my dear.
- Oh, there. - No.
It's passed. I've got to get on.
No, no, no, no. Sit ye down, sit ye down.
No, no. Got to get on now. Got to get on now.
- No, you must sit down and rest now. - The canvas.
- The canvas is damaged. - Oh, that's all right.
Come and sit down. Sit ye down.
- There. - Now, bustle about.
- Bustle about. - Oh, there! There be no helping you!
"Be still, my dear Molly
"Dear Molly, be still
"No more urge that soft sigh to thy will
"It is anxious each wish to fulfil
"But I prithee, dear Molly, be still
"By thy lips' quivering motion I ween
"To the centre of... where love lies between
"A passport to bliss is thy will
- "Yet I prithee, dear Molly, be still" - "Dear Molly, be still"
"By thy eyes when half-closed with delight
"That so languishing turn from the light
"With my kisses I'll hide 'em, I will
- "Yet, prithee, dear Molly, be still" - "Yet, prithee, dear Molly, be still"
"By thy bosom so throbbing with truth
"Its short heavings to me... speak reproof
"By the half-blushing mark on each hill
"Oh, my Molly, dear Molly, be still."
Thank you. How many do you want?
- One, please. - One?
There you go.
There.
What ails thee?
Let me take your hat.
Here.
- My sketchbook. - Oh.
- It's not here. - 'Tis in your other pocket, then?
- No, it's not. - Don't ye worry about it now.
'Twill be somewhere. We can look for it later.
Where is the canvas?
'Tis behind you, dear, on the chair.
- You want I should take it upstairs? - What?
Your canvas.
No, no, no, no, no.
I'll get you a drink.
There.
So...
where have you been today?
Did you go back to Hyde Park?
How be it all progressing?
It's an engineering phenomenon.
Crystal pane upon crystal pane,
reaching up beyond the clouds.
'Twill be a marvel to behold.
It's a glass cathedral.
It's the one...
Oh, here.
Oh, there.
So bad! Look at your messings.
Naughty pussy.
I don't know!
Now, dear, here be good Dr Price for ye.
He has come all the way from Margate.
- Dr Price. - Good morning, Turner.
If there be anything you do need, Doctor...
- Thank you, Mrs Booth. - ...I shall be downstairs.
Now, my dear Turner, how are you feeling?
Somewhat weakened, sir.
I'm so sorry.
We all miss you in Margate.
Margate, yes.
Are you in pain?
Here.
- Shortness of breath? - Yes.
Now, then...
Did you come up on the railway?
I did, and the truth is, I can never travel by train
without recalling your miraculous painting.
My dear Turner, I am obliged to inform you that your condition is grave.
Your days are numbered
and if you have affairs to attend to in this world
you should do so now and prepare yourself for the next.
Dr Price...
with the utmost respect,
may I suggest you take yourself downstairs to Mrs Booth,
avail yourself of a large glass of sherry,
come back up here and reassess your opinion?
No, sir, I'm afraid I shan't be doing that.
So I'm to become a non-entity.
I do not understand exactly what you mean by a non-entity.
- Good day to you, Doctor. - Good day, Mrs Booth. Thank you.
Oh, I shall send out for the laudanum directly.
Splendid. He couldn't be in better hands.
I do my best.
So, will you be taking the boat back from Chelsea Pier there?
Indeed. I shall catch the midday train from Charing Cross.
Well, I do wish'ee a safe journey, and I thank you, Doctor.
I shall return shortly.
Number six.
- I need a rest. - Pardon?
I need a rest.
Can we help, my dear?
- I'm looking for an old gentleman. - An old gentleman?
- Do you have a name? - There's a lot of old gentlemen round here.
- He lives next door. - Number six.
There is an old gentleman lives next-door with his good lady wife.
They say he has the sickness.
Are you a relative?
No matter.
- Good day. - Good day.
Good day.
No, 'tis I. 'Tis I. There!
'tis I.
Poor, wretched soul.
She be drowned dead.
There.
The suffering she must have seen.
If there be a God, he be a cruel one.
- What are you doing? - I have to sketch her.
Get back into bed now, Joseph Mallord William Turner!
No, no, no, no, no, no. There be no shoes on your feet!
Poor creature.
Oh, there. Let me take you in.
There... No!
Come in. You can finish that later.
Me damsel...
The sun is God.
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