1
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."
Oh!
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.
Oh.
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.
Oh.
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.
- Shh-sh-sh.
October ain't quite come
round the corner yet, has it?
I've been over to Grande's.
Oh.
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.
Oh.
- How fares the old uncle?
- Bearing up, considering.
- Considering what?
- Well, his age, living alone.
Oh.
- Here's the thing.
- Hm?
He wants to arrange a family gathering.
Will you take some more cheek?
Yeah, cast us another morsel.
Missing your button, Mr Billy.
Oh.
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.
- Ah!
The "Pathtique".
I possess a rare fondness
for... Henry Purcell.
As do I.
Oh?
Um...
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
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.
Shh-sh-sh!
- Mr Turner?
- Hm?
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.
- Ah.
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!
- Shh.
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.
Ah, 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.
- Mm.
Oh, good.
Some folk do find shackles
too salty for their taste.
Can never be too salty for me, madam.
Oh!
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.
- Mm... hm!
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.
Ooh!
There it is.
That is a thing of beauty.
Shortly you shall witness
a rainbow passing through it.
- Sir Isaac Newton, Daddy.
- Ah!
Gentlemen, might I request
that you close the shutters, please?
- Daddy.
- Ah!
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.
Ah.
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.
- Ah, 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.
- Ah.
- 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.
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.
Hm.
Transparent bodies depend so much
upon what is opposed to them,
having no colour,
that they take every one offered.
Um...
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, um...
...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.
- Shh-sh-sh.
- 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?
More 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 ma.
Daddy.
- Good afternoon, sir.
- Good day to you, madam.
- It's been a long while, ain't it?
- Mm-hm, 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.
Oh!
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?
Oh...
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.
Ooh...
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.
Aha!
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.
Oh.
- 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.
- Ah! 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.
Oh!
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?
"Us 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!
Ah, 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.
Shh, shh.
Please, sir.
Stretch me no longer on this rough world.
I'm done with you.
Oh!
'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.
Hm.
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.
Ah, 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.
Hm...
- '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.
Tether way.
- Morning, Mrs Stokes.
- Morning.
Dr Price, Mrs Booth has summoned you here
under false pretences.
Shh! 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.
Mm-hm.
Look up.
Hmm.
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'?
- 'Us 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.
Oh...
- 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.
Ah, 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.
Ah, 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.
Oh...
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?
Ah, 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.
- Hm.
Ah...
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!
Oh!
Where is that wretched baker's boy?
His fate, I fear, he won't enjoy.
He will indeed the lad destroy!
Aha!
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!
Ru 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.
Oh...
What is the hour?
- Five-and-twenty to seven.
- Oh.
Oh, God!
Oh...
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.
Ooh!
Has the look of a fallen angel.
- Pretty colours.
- Mm.
Oh! Sticky.
Horrid parched.
- Good morning, sir.
- A very good day to you, sir.
- Nice day, sir.
- Mm-hm.
Ah! Good morning, sir.
Greetings and welcome.
A hearty good morning to you, sir.
- Now, you would be Mr...
- Mr Booth.
Ah, 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-ta'?
- Yes, sir.
Not the cam-er-ah?
Er... no, sir.
The camera.
- The camera?
- Yes, sir.
As "m camera obscure'?
Ah, 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...
Hm...
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.
Ow!
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.
Ah, 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!
- Hm.
Oh, you do look most handsome.
- 'Us 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.
"Us 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!
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."
Oh...
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?
- 'Us behind you, dear, on the chair.
- Eh'?
Oh...
- You want I should take it upstairs?
- What?
Your canvas.
No, no, no, no, no.
I'll get you a drink.
There.
Er...
So...
...where have you been today?
- Hm?
Did you go back to Hyde Park?
Oh.
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.
Mm.
It's a glass cathedral.
It's the one...
Oh, here.
Oh, shh, shh...
Oh, there.
Oh, there.
Shh, shh, shh...
Shh, shh.
Huh!
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.
Oh...
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.
Oh.
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.
Oh.
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.
Eh?
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.
Shh, shh, shh.
- Aargh!
- No, 'tis I.
'Tis I. There!
Shh, shh, '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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