Mr. Turner Page #2

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

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