Mr. Turner Page #5

'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?

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