Mr. Turner Page #6

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

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