Nightwatching Page #12

my bad reputation of myself.

I paid you huge sums in jewels,

furs, crockery, to pretend

that you were a whore

experienced enough

to deserve such things!

I paid you more

to make you dare more,

but soon...

you have

no more novelties to give.

I had exhausted

your entire store of novelties.

And you!

You wanted more and more!

You became too triumphant!!

Titus walks this house

with sh*t between his legs

and sores around his mouth!

(crying)

He has fleas,

his sh*t wriggles with worms!

(laughter)

That's it. You're a slut.

You're a b*tch.

You call yourself a nursemaid -

I saw you...

in front of the mirror

fixing Saskia's necklaces

around your neck.

- You gave them to me!

She can't wear them!

She's dead.

Very dead.

(crying softly)

(whimpering)

(sobbing)

(wailing)

- The original contract

for the painting

came from Hasselburg

and Egremont.

They went to Visscher and Kemp

to arrange it.

Visscher and de Roy came to me.

Once started...

(sighing heavily)

...the other militiamen joined in.

Here is the rest of the money.

I came tonight to hand it over.

Then...

the Banning-Cocqs moved in.

They wanted the prestige

of meeting the Stuarts

and arranging the pawning

of the English crown jewels.

To be in a good position

to do this,

they needed to lead the musketeers

when the English...

came to Amsterdam.

Hasselburg had to go.

- And with him...

the inseparable Egremont.

- They were in negotiations

to move both of them to Utrecht

when the Banning-Cocqs,

Floris and Clement,

suggested a more violent plan.

They suggested staging...

what they called...

a military accident.

Kemp provided

the innocent assassin

from his orphanage,

hopelessly blackmailing

the highly impressionable Horatio

with accusations

of illicit sex with you,

and threatening you,

and destroying

your innocent dream

of going to America,

and because you did not shut up

and behave like a good girl,

destroying your good looks.

- A terrible act of spite

for which

may he never be forgiven.

- De Roy...

had discovered

that they planned to remove

Hasselburg violently,

and he told me.

He thought the action

lacked elegance and finesse.

He was displeased.

It was not necessary.

He discussed it with me.

It affected his sense of fair play,

but, more importantly,

his sense of aesthetics.

I threatened to move out

and tell you,

through Saskia,

to have nothing to do

with the painting.

To be sure you got the message,

I got Jacob de Roy

to try to warn you,

because I knew

you wouldn't listen to me,

and would likely listen to him.

I foolishly

told my friend, Broest,

about my worries and...

Floris and Clement

overheard us at the bathhouse

and told the others.

I was tainted,

and implicated.

(baby gurgling)

- Titia, put your coat on

and go and pay those people,

the genuine creditors,

waiting outside.

Here are their names.

See if you can get a signature

for each piece of paper.

If they won't or cannot sign

for the money,

I'll see them in the morning.

- They wanted continuity,

solidarity,

a smooth transition of power,

as though everything's normal,

nothing had changed.

So they continued

the commission with you,

and then you began to work

the rest out for yourself,

and stupidly decided,

in your arrogance,

to self-righteously paint

the indictment

within the very commission

they had paid you for,

and for what end?

They are set now

to destroy you,

and they will stop at nothing

to shut me up too.

(baby gurgling)

- It's a very sorry mess.

- Marita, you're shivering.

- They cut me.

I'm not a woman yet,

and they cut me

to make me bleed.

And now that I am a woman,

they set up clients

and I go with them.

And what should I do

if I don't agree?!

With my face like this

and my family history,

I will never get a husband!

- That's not true.

- Kemp has thrown me

out of the orphanage.

- Y-you can stay here with us.

- I can't do that!

- Egremont could take you

to America.

- Draw my portrait!

Paint my portrait

and make me beautiful

once again!

Could you do that?

- Rembrandt hasn't painted anything

since Saskia died.

- Then let me be the excuse

to start again!

The painting could stand in

for my face.

I still have a beautiful body,

haven't I? You've seen it.

And it will grow more beautiful

as I get older!

And once the world

is finished with my body,

I will climb even higher

than my mother and sister,

and I will jump!

- What is wrong?

You have stopped working.

- I will let you into a secret

that you will tell no one.

I have a lazy eye.

This is my good eye...

...and this is my lazy eye.

If you tell anyone,

I am destroyed,

for who would employ a painter

with a lazy eye?

I entrust you

with my most destructive secret.

But now I finally realize

what this is all about.

My eye was never lazy.

This eye...

was just waiting.

Waiting nearly 30 years...

to see you,

and now, having patiently waited

for so long,

I find it is the better

of my two eyes.

This is the eye waiting to view...

a miracle.

And the miracle...

is you.

And now...

this eye...

...must see all of you.

This is me and Hendrickje.

Isn't she lovely?

Twenty years younger than me.

No fool like an old fool.

What more can I say?

How did it happen?

Well, it happened...

when a musket

blew up in my face

and she licked the powder

from my eye.

- No. I don't think so.

I was 13 years old.

- Well, it happened

when I stopped Willem

fumbling her body

in a dark kitchen.

- No, I don't think it did.

I was 15.

(sighing)

- Well...

it happened

when I was on the roof

watching the night and waiting

for the Angel Gabriel

to come from Leiden Way,

and Hendrickje

came looking for me

with a candle in her hand.

Candle lights up your face

better than any angel

dare hope to be illuminated

in all its innocence and glory.

And then...

I fell in love.

- And I was old enough

to know what you were doing,

and it wasn't quite like that,

but it will do.

- You have disappointed me,

Rembrandt.

I expected

something better of you,

something more intelligent,

something more knowing.

Something less local,

more universal.

More lasting, so to speak.

- Ever the critical turncoat,

eh, de Roy?

Why did you ever alert me

to all this chicanery

in the first place?

So to speak.

- I'm an enthusiastic man

of the theatre,

as I know you to be.

I enjoy the plots and the plotting,

the mysteries,

the enigmatic figures,

the twists and turns.

The metaphors.

The multiple possibilities

and interpretations

from the one event,

and I need a man of talent

to make them work for me.

To give me the whole show

with some wit and irony,

and, of course,

topped off with some sense

of visual spectacle.

Rembrandt,

you have curiously

attempted to be real.

Now, we know that

that isn't possible.

You have made a frozen moment

of theatre.

You have stopped a costume play

in action.

They wanted the costume,

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