Tulip Fever Page #2

(whispers):

- Obsession.

- God, was I sozzled.

- Jan, listen, I got you a commission. Double portrait, Cornelis Sandvoort and his wife.

- Who?

- The king of peppercorns. He's a pompous old windbag, but it's 50 guilders.

(Mattheus chuckles softly)

- MAN:
Oi, where's me money?

- It's coming soon.

MARIA:
So, in the form of a struggling young artist minding his manners, upheaval entered the house of Cornelis Sandvoort.

(clanging)

- I have an appointment.

- A globe for far-flung trade, scales for the weighing of our sins on Judgment Day, and... death, to remind the spectator, "Vanity, vanity, all is vanity."

- But where would portrait painters be without a little bit of vanity?

(footsteps approaching)

- CORNELIS:
Like this, I think. And I here.

- Hmm? No. Here. Allow me. Hold still.

- Mmm.

MARIA:
I saw the future in the mirror that day. But I didn't know it.

(sighs)

- CORNELIS:
Yes, put your brush to capturing my wife.

- Hmm.

- CORNELIS:
How's business?

- JAN:
It is you who are in business, sir.

- CORNELIS:
Granted. Our Dutch republic is the richest nation on Earth. Supply and demand, that's how it goes... Peppercorns or portraits,

- (whispers):
Mouth.

- Nutmeg, cinnamon, cloves, Chinese porcelain, and all more reliable than tulip bulbs. But, of course, my best investment was - my Sophia here.

- Cornelis, how can you?

(loud, raucous chatter)

- See you on the floor.

- First time?

- Hey?

- Buying or selling?

- Are we talking about tulip bulbs?

- We are.

- Buying.

- Right answer. Follow me. I'll waive the formalities.

(overlapping chatter)

- Thank you, Reud.

- Good man.

- DAAN:
Silence please, gentlemen! Let me have your attention! Can't hear myself think.

MARIA:
Willem charged headlong into something he knew only by rumor: the tulip market. It happened in the back rooms of taverns where huge sums of money were made and lost - as people gambled on the color of the blooms. -Done!

(cheering, indistinct shouting)

- Where is this, sir?

- DAAN:
Calm down, gentlemen, please. Quiet!

(woman laughs)

MARIA:
He was risking everything for us.

- DAAN:
Prater, sir, do you accept the bid?

- The bid is accepted.

- Done.

- I thank you!

- Prater's agent for St. Ursula's, the sisters' tulip garden.

- How much have you got to spend?

- 18 florins.

- That might get you a few single colors. Prater's got a parcel of whites coming up.

- Don't be scared to speak up.

- Are they a good investment, whites?

- The whole market's going up. You won't go wrong.

- Parcel of whites offered to the room...

- This is the one.

- By Mr. Prater here.

(people shouting)

- WILLEM:
Where are they?

- In the ground a while yet. It's the certificate of ownership that changes hands.

- Seven at the back.

- Eight up here!

- MAN 1:
Eight!

- MAN 2:
Nine!

- DAAN:
Nine!

- Ten here, sir!

- Ten from the new face at the front.

- Who's got 11? Show me 11.

- WOMEN:
13!

- 13 from the ladies. -13 from the ladies on the stair.

- WILLEM:
14.

- Good.

- DAAN:
15 here.

- WOMAN:
16! -MAN 3: 16!

DAAN:

- 16, 17, anyone?

- MAN 4:
Seventeen.

- Go on.

- 18!

- DAAN:
18!

18 to the young man.

- Can I get 19?

- Do I hear any 19s? No?

Mr. Prater, sir, bidding stands at 18 florins.

- The bid is accepted.

- Yours.

(laughing)

- Well done. Go and get the certificate.

- Mr. Prater, sir.

(coins jingle)

- 18 precisely. Many thank yous.

- Very good.

- Thank you, sir.

- Done.

- ASMUS:
An excellent investment. Congratulations.

- Thank you very much.

- What are you gonna bid on next?

- I bid thee farewell.

- CORNELIS:
Yes, yes. Our church has withdrawn her patronage from painters and now it's our everyday lives which are immortalized in the rich colors of the altarpieces. We stand staring out of our lives. They're paintings of silence.

- Cornelis, let him think. He's an artist.

- Well, I hope so.

- Eyes. Hand. Please don't break the pose. Mm.

GERRIT:
A bit tight. Where would you like me to be placed'?

- Stand here. Chin up.

- No, your chin. Gerrit... hold Still. Flat. Gerrit.

- What is it?

- That painter; I don't want him back.

- He's not coming back for two weeks. My daylight hours are spoken for.

- I don't want him here. I don't want us to have our portrait painted.

- But why not?

- It's dangerous.

- Dangerous?

- To our standing in God's grace. It's vanity.

- "God's grace"? Come where we can sit.

- What is it really?

- It's too expensive.

- Not dangerous, but expensive?

- I don't like him.

- You're a whirligig of reasons.

- He's impudent.

- Well, he's an artist. But, look, I can pay him off, we get another. There's no lack of artists in Amsterdam. I'll get Thomas de Keyser.

- Yes. Get him. Anyone.

- Well, let it sit, and if you're still in the same mind next week, then...

(breathing heavily and moaning)

- CORNELIS:
Faster, you wanton hussy! Faster! Faster! Fire the cannons!

Ah, my bones are shaken to bits!

(grunts)

- God, forgive me. That must be sinful.

(grunts)

(chuckles)

- What...?

(grunts)

- I've changed my mind. I don't want another painter. Let that man come back.

(sighs)

(bell clanging)

- Oh, your ladyship.

(chuckles)

- Please, may I speak with your cook?

Shh.

(whispers):

- They're both at home.

Mm-hmm.

(whispers):

- Apologies.

(Maria moaning softly)

- Oh, your hands.

(sniffs)

- Mm.

(Maria chuckles softly)

(water splashes)

(soft chuckle)

(Maria moaning)

(Maria breathes heavily)

(Willem breathes heavily)

- Oh, Maria.

(both breathing heavily)

- Willem?

- Mm-hmm.

- Willem, we've been robbed. It's empty. What is it?

- This will see us get married. Mm. With six children 'round our table... like we said.

- But you haven't done anything foolish?

- CORNELIS:
Gomez offered to sell me the bulbs for the price of a new coach, a good horse, harness and all.

(chuckling):

- It's a madness. It goes against all reason.

- Isn't it supply and demand just the same, Cornelis?

(chuckling):

- Yes, but...

- If nutmegs grew like mussels, you'd get a barrelful for a florin.

- I had no idea I had married a philosopher of finance.

(door opening)

- Governor, a word.

- Forgive me.

(door creaks shut)

(sniffing)

(sighs)

(Sophia sighs)

- Don't move.

(pencil scratching on paper)

- That's the color of blue the Italian masters used for the mother of Jesus. Do you know why they dressed the Virgin in blue?

- Because it's the color of purity.

- Because it's the color which cost the most. Oltremarino. Blue from over the sea.

(Sophia sniffs)

- From a blue stone mined in one place only and far away.

(pencil scratching)

(distant chatter, music playing)

(gulls calling)

(waves crashing)

- Finger.

(music playing in the distance)

(waves crashing)

(Jan gasps)

(gasps)

(sighs)

- God help me. I'm in love.

(clattering)

(running footsteps)

- I'm going to Mrs. Overvalt, my dressmaker.

(door opens)

- I wasn't asking.

(door closes)

(crowd chatter, Jan panting)

(chicken clucking)

(loud crowd chatter)

(panting)

(loud, indistinct crowd chatter)

(crowd chatter)

(panting)

(bell clanging)

- Yes?

- Is Mr. Van Loos at home?

- He's not home.

(panting)

- It wasn't important. I'll write to her.

(door creaks shut)

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