Turner’s Gift is a fictional story in two parts, recounting a dramatic series of events in the late life of the celebrated English artist, J M W Turner. It is based significantly but not entirely on real aspects of his existence.
In Part 1, Turner - recovering from serious illness – receives two visitors at his London studios. One is a potential assistant, Francis Sherrell, who Turner then takes on and who proves to have an immediate, positive influence on the artist’s motivation.
The other visit is from George Smarden Dike: a strangely-behaving man who targets the wealthy Turner with an idea for a new printing process. The artist easily sees through his reproductive pretensions, and Dike is ejected: but his pursuit of the artist has only just begun…
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Turner’s Gift is a fictional story in two parts, recounting a dramatic series of events in the late life of the celebrated English artist, J M W Turner. It is based significantly but not entirely on real aspects of his existence.
In Part 1, Turner - recovering from serious illness – receives two visitors at his London studios. One is a potential assistant, Francis Sherrell, who Turner then takes on and who proves to have an immediate, positive influence on the artist’s motivation.
The other visit is from George Smarden Dike: a strangely-behaving man who targets the wealthy Turner with an idea for a new printing process. The artist easily sees through his reproductive pretensions, and Dike is ejected: but his pursuit of the artist has only just begun…
I and the writer really do appreciate your constructive feedback. Just email me at peoplescope@aol.com.
Contacts:
Twitter - twitter.com/peoplescope
Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/adastra34/
TURNER'S GIFT PART 1
by
Patrick O’Connor
Prologue scene a. The Chelsea house that JMW Turner, 73, shares with Sophia Booth, 49. int. morning. Turner is still recovering from a serious illness. Turner and Booth are at the breakfast table.
F/X: BLACKBIRDS AND, DISTANTLY, CHURCH BELLS AND A STEAM PACKET BOAT.
BOOTH: Finished? I’ll take your plate.
F/X: PLATES AND CUTLERY BEING GATHERED
TURNER: Very nice. Thank you.
SOPHIA: It’s good to see you up at last.
TURNER: No small thanks to you. Dr Price, too, but you did the lion’s share, old ‘un.
SOPHIA: Does my heart good to see some colour back in your cheeks, dear.
TURNER: (GETTING UP FROM THE TABLE). I might look out my sketchpad and go aloft.
BOOTH: Right you are, Admiral. Can you manage?
TURNER: Yes, yes. Don’t fuss. I can walk.
SOPHIA: They won’t recognise you at the Royal Academy, you’ve lost so much weight. Let’s see if we can’t fatten you up a little before you have to return.
TURNER: I was thinking - I might go in next week.
SOPHIA: Why? They’re not expecting you, are they? They can manage without you one more week, I’m sure. Let’s go down to Margate. You could do with some sea air.
TURNER: Well, let’s see.
BOOTH: William. No matter how hard I try, I can’t put the thought aside - your illness might have borne you away from me. From us. At lunch we must talk.
TURNER: Must? The price men pay. What about?
BOOTH: Now, William! John’s still not been settled.
TURNER: I’ve got him enrolled as an engraver. He has a regular income and few outgoings. What more does he need?
BOOTH: You know very well.
TURNER: He trades on my name regularly. He’ll never want.
BOOTH: Nevertheless.
TURNER: He’s not my son, Sophia.
BOOTH: That’s cruel. You don’t have to remind me he’s fatherless.
TURNER: He’s a grown man. I was supporting my father at his age. You know where to find me.
TURNER LEAVES THE ROOM.
F/X: HIS FOOTSTEPS ASCENDING THE STAIRS.
PROLOGUE SCENE B. TURNER OPENS THE DOOR TO THE ROOFTOP TERRACE . EXT. TURNER ARRANGES A CHAIR FOR A GOOD VIEW AND SITS..
F/X: BIRDCALLS AND BELLS CONTINUE AT INCREASED VOLUME. THAMES BOATMEN CALL, A STEAMBOAT CHUGS BY.
TURNER: (HE SIGHS) Peace.
GRAMS: MUSIC
ANNOUNCER: Turner’s Gift, a play for radio by Patrick O’Connor.
GRAMS: MUSIC FADES
SCENE 1. JMW TURNER’S QUEEN ANNE STREET HOUSE. EXT. LONDON 1848: GEORGE SMARDEN DIKE, 31, APPROACHES.
F/X: DISTANT STREET CRIES, HORSES, CARRIAGES. FOOTSTEPS OF SMARDEN DIKE’S APPROACH. HE STOPS, RINGS THE DOORBELL..
DIKE: (CLEARS THROAT, REHEARSES VARIOUS PERSONAE. CHARMING:) Good morning. I am George Smarden Dike…. (BOLDER, MORE OBSEQUIOUS) Ah, Miss Danby. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is George Smarden Dike…(IMPERIOUS) Madam, good morning, Smarden Dike. Would you kindly present my card…?
WITHIN, HANNAH DANBY, 61, UNBOLTS THE DOOR AND OPENS IT.
F/X: DANBY’S FOOTSTEPS IN THE HALLWAY. DOOR BOLT UNDONE. DOOR OPENING WITH A SLIGHT CREAK.
DIKE: Ah, Miss Dan-… My God. Your face.
DANBY: (SIGH OF IMPATIENCE) What is your business, sir?
DIKE: My business? Ah, yes, good, let me introduce my, er. Sorry. Smarden Dike. George. My card.
DANBY: Do you have an appointment, Mr Dike?
DIKE: Smarden Dike. I am known to Walter Fawkes, son of Mr Turner’s friend Walter Fawkes senior, God rest his soul. Mr Fawkes has graciously furnished me with this letter of introduction – er, if you would be so kind…?
DANBY: Mr Turner’s in Margate. He won’t be back till Friday. Can he contact you at the address on your card?
DIKE: Oh. I see. Most unfortunate. Very well.
DANBY: Good day.
DIKE: One moment. Please. Would you be so kind as to let Mr Turner know that the matter I wish to discuss with him is very important - and greatly in his interest?
DANBY: Very well... Goodbye.
F/X: (CLOSES DOOR)
:
SCENE 2. SOUNDSCAPE
F/X: SEA IN A STORM. A DISTANT, LONE VOICE CRYING OUT, THE WORDS DROWNED BY THE WIND AND WAVES.
SCENE 3. QUEEN ANNE STREET. INT. TURNER AND HANNAH DANBY, AT A DESK IN TURNER’S STUDIO.
TURNER: (READING:) “I trust you will pay close attention to the matter he wishes to present to you.”… It’s young Walter’s handwriting, all right. But not his voice, if you follow.
DANBY: Perhaps Mr Fawkes is under some obligation to the young man.
TURNER: Mmm, “…Pay close attention”. Hmph. (BEAT) What was he like?
DANBY: Well dressed, but his clothes were somewhat frayed, as if inherited from an older brother, his father even. He was quite out of time and fash -
TURNER: I mean in person.
DANBY: Well. He rather forgot himself when I opened the door - not unusual, I know, but always tiresome… He was mannerly, but there was something desperate about him.
TURNER: The fallen aristocrat. Father drank him out of his inheritance, perhaps... Tell him I’m busy. Tell him the truth – I’ve been most unwell and have much to attend to to settle my own estate without the need for any new ventures. (BEAT) Has Griffiths found anyone for the restoration work yet?
DANBY: Yes, three. Hopefully. He’s not heard back from all of them. They’ll be here Tuesday morning. (BEAT) William, it would be a good time to have the roof seen to.
TURNER: Yes, yes, all in good time. My life seems entirely taken up with matters of repair and preservation. (BEAT) I’ve got old.
DANBY: You’ll be painting again soon enough… The truth is, William, you can’t spend money.
TURNER: A good habit, learned from my father.
DANBY: It’s now a disease.
TURNER: Hannah, I’m not well. What little thought I have of the future is taken up with my collection.
DANBY: The bequest. I know.
TURNER: What is agitating you?
DANBY: It doesn’t matter. (BEAT)
TURNER: Anything else?
DANBY: A note from Mr Hardwick about your Royal Academy business. He says you’re not to worry, it’s all in hand, and he hopes you’ll be back in good health soon.
TURNER: Hm. Let Griffiths know I’ll see the Tuesday people together. No use wasting a lot of time talking to each one when you can see by their hands if they’re serious or not.
DANBY: All right.
TURNER: I’ll write a note to young Fawkes. I miss his father very much. Well, he knows that. But perhaps I can prompt him to tell me privately whatever it was about Dike that his letter of introduction couldn’t reveal.
GRAMS: MUSIC
SCENE 4.
THE SAME. INT. DANBY LEADS FRANCIS SHERRELL, 23, INTO THE ROOM.
F/X: FOOTSTEPS ON WOODEN FLOOR ECHOING
DANBY: William? This is Mr Francis Sherrell. I’m afraid Mr Martin and Mr Delancey have not appeared.
TURNER: Not appeared? What’s Griffiths playing at? How can I make a choice?
DANBY: Mr Griffiths hinted there might be difficulties. (BEAT) Mr Sherrell has brought his portfolio.
TURNER: I hope this won’t be a waste of time. All right. Come in, come in.
SHERRELL: Thank you, Mr Turner.
TURNER: Come into the light. Show me your hands. Come along…
SHERRELL: I’m sorry, they’re a bit -
TURNER: Don’t apologise. Look at mine. It’s what we do. Sit down. What’s in the portfolio?
SHERRELL: Drawings, sir.
TURNER: Open it for me.
SHERRELL: Yes, sir… I paint, too, of course, and I’ve lately been working for Dr Monro restoring paintings among his father’s collection.
TURNER: Griffiths said. How is he?
SHERRELL: The doctor? He’s well. Though his work at the Bedlam is very onerous I believe. He told me his father encouraged you in your painting - as a boy.
TURNER: Hmh. (GUARDEDLY) What else did he tell you?
SHERRELL: Nothing, sir.
TURNER: Mmm. (LEAFING THROUGH THE PORTFOLIO) These show promise. What do you paint?
SHERRELL: All sorts. London views, churches, parks, portraits, seascapes – anything I think will sell.
TURNER: Hm. Seascapes?
SHERRELL: I was brought up by the sea.
TURNER: Where?
SHERRELL: Ramsgate. My father was a fisherman.
TURNER: Kent. I know Kent. (PAUSE) You come well-recommended. (PAUSE) I’ll take you on for a trial.
SHERRELL: Oh. Oh, thank you, Mr Turner, you can’t imagine how -
TURNER: Don’t think I’m going to pay you.
SHERRELL: Ah. Well, of course, for the period of the trial it would be -
TURNER: If I keep you on – if – it’ll be because you’ve shown you can learn. It’s up to you to demonstrate that.
SHERRELL: I will, sir. I’m a good learner.
TURNER: And discreet?
SHERRELL: Sir?
TURNER: Anything you see and hear in these rooms goes no further than the front door.
SHERRELL: I mind my own business, Mr Turner. I’m no coffee house gossip, be sure of that.
TURNER: All right. We’ll go next door to the gallery and you’ll see what needs to be done. When you start I will observe you closely and instruct you. In time, you may watch me as I paint.
SHERRELL: A great honour, sir.
TURNER: Many of the paintings needing restoration are seascapes. So we will each paint a seascape, here. It will be our school room. And you’ll show me thereby what you are learning. Mm?
SHERRELL: Yes, sir.
TURNER: You’ve had coffee, I imagine. Come along. Let’s settle how much time you have to give and when you can start.
GRAMS: MUSIC
SCENE 5. THE SAME. INT. A FEW WEEKS LATER. DANBY AND TURNER. TURNER SOUNDS MORE ROBUST.
DANBY: Your milk and rum, William.
TURNER: This letter from Fawkes. You were right. He does have some obligation to Dike, although an honourable one. It seems Old Walter took an interest in Dike when he was a boy, and even fostered him for a while when the father was absent from his life - imprisoned for debt. Fawkes says he’s afraid Dike has a history of instability. Not right in the head. He, er, “generally endeavours to please, although is prone to extravagant fancies”.
DANBY: You were wise to put him off. I’ll file the letter. No meetings today.
TURNER: Small mercies. This afternoon I must finish the new will. I asked the solicitor to lay it all out, simply and clearly, and he succeeded only in confusing me with all his damned clauses and sub-clauses.
DANBY: Francis is late. Perhaps it’s the rain. (BEAT. CLEARS THROAT) William -
TURNER: Hannah, stop. I’ve talked to some builders. They’re to inspect what needs to be done by the end of the month.
DANBY: Well, for heaven’s sake. Why didn’t you tell me?
TURNER: Your gratitude is noted... Can you prepare my palette for this morning?
DANBY: Your palette? Well, more good news. You’ve found some of your old energy. What is it to be?
TURNER: A seascape. All I want is ultramarine, white lead and chrome yellow.
F/X: THE FRONT DOOR BELL RINGS.
That’ll be young Sherrell now.
SCENE 6. CONTINUOUS WITH 5. THE FRONT HALL, INT. DANBY APPROACHES AND OPENS THE DOOR: SMARDEN DIKE.
F/X: STREET SOUNDS AND RAIN. DANBY’S FOOTSTEPS, DOOR OPENING
DIKE: Miss Danby, good morning. Thank you so much for your note. I wouldn’t have blamed you had you ignored my request - I was unforgivably uncouth when we first met.
DANBY: Mr… Smarden Dike isn’t it?
DIKE: You remembered! Oh! May I kiss your hand?
DANBY: No.
DIKE: Ah, overstepping the mark again, George! Once more the abject penitent. Do forgive me.
DANBY: What is it you want? Mr Turner is not in a position to consider new business ventures. Did I not make this clear?
DIKE: As clear as day, madam. But the world moves on and circumstances have changed. I have come in hopes of finding Mr Turner much recovered from his illness and able to consider the matter afresh. I also have news to convey to him.
DANBY: News.
DIKE: Oh yes.
DANBY: Concerning?
DIKE: Sir Nicholas Harcourt, equerry to her majesty, the Queen. (BEAT) I will detain him no longer than fifteen minutes.
DANBY: Wait here.
SCENE 7. CONTINUOUS WITH 6. THE STUDIO, 47 QUEEN ANNE STREET. TURNER IS WAITING FOR SHERRELL. DANBY ENTERS.
F/X: SOUND OF CAT CRYING. DANBY’S FOOTSTEPS
TURNER: Well? Where is he?
DANBY: It’s not Francis, William. It’s that Smarden Dike again. He says he has news from an equerry of the Queen.
TURNER: What on earth can that be? Well I’ll give him this, he’s persistent.
DANBY: Ugh.
TURNER: What’s the matter?
DANBY: I find him repellent.
TURNER: Hmh. I’ll judge for myself. As Sherrell’s yet to arrive. Show him into the gallery.
DANBY: On your head be it. Will you want coffee?
TURNER: Ask him. I’ll have my milk and rum. My gums are raw. Take that cat out, would you?
DANBY: Toby, come on. That’s it. Up you come.
SCENE 8. CONTINUOUS WITH 7. THE FRONT HALL, 47 QUEEN ANNE STREET WEST. INT.
F/X: DANBY’S FOOTSTEPS IN THE HALL. AS SHE OPENS THE DOOR, STREET NOISE,
RAIN.
DANBY: Come in.
DIKE: Most grateful.
F/X: DIKE ENTERS THE HOUSE. THE CAT CRIES
Charming cat. (UNCERTAINLY) Kitty, kitty.
F/X: THE CAT HISSES, JUMPS DOWN AND RUNS OFF.
DIKE SNEEZES.
Cats and I are incompatible, I fear…Ah, Turner’s Den. You can’t imagine the pleasure this gives me.
DANBY: Hang on to your umbrella. You may need it in the gallery.
DIKE: Really?
DANBY: There are leaks.
DIKE: Ah.
DANBY: Would you like some coffee? Tea?
DIKE: A glass of boiled water would be most agreeable, thank you.
DANBY: In here.
F/X: SOUND OF DRIPPING WATER - ON THE FLOOR AND IN A BUCKET. THE GALLERY ECHOES SOUNDS/VOICES
DIKE: Thank you. Ah – just as I pictured it. Paintings, paintings, paintings.
DANBY: It is what he does. Mind the puddles.
DIKE: Well, of course, but so many. A treasure house. May I look through - ?
DANBY: He wouldn’t like it. They’re awaiting restoration.
DIKE: Ah. (PAUSE)
DANBY: He’ll be here in a moment.
DIKE: Indeed. (BEAT) Don’t let me delay you.
DANBY: That’s all right. (PAUSE)
F/X: TURNER’S FOOTSTEPS CAN BE HEARD APPROACHING
Here he is. I’ll take your hat and coat.
DIKE: Most kind.
TURNER ENTERS THE ROOM. HANNAH GOES AND CLOSES THE DOOR
F/X: HANNAH’S FOOTSTEPS, DOOR CLOSING
My dear Mr Turner. George Smarden Dike. Mr Fawkes wished me to convey his warmest regards.
TURNER: Please state your business Mr Dike.
DIKE: Smarden Dike. Of course. Mr Fawkes has in his collection several of your – in my humble opinion – very best paintings. It also includes one of your modern landscapes. I am aware of the criticism of your recent work - all “soapsuds and whitewash” I believe they’ve been called. Neverthelesss, such a painting would be a perfect subject for a new process of reproduction. It is not only revolutionary but also – potentially - extremely remunerative.
TURNER: Go on.
DIKE: I see I have your attention. You embody, Mr Turner, all the most prized virtues of the modern age. A self-made man of humble origins. One who has harnessed the latest technical innovations to bring his talent before an ever-expanding multitude of followers. Whose peerless genius is recognised, furthermore, by the highest institutions of the land. With one perhaps surprising exception. (BEAT) The royal family.
TURNER: Will this take long?
DIKE: Not long, Mr Turner. You see I, too, find myself in a position not unlike the one facing you as you commenced your career. Like you, I have had to make my own way. That is not to say I lacked certain other advantages. An education at one of our finest, if minor, public schools and an extensive array of connections with, shall we say, people of influence?... Mr Turner, am I correct in stating that most of your wealth comes not directly from your paintings but from engraved reproductions?
TURNER: Most of which I have personally supervised.
DIKE: Indeed, but from reproductions nonetheless? Enabling hundreds of thousands of people here and abroad to appreciate your artistry?
TURNER: That’s the general idea.
DIKE: (GIVING A POLITE LAUGH) Forgive me if I state the obvious. What if I were to tell you that the means exists to produce printing plates at a fraction of the cost and time of engraving? And that those plates convey a much closer likeness to the original in both tone and texture? A dear friend of mine has invented a process called photoglyphic engraving. It will enable you to prepare even your most daringly modern paintings for distribution in printed form.
TURNER: Well, well… Photo…?
DIKE: .- glyphic engraving.
TURNER: Most impressive. And higher print runs than from an engraved copper plate?
DIKE: Er, potentially.
TURNER: In colour?
DIKE: In colour? Erm.
TURNER: The problem with engraving, Mr Dike, is not the expense of engaging engravers to prepare the plates. It’s the fact that there is no fast printing process able to reproduce colour. For the last ten years my painting has been all about colour and tone. You can reproduce all you like, but if you can’t print in colour, what is the point?
DIKE: What is the point. Yes, yes. Indeed.
TURNER: (HEATED) D’you think I’m a fool? You think I know nothing of photography? Your friend is Fox Talbot, isn’t it?
DIKE: I – I – I am confounded. I – I need to seek other answers.
TURNER: You’ve been asking the wrong questions, Dike. Here is the answer you really want. No, I am not a gullible fool eager to make money on some hare-brained scheme most likely to produce the opposite result… You’ve wasted enough of my time. Get out. Hannah!
DIKE: I have not yet told you about Sir Nicholas.
TURNER: If it was Old Nick himself I would not be interested.
DIKE: Mr Turner, please believe I intend no disrespect.
F/X: HANNAH’S FOOTSTEPS. DOOR OPENING
DANBY ENTERS
DANBY: Yes, William?
TURNER: Show Mr Dike out.
DANBY: (TARTLY) Already?
DIKE: Will you not give me another chance to explain?
DANBY Come along, Mr Smarden Dike. It’s stopped raining now. A stroll in the park will do you good.
DIKE: A stroll. Yes. Perhaps it will. Thank you. Goodbye Mr Turner.
TURNER: Hmph.
SCENE 9. CONTINUOUS WITH 8. THE HALLWAY AT QUEEN ANNE STREET. INT. HANNAH AND SMARDEN DIKE WALK TO THE FRONT DOOR. SHE OPENS IT.
F/X: FOOTSTEPS IN HALLWAY. DOOR OPENING
DIKE: Most unfortunate, Miss Danby, most unfortunate. I felt sure he would seize the opportunity.
F/X: FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING
SHERRELL ARRIVES
SHERRELL: Good morning, Miss Danby. Good morning.
DANBY: Come in, Francis.
DIKE: Well, I see you’re busy. Goodbye.
DANBY: Goodbye.
F/X: DANBY CLOSES THE DOOR
Thank heavens he’s gone. One visitor I hope we’ve seen the back of. You’re drenched.
SHERRELL: (REMOVING COAT, SHAKING UMBRELLA) It’s a wicked day, Miss Danby… You don’t mind visitors as a general rule, do you?
DANBY: Lord, no. When William’s away, no one calls and it’s just me and the cats. You feel so cut off from everything.
SHERRELL: Course you do… Who was the visitor?
DANBY: Smarden Dike.
SHERRELL: Ah, that’s him, is it?
DANBY: I don’t know why William agreed to see him. Well, I do, but I knew it would come to nothing. Now he’s going to be in a temper. He won’t be pleased you’re late, either.
SHERRELL: I couldn’t help it. Such a filthy day. I got held up in Piccadilly. Huge crowd of gawpers – a cab horse dead in its shafts. You’d think it was a hanging, there were so many idlers clogging the road…
DANBY: Goodness. I hate the thought of a hanging. Why does it excite people so?
SHERRELL: And before that there was a great jam of traffic around Euston – another railway accident, seemingly. Police and stretchers everywhere, holding up the traffic…
DANBY: Oh, Francis! How dreadful… Well, you’d best delay no more. He’s been expecting you.
SHERRELL: Right you be… He’ll be interested in the railway accident, I’m sure…
TURNER BUSTLES INTO THE HALL IN A HIGH MOOD
TURNER: Ah, Sherrell, you’re here.
SHERRELL: Sorry, I got /held up –
TURNER: Not to worry, not to worry… I’m just slipping out to see Tom Lupton about the harbours engravings. Huh, that silly fool, Dike. Thought he could put one over me… I won’t be more than an hour. You know what you’re doing, don’t you?
SHERRELL: Yes, Mr Turner. The road’s blocked around Euston.
TURNER: That’s all right. I’m heading for Russell Square. Where’s the umbrella? (FINDING IT) Ah. In case of vagabonds lurking in the Square. Eh?
TURNER SPARS WITH SHERRELL
Eh?
SHERRELL: (DODGING TURNER’S FEINTS, LAUGHING UNEASILY) Ha. Ooh. I see, Mr Turner. Like a sword.
TURNER: Not like a sword, Sherrell. It is a sword.
F/X: SOUND OF THE SWORD BEING UNSHEATHED.
SHERRELL: Goodness.
TURNER: Had it made for me before I first crossed the Channel. Never had to use it, but… I travel confidently. Eh? (RE-SHEATHS SWORD) Heh heh. That silly fool.
F/X: DOOR OPENS AND CLOSES AS TURNER GOES. PAUSE. DANBY AND SHERRELL BURST INTO LAUGHTER.
SHERRELL: Lumme.
SCENE 10. SOUNDSCAPE
F/X: SEA. VOICE CALLING
GRAMS: MUSIC
SCENE 11. AS 9. INT.
F/X: DANBY IS LETTING SHERRELL IN. BIRDSONG.
SHERRELL: Morning, Miss Danby.
DANBY: Good morning, Francis. Some sun, at last. (EAGERLY:) What news today?
SHERRELL: Well! You’ll never guess. They’ve found that missing child.
DANBY: Where?
SHERRELL: The fair on Clapham Common! She had hair glued to her face and the poster outside the booth billed her as the Dog Faced Girl. The owners are under arrest.
DANBY: The scoundrels!
SHERRELL: But you’ll never guess what’s been advertised on the Common for next week?
DANBY: Go on.
SHERRELL: A cricket match.
DANBY: Well?
SHERRELL: Between a team of one-legged players and a one-armed team.
DANBY: You’ve made that up.
SHERRELL: Cross my heart. Look. (SHOWING NEWSPAPER. BEAT)
DANBY: Whatever next!
SHERRELL: (SIMULTANEOUSLY) Whatever next!
THEY LAUGH
DANBY: Your fault.
SHERRELL: What’s my fault?
DANBY: This hunger for knowing what’s going on outside the front door.
SHERRELL: Only natural.
DANBY: Of course, but before I couldn’t satisfy it, with the fear of going out. Whenever I do, people stare so. Some think I’m some sort of leper and cross the road.
SHERRELL: How do you bear it?
DANBY: I don’t. I can’t get used to it.
TURNER: (OFF) Hannah!
DANBY: You’d best go in. The teeth are playing him up, so watch out. I’ll get him his rum and milk. Go and distract him.
SCENE 12. SAME. CONTINUOUS WITH 11. INT. THE STUDIO. SHERRELL ENTERS
F/X: DOOR OPENING
TURNER: Hannah!
SHERRELL: She’s just preparing your milk, Mr Turner.
TURNER: And you’ve been delaying her with your penny-dreadful nonsense.
SHERRELL: Sorry, Mr Turner. (BEAT) That missing girl’s been found, though - made up as the Dog-Faced -
TURNER: God give me patience. Is this all you concern yourself with? Tog up. The whole continent is seething in revolution and all that interests you are peek shows, anything and everything outlandish.
SHERRELL: I -
TURNER: Tog up!
SHERRELL: Right… They’re human stories, Mr Turner. Rulers getting overthrown? – well, that doesn’t happen here. Far as I’m concerned, that’s more of a tall story than the Dog-Faced Girl is.
TURNER: It’s all a matter of time, Sherrell. All empires fall.
SHERRELL: Except the British Empire, obviously.
TURNER: Hmph.
Come here. Your seascape. (BEAT) What’s that?
SHERRELL: (BEAT) The lighthouse.
TURNER: I mean, what’s wrong with it?
SHERRELL: Erm… No, I don’t know.
TURNER: What time of day and year?
SHERRELL: Winter, late afternoon. Just gone dusk.
TURNER: As you’ve painted it - but… the light from the top of the lighthouse is shining straight at us. Close your eyes. Imagine it. The light’s in your eyes. It’s dispersed by the spray from the sea. (BEAT) Can you see the lighthouse?
SHERRELL: But it’s there.
TURNER: Can you see it?
SHERRELL: No.
TURNER: So, for now, paint what the eye sees, not what you know. Later we’ll talk about using your knowledge to compose a picture so it tells a story. Meanwhile, the light is dazzling, Sherrell. Dazzle us.
SHERRELL: Yes, Mr Turner.
TURNER: I won’t be in for a week. Royal Academy business. Continue working on this. It’s coming along – but don’t forget: paint what the eye sees. Get some more of the light into those wave tops.
GRAMS: MUSIC
SCENE 13. QUEEN ANNE STREET WEST. INT. THE STUDIO. BRINGS SHERRELL SOME COFFEE.
F/X: FOOTSTEPS. CUP RATTLING IN SAUCER
DANBY: Your coffee, Francis, when you’re ready.
SHERRELL: Thank you, Miss Danby.
DANBY: Is it nearly finished?
SHERRELL: Well, that’s the trick, isn’t it? Knowing when to stop… I think it is.
DANBY: It’s like one of his Margate paintings. He’ll be pleased.
SHERRELL: Mm. He was most harsh with me last week. I wondered if my time here was about to come to an end.
DANBY: Don’t think that.
SHERRELL: I was discouraged, I’ll admit. I’ve, er, made enquiries about other opportunities.
DANBY: Oh. No, no. You can’t leave now, Francis.
SHERRELL: Why not?
DANBY: You have no idea – the effect you’ve had on him since you came here, the hope you’ve created in me.
SHERRELL: (PAUSE) I don’t understand.
DANBY: Even before he was ill, William was depressed. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t put his affairs in order. The illness didn’t help - the feeling his body was starting to fail him… You can see the signs of neglect all around you. And then this Smarden Dike man barging in... (SHE BEGINS TO WEEP)
SHERRELL: What is it?
DANBY: He’s already abandoned the house, gone to live in Chelsea. But it’s not the house. I can live anywhere. What I’m afraid of is… he’s going to let the gallery go too.