All language subtitles for The Serpents Kiss Edited Feature_EN

I'm standing on the shore of a green sea.

There's a buzzing in my head.

I can't focus.

I'm wearing a white dress.

I feel I wanna dive in
and swim until I drown.

Then suddenly, there are men
wading towards me.

Their bodies are shiny and wet.

There are flashes of brightness
deep in the water...

like darting fish.

Then suddenly...

I see they are reapers.

I stare at them as they get closer.

I want to get... I want to get away
but I can't.

Suddenly I notice the bird.

It sits still as stone on its eggs.

The reapers are getting closer.

Their bright blades slicing low.

I can do nothing.

Was it a dream?

Sounds like a bad dream to me.

Which white dress?

Besides, you can't swim.

I suppose you could drown though.

Anybody can do that.

Even on dry land.

I thought perhaps the reaper
was going to do something to you.

Sometimes I am the bird.

You read too much, Anne.

You must rest your mind.
It gets overheated.

I'm not Anne. I'm Thea.

Particularly Andrew Marvell's poetry.

You see connections
that just aren't there...

and you turn his words
into predictions...

as if he wrote them just for you.

Who are you dressing for?

Myself, of course.

No one interesting ever visits us.

Mr Smithers, as we have discussed

at some length has two Achilles' heels
his vanity and his wife.

"His vanity will look after itself."

"His wife, you will somehow
have to interest in horticulture."

"I wish you heartfelt luck
in our little venture"

"and remain yours et cetera, et..."

"In busy companies of men,
your sacred plants are here below."

"Only among the plants will grow."

"And society is all but rude
to this delicious solitude."

Meneer Chrome at your service.

-You're not English?
-No, I am Dutch, actually.

Dutch?

-Oh, from Holland.
-Yes.

-What are you doing here?
-I am gardens designer, also.

I have come to see Mr Thomas Smithers.

You'll find my father through there.

Yes, we are making some
little improvements, Meneer Chrome.

All in the latest fashion, of course.

The influence
of your Prince of Orange, sir.

-Your king, sir.
-Oh, we're all orange men now.

Can't blame an orange for all that.
It's only a fruit.

It's like blaming the apple
for the fall of man.

Perhaps not, Galmoy. Perhaps not.

I wonder sometimes
if I shall ever get used to the

unevenness of this country.

We inherited Galmoy with the house,
I'm afraid.

He's usually to be found
in the walled garden.

Indeed, the only garden.

Your site, Meneer Chrome,
your domain is quite untouched.

Chaos awaits you.

Chaos indeed.

It alarms me sometimes, in the twilight.
It's such a wasteland.

The pillars are odd.

-Obviously a garden was planned here.
-Planned and abandoned.

Wisely.

Well, Meneer Chrome,
can you create order for us?

Why?

What's growing here,
ought to be growing here.

Cut it down and you'll let in
more than you bargained for.

Do you want to make a garden?
Forgive me but

well, you seem a little
on the young side.

Generally, Mr Smithers...

Monsieur Larousse and myself
undertake less modest commissions.

Modest? There's nothing modest
about my ambitions, young man.

And have no fear for the funds, either.
I don't expect anything cheap.

The one thing I'm prepared to pay for,
Meneer Chrome, is expertise.

I select the experts in whatever field

and then I place my business
in their hands.

I see it as the best possible benefit
of acquiring money.

Juliana, let me present
Meneer Chrome, my dear.

Of Larousse and Chrome.

Internationally acclaimed
garden architects.

Purveyors of paradise.

I've been trying to persuade
Meneer Chrome to make your garden.

I am persuaded.

How very flattering, Meneer Chrome

but I assure you,
it's my husband's garden, not mine.

It's my present to you, my dear.
You must approve the designs.

Dear Thomas, you know I have absolutely
no interest in horticulture.

But I love toys, diversions,
tricks with water

fountains that play tunes.

I've heard of one
that can play "Lillibullero".

Can you do that, Meneer Chrome?

-"Lillibullero."
-Yes.

Garden design has made some progress
since the Italian Renaissance

and their water games.

What a shame.

Well, if I am to approve the designs

we shall just have to see
what you come up with.

-Our daughter Anne.
-Thea.

-We've changed our name.
-What, again?

Thea, Flora, Titannia, whatever.
I thought she was with Mrs Galmoy.

It's bad luck, isn't it?
If you cut a bird?

Anne, come inside this instant.

I had no idea that the design of gardens
had become such a fashionable calling.

King William himself
thinks of little else.

And Is Monsieur Larousse as young as you?

I thought when my husband
took me from London to Bristol

that it was the end of the world,
but this is beyond everything.

This country's solitude.

You'll find, Meneer Chrome,
that our daughter is a little disturbed.

It's better that you're forewarned.

Sometimes it's worse than others.
One can never quite be sure.

Too much imagination.

Do you like acting?

-Acting?
-Performance. The theater.

I miss it terribly.

My work satisfies all my needs
for the arts.

I am set designer for every human drama.

Painter with every conceivable hue
on my palette.

Orchestrator of sounds,
the water and the fountains

the effect of different foliage
on the breeze.

Tell me are we to expect
Monsieur Larousse?

-Or do you do for both?
-Thomas.

Well, I'm paying for both, dear.

I am very much afraid
that Jean Baptiste Larousse is dead.

-Dead?
-Dead?

He sailed on a voyage
to bring back exotic plants.

There's no news of his ship or of him.

The most terrible conclusion
is forced upon us.

We must assume that the oceans
have swallowed him up.

Well, how dreadful.

Good Lord.

Monsieur Larousse was a father to me.

My mentor. My tutor. A great genius.

He worked with Le Notre at Versailles
and on the new layout at Hampton Court.

He taught me the principles
of broderie parterre.

The regularity of answering forms,
the radiating gravel walks

and the point from which and only
from which all the pattern makes sense.

The house itself
and for this purpose only

so that the garden reflects glory

and prestige and power upon its owner.

Takes himself too seriously, that one.

Protestant windbag. Too many oranges.

Too little appetite altogether.

Do you know what he's called?

Manure.

That's what they call him. Manure.

This is Meneer Chrome, Anne.
Our daughter, Thea.

Your servant.

Your mistress.

I am so very sorry to be late.

I know you have so little time.

-Little time?
-You're always in such a hurry.

I have all the time in the world,
I promise you.

My vegetable love.
Oh, but you're a marvel.

A marvel.

We have a poet, Meneer Chrome.
Andrew Marvell.

-Meneer Chrome doesn't know him...
-He's dead. He was poisoned.

They poisoned him.

-You should take care.
-Oh, that damn book.

Aren't you afraid?

Aren't you afraid it will happen to you?

People, Meneer Chrome, real people

ideas, objects,
all things animate and inanimate

the entire world is sieved
through the wire mesh of these words.

Crushed into the shape of the poem

pressed between the paper and the book
until the juice runs out

and there's nothing left
but dried leaves.

So tell me how?
How do I have a relationship with that?

Good God, girl. What now?

It's so undignified lying on your back
with your legs spread out.

Mrs Galmoy send to St Kenelm's
for the physician, please.

-Thomas.
-First thing in the morning.

Thomas, dear,
is the physician really necessary7

We must trust in his expertise.

There was a time when you did not rely
on other people so much.

You've come to depend on experts too much.
You delegate.

You live by proxy in all things.

Great God, I could have cut her hand off.

I will not tolerate behavior like that
any more. She's not a child.

She must be made to behave
like a young lady.

-I must go to her.
-Sit down, madam.

Mrs Galmoy will see to her.

This garden, Chrome, it must be ready
by the turn of the century.

I can achieve the layout and perhaps
with extensive use of pots

and if you could supply labor
from the estate.

I have no son.

But I intend to leave something behind
with my name on it.

You have my wife as your inspiration
that should be enough for any man.

What my husband means, sir

is that I am barren.

I have been barren
since the birth of Anne.

Madam, I hardly know what to say.

Say nothing, Meneer Chrome.

Say nothing.

Nature will not tolerate a vacuum.

Create emptiness and nature
will do her utmost to fill it again

and so we drive the air
out of the glass jar

burning it away with the flame.

And then we apply it
to the surface of the body

and draw out the evil humors thus.

Further instructions for you.
Shall I read them to you?

-They're rather to the point.
-Get on with it.

"My dear Meneer, you are too fastidious.
If the lady likes Italy, give her Italy."

"And, dear sir, you have told me
of your fondness for amateur dramatics"

"but do please keep your performance
within the bounds of credibility."

"I am yours, et cetera..."

Your master forced me into this.
His motives are his alone.

But the designs of this garden are mine.
And so is the performance.

Get out and spy on someone else.

Poor lady.

It's all over.

Now you must rest.

You lie still and sleep it all away.

They say when the reapers cut the woad

they turn blue.

They're stained by the dye.

They turn blue all over.

-Your day, Meneer Chrome.
-Madam, I'm in your hands.

Our guests are too eager.

Fitz. It's you.

-Dearest cous.
-This is wonderful.

I hadn't expected you for weeks.

It was a sudden decision.
There was no time toll write.

But if Thomas had warning,
he may have banned me from coming.

Oh, but it's perfect timing.
Today's the unveiling of the garden plans.

I wouldn't have missed that
for all the world.

Oh, and this is Meneer Chrome himself.
My cousin James Fitzmaurice.

Oh, but of course,
you know each other already.

He came here by your suggestion.

We have met in the flesh
but once or is it twice?

But I am, of course familiar
with Meneer Chrome's reputation.

You are too generous, sir.

Oh, yes.
Yes, I believe I must have heard of them.

Monsieur Larousse and Meneer Chrome.

But I'm told they work
for the Earl of Portland

and designed gardens
for King William himself.

So clever of you to get them.

There is nothing,
absolutely nothing more wonderful

that you could possibly be doing
in the entire world than making a garden.

Well, what harm can it do anyone?

Even my garden in Cheltenham,
well hardly more than a window box

but I'm always trying
to cram something else in.

Tell me, Madam Clevely,
how is the cloth business in Cheltenham?

Oh, well, it occupies one.

My rooms are full, which is a mercy
after my dear husband's death.

I shall be looking to you, sir,
for my dye.

The woad grown here
is quite the strongest of blues.

I confess, madam, I was scarcely aware
that my estate produced vegetable dye.

Juliana.

Your garden, madam.

Meneer Chrome, please.

We face north.

So good for the paintings
and the furniture

and the complexion, don't you think,
Meneer Chrome?

-They're not ruined by direct sunlight.
-Don't interrupt, cous.

I was thinking of the advantage
of having the light behind us

since the principle viewpoint
of the garden design

must correspond precisely to the center
of the main reception room

inside the house.

Which is, of course,
where the garden is to be appreciated.

There will be a central walk
of raked gravel

with steps rising to the gates.

Beneath us here two symmetrical rectangles
with pyramidal use at each center.

And beyond that

the parterre broderie itself
with tall trellised towers

and different colored gravels,
coal, lime, onyx and brick red.

Four classical statues here
will ring a spiral clipped laurel

and I propose to use an edge
of yellow marble.

Here, lemons, oranges and dwarf bays
will line the path

as it rises to the final apron
before the iron gates.

And the whole will be enclosed
in a wall

with Flemish curves
and Terminus statues at intervals

to guard the garden
from the surrounding farm.

You look a little pale, Thomas.
Are you making a computation of the bill?

Any flowers?

This is an Anglo-Dutch garden, Madam,
with French influence.

We have progressed from flowers.

A garden is a celebration
of art's triumph over nature.

We shall be the fucking flowers.

We shall provide the color and the scent
as we walk among the gravel paths.

Now to the west I'll propose a grotto here
and a maze here.

A house of Daedalus.
A place to be lost in.

Well, madam?

Well, you have been busy, Meneer Chrome.

I find it all a little serious.

Madam, the broderie of the parterre

is a precise copy of the brocade
you were wearing

when I first set eyes on you.

What a memory you do have, Meneer Chrome.

Couldn't help noticing, Chrome,
this area here.

-Yes?
-Well, it's blank. I mean, it's blank.

Something you're going
to surprise us with?

I have a few ideas
I would like to explore.

I shall, of course,
discuss them with you, sir, in due course.

The Hanging Gardens of Babylon?

Well, Thomas, this is all most exciting.
Juliana is a very lucky girl.

And I particularly admire
the broderie touch.

Although, in the event, I wondered
if it mightn't prove a little overdone?

-I hope you've been receiving my notes.
-And this, Meneer Chrome?

This is the signature of a Larousse
and Chrome garden, "The Serpent's Kiss".

The serpent's kiss?

The Ouroboros legend.
The serpent with its tail in its mouth.

Meneer Chrome, is it you?

You seem so...

different.

You've torn yourself on the brambles.

Your blood looks like
deadly nightshade berries.

They ripen
then burst their poison down you.

It grows here near the gates.

And hemlock.

All the poisons.

Sometimes I find things for Galmoy.

I'm afraid he kills insects with them.

Belladonna turns you blue from inside out.

An unpleasant ending.

Come here.

This'll give you a Protestant
wind up your parterre, Manure Chrome.

Remove all unwanted garden pests.

Add this little concentrate
of Belladonna

and even the white fly will turn blue.

This is my spring.

I've always been interested in plants
and wild things.

You see that crop growing there?

Woad, the war paint
of the ancient Britons.

They only use it to dye cloth now.

Isatis Tinctoria.
Turns you blue from the outside in.

Have you ever been to the ocean?

I haven't.

Once, my father took me
to see the Severn bore.

I was very young.

It's a wave of the sea

that reaches deep in
to touch the belly of England.

And on the big spring tides,
the best salt bores

tiny elvers swim like sperm.

I'd love to see the ocean.

All his life my father made land
from the sea and farmed it.

Then there was the great storm.

The banks burst and the sea flooded in.
It drowned him, left my family ruined.

Nature is my enemy.

Must be controlled.

Controlled?

I was hoping to see you today
when I showed my plans.

Oh, that's my parents' garden.

This is my place.

Actually, I don't really mean my own,
it doesn't belong to me.

I just come here.

No one else does.

They don't see it the way I do.

There was a snake here before you came.
In the roots of the crab apple tree.

And a bird.

The sun shone through its wings.

You frightened them away.

Why were you so angry?

Were you in pain?

You've missed a bit.

Don't you see what this will mean?

The garden?

Mean?

To all this.

Oh, it won't touch me here.

It means that tomorrow
all this will be cut down.

Chrome, you've been surveying the site.

This is Forgemaster Pritchard.
He looks after my foundry in Bristol.

-Sir.
-He's called here on business.

Or rather the lack of it.

It seems our wares
are in poor demand at the moment.

So I've been trying to persuade him

that our foundry should undertake
some of your proposed metal works.

I don't know what your father
would have thought about

all this grottos and gates
and railings and such.

Would you have your secretary
make some copies of these?

Pritchard, go and see Mrs Galmoy
in the kitchens.

Very good, sir.

And have her fetch you up some Perry
from the cellar.

So you see, Chrome, how your ideas
have us all buzzing.

Could there be any cleaner work
than making a garden?

Sir...

I have misgivings.

-Misgivings?
-Yes, sir. It concerns your daughter.

-My daughter?
-Thea.

Anne. Anne is no concern of yours, sir.

No, sir, but she seems so at home
out there.

-Have you ever spoken to her there?
-What are you suggesting?

What would the consequence be to her
if we cut it all down and do away with it?

She seems at peace there.

Do you think all this
has not been considered already?

We are informed by those
who are experts on the mind

that the exact opposite is the case.

The fever is nourished
by that chaotic place.

It breeds distortion.

An ordered, planned, patterned garden

governed by reason with the reassuring
works of man in evidence all around.

A garden such as you have designed

will reflect the same on to her mind
and restore her calm.

Kindly supervise the execution
of your plans, sir, there is a deadline.

Yes, sir, but there is one thing
I do beg you to consider.

What?

Perhaps it would be better
if she was not here when it happens.

Could she stay away
with friends or relations or

or perhaps you could take her
to visit the sea?

The sea?

Assure yourself, Meneer Chrome

I have placed Anne
in the best possible hands.

Well, Chrome,
shall we make the desert bloom?

First, we must make the desert.

-How was it that you found him, Fitz?
-Oh, lady luck.

I met him on two quite separate occasions.

The first time was in the Netherlands

when he was working with Larousse
on King William's garden at Het Loo.

And the second was in Hertfordshire.

I happened to be staying
with the Probyn's at Weald

when Meneer Chrome
was undertaking the layout for them.

He interests you?

Not especially.

I shall leave for the foundry immediately,
my dear.

We shall manage.

-The burning bush, Pritchard.
-The coal ship's late.

-We'll run out of iron.
-Then we'll melt down the cannons.

What's this?

That is a Hortus Siccus.

A collection of plants
dried and arranged in a book.

Thus by defeating the seasons,
they are preserved for study.

And not for pleasure, sir?

You drain nature of all its juices.

Believe me,
I do not find that so desirable.

Madam, you must excuse me.

Fitz. What are you doing?

I was trying to imagine
how all this will turn out.

Oh, that.

How kind of you to take such an interest
in Thomas' garden.

The setting for a jewel.

You were right to choose him.

I could never have afforded
to give you all this.

Fitz.

Don't you remember?

Cousins can do things
that other people can't.

And we were more than children
before anyone knew what we were up to.

Even we didn't know.

What, us? No, not us, we knew.

-I don't remember.
-Of course you remember.

I was so young. It was just games.
We were good at playing.

You and I never took anything
too seriously

till it was too late.

Do you remember this?

You gave it to me as a pledge.

Before they sent me away.

You told me to make my fortune

and that when I came back,
we would be together forever.

-You don't remember?
-You didn't make your fortune.

No.

No, still penniless.
Still singing for my supper.

Only at the best tables in Europe.

When I came back you were married.

You had a family.

Is that really me?

It looks just like Anne.

-And you've had it all these years.
-I have.

-I've thought of a very good game for us.
-So long as it's not skittles.

No, not skittles. Meneer Chrome.

I thought you would have
bowled him over already.

-I've brought you something.
-And I've looked you up.

-Looked me up?
-Yes.

What is it?

It is a wilderness.

Look. I was wondering what it should be.

And, as a matter of fact

wildernesses are becoming
very fashionable.

Do you see the serpentine path here?

The forms on either side
are symmetrical

and the tree planting will be grouped
to balance each other exactly.

And do you really think you can make up
for what you've done with that?

It's far too well behaved for me.

I've looked you up, Dutchman.

I've looked you up. Holland.

That scarce deserves the name of land

as but the off-scouring
of the British Sand.

This indigested vomit of the sea...

-fell to the Dutch by just propriety.
-Take her into the house!

Get rid of that cursed book.

You deserted me, Meneer Chrome.

I had something to attend to.

Well, you have an opportunity
to make amends now.

And provide my cousin and I
with some edifying diversion.

-But I really should...
-Just a moment of your time.

A test of your knowledge.
Will you comply with the rules?

-What is the test?
-Scent.

-Scent?
-Flowers, herbs, that sort of thing.

Scent in a garden.

Scent is hard toll managed in a garden.
It is too unreliable.

You cannot count on it.

-Go on.
-Be where you planned it to be.

It relies not only
to the state of the plants

but to the eddies in the air
to warmth, to twilight, to the moon.

I shall not, therefore, incorporate scent
in the main design.

Always excluding the presence of box,
of course.

The scent of clipped box
in the summer months

that is a sine qua non.

But in the maze

in the maze shall use scent.

It is both precise and elusive.
It is personal but confusing.

Its colors never merge to gray.

It will add to the impression
of being entirely lost.

Some scents predominate over others.

And the knot? The serpent's kiss?

That depends on the serpent's breath.

First, you must be blindfolded.

-Blindfolded?
-If you want to win a prize.

What prize? A kiss?

A kiss.

Rosa Officinalis, pink.

Lavandula stoechas is a lavender pink.

Helichrysum splendidum.
It is yellow and Grey.

Lillium regale. It is a pinkish white.

Nepeta connata. No, wait. Nepeta...

mussinii. It is purple.

Very good.

Now one more.

If you get this right,
you'll win the prize.

-You seem a little confused.
-Perhaps he's taken too much snuff.

I am confused
because it is not your usual scent.

The scent you wore yesterday
was lily of the valley.

This is attar of roses.

Yesterday you were white,
today you are red.

But the handkerchief itself...

-is yours.
-Clever boy.

Take these things away, Mrs Galmoy.
There's dead insects all over them.

I claim my prize.

Plant, tobacco.

Latin name, Nicotiana tabacum.

A yellow taste perhaps?

We never said whose lips, Meneer Chrome.

Have you nothing better to do
with your time, Chrome?

I have lost a coal ship

gone down in the Channel
with men drowned.

And I come back to parlor games.

Oh, my dear, sir. Oh, forgive me.

-It was only in fun.
-You never told me about the girl.

-What girl?
-The daughter.

Why on earth
should I have told you about her?

-What's she got to do with you?
-She lives in a world of her own.

Not anymore.

I've told you
everything you needed to know

to perform the task
that I've engaged you to perform.

You're to make him a garden
which he cannot afford.

Turn the screw, make him sweat.

Yes, introduce a little heat.

I think it's time we heard
from Monsieur Larousse, don't you?

-You write it.
-You write it.

Time, I think, for Anne
to see the progress.

Whatever you say.

-I have to go to Bristol, Thomas.
-Oh, dear.

I shall be back as soon as possible.
If you don't mind.

Mind? No.

I've become quite enthralled
by your enterprise.

Could you lend me a carriage?

My dear James,
have you nothing of your own?

Taste, my dear Thomas.

Taste.

The girl's out there.

It's too soon.

It's her.

Mr Chrome.

This the letter? Give it to me.

Now make the damn garden.

Hurry up on that.

"As for the living birds,
he shall take it."

"And the cedar wood. And the scarlet.
And the hyssop."

"And shall dip them in,
and the living bird"

"in the blood of the bird
that was killed over the running water."

The body is a machine.
The brain its mainspring.

If it is wound too tightly,
the spring will break.

To restore peace of mind,
we must deprive the nerves of stimuli.

The Greeks were the first to be aware

of the value of darkness
on these occasions.

The calm of rationality.
The reassuring works of man.

The print of art.

The mind can find peace here
in symmetry and repose.

As for the grotto

although it depicts nature rampant

nature fecund

nature excited.

Because it is art imitating nature
and not nature itself.

There is a predictability and therefore,
a place for it in the garden.

I commend your efforts, Meneer Chrome.

Is that my spring?

Yes.

Can it play “Lillibullero”, Mr Chrome?

No?

But surely there'll be some trick,
some diverting waterwork.

I have it, could it perhaps,
all of a sudden wet our guests

with jets from cherubs' pricks
hiding in the foliage?

A letter, Chrome.

News from Monsieur Larousse, he's alive.

"The ship was becalmed."

"The rations were exhausted. We starved."

"We had lost the trade winds
and were in the doldrums."

"But the memory of the weevil
in the last ship's biscuit"

"was our salivation."

"We had eaten the ship's dogs,
cats and rats"

"and were looking hard at each other."

"But there was no meat on us."

"And then a slight breeze got up"

"and in our hallucinations,
we thought we saw an island."

"But it was no mirage, it was an island.
A tropical paradise."

"We were saved Eden before the fall."

"The figs crushed themselves
against your mouth."

"Birds filled the air."

"Coconuts pressed their white, cool,
wet flesh against your skin."

"We tripped on melons and pineapples
opened themselves for us"

"like flowers to the sun."

"And some of our men died of surfeit.

"Their digestion couldn't cope
with the luxury.

-"The island, we later discovered was..."
-The Bermudas.

Bermuda, yes.

"Through the watery maze,
an eternal spring?"

Yes.

"The oranges are golden lamps
in a green night."

-Yes.
-Don't interrupt, Thea.

Go on please.

"And then we traveled
and we saw such sights"

"opposites of nature,
swans with black feathers"

"plants that eat meat trees
that grow upside down"

"monsters of the sea."

"And all the time I worked"

"filling the holes
with my botanical collection"

"until we were a floating ark
of the world's vegetation"

"loaded to the gunnels with my seed."

Are there any more eel, Mrs Galmoy?

More?

"You thought I was dead."

"Drowned."

"Dead and born again a hundred times.
And altered changed, utterly."

"If you had experienced
what I have experienced..."

I cannot read any more,
it is too affecting.

How did he find our address?

He followed the garden's reputation.

Growing reputation.
It is talked about everywhere.

Will Monsieur like it...

when he sees it?

He will like it very, very much indeed.

The garden?

The garden.

Yes.

Yes, it is a Larousse garden.

I have tried to do it
as he would have wished, as he taught me.

But I fear he senses...

that it lacks something.

It lacks something? What?

-There's something missing.
-Missing?

Yes.

The bills lack nothing.
Nothing missing from the bills.

"If you want immortality", he says.

Heat.

Heat.

Heat?

So he says.

What's he talking about?

-I sense a coldness.
-A coldness?

At the center.

Tropical heat.

Plants will grow vast
in a tenth of the time.

This garden will rival the Chelsea Physic.

You must build a greenhouse
for Thomas Smithers.

A greenhouse. A hot house.
Hot beds for my seed.

-A greenhouse?
-Walls of glass. Boilers.

Pipes of hot water under raised beds.

I'll follow you into the kitchen,
Mrs Galmoy...

and pick at the scraps if I may.

Well, good God.

I mean, glass
is so inordinately expensive.

You could do it, Thomas.

Exotic plants grown here
would be such fun.

Exciting, don't you think?

Different.

People would come.

You could you build the boilers
and the pipes...

in your foundry, couldn't you?
You... You have the coal.

"Till then they'll sleep in darkness
in my warehouse here."

The idea of tropical fruit
in Gloucestershire.

Don't you think
it would provide the uniqueness...

that a really great garden needs?

Everyone will want to come
and visit the greenhouse, feel the warmth.

Experience the exotic.
Touch the new textures and surfaces.

The unfamiliar shapes and smells.

-Will I lay a place, sir?
-Oh, Fitz.

-Have I missed something?
-Monsieur Larousse has returned.

He survived unimaginable horrors
and now he's in Bristol...

with his collection of exotic plants
which we are to house here in a hot house.

Heavens.
Well, that is certainly original.

Your very own tropics.

Can you afford all this, Thomas?
Isn't glass inordinately expensive?

You want it, my dear? You shall have it.

That cousin of hers.
He behaves as if he owns the place.

Thea.

You're not who you say you are.

You can't tell me.

From new on, be very careful
what you eat and drink.

Are you alone?
Please, please close the door.

Please stay absolutely still.

What are you doing?

I am checking for draughts.

If you move around your dress
and petticoats set up...

disturbing eddies in the air.

There are no leaks, that is good.

It is essential that we control this space
very precisely.

When the seeds are brought
from their dark dormant state...

in the warehouse in Bristol...

and sown in this light and heat
and humidity, there will be an awakening.

A resurrection.

The far side of the world
will be growing here.

-The dark side of the world.
-Dark side of the world?

There will be stripes on the foliage.
Spots. Swelling seed-heads with horns.

Branches with tentacles.
Flowers with the claws of crabs.

There will be flowers of brown
and green and black.

Black?

The Larousse collection
specializes in dark plants, often black.

Primula auricula, Canna indica...

Tulipifera, Nigra. Anemone atrocaerulea.

I would be unacceptable then...

in Larousse collection?

Oh, I think you would be rare enough.

Exotic enough.

But my skin is white.

Completely white?

Completely.

No blemishes? No stains?

But inside...

deep inside...

-there is a darkness?
-I feel there is.

I can't be sure.

It would need an expert touch
to discover and confirm it.

Perhaps if Monsieur Larousse was here,
he would be able to verify.

But in the absence of Monsieur Larousse...

I am not worthy.

And I might not always find it
convenient...

to wait for the arrival
of Monsieur Larousse.

May I move now?

My dear James.

-Admiring the latest handiwork?
-Something of the sort.

All ready to receive the seed.

I think this justifies a celebration,
don't you?

I've arranged a little something.

A fete champetre with music by a composer.

On a small scale, of course.
I mean, we're not yet finished.

But I think there's enough here now
to satisfy the curious. Don't you?

-What?
-Music. Some popular music.

Have you seen my wife?

She came this way a little earlier.

I saw Meneer Chrome in the hot house
with somebody.

But it could not possibly
have been Juliana.

They were in the most intimate embrace.

-Good lord.
-Oh, indeed.

Their clothes discarded around them...

like the petals of some exotic flower...

their bodies entwined together
like the single stamen.

Who could it possibly be?

We should walk discreetly away.

A high pitched voice is all very well
in the right place.

It's a high price to pay
for a moment of frivolity.

If I'd bad asthma, I think I'd be wise
to stay out of London.

I blame the maid
for the excessive speed of his descent.

And underneath everything
that particular shade of Grey.

You could easily be excused
for imagining it was leather.

I've been looking for you.

I blame myself for not making something
absolutely clear' before.

The lady is forbidden fruit.

You were to handle,
for the sake of our plan...

but I didn't want to find teeth marks.

Next year, of course,
we shall be celebrating the new century.

And the the full completion
of your garden.

I can see it all.

It's a triumph.

What's that smell?

I... I beg your pardon?

There's a faint stench
coming from somewhere.

-It's the woad. Must be ready for harvest.
-Well, I hope it won't spoil the concert.

Thea?

-Keep it.
-I couldn't possibly.

A keepsake of last night.

But nothing happened.

Don't be so impatient.

-Chrome.
-I know about this.

She's my patient, sir.

In the Orient,
there are gardens like these.

-They make patterns.
-I don't interfere with your garden!

-Leave me to look after her mind.
-But these are gardens of the mind.

How could she possibly
know about the Orient...

and gardens of philosophy?

Well, don't you see?
That's what's so extraordinary.

-This activity is bad for her!
-It's only meant to be water.

A river, the Severn?

Don't you see how destructive this man is
to your daughter?

Leave my daughter to the physician,
Meneer Chrome.

I've told you before,
Anne is no concern of yours.

Remove the rocks.
Rake the gravel into straight lines.

You're sick. She's not.
Heal your damned self.

Thea.

They're dancing the woad.

Come back in.

I have to talk to you,
I... I want you to understand.

Please listen to me, Thea.

You're not listening.

Let us roll all our strength
and all our sweetness up into one ball.

And tear our pleasures with rough strife
through the iron gates of life.

Thus though we cannot make our sun,
stand still, yet we shall make him run

Thea. Please. Why won't you listen to me?

Because you're saying nothing.

Whisper your sweet nothings to my mother.
She will hear you.

I can't.

Goodbye, Mr Chrome. Whoever you are.

-I wish they'd come inside.
-Your husband is cursing God.

Fortunately God can't hear his blasphemies
above the noise of the wind.

Poor Meneer Chrome.

This is not natural.
It started with a spell.

I saw, she pursed her lips and blew.
No, this is most unnatural.

She's a witch.

Why me? Why me, God?
Nothing will defeat me!

Oh, poor Thomas.

The power of nature.

"And forthwith Jesus gave them leave."

"And the unclean spirits went out
and entered into the swine."

"And the herd ran violently
down a steep place into the sea."

I warned you.

You cut it all down.

You let in the wind.

It's the Woadman's wind.

What do you mean, the Woadman's wind?

Well, you have no reason
to keep me here now.

Why?
Has Smithers paid up yet for his garden?

Paid? No.

-Well then.
-We can't go on now.

Of course we can go on to the bitter end.

I want no more part of it.

For one who so enjoys outdoor activity...

you are surprisingly unconcerned
for your freedom.

Do remember I know who you are.
More important, who you are not.

You stay while I still have a use for you.

Don't worry, Meneer Chrome,
the time will come...

when I will find your presence here
quite unnecessary.

Juliana.

Come.

We're going to look at the greenhouse.
Will you come with us, Mr Fitzmaurice?

I've been thinking, Thomas.
There is a way can have your garden.

And it'll be an even greater victory
than before.

People will talk about it forever.

Especially those
who may conceivably be gloating now.

But it requires you to do something
of huge effrontery.

You must take up God's gauntlet.

You must divert the wind,
you must make a hill.

A hill to the north
will shelter the garden.

And not just a hill.

Consider the pyramids.

Consider the great earth mounds
of the Iron Age.

Consider Akbar's Tomb.

It must be conceived as a monument.

It should be built round
a central chamber...

and surmounted by a temple...

so that the whole would become
the final resting place...

to the moving spirit of the garden.

Your shrine.

What a riposte that would be.

How that would set tongues wagging.

Think about it.

-Bravo.
-Very good.

I'm going to make a hill.

-A hill, Thomas?
-Good gracious.

A hill?

To divert the wind.

And not just a hill.

Consider Akbar's Tomb.

-What a riposte that would be.
-Akbar's Tomb?

How?

What?

How will you make hill? With what?

Earth, we'll mound up earth
from the fields.

-The woad fields?
-Any fucking fields.

There's absolutely no reason...

to suppose a hill will reduce the wind
in the slightest.

In fact, in all probability,
it will make it worse.

It will create turbulence.
I... I cannot agree to a hill, sir.

-Cannot agree, sir?
-I am the designer.

And what of Larousse?

I happen to know that Monsieur Larousse
is a great one for hills.

In fact, I recall I first met him...

standing on the Earl of Portland's
Parnassus...

and together,
we admired its construction.

Under the circumstances...

I think you would be ill-advised
to object, Meneer Chrome.

I could provide the design myself.

Seeing that the Dutch, in general...

have little experience of hills
in particular.

Your folly's coming along nicely, Thomas.

A fitting resting place
for our patron's immortal soul.

I wonder if I might have a word
with you, sir?

-What?
-In private.

If you must, you must.

He works so hard. And with his own hands.

He's too exhausted for company
and takes all his meals alone.

Perhaps I should take him a cooling drink.

-I'll come with you.
-No, you're too busy with your design.

I'm going alone.

I have published papers
on the question of diet.

Diet is most helpful in these cases.

At St Kenelm's we could have
strict control over all her intake.

You see, sir, there is more to this...

than delusion and hallucination
or even depression.

There is, I am forced to believe,
the question of possession.

-Possession?
-By evil spirits.

-And diet will help?
-Undoubtedly.

If you want your daughter back...

you must surrender her entirely to me
as my patient.

All I wanted her to do
was to learn to behave less oddly.

And so she will.

She will return to you
from St Kenelm's a lady.

I shall have toll speak with my wife.

And I will have the necessary papers
drawn up.

Why, my dear, a fountain
that can make the Green Knight.

That really is a much, much cleverer
than "Lillibullero".

Please don't.

-I wish...
-What? What do you wish?

-I wish I was my...
-Would you like a drink, my dear?

I brought it for Meneer Chrome
but it appears that he's wet enough.

Thank you, mama, but no.

The physician is pleased
with her progress.

And what would this physician know
about progress?

Here let me dry.

No one's looking. Let me dry your hair.

The woad has turned you green.

I saw them washing the vats out
in the reservoir.

I've been looking for a chance
to talk to you.

There's something I wanted to say.

I too.

This cannot go on.

Go on? This?

There is no substance to it.

It is all a sham, all of it.

All of it?

And what has my cousin
got to do with all this?

-Your cousin?
-Yes.

It seems he has some influence over you.

Madam, I hardly know your cousin.

And I think I hardly know you,
Meneer Chrome.

And I thought I would.

What a shame.

Oh, well...

I shall, after all, have to wait
for Monsieur Larousse.

"Henbane. Passion flower.
Ladies Slipper. Valerian."

"Mandrake root."

Madam...

I write to you...

the reluctant...

muse...

of this garden...

to crave your forgiveness.

A present, Mr Fitzmaurice?

You have restored the garden
to its former glory.

You are about to receive full payment
from a grateful client.

You will pass all the money on to me.

I will extract your fee
then you will leave forever.

I thought it nice if we parted friends.
Hence, the little gift.

Something to remember
our successful partnership by.

Oh, believe me I, too,...

relish the conclusion of our partnership.

Well, soon you can go with my blessings.

I filled it for you with a special mixture
I procured in Bristol.

Try a little. Go on.

I don't take snuff.

It was an affectation for the part.
I thought it might help.

When did this letter arrive, Mrs Galmoy?

I don't know exactly, madam.
It was left in the hall.

Monsieur Larousse.

Well, that squares us up I think.

Cigar?

No, of course, you prefer snuff.

Monsieur Larousse.

Monsieur Larousse.

I'm no bloody Frenchman.

It's Pritchard.

He's drunk.

It's war.

I bring you glad tidings and great joy,
Master Tom.

War.

My God, what are you building
out there now, huh?

Moving mountains?

-What war?
-What war?

What does it matter to us so long
as there's a requirement for cannon, eh?

Pritchard, why are you drunk?

It's the claret war!

Or the war of the claret succession.
Or the acquisition of claret.

Since when did the Smithers Foundry...

ever concern itself
with the... with the causes of the fight?

Now that is a request for cannon.

The Royal command
signed for the King by Churchill.

I shall have to go to the foundry.

-Thomas. Thomas, would you...?
-What's this?

-The papers for your daughter.
-Oh, I can't possibly deal with that now.

I'll sign them on my return.

Thomas. Will you be visiting the warehouse
when you're there?

The Larousse collection.
The seeds for the greenhouse.

-The greenhouse?
-Oh, Thomas, humor me, please.

Look here's the address.

My dear, seeds are the very last thing
on my mind.

And remember, pay the secretary
from your share.

Of course.

I'm sending him with you
as far as the coast.

To keep an eye on you.

You can leave any time now.
So long as it's before Smithers' return.

And go without a word to a soul.
Never be heard of or seen again. Remember?

-Like a thief in the night.
-What are you doing here?

Beg pardon, sir. Isn't this yours, sir?

It was in the library.

What a view there is from here.

I can't imagine
what Meneer Chrome was thinking...

when he tried to object to it. Can you?

What exactly is your hold over him, Fitz?

I? Oh, it's you, cous, not me.

This isn't a game, is it?

It's all in deadly seriousness.

What precisely do you mean, cous?

-I believe that you are behind everything.
-Then my secret is yours.

Just as your secret is mine.

We've always been good
at keeping secrets, you and I.

What secret?

Do you think, when this is completed...

it might prove
an alternative trysting place...

for you and Meneer Chrome?

I know you have a predilection
for the greenhouse...

but do you not think
your husband's crowning folly...

might lend itself to adultery
in a rather special way?

Nothing happened in the greenhouse.

Really? Oh, it doesn't matter.

I would have no difficulty
convincing Thomas that it did.

He's three quarters the way there already,
believe me.

Is it all well Mr Fitzmaurice?

-So, shall we have a drink?
-It is. Indeed you shall.

-What is your preference, sir?
-Perry, Mr Fitz.

Then you shall have Perry in barrels
with your permission, dear cous.

I do hope you don't think
that I'm taking over.

Monsieur Larousse?

No workers, no Iron.
And no credit with which to purchase them.

Start the furnace.

-Start the furnace?
-I want fire.

I was better as a boy when my father
taught me.

Are you leaving?

Yes.

Weren't you gonna tell anyone?

Not even my mother?

Does the physician know you're wandering
about loose in the passages?

I won't tell if you don't.

It's time.

Perhaps we could withdraw together
to the sweet fields.

What are you doing?

Dressing.

Who for?

Myself, of course.

No one interesting ever visits us.

What do you mean?

Meneer Chrome is leaving.

Perhaps the reaper
is going to do something to me.

What did you say?

He's leaving.

Your Meneer Chrome.

The swollen belly of my pride.

Anne!

-Anne! Anne!
-Anne!

Anne!

My dear.

What happened?

Thea.

All the time
I've longed to tell you the truth.

I felt that you saw through me anyway.

I'm not Dutch. My name isn't Chrome.

I became his secretary
when he worked at Hampton Court.

But when he sailed with Larousse
on the plant voyage, he didn't need me.

I heard about the Probyn's garden
and I knew I could do it...

but I had no name.

I'd never have got the commission
on my own rights...

but I had to do it
after my father drowned.

I had to make the money for my family.

I knew I could give them the garden
that they wanted and all was well...

until Fitzmaurice came and stayed there.

He'd met Chrome before in Holland.
The real Chrome.

And from then on, he used me.

But I didn't know what it would involve.

I didn't know about you.

And I’m so sorry.

And what about my mother?

She was part of his plans, not mine.

Poor her.

Thea.

Well, we have a garden.

I liked him, too.

Too?

Chrome.

I'm afraid we were all part
of his strategy.

I'm confused by one thing.

I thought your cousin James
said he'd met Chrome in Holland first.

But surely that would have been
the real Chrome?

In which case...

he must have known.

Yes, Thomas.

It is strange.

Where is that damn woman? I need a drink.

I'll go back and tell them everything.

They won't believe me.
They'll believe whatever Fitzmaurice says.

But first, I want to take you to the sea.

You hate the sea.

It's you I love.

I've loved you since the first moment
I saw you.

Thank you for the book.

No. Thea.

Thea.

No. No.

Anne, where are you?

Mrs Galmoy!

-Where's Anne?
-She ran away. We'll find her.

This sort of thing
couldn't possibly happen in St Kenelm's.

Leave my house, sir.
And take your ministering angels with you.

What about my patient?

Our daughter, sir,
will have to manage without you.

Go.

We'll all have to learn to do without.

We must start again.

I would like that to be possible.

All right. Walk on. Go on. Go on!

Hey, wait. Hold up, wait.

She can't come with us. She...

Have you ever wondered
what happened to the real Meneer Chrome?