All language subtitles for Desperate Romantics s01e01.eng

FRED: This was the
happiest day of my life.

Here I was, me, Fred Walters.

A close acquaintance of
the three most radical

and celebrated painters
of their generation,

the Pre-Raphaelite
brotherhood.

It wasn't always like this.

There was a time
when they weren't considered fashionable.

They weren't
considered popular.

They weren't even considered.

But in spite of their faults,
of which there were some,

I always believed in them.

Their enigmatic leader,

Dante Gabriel Rossetti.

A man whose full potential
was often on the losing side in its battle

with that other interest
of the committed artist.

The pursuit of beauty.

John Millais, an artist whose
modesty was the equal of his genius.

And William Holman Hunt.

He was...a bit complicated.

But, of course,
an artist is nothing at all

without a subject,
a model, a muse.

First, they would
have to find her.

Now, let me show you.

This, this one here,
let's go have a look.

Can I help you, madam?

Ah, yes.
Now I like this one very much.

This is exactly
the sort of thing.

Fred!

Fred!

Just, adjust you slightly.

This one, here..

No.

[DOOR CREAKS]

-No.
-Rosalind can be woman or man.

She has a most
cheerful disposition.

GABRIEL: I think the problem
with your girls is that they are too beautiful.

We are looking
for something more...

more ordinary.

There's a hunchback,
works out of Marylebone Station.

She's very much
on the ORDINARY side!

[DOOR OPENS]

[FRED PUFFING AND PANTING]

Mr Rossetti, Hunt, Millais!

I think that I have found
exactly what you are looking for!

What are you talking about?

I took the liberty of searching,
on your behalf,

for the perfect young lady.

Shut up and answer me this.

Is she a redhead?

Hair like molten lava.

She has to be both ordinary
and extraordinary.

I think you'll find
she's all of those things.

When I was at the Academy
I had the pick of models,

but now I can never seem
to hang on to them.

Vanity or the promise of better
money always drives them away.

Which brothel did you
say she worked out of?

I didn't. She works down there,
at the back of a hat shop.

Have you any idea
how important it is for us to find the perfect model?

And you drag us to
meet a Hat Shop Girl?

I promise you!
You have to see her!

They like the idea of modelling,
but when it comes to posing,

they simper
like spaniels in heat.

WILLIAM: This is a complete
waste of time.

Please, stay!
They must finish soon!

What's in this for you?

I just want to help
you in your mission.

I believe in your values,

"to sympathise with what
is true and serious

"and heartfelt in previous art."

You like that, do you?

I wrote that, you know.

FRED: I know, Mr Rossetti.

-I know.
-GABRIEL: I'm Gabriel.

Call me Gabriel.

[BELL RINGS]

Fred...

You are right.

She is truly spectacular.

Perfect for my Sylvia.
I'll speak to her straight away.

Not you, Maniac!

She should be approached
by one who carries no sexual threat whatsoever.

Go on, Fred!

Ask her if she will model
for us!

Excuse me!

FRED: Excuse me!

This is going to sound strange.

It already does.

These gentlemen here are the
Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood.

Really? The Pre-Raphaelite
Brotherhood!

So you have heard of them?

-No.
-No.

They are looking for models
just like you.

Does my sister look like
the kind of girl who would be a model!

They mean to paint girls
living ordinary lives

which makes their beauty
all the more striking.

I'm sorry. I'm afraid that my
mother would never allow it.

FRED: She has my personal
guarantee your virtue and reputation

will remain intact throughout
any professional engagement.

I'm not sure my mother
would be reassured by a young man's promises.

What about the word
of my mother?

GABRIEL: Your mother! What did
you say that for, Mr Walters?

WILLIAM: I thought
it was inspired, Fred.

I hope shop girl doesn't need
my mother to vouch for my reputation.

The entire world knows you're
no threat to the ladies, John.

FRED VOICEOVER: Where does
an artist start, if he is to change the world?

At the centre of that world,
the Royal Academy.

Hunt and Millais
had already being accepted for its exhibition.

Adoration and celebration
of their radical style was sure to follow.

I don't believe this.

What a regal cheek!

Who did this? Hey! Who committed
this intolerable outrage!

For God's sake,
keep your voice down!

-Hold on.
-Something troubling you, gentlemen?

We were just a little concerned
about the position of our paintings.

What appears to be the problem?

The problem isn't so much
that you put the work

of these two
men of genius so...

so far above the line
that you would need a ladder to see them.

It is what you put on the line.

On the line, Mr Stone!

I mean, look at this!

I've seen stains on a chamber
pot with more artistic merit!

If you don't like the paintings
of Mr Hunt and Mr Millais

hanging above the line,
then there is a solution.

Good. Glad to hear it.

We'll take them down altogether.

-Mr Cooper.
Please bring a ladder! -No, no, no!

JOHN: Let's not be
too hasty here, Mr Stone...

Mr Millais, when you came
to us as an 11-year-old

I could see you were destined
for great things.

Thank you.

But by aligning yourself with
a bunch of pavement artists,

you arouse the Academy's
utter disgust.

The Academy's utter disgust
is what gets us out of bed in the morning!

Well, I wouldn't go that far...

Where is the naturalism?

Where is the life? The flesh?

The blood? The...the nature?

Mr Rossetti. I have one piece
of advice to you.

Learn. To. Paint.

Mr Hunt and Mr Millais, I have
one piece of advice for you.

Lose the idiot!

We are a Brotherhood, Mr Stone.

GABRIEL: We will never
desert each other.

You just remember who we are.

You just remember who we are!

Isn't that...?

It's Ruskin.

Mr Ruskin.

It's an honour to meet you.

I have read all your books.

Not always
to the end admittedly...

But, well, you know,
enough to get the gist.

Thank you.

I give you John Millais...child
prodigy on the verge of puberty.

GABRIEL: William Holman Hunt,
painter, pugilist...

and myself,

Dante Gabriel Rossetti,

artist, poet...

Half Italian, half mad!

I enjoyed your Isabella,
Mr Millais.

Oh.

Well, thank you.

[GLASSES CLINK]

Why didn't you offer him the
painting right there and then!

I sold it 12 months ago.

Before I joined the Brotherhood
and people still bought my work.

So sell it again!

I once sold a sketch 14 times
over and it's still in my wardrobe!

Well, I hardly think
I can go and remove it from my buyer's wall.

If John Ruskin says
he likes your painting,

then you offer him
that painting

and then the next one
and the one after that...

and then ours.

GABRIEL: If John Ruskin says,
"Yes" then the world of art follows.

That's a perfect plan, Gabriel,
spoiled by one tiny detail.

We've yet to secure
the services of the hat shop stunner.

Our good friend Fred here is
going to take his mother to vouch for us.

JOHN: We can hardly split her
three ways, can we?

I think you'll find I have
first pick of all redheads.

I have the exact painting
I need her for.

-I am sure my need is greater.
-But our eyes met.

There was an instant connection.

That hardly gives you any
claim on her. She models for me.

I need an angel.

She models for me.

Um... Bread, mutton stew,
and er, a little leftover cheese, perhaps?

Landlord says to stand you
no more credit.

Tell him I'll paint him
a portrait!

You did him one already, and he
said the arms are all wrong.

I think his sense of perspective
is much compromised by gin.

Would you consider
sitting for me?

Me?

A model?

I don't think so.

GABRIEL: If I could
just capture that...

the pulse that flutters just...

..Just there.

Mutton stew, was it?

And a little cheese.

If the mice can spare it.

-Ah.
-Mr Rossetti.

Where is my painting?

I'm working day and night,
Sir, but..

Either pay me back the money
you owe me or deliver the picture in one week's time!

Yes, yes, yes.
Of course, of course.

Ah, there we go! Smoothed it
over with my patron, got myself a model.

I'll have a masterpiece
in three weeks.

A masterpiece with
no gallery to hang in.

Oh, it will have a gallery,
don't you worry about that, Johnny Boy.

Where? No gallery will take us
as long as the Academy hates us.

But we have John Ruskin.

-He barely acknowledged us.
-GABRIEL: We've met.

How can he possibly refuse
an invitation to see more of our work?

And how do you propose we
get him to do that?

We invite him
to our exhibition!

What exhibition?

Perhaps I could help to
publicise such an exhibition.

-I do have one or two
well-connected friends... -GABRIEL: There we are.

Fred is going to advertise it,
so that is settled.

JOHN: So, such an exhibition
does not really exist

unless Mr Ruskin
becomes involved,

but he has not yet agreed
to his involvement.

That, my friend,
is the beauty of the plan.

This is it... This is it.
This is Ruskin's house.

It's this one. Definitely.

Go on.

-Oh, come on, Johnny!
-I've got it.

[CLATTERING]
For God's sake, Johnny, try and make a little less noise!

It's the gin. It's the gin
that's making the noise, not me.

WILLIAM: Now all we need
is a model.

[DOOR SHUTS]

FRED: To capture a man
of Ruskin's moral certainty and judgement,

the Brotherhood needed
to secure a model.

For that they needed me.

And I...

I needed my mother.

And you say you are in the
cutlery trade, Mr Siddal?

That is correct, Madam.

That is one of my spoons
you are using right now.

I am sure Mrs Walters has no
interest in spoons, Mr Siddal.

Although by rights I should
not be in 'trade' at all.

I am, much like yourself,
a propertied gentleman,

the rightful owner
of Hope Hall in Yorkshire

which you may
well have heard of.

When the ancestral home is duly
restored to its rightful owner,

you and I will be very much
on an equal footing.

Perhaps we could curtail our
ramblings amongst the dead

and get down to the business
of the living. And the making of a living?

I can assure you there
will be no impropriety.

And I can promise you that Fred
is a good young man

who would not lead Miss Siddal
into any circumstances

that would compromise
her reputation.

Father, the Pre-Raphaelite
Brotherhood are very famous indeed within artistic circles!

Particularly their own circle.
All three of them!

[FRED SPEAKING
IN THE BACKGROUND]

Why are you determined to ruin
my chances of a better life?

A better life? An artist's model
is little more than a whore or an actress!

I walk five miles to work
and back every day

making hats
I will never be able to afford,

for ladies
who should know better.

-And of course we will pay
a shilling an hour. -A shilling?!

MR SIDDAL: Well, I can't say
"yes" immediately...

We'd be delighted
to take you up on your offer.

Lizzie has always had a very
keen interest in the arts.

FRED: Miss Siddal was delighted to be whisked from her old life

into this new
and glamorous world,

little realising that
before art succeeds,

it must first suffer.

And no one suffered with quite
the determination of William Holman Hunt.

[WILLIAM YELLING]

For Goodness sake, Maniac!
You could have warned us.

Miss Siddal,
please avert your gaze.

[HE YELLS]

Unlike Gabriel,

we are not all slaves
to our lust, Fred.

Now your, eh, your costume
is behind the screen,

and there's a hair tie for you
to tie your hair back.

WILLIAM: Are you ready,
Miss Siddal?

Now,

if you would like
to kneel down, here,

Miss Siddal.

Perhaps this cushion
will make you more comfortable, Miss Siddal.

And the position
is quite respectable,

given its historical accuracy.

Since Sylvia is a character
from Shakespeare how exactly is it "historically" accurate?

Miss Siddal, you've been
posing for me now for less than two minutes,

and in that time
you have spoken more

than my last model spoke
in six months.

And what was she wearing?

She wasn't.

It was a nude study.

[DOOR OPENS]

I've been evicted.

Unbelievable!

A misunderstanding over rent
and the brutal landlord has sent me packing!

FRED: Evicted?

My God!
What are you going to do?

Nothing I can do. No tin.

I'll have to move back in here.

No.

WILLIAM: You remember
Miss Siddal, my new model.

Our new model!

She's posing for my newer piece

based on the last scene of
the Two Gentlemen of Verona.

It's a tale of morality
overcoming sexual urgings.

A tale so frequent in art,
but so rare in real life, hey, Miss Siddal?

Please, Gabriel!

You do realise that it is
your destiny to sit for me, don't you?

A shop girl can't afford to
believe in destiny, Mr Rossetti.

FRED: There were many
advantages to hanging out with the glamour boys.

But perhaps the greatest
advantage of all

was that sometimes
a girl wasn't impressed

by all that wit and bluster

and might even find herself
wanting the quiet one in the corner...

the steady type.

And I was as steady
as they came.

Mr Walters,
I can only thank you.

Miss Siddal is a
wonderful discovery.

I have great plans for her.

She has a high stately neck,
does she not...

And a lower lip sucked in as
if it strives to kiss itself.

Ssssucked in!

I mean to raise her up
from her humble beginnings.

To educate her in the arts.

And then,

eventually, to make her my wife.

Your wife?

If there is anything
more attractive

than a working woman
with potential,

then God is yet to show it
to me.

I couldn't help
seeing her potential

peeping out of the gap where
her fastenings didn't meet.

Do you think Hunt meant it?

About marrying Lizzie?
Because...

Well, if the truth be known,
I am rather sweet on her myself.

So, the Pre-Raphaelite
Brotherhood.

The group of radical young
painters who announce themself

by thrusting notes through
letter boxes in the middle of the night.

I apologise if we were
a little over-zealous.

There's no time to waste.

The revolution is needed!

Which is why you must attend
our exhibition, Mr Ruskin.

I'm sorry.

If I attended every exhibition
to which I was invited, I'd go insane.

Mr Walters!

No more interfering!

No, no, no, no, let him go.

"The Young Artists of England
should go to nature in all singleness of heart!

"And walk with her laboriously
and trustingly,

"having no other thought
but how best to penetrate her meaning,

"rejecting nothing,
selecting nothing,

and scorning nothing".

-Your words, sir.
-RUSKIN: I am aware they are my words.

You could be describing
these very artists...

men who are committed, like you,
to what is true,

and real,

and heartfelt.

Very well then, I shall visit
your studio and see your work in progress,

and if it lives up to
your manifesto, I shall attend your exhibition.

And if it does not, will you
please leave me alone?

-It's a promise, sir.
-Although the work will be good, sir.

-Very well, next week,
then, Friday? -That would be perfect, Sir.

Fred, Fred! I thought you were
little more than a hanger-on.

We need to make you an honorary
brother immediately!

Sweetly done, Fred.
I could kiss you!

I don't know why
you arranged it so soon.

You know it takes me
a week to sharpen my pencil!

[THEY LAUGH]

[GABRIEL SHRIEKS]

Thank you.

If you don't object, I was
going to make a few notes

as I mean to record
your views for posterity.

I have yet to find
the perfect model.

Hence the lack of face
and hair on the Virgin Mary.

And the lack of paint.

Perhaps you are afraid of oils.

No, no, no! I am in fact
working in oils on something brand new!

It's about a fallen woman.

Well...

There is possibly
no greater subject than the fallen woman.

There's a beauty
of extreme minuteness and precision here...

John.

Thank you.

I was worried it
might be a little too... Real.

Beauty deprived of its proper
foils and adjuncts

will cease to be
enjoyed as beauty.

Wasn't I saying that very thing
just this morning?

I must have missed that.

The model?

-She's new.
Her name is Miss Siddal. -I'm painting her next!

Common feature, sluttish type.

Sluttish?

-Do you think so?
-Surely that's the composition?

Pipe down, Fred.

So, you think Sylvia's face
is unsuitable, then?

Well, you have painted a woman
displaying sexual appetite.

And that is never attractive.

Thank you.

So we'll see you at our
exhibition, then, Mr Ruskin?

Well, I'm sorry.

Perhaps another time.

[RAIN FALLS, DRUNKEN VOICES]

My parents have already
paid for the hall.

How will I break this to them?

We shall just have to cancel it

and press on with our ambitions.

You have to go ahead
with the exhibition

because I have placed
an article on your behalf...

in the The Weekly Dispatch.
Page three.

Unfortunately, I do mention
that Ruskin will be there in support, but...

You did what?

Well, you all seemed
so confident he would like your work.

-As you were that Miss Siddal
would be the perfect model! -As she will be.

I also wrote that
in the article.

I'm going to find a new model.

I'm going to paint
over Miss Siddal's face.

-And I'll beg Ruskin to give us
a second chance. -Very sensible, Maniac.

Do Miss Siddal's
feelings count for nothing?

For a word of praise from
Ruskin, I'd paint over my mother's face.

What kind of revolutionary
are you?

A very hungry one.

Now, try a shot of
the best condolence for the collapse of ideals.

Drink disagrees with me.

Me too.
But I enjoy the argument.

At least assure me
that you will break the news to Miss Siddal

with some regard
for her feelings.

What do you take me for?

I will handle it with
gentleness and sensitivity.

"The husband should fulfil
his marital duty to his wife,

"and likewise
the wife to her husband.

"The wife's body does not
belong to her alone but also to her husband."

-Are you ill?
You seem to be babbling. -"In the same way,

the husband's body does not
belong to him alone but also to his wife."

1 Corinthians 7. Verses 3 to 5.

Just as I thought.
Your sickness is returning.

In which case
God is sick, John!

How dare you bring
God into this?

He's the only one you consider
good enough to listen to.

Just cover yourself up!

We have been married
for five years.

And in that time you have
kissed my shoulder four times,

cupped my breast in your hand
twice and once nuzzled my neck

and whimpered like a dog.

I thought you understood
that this marriage was based on mutual love,

mutual respect
and companionship.

-I need more.
-No woman needs more.

You go quite against nature
when you demand it.

Please tell me what I can do
to help you overcome your fear.

Please tell me what
it is you dream about.

-I am...
-You are what?

You are what, my love?

I am very, very...

..disappointed in you.

Are you buying?

I'm in no mood for time wasters.

-I want to save you.
-Perhaps you could try, lovey...

Perhaps you could try.

LIZZIE: I thought we could
make an early start today.

You've got to be Lizzie!

I'm right, aren't I?

Recognised you straight away
from the painting so he must know what he's doing then, eh?

When he said he only wanted
to paint me I thought,

"Well, I've never heard it
called that before."

But he's been as good
as his word.

Sketch, sketch,
sketch all night,

a bit of a Bible-reading
and not as much as a half a penny's grope!

-Mr Hunt?
-Miss Siddal.

I'm afraid there's
a problem with your look.

Just for this particular work.

A problem that wasn't
apparent until Mr Ruskin viewed it.

No. But once...

Once he'd pointed it out...

Am I permitted to know the
nature of this problem?

-Ah, Fred.
-Miss Siddal. I tried to intercept you...

I think perhaps it would
be courteous to offer me some explanation.

Mr Ruskin considered you
too sluttish, love.

Is this true?

I don't think he phrased
himself quite so crudely, Miss Siddal. No.

So why did you tell me
he did, then?

Fred? Is this true?

[SOBBING]

What do you think sounds
better, Fred?

-"Failed model" or
"disgraced shop girl?" -You're not disgraced.

That's not what my former
employer just told me.

-She said I would be a whore
within the month. -I will not let that happen!

You're beautiful, and I will
see to it that your beauty is shared with the world.

[BELL RINGS]

There's a stroke of luck.

You are a lifesaver!

Could you spare
the tin for a hot drink?

No nourishment has
passed my lips for days.

It would be my pleasure.

Excellent. A large pot
of coffee and perhaps some bread and cheese, Violet?

Now...

Miss Siddal.

Shouldn't you be inspiring
Hunt's salvation?

-He thinks I'm too whore-like.
-He didn't actually say that.

-He has dispensed
with my services. -Good.

I'm leaving.

The reason I said "good"

was because I have wanted you
to sit for me since I first laid eyes on you.

Please do not humiliate me.

I know you're the one.

I know you are going
to change everything.

Look at you.

I mean, look at you!

Your high stately neck
and your...

Your lower lip, sucked in as if
it strives to kiss itself.

I think you are mocking me.

Then why would I want you
to sit for me?

FRED: In my naivety,
I felt almost flattered that Rossetti

had chosen my words to make
the woman I loved feel better about herself.

Perhaps...next time I would
summon up the courage to say what I really felt.

Remember, you are a woman
who is afraid. Who is...

..about to be ravished.

Who is an object of lust.

What if I just popped a breast
out, or something? Nothing sordid.

No. No! No!

"Lead us not into temptation."

I meant just the one.
Just to make it clear what was on offer.

I think that will be clear
without you exposing yourself, Miss Miller.

Miss Miller, I think this is
completely wrong for you.

-Oh, well, it was nice
while it lasted. -No, no. Not the modelling.

The subject matter.

I think we should be
painting something that tells me something of... Of you.

Of your life.

Who on earth rented
this out to you?

The owners are away, so

I am looking after it for them.

And they wanted you
to stay here?

Well, I'm sure they would
if they knew me...

What do you think, Miss Siddal?

I'm not sure you are
paying me for my opinion.

So much the better.

I can rely on your honesty.

None of them are complete.

And that is your only response?

-So you were looking
to be flattered. -Don't attack flattery!

I think too many people have
flattered you for too long.

I think all this talk of your
brilliant potential has turned your head and holds you back.

Ah, but you do at least
think I have potential.

You and every
rag-and-bone man in London.

If you were this direct in
the hat shop, it's a wonder you ever sold so much as a ribbon.

I am always truthful.

I am sorry if you
are not used to that.

So tell me the truth.

Why did you decide
to sit for me?

Because it seems
I have no choice.

Because my reputation is so
damaged already by my brief modelling career

that no respectable
establishment would take me on.

And because you feel at home.

What do you mean?

I saw your eyes the first time
Fred Walters spoke to you outside that wretched hat shop.

I saw the excitement there
that your life might be going somewhere different,

somewhere new.

I am correct though, aren't I?

Reject the world before it
rejects you, Miss Siddal.

Embrace a new way of being.

That way you'll always
have the upper hand...

I will sit for you
on one condition.

-Which is?
-You give me drawing lessons.

-Drawing lessons?
-Well, if I'm to become part of your world

then at least arm me with
the skills to make a living

should you reject me
as brutally as Hunt.

That isn't going to happen,
Miss Siddal.

I assure you,
that isn't going to happen.

Now, I think this is a much more
fitting composition for you.

A troubling combination of
temptation spurned and temptation accepted.

-Temptation?
-Yes. Temptation.

Um...

there will also be
a young shepherd.

He will be neglecting
his flock of sheep, which will be behind you, here.

And he will have
his muscular arm

over you, like so...

May I be frank
with you, Hunty?

It seems to me you're
rarely anything else.

You're a virgin, aren't you?

I hardly think that's relevant!

How can you paint temptation
without knowing what's on the other side?

I know what it is
to be tempted!

-That is good enough.
-But you don't know what it's like to give in.

ANNIE: What are you
thinking about?

Jesus Christ!

He'll forgive you, Hunty,
that's what he does.

Can't you see?

He doesn't look angry.

He just looks disappointed.

I think that's just
the way you've painted him.

This is it.

My parents have agreed to pay
the rent for a full week.

They said it's the last time
they'll subsidise me.

What do you think, Maniac?

I'm sorry.
I am feeling a little spent.

Thank you, Maniac!

For what?

For your stupidity in letting
a stunner like Miss Siddal slip through your hands.

It was only the want of a model
that was holding me back.

-And your want of application.
-No, but look. Look!

She transforms my style!

It's true, Gabriel. This looks
like the work of an artist.

I know! I know!

Are you saying everything
I did before was shit?

I think Johnny means the
improvement is truly remarkable.

You're right. She is the key
that unlocks the treasure of my talent!

Nothing will ever
be the same again!

That much is true.

Now it's down to you two to
persuade Ruskin's wife to bring John Ruskin to our exhibition!

-What?
-What?

You two sweet whelps are
going to call on Mrs Ruskin.

You will charm her and you
will persuade her to persuade her husband to attend.

If the future really matters.

-Oh, you've not lost another
model, have you? -No, no.

Miss Annie Miller will present
an even greater challenge than Miss Siddal.

I mean to transform her,
to educate her, to give her lessons in manners and literacy.

Maybe cleanliness too,
if it's the Annie Miller I'm thinking of.

Don't you speak of her
like that!

-Don't you use her name
like that! -Oh, my God.

You've launched her,
haven't you?

You have, haven't you?

Maniac would no more succumb
to temptation than Christ in the wilderness.

Christ in the Wilderness never
met Annie Miller, as far as I can recall!

The New Testament might have
been a very different book if he had.

I really thought better
of you than that, William.

I know.

-I am very ashamed.
-Oh, hey...

Don't worry about it.
I'm sure you'll get better with...practice.

I am ashamed of my depravity.
Not the mechanics!

When you say depravity...

would you care to elaborate?

For pity's sake, Maniac!
What's got into you?

[GABRIEL LAUGHS]

I don't think what's got into
him is the issue!

-We have in fact met once
before, Mrs Ruskin. -Really?

Yes, at Ewell Castle.

I had rather boldly asked
to be introduced to you

but you had made it quite clear
that I bored you.

A terrible assumption
for which I now apologise.

Oh, no, no.
You were quite right!

I was such a precocious
little upstart.

I cannot imagine you being
anything other than charming.

And what about you, Mr Walters?

Have we also met before?

I doubt that.

But it would be
a great pleasure if we could meet again,

at our exhibition...

if you were to accompany
Mr Ruskin?

I will try to persuade
Mr Ruskin to attend.

And you must come too,
Mrs Ruskin.

We absolutely insist.
Even if you were to come alone!

We are very unconventional
and most fond of ladies coming alone!

Fred. Try not to be too modern.

You will shock Mrs Ruskin.

I shall insist
that Mr Ruskin attends.

We have not socialised
since we returned from Venice

and I sense we are becoming
rather dull.

I am sure that could never
be the case.

BOTH: Yes!

[MEN LAUGH]

Weak... Puerile...

Unintelligent.

Great art is precisely that
which never was, Mr Stone.

[GABRIEL MUTTERS ANGRILY]

Any sign of Ruskin?

Not yet. I was wondering if
you could give me some advice.

I have grown quite sweet
on a certain young lady.

What did his wife say, exactly?

I was wondering if it would be a
good idea to court Miss Siddal.

-It's all right...
-It's a disaster!

You'll have to excuse me, Fred.
Johnny is crying again.

Hello, love. Got your face
on a painting in the end, then.

That's me, that is, love.

-Where's Ruskin?
-I don't know.

You did give them the right
date, didn't you, Johnny Boy?

It's different for you.
You've never been popular. People used to love me!

This day can get no worse!

It just did.
Charles Dickens just walked in.

-He hates us.
-Oh, perfect!

GABRIEL: It's Chadwick...
Talk to me!

-What?
-Say something.

-Ah, Mr Rossetti.
-Chadwick!

I've come for the money
I am owed.

Gabriel! He's here!

So which of these young men
persuaded you to attend?

John Millais.
A very sweet young man.

Indeed he is. Well, I am
encouraged by your renewed interest in the arts.

Most encouraged.

[HE MOUTHS]

Why didn't you just paint
something like this for me?

GABRIEL: I didn't think it was
what you had in mind.

What with the complete
absence of dogs and fields.

[CHADWICK LAUGHS]

Who needs fields when you've
got a model of this magnitude, Mr Rossetti?

I want to spend the rest of
my life drawing just you.

I'll take this in exchange
for the money I advanced you.

Then we'll call it straight.

Well, unfortunately it's worth
rather more,

now that Ruskin has given it
his seal of approval.

-Ruskin?
-Mm.

-Really?
-Mm.

Well, what would you think
was a reasonable price?

Ooh...

Fifty pounds, maybe?

Well, at that price maybe
I should just check

if Mr Ruskin's opinion
of you is as high as you say it is, eh?

DICKENS: Behold,
the carpenter's shop.

Behold a hideous, wry-necked,
blubbering, red-headed boy,

who appears to have received
a poke in the hand.

The association of the Holy
Family with the meanest of details

of the carpenter's shop
is disgusting.

Pictorial blasphemy.

And that snuffy old woman

seems to have mistaken
that shop for the tobacconist's next door!

[LAUGHTER]

Looks like your price
just went back down to five pounds, Mr Rossetti.

Of course,
Wordsworth mocked Turner.

Mr Ruskin?

Wordsworth said of Turner,

"It looks as though the painter
had indulged in raw liver until he was unwell,"

and a room full of critics like
yourselves stood and laughed...

at Turner.

So when I hear the laughter
of critics, I am compelled to pay attention.

Surely you aren't comparing
these young men to Turner?

I think, in spite of their
unfortunate name, the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood may,

as they gain experience,
lay in our England the foundation of a school of art

nobler than the world
has seen for 300 years.

I'm perfectly sincere
in these opinions.

I shall be writing a letter to
The Timesto that effect in the morning.

Good day.

Did you see Dickens' face?!

[THEY TALK EXCITEDLY]

Well, all in all I think we can
safely say that we have had a very good day indeed!

-To the Brotherhood!
-The Brotherhood!

FRED: An exhibition that began
with no art, no hall and no patrons had delivered

critical acclaim, money, and
Ruskin for a champion

Millais, Rossetti, and Hunt
had conjured success from the illusion of success.

And in doing this,
they had not just transformed their own lives,

but Annie's and Lizzie's,
and, I hoped, mine.

All of us were embarking
on a journey with Rossetti at the helm

and at that moment in time,
none of us wanted to be anywhere else.

Argh!

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