Original subtitles

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!