I'd put a touch more of your greenery yellow in that if I was you, Charlie.
You're right.
Lord Beaconsfield's a bit of a connoisseur of your wild primrose shades.
"Bee-consfield" if you don't mind, Harold. That's what he likes to be called.
- "Bee-consfield"? - Yeah.
Bee-consfield, Beaconsfield, what's the difference?
Everyone calls him "Dizzy" anyway.
Here we go.
That looks more like a case of jaundice than wild primrose.
Now, as to the fireplace, I should like a new grate, in the modern taste,
with a tiled surround.
That's another £40.
And parquet flooring extending some three feet into the room from the wainscot.
That'll be £50 at least.
Then to cover the centre of the floor, just overlapping the parquet,
a fine Persian carpet.
Persian carpet?
Say, er, 23 feet by 20...
That's another £140.
I would like the same carpet in the same pattern for the passage outside.
Say £38.
And, er, curtains of rich silk.
With valances and cornices?
Indeed, my dear Monty. With valances and cornices.
Valances and cornices?
Say £145.
Now, as to the furniture.
Furniture, my lord?
Well, the articles upon which one reclines, sits or reposes.
What does the Board of Works expect me to do? Squat in the middle of the floor
like a Turkish pasha?
No, Lord Beaconsfield, of course not.
Mr, erm...
- Mortimer. ... er, Mortimer.
This is the second time in my life
that I have managed to climb to the top of the greasy pole.
On the first occasion, I had misjudged quite how greasy it was
and I slithered back down it with humiliating celebrity within ten months.
This time, however, I have managed to remain on my oleaginous perch somewhat longer.
And I purpose to remain even longer yet.
But in comfort, Mr Mortimer. In comfort.
But here you see me, a poor, helpless widower,
of frugal wants and modest tastes.
I have no doubt improvements will occur to me in due course.
With due respect, the Board of Works...
Be kind enough to inform the Board of Works
that I've already saved them two years of expense
by conducting the prime minister's suit from my own home,
using the Cabinet Room as my office.
It is only diminished mobility imposed by my gout
that induces me to move in at all.
However, having done so,
I propose to transform this... crumbling beggar's refuge
into a home.
And for the art I shall exercise in so doing,
I will charge the Board of Works no fee.
Ah...
Well, there is that, of course.
I will further make the Board this proposal.
When I leave, which I do not purpose for some time,
I shall leave all my improvements behind me
but will be happy to pay for any...
...depreciation.
I see.
Yes, well, I will prepare a memorandum along those lines to my superiors, my lord.
Thank you, Mr... Mortimer.
- Good day to you. - Good day, my lord.
- Good day, Mr Corry. - Good day.
You had him reeling. You didn't have to make the concession to depreciation.
My dear Monty, next to knowing when to seize an opportunity,
the most important thing is to know when to forego an advantage.
Poor fellow will put forward the proposal as his own,
be commended for it by his superiors
and thereafter I shall have anything I want from him.
You've been reading Machiavelli!
Whenever I feel the need to read a book, I write it myself.
- Good morning, gentlemen. - Morning, my lord.
Perhaps a little more prim and a little less rose?
Very good, my lord.
- May I remind you the Cabinet await? - Ah, yes.
Left to themselves, there's no knowing what mischief they'll be up to.
I know perfectly well what Dizzy will say. Not "What is the justice of the matter,"
but "Where do England's interests lie?"
When he was asked as a young man what his politics were,
Dizzy said, "England. "
He hasn't changed!
That blind patriotism could land us in trouble.
What, pray, could land us in trouble?
Oh, please, my lords, gentlemen.
Sit down. I may be your elder and your better,
but I'm prepared to forget it if you will.
I apologise for being late
but my infirmities make the journey from home ever more onerous.
In fact... I propose to move in here.
But it hasn't been used as a home for, what, two generations?
The place is a ruin.
Then, Salisbury, the house and I should march very well together, don't you think?
You were saying, Derby. What could land us in trouble?
Mr Gladstone has been inflaming public opinion
about this business in Eastern Europe.
I thought the hysterical old spouter was sicker than high heaven.
He's recovered sufficiently to write a pamphlet
about the Turkish atrocities against the Bulgarians
and our indifference to them.
It has already sold 45,000 copies.
Mr Gladstone's political secret is the combination of a first-rate digestion
and a second-rate conscience.
He cares as much about the Bulgars as he does about the... African water buffalo!
What is his point?
The Turks are infidels, the Bulgars Christians.
Ah.
Here he thinks to have me.
He forgets that I am the blank page between the Old Testament and the New.
Both Jew and Christian.
Were they English Christians against whom these alleged atrocities are being committed,
Mr Gladstone, that perjured old hypocrite,
would not find me lacking.
Nevertheless, Mr Gladstone is demanding that we should take action.
You are to wait as long as needs be. Put yourself at her complete disposal.
Run errands for her if she wishes it,
but make it clear Lord Beaconsfield is expecting a letter in return.
Yes, sir.
Turkey is our bulwark against Russia.
All my life the Russian bear has been trying to creep forward
to eat up smaller countries,
to dip its massive paw into a warm-water port.
Thus giving herself access to wider hunting grounds, in particular the British Empire.
And of the British Empire in particular, India.
She tried it 20 years ago in the Crimea.
Turkey stood in her way then.
She stands in her way now. We shall do nothing to alienate Turkey.
Austria, Germany and Russia have united in an alliance to move against the Turks.
- We shall not join it. - Prime Minister, that is a selfish policy.
Foreign Minister, patriotism is of necessity selfish.
Furthermore, I wish the battleships Rupert, Sultan and Monarch
ordered to the Dardanelles,
thus bringing the number of ironclads in Turkish waters up to ten.
The Queen will be alarmed.
Her Majesty is well able to grasp the truth of any matter that is put to her clearly.
Hyah! Goon! Goon!
We do not wish our country to be dragged into a war
on behalf of Turkey, Lord Beaconsfield.
I cannot tell Your Majesty how much I am aided by the breadth and acuteness
of Your Majesty's understanding of these matters.
That is precisely why the naval reinforcements were sent to the Dardanelles.
I will despatch two further ironclads tomorrow.
Had Your Majesty agreed to the move against Turkey by the three powers,
Constantinople would at this moment be garrisoned by Russian troops,
gazing hungrily out of the gateway to Your Majesty's Empire.
Quite so, quite so.
We have a surprise for you.
Von Angeli has finished the portrait.
You find it becoming?
No artist could completely capture
the singularly regal beauty of Your Majesty's aspect but...
Yes, I think it most like and pleasing.
It is for you.
For me?
But, Your Majesty,
you do me too much honour. I...
I am quite unworthy of such a gesture.
Beaconsfield.
Do not worry, Lord Beaconsfield. We require something of you in return.
Your Majesty has only to name it.
We wish you to have yourself painted by von Angeli
so that you may present a portrait of yourself to us.
Your Majesty finds me speechless.
A unique condition for you, Lord Beaconsfield.
Now, is there anything else that we should talk about?
I think not, Your Majesty.
Then we suggest that you return. The air begins to strike a little chill.
We must be vigilant of that bronchitis of yours.
You are fond of Lord B, are you not, Mama?
He has the feminine principle in him.
He actually likes women.
He does not address us, as does that irretrievable lunatic Gladstone,
as though we were a public meeting.
- Do you think it prudent? - What?
The whole thing. What you've been doing.
Monty, you're my secretary, not my tutor.
Yes, my lord.
Don't forget, you're to take charge of Lady Chesterfield.
- Leave me with her sister, Lady Bradford. - Indeed, my lord.
A grey hair, by God.
Nonsense.
Your hair will be black as long as you live.
Mine'll be black as long as I...
dye.
Lady Bradford?
Selina!
If you only knew what it means to me to have you here.
You know how much my sister and I have been longing to see your handiwork.
I'm surprised it took you so long to ask us.
- My natural disposition is timid. - You, timid?
The timidity that springs from being bullied at schooI,
from being made to feel not quite in society.
But your famed arrogance, your invulnerability.
Armour. The shell of the snail.
The characteristics people remark upon in my speaking style in Parliament,
they were all adopted in my earliest days to conceal my terror.
The hands grasping the lapels or hooked into the armholes of my waistcoat,
to prevent them from trembling.
The impassivity of my face, expressionless, unsmiling,
even when unleashing my most flashing retorts.
That was simply to stop my mouth from trembling.
Throwing back of the shoulders, to give me courage.
You need no armour now.
I need none against you.
But in public life, the manners have become the man.
People have much mistaken me - or rather I have misled them.
The bumptious, pretty Jew boy of my youth...
the inscrutable, oriental grand vizier of my middle and later years.
All illusion. Pantomime.
My need has been simple.
It has been that my life should be one perpetual... love.
You had that for over 30 years with your wife, dear Mary Anne.
Oh, yes. Yes, I did.
She used to say to people, "I'm 12 years older than Dizzy, you know,
"he married me for my money.
"But if he had it to do again, it would be for love. "
When I had a late sitting in the Commons she would light every room in the house
to await my return.
I have seen the finest sights that Europe has tooffer,
but none to match those glowing windows at Grosvenor Gate
as I clattered towards them through the fog of a winter's night.
Once, when she was over 77,
she sat up half the night to await my return from some triumph or other.
And they tried to detain me with a celebration at the Carlton Club,
but I broke away...
and hurried home.
There she was, with a grouse pie and a bottle of champagne.
I ate half the pie, drank all the champagne.
I said to her, "You're more like a mistress to me than a wife. "
Then do you think it right, what you are doing to me?
I am conscious of doing you no wrong.
Benjamin, you know perfectly well what I mean.
You have been laying siege to me, you call incessantly at Belgrave Square.
- I presume friends may call on one another? - You call upon me every day!
There are some friends one cherishes more than others.
You write me constant letters.
It's a well-recognised form of human communication.
Please, you will not evade me by irony.
These are letters of passion.
I have never asked anything from you but your presence.
When I have that, I have everything.
You have it often enough in society.
Oh, to see you in society is as different from seeing you alone
as moonlight is from sunshine.
The visits, the letters... More than 9oo so far. Benjamin, they are excessive.
If nothing else, may not the memory of your beloved wife restrain you?
I have been gradually sorting her papers.
She kept every scrap of paper, on which I have written three words.
Every fortnight for 33 years,
she cut my hair.
I have discovered that she kept it.
Every hair.
In packets.
There are hundreds of them.
I also found this.
Addressed to me.
It was written 16 years before she died.
Being older than me, she always assumed she would go first.
"My own dear husband,
"If I should depart this life before you,
"leave orders that we may be buried in the same grave
"at whatever distance you may die from England.
"You have been a perfect husband to me.
"Be put by my side.
"And now farewell, my dear Dizzy.
"Do not live alone, dearest.
"I earnestly hope you may find someone as attached to you
"as your own devoted Mary Anne. "
I cannot be that someone.
For mercy's sake, you're a friend of my husband.
You like him.
What kind or condition of man are you?
I see you every day because it is absolutely necessary to my existence.
Yes, I write to you every day, sometimes two and three times a day,
because the image of you obsesses me.
I write in Cabinet, I scribble on my knee on the front bench,
I write while dealing with the plenipotentiaries of foreign powers,
I keep messengers by me constantly, to carry to you the promptings of my love.
The difficulties between us only animate me the more.
The very thought of you excites me.
My misfortune is that my body has grown old...
but my heart is still that of a boy.
I am 73 years old, stifled by asthma,
saturated with gout,
yet I have lived to know that the twilight of love has its splendour and its richness.
It is only my acute sense of the absurd that prevents my going down on my knees
and begging you not to banish me.
Also the knowledge that I would probably be unable to get up again.
Dizzy, Dizzy, Dizzy!
What am I to do with you?
What you will.
You may call upon me three times a week, not more - preferably less.
You may write to me once every twoor three days.
I do not guarantee to answer.
Those are my conditions.
If you do not accept them, we must sever all connections.
I accept.
I am doing you a service.
I am no goddess. I am a very ordinary matron of 58 who loves her husband.
I can never be what you want me to be.
Will you at least doone thing for me?
It is a silly fancy.
A little token I give to those I...
to those of whom I am fond.
I call it my Queen Bee symboI.
Will you wear it for me sometimes, and think of me?
I'm sure your husband will not be jealous of my poor little bee.
My husband is a man who trusts his friends.
Then you will wear it.
Sometimes.
Lady Chesterfield.
Mr Corry has given me the grand tour. I must congratulate you, Benjamin.
The house is the most perfect work of art.
I might say the same of you, dear Anne.
Except that you are perfect, yet use no art.
My dear Dizzy,
that honeyed tongue of yours will get you into trouble yet.
Are you prepared to guarantee that, ma'am?
Lord... I know that suffering is a mark of Thy love...
...but just for once, wouldn't a headache do?
Germany and Austria have held their hand.
But Russia has decided to take on the Turks by herself.
A large part of the populace believe we should aid the Russians.
They've been stirred up by Gladstone's words.
Five millions of Christian Bulgarians, he tells 'em,
cowed and beaten down to the ground,
hardly venturing to look upward even to their Father in heaven,
have extended their hands to you.
Remarkable feat of contortionism if nothing else.
Maundering old pantaloon.
Intoxicated as usual by the exuberance of his own verbosity.
The danger is not Turkey, it is Russia.
It has been, is and always will be Russia.
We shall not lift a finger for Russia.
I trust you're not suggesting, Prime Minister,
that we should go to war against her.
I am proposing merely to maintain our fleet in Turkish waters, Lord Derby,
and to keep our shells greased.
I did not make Her Majesty Empress of India to have a tribe of Cossacks despoil it.
The Baron and the Baroness Rothschild, my lord.
For me, home is Sunday with the twoof you.
You are my family.
Darling Dizzy, you are ours.
My dearest, dearest lady. Lionel.
And what a difference you've made to this house.
- You're a genius! - And all achieved so quickly.
- I'm an old man in a hurry. - Well, you hurried to some effect.
Look what you've done in three years of office.
You've empowered local councils to build houses for rent,
you've legalised peaceful picketing...
My sweet diamond bee. I could have lost him - look.
The clasp was undone.
Here, let me. May I? Of course.
You've stopped workers being imprisoned for breach of contract,
- you've brought in compulsory education... - Stopped factories polluting rivers.
- The pin goes behind. - I should know.
You've introduced the ten-hour day and you have saved the Empire
by buying into the Suez Canal.
With the loan of your four million pounds.
There.
Don't you feel proud of what you've achieved?
I am proud of my country. I am proud of, er, Tory democracy.
But for me, personally, it's all come too late.
- Oh! - To achieve power at 70.
It's too late.
I started from too low a base.
A schooI nobody's ever heard of, no university.
It took me 30 years to reach the level of respect and acceptance
with which the Gladstones, the Derbys, the Salisburys,
with their Etons, their Oxfords and their Cambridges, started.
Yet you are Prime Minister, they are not.
I am also 73 years old.
I'm like an old steam engine wheezing up a gradient
which in its youth it would have flown with a speed that curved the wind.
Oh, enough of my whining. Here's to us. And to Her Majesty the Queen.
The Queen.
God bless her.
And now, to dinner.
Have you seen much of Selina Bradford lately?
I've been seeing rather more of her sister, Lady Chesterfield.
Ah!
My lady.
That's all right, Fordham. I'll look after Lady Chesterfield.
Very good, sir. Lady Chesterfield.
Permit me to say you're looking delightful, Countess.
Permission granted.
You sweet liar!
They tell me he manages her very well.
He believes he does it by flattery.
He once told me, "Everybody's susceptible to flattery.
"With royalty, one can afford to lay it on with a trowel. "
I think he deceived himself.
Oh, yes, undoubtedly he flatters her.
And she responds.
All these flowers, for instance, are fresh today from the royal gardens.
Yet, au fond, he has a genuinely romantic conception of the monarchy.
I have a strong suspicion he still believes in divine right.
In private he calls her his Faery Queen.
I wouldn't be surprised if he was a little in love with her.
Darling Dizzy, I do believe he's a little in love with all of us.
My dear, darling, precious Anne.
Countess.
My lord.
I should really have brought a chaperone.
But I'm hard pressed these days to find anyone older than myself.
Oh, come now. You're as young as the dew that sparkled on these primroses this morning
in here, where it counts.
Oh, excuse me.
At least it shows somebody's home!
Oh, my dear Dizzy!
You're the greatest man I've known.
And yet you still can make me laugh like a girl!
And you, my dear Anne, have always had the power to move me
in quite a different way.
I remember the first time we met, at Lady K's,
the indelible impression you made upon me.
Your violet eyes and full sunshine, your camellia skin, your hair...
Oh, Dizzy. Do stop it!
You make me sound positively botanical.
But you are! A garden in which all sweets grow.
In your letter, you said you had something to say to me.
First of all, your beloved tea.
Milk, or lemon à la russe?
Or in some mysterious manner of your own?
Fordham knows perfectly well how I like it. Don't you, Fordham?
I do, my lady.
Cake? Sweetmeats? Turkish delight?
Thank you, no. I'm banting.
I wish to shed a considerable quantity of weight before Lady H's ball.
What, a slip of a girl like you? You'll go into a decline and fade away!
- A slight exaggeration! - My lord.
Oh, thank you, Fordham.
That'll be all.
That chair suits your colouring.
You're like a jewel in its setting.
It's a pleasure just to look at you.
Benjamin, what was it you wanted to say to me?
Anne, I believe I have given you innumerable marks of the esteem I feel for you.
You cannot be unconscious of the affection I feel for you.
Esteem, affection...
These emotions flow from many things.
They are the intangible filaments of the delicate web that is friendship.
That is, our friendship.
Lately, these feelings have undergone a subtle change.
They have deepened and burgeoned.
Benjamin, I think we should not talk of these things now.
Talk of it we must.
I must.
I keep recalling the poem by one of the metaphysicals.
Herrick, was it, or Marvell?
Had we but world enough and time,
This coyness, Lady, were no crime.
But ever at my back I hear Time's winged chariot drawing near.
I was not constructed to live alone.
I am sure you were not. And you have been a widow longer than I a widower.
Would it not be fitting, my dear Anne, were we to become one?
Believe me, I would love you as ardently as any boy.
And, my dearest, what I'm saying...
May I have the honour of your hand in marriage?
My dearest Dizzy,
you have paid me the greatest compliment a man can pay a woman,
and I will be sensible of that
for the rest of my time.
But at our age, both set in our ways...
We are as young as the dawn!
We have a delightful relationship now in which each encounter is fresh
and we demand nothing of each other.
That is the point. I am demanding more.
I would soon bore you. What was it you wrote in your novel, The Young Duke?
"It destroys one's nerves to be amiable every day to the same human being. "
That was written when I was young and insufferable.
- If I were to write that novel again... - I recall reading a novel last month.
Oh, one of those French trifles.
Nothing that would stand comparison with your works.
How did the narrative proceed?
Ah, yes. How absurd!
A French count made the acquaintance of two sisters in Paris, Lyon, or somewhere.
One sister was married... and the other was not.
The Count had the misfortune to fall in love with the one who was married...
but he proposed to and wed the one who was not.
His idea, the French novelist would have us believe,
was that by being married to the sister would give him unlimited opportunity
to be close to his true beloved.
As a tale, it was diverting,
but as I said, nothing like so near the truth in real life as your novel.
In real life, the unmarried sister would know where the Count's true affection lay...
and however fond of him she was,
she would know that only misery would result from such falsity.
Anne, my dear...
you are that best of all combinations.
A woman who is not only clever, but kind.
Promise to be my friend.
For always.
With all my heart.
- Doone more thing for me. - Anything.
Wear this for me. Sometimes?
Oh, my dear. What are we going to do with you?
See me through.
Gladstone or no Gladstone,
you're going to have to miss the debate on the Russo-Turkish war.
That might be called a misfortune but hardly a calamity.
What's the difference?
Were Mr Gladstone to fall into the Thames, that might be called a misfortune.
Were anyone to pull him out again, that would be a calamity.
The British people will always be on the side of the underdog.
I trust you're not advocating that we should become involved in the conflict ourselves.
War is humanity in the grip of an epileptic seizure.
No sane person would want it.
Russia, however, must be stopped somewhere.
She would be stopped the easier if she is convinced that we are prepared to fight.
Of course.
My policy from now will be quietly to summon up the strength of the Empire.
The British Empire in full mobilisation is the most fearsome sight on God's earth.
Oh, if we were a man!
We should like to give those Russians such a beating.
Any person of Your Majesty's refined sense of honour is bound to feel so.
The Russians are more cruel and barbarous than the Turks.
Slow death by imprisonment, exiled to Siberia.
We do not understand your inaction.
The Princess of Cambridge said something of the sort to me last night at dinner.
"I cannot imagine," she said, "what you are waiting for. "
"Potatoes, madam, at this moment," I said.
We are not entertained, Lord Beaconsfield.
Forgive me, ma'am. I was merely trying to lighten, for a moment,
the burden Your Majesty carries.
To be brutal, ma'am, we shall let the Turks doour fighting for us while they can.
Why should a single British life be lost if it is avoldable?
I believe it to be completely avoldable, if we are adroit.
We know you were against going to war at the beginning of this business.
But circumstances change.
And now let us move on to more pleasant topics.
- We have a gift for you. - Another one, ma'am?
We would like you to accept a copy of our modest contribution to literature.
We call it Leaves From The Journal Of Our Life In The Highlands.
You overwhelm me, ma'am.
We have by now read a great many of your novels, Lord Beaconsfield.
You have a flatteringly romantic concept of women.
Flattery plays no part in it, ma'am.
Women have made me.
It was a woman - my sister - who kept up my faith in myself when I was young.
It was a woman - Mrs Austen - who found a publisher for my first novel.
It was the Sheridan sisters - the Ladies Cork and Londonderry -
who launched me into society.
It was a woman - my dear wife -
who found me a seat in Parliament.
There is nothing so sweet as feminine friendship.
Nothing so terrible as a dinner party of men.
I count myself the luckiest man on earth
that the sovereign whom I am sworn to serve
should be a woman.
Oh, I have been fortunate in my experiences of womankind, ma'am.
All but one.
There was one who was not kind?
My mother, ma'am, God bless her soul,
never thought anything of me at all.
So much for feminine intuition.
If it is any consolation,
the Duke of Wellington's mother was the same.
Doubtless she assumed he must have cheated at Waterloo.
- Selina! - Despite your promises...
and then this attempt to marry me as it were by proxy through my sister.
Oh, Dizzy!
I should have realised that you and Anne have no secrets...
Despite all this, I say your visits have been as frequent.
You keep pouring out your letters.
Look at this one. This latest, asking me if I am going to the masked ball.
And if so, will I please give you a secret sign so that you may be able to find me
and make an assignation?
Dizzy, it's ridiculous!
It's the letter of a youth.
I cannot and will not play these games.
I have come here to ask you not to come to the ball at all.
- Not come? - You are not to write to me again, ever.
Not even the most prosaic notes about ordinary things.
- You don't mean it. - I never meant a thing more.
Very well.
We will meet, naturally, in society.
But no letters, no confidences.
No letters, no confidences.
Please don't think me cruel.
We may still be friends.
Goodbye.
- Goodbye, Selina. - Oh, Dizzy!
I claim only the privilege of the lamb before its slaughter.
Pleased to the last, I crop the flowery food
and kiss the hand just raised to shed my blood.
Oh!
My dearest Selina,
you cannot know the pain.
The Russians have smashed through. They're under the walls of Constantinople.
Turkey has surrendered.
She's agreed to peace terms under a document called the Treaty of San Stefano.
The Treaty of San Stefano cannot be countenanced by Her Majesty's government!
Why not? It brought peace. The Turks signed it voluntarily.
She signed it while being crushed to death under the iron military heel of Russia.
It robs her of half her territory
and creates a Bulgaria which is destined soon to be merely a part of Mother Russia
with access to a warm-water port!
At last, the bear can break out.
What we are looking at, gentlemen,
is Russia's first move to get her claws into the British Empire.
- Exactly. - There's very little we can do about it.
There's a very great deal we can do about it! And I propose to do it.
- For instance? - Demand that Russia refers the treaty
to a European congress for consideration and revision.
Failure to agree to do so would elicit from us an immediate...
declaration of war.
There are already 7,000 sepoys on the high seas
en route to Malta from India,
to show the Russians that we mean business.
My dear sepoys, they look so splendidly martial.
And they fight like Genghis Khan himself.
Lord Derby has resigned as Foreign Secretary.
Lord Salisbury has agreed to replace him.
Excuse me, ma'am.
We shall go to the congress in Berlin together.
Are you sure the Russians will agree to this congress?
Oh, yes, ma'am. They know we can thrash them.
We've got the people totally behind us now, too.
Your Majesty may not have heard the latest music-hall ditty.
"We don't want to fight but by jingo if we do,
"we've got the ships, we've got the men, we've got the money, too. "
Oh, my dear Dizzy.
How weak you look!
Did you get the little snack I sent you from the country?
You call six large baskets of English strawberries,
2oo head of Parisian asparagus...
and the finest foie gras Strasbourg has ever seen...
a little snack?
Then yes, I got it.
That must have done your gout a pile of good.
How is it, by the way?
For medicinal purposes, they've put me on a bottle of wine a day.
The quacks haven't advanced since the days of Pitt the Younger!
I must be strong. Strong for my country.
I must fight Russia or outmanoeuvre her. I can't do either like this.
That's why we're here.
- We've come to tell you about a new doctor. - He's a positive miracle worker.
His name is Dr Kidd. He uses homeopathy.
He treats like with like.
Roughly speaking, he gives you highly diluted doses
of whatever noxious substance it is that ails you.
Do you think he might dilute Mr Gladstone?
I will tell you the truth, Lord Beaconsfield.
Whenever a man is anxious to tell the truth,
one can be sure that something unpleasant is coming.
You have abused your constitution by a lifetime of overwork.
I cannot give you a new body.
To hold the old one together until after the Berlin congress
is all I ask.
You are conversant with my underlying theories?
Are you conversant with mine?
No.
Then let us agree to trust one another.
Let me have your potions and your elixirs.
I give you my word. I'll obey your instructions to the letter.
I should like you to procure one of the new refrigerators
and keep my preparations in that - it's a machine for keeping things cooI.
Would to God I could put Europe in one.
But my breathing, my voice, my utterances, my artillery.
Without it my guns are spiked.
Pump the bulb and breathe in.
Er, you must not use it more than...
Aah.
Hah!
You have before you, sir, a convert to... homey...
- Homeopathy. - Homeopathy.
Now... for those... Cossacks!
I wish you could have seen him.
All the craft, the guile, the steel, all his courage.
He was fighting for his country.
He sent Russia packing out of Turkey.
Denied her access to the Mediterranean, got all of Turkey's territories back for her,
and persuaded her to give us Cyprus in return.
Did Russia fight back?
At one point it looked as if she wasn't going to give a centimetre.
Dizzy ordered a special train to take the British mission back to Calais,
saying there was nothing for it but war.
Bismarck was alarmed, angry. Russia, frantic. France and Italy astonished.
Austria delighted but incredulous. It wasn't until the locomotive had steam up
that the Russians gave in.
At the end of the congress, I saw Bismarck gazing at Dizzy.
I heard what he said. "The old Jew," he said,
"there is a man. "
The French Journal Des Débats said...
"The traditions of England are not altogether dead.
"They survive in the hearts of a woman
"and an aged statesman. "
So long as the power and advice of England are felt in the councils of Europe,
peace, I believe, will be maintained.
I am not ashamed of the noblest of human sentiments
now decried by philosophers, the sentiment of patriotism.
Ma'am... I have brought you peace.
And I believe it to be peace with honour.
Come on, Dizzy, this isn't like you.
Listen.
They're pealing for you. Peace with honour. You're the first man in Europe.
I wanted to be someone...
and I became someone.
I wanted fame and I got fame.
It is all too late.
Too late.
And fame without a woman to share it is...
ashes in the mouth.
You share it with the nation.
Give me your health and your strength, Monty,
and I might be able to enjoy it.
But life is the wrong way round.
We should start as ignorant, weak, old men,
and grow into wise, strong, young ones.
You're as young in your heart as I am.
In my heart. Ha!
Yes.
But the final break-up of my constitution has begun.
Oh, Dr Kidd held me together in Berlin, he worked marvels, but...
What does the psalmist say? "My days are consumed as smoke.
"My bones are burned as an hearth.
"I watch, and am as alone as a sparrow on a housetop. "
Finish it.
What?
"But Thou, O Lord, shalt endure forever.
"And Thy remembrance unto all generations. "
For you, my lord.
Thank you, Fordham.
It's from the Queen.
She wants one of your diamond bees.
Help me.
Help me!
Monty...
perhaps we're not done for yet.