...is not the only such affliction.
And so we come to that condition
which most often afflicts the more nervous sex.
Hysteria.
Derived from the Greek for "uterus".
Much studied by the French,
it has of late come under the scrutiny of our Austrian colleagues.
Tonight, we'll endeavor to add a British accent to this chorus.
Bring in the patient, please.
As you can see,
the patient is a comely woman of five and thirty years
who has been under my care at Bethlehem Hospital.
Of impeccable breeding, she has suffered much of her life
from the classic symptoms of the chronic hysteric.
Who can tell me what these are?
Lassitude?
Correct. Another.
The tingling of the extremities.
Yes. Another. Convulsions.
Sometimes called "hysteric fits",
during which the patient may become violent,
dangerously unmanageable.
Which is why, as a precautionary measure,
I've had her injected with four grains of heroin.
One cannot be too careful when attempting to trigger a fit in a clinical setting.
As I shall now endeavor to do.
Please.
I beseech you, sir, do not.
Shh, shh, shh.
The trigger point-- Help me.
Help me.
One of you, please.
Look at me.
I am not mad.
I am not mad. Look at me.
The trigger point may be hidden anywhere in the female anatomy.
Most often upon the breasts.
Do not touch me. The inner thighs.
Or the ovaries.
Note the clenched fists, the arched back,
the tonic and clonic spasms.
Concluding finally
in a profound contracture.
Watch yourself.
She's started her monthly bleeding.
Next patient, please. Bring in the patient.
Any questions? What of the woman's insistence that she is not mad?
Just as every criminal maintains he's innocent,
so does every mad woman insist she is sane.
But she seemed so-- Reasonable?
Perhaps. Well bred?
Beautiful?
She is all these things.
And quite mad.
And therein lies the paradox of insanity
and the great peril of our profession.
Thus, I caution you all, gentlemen,
as you embark on your careers as alienists,
believe nothing that you hear
and only one half of what you see.
Bloody hell.
Hey! Wait!
Hello there. Excuse me.
I beg you, stop.
At first, Da didn't want to stop
on account you may be a lunatic who escaped,
but I convinced him you couldn't be
since you're headed toward the madhouse and not away from it.
Ah, clever deduction.
And you look like a man who's only lost his way, not his mind.
Well, I'm grateful. Thank you.
Are you visiting someone at Stonehearst?
Actually, going there to complete my training as an alienist.
That's a doctor who specializes in asylum medicine.
Well, I can tell you'll be a good one.
You have kind eyes.
Aw, thank you.
The madhouse is just up that hill.
You're certain? Oh, yes. Look!
I don't see anything.
Merry Christmas.
Hello?
Hello!
And who the feck might you be?
Ah, good God.
Good afternoon, sir. I'm-I'm Edward Newgate.
Dr. Edward Newgate, from Oxford.
Might-Might you let me in?
Well, now, that depends. Were we expecting you?
Well, I hope so. I did send a letter to the superintendent here.
Must have been weeks ago now.
Well, the post isn't regular this time of the year.
Oh, really? I--
I'm just acting the maggot. Of course you can come in, Ted.
What kind of Christian would I be to leave another outside to freeze his onions off?
And on Christmas Eve no less.
Well, thank you so much. I-I do appreciate it.
My name's Finn.
I'm the chief steward.
Welcome to our little madhouse in the wilderness.
Presently we have 200 residents at Stonehearst.
Sons and daughters of some of the finest families in the realm.
We have lords, dukes. We even have a cousin of the Queen.
Now, she likes to finger paint with her own shite.
There you go, Rosie.
We have a viscount who's convinced he has two heads,
and an earl who thinks he's a teapot.
Seriously.
Wait-Wait here.
The doctor will be along shortly.
Right, yes.
Trephination.
An arcane medical procedure performed by savages
upon those possessed of evil spirits.
By boring a hole in the skull,
they believed it would allow the demons to escape.
Let us be thankful we live in more enlightened times,
don't you agree, doctor...?
Newgate. Edward Newgate, from Oxford.
Forgive me for turning up unannounced.
I did write a letter. It's just your Mr. Finn tells me it never arrived.
An Oxford man is always welcome here.
So,
what brings you to Stonehearst?
Well, as I wrote in my letter,
I had hoped I would observe your methods in or--
Oh, no, thank you. Nonsense.
You've had an arduous voyage.
From the backwaters of blissful ignorance
across vast oceans of academic blather
until at last you've arrived here,
on the shores of my little kingdom.
And at the dawn of a new century, no less.
So,
it's asylum medicine you wish to practice.
Uh, yes, since as long as I can remember.
Why? I'm sorry?
Why not some specialty that's held in higher regard? Surgery, for instance.
I don't much care for blood, I suppose.
Tropical medicine then. Or problems of the female anatomy.
Both offer better pay.
Well, I've always been fascinated by the troubled mind.
So is a priest but he at least is guaranteed heaven.
What do you hope to gain?
The satisfaction of helping those in hell.
See, of all the afflictions, I can think of none more,
more cruel than madness, sir.
See, it robs a man of his reason,
his dignity, his very soul.
And it does so,
so slowly, without the remorse of death.
Please, sir.
I have the desire and the training.
All I lack is the clinical experience.
Time for afternoon rounds.
Of course. I didn't wish to keep you--
Join me, Doctor. Thank you.
Mr. Finn, help the doctor off with his coat, would you?
Thank you.
You'll find us well-stocked with the usual cases.
Neurasthenia, dementia praecox,
incurable homosexuality, epilepsy, melancholia.
But where we differ from other asylums
is in the social station of our patients.
All hail from the finest families in Europe.
For instance, Terrance here
is heir to one of the largest railroad fortunes in the continent.
And what is the nature of his disorder?
He suffers from an utter lack of interest in trains.
So his family had him committed?
Interesting case this one.
Signore Balzoni was thrown from his horse during a polo match in Milan
and ever since he's believed himself to be an Arabian stallion.
He gets a tad agitated at feeding times.
Please go ahead.
You'll find most of our patients are here
because they are embarrassments to their families.
Outcasts.
Signore, give the gentleman his arm back
or I shall be forced to withhold grooming for a week.
You-You groom him?
Small price to pay to keep him contented.
Isn't that reinforcing his delusion? Yes.
What, you don't attempt to cure your patients?
Cure them? To what purpose?
Well, to bring them back to their senses, of course.
And make a miserable man out of a perfectly happy horse.
Madame. Your Eminence.
Is it always this lively?
Here we do not believe in sedating our patients
into a stupor with bromides and the like.
We prefer to celebrate them in their natural unadulterated state.
Check.
Mm.
Good afternoon, my lovely.
Nurse. Nurse?
Has she eaten today?
She refuses to eat until her son returns from the war.
He was killed in action in Peshawar, '85.
Have you tried a feeding tube?
We do not use such medieval methods here.
I'd hardly call it "medieval".
What would you call it then?
Well, a necessary means of preventing death.
Death cannot be prevented, Doctor,
any more than madness cured.
There's no cure for the human condition.
And it's a foolish physician who tries.
Suppose I were to present you with the following case.
A woman who suffers from violent fits
triggered by physical or emotional contact
that she perceives to be of too intimate a nature.
Ah, sounds like hysteria.
What treatment would you prescribe?
Ah, mustard packs, I should think.
Is she a patient or a pickled herring?
Pelvic massage? Potassium bromide?
I'm interested in your opinion, Doctor, not some textbook's.
Forget bromides. Open your eyes.
Look at her.
So, I ask you again,
presented with a woman of utmost grace and refinement
within whose breast roils passion so great
she fears they will destroy her,
what treatment would you prescribe?
Music.
Three times a day, no less.
Bravo, Doctor. I concur.
There are few therapies better at restoring the soul than music.
Her name is Lady Charles Graves. Eliza. Mrs. Graves to us.
I presume you know her husband?
No. Repugnant chap.
Possesses a tremendous fortune.
Not to mention many unnatural appetites.
As one would expect, her hysterical episodes worsened
following the engagement, until one night she bit off his ear
and gouged out his eye with a comb.
So her husband had her committed.
No, her father.
If it had been up to the Baronet,
she'd still be at home in his loving embrace.
In fact, not a week goes by that I don't receive a letter from him
threatening me and demanding I declare her cured
so she might be remanded into his custody.
So, you refuse?
For her own safety.
Come, Doctor. Yes, of course.
We have much to see before dinner.
May I just say that your playing is sublime.
Oh. Oh, your playing is sublime.
It's quite sublime.
I'm Newgate.
Dr. Edward Newgate. My name is Edward Newgate. Doc--
Nurse.
May I have a glass of water?
Yes, ma'am.
Your playing is sublime.
What was that, Mozart, Beethoven?
No, I wrote it.
Of course.
Let me introduce myself. My name is-- Dr. Newgate.
I know. We don't receive many visitors here.
We're rather like a leper colony.
Well, I doubt lepers are so charming.
I wish you would stop complimenting me.
It makes me uncomfortable. Forgive me, Mrs. Graves.
The last thing I wish to do is offend you.
Are you quite certain you're a doctor?
Yeah, well, of course I am.
Because I've never known one to apologize.
Or, for that matter, give a damn who he offended.
Well, I-I'm not like other doctors.
I mean, to be honest, I still haven't gotten used to being one.
Whenever someone calls "doctor",
I still turn to see if they're talking to the chap behind me.
Here you go, ma'am. Thank you, nurse.
Right.
Remarkable, isn't she?
She should be on a stage,
not languishing in some asylum.
Forgive me, I'm Dr. Newgate.
Edward Newgate. And you are?
Let Jael rejoice with the Plover.
Pardon me? And Hobab rejoice with Heraclitus.
That is Greek for the grub.
Ah, Newgate. Tuxedo fits, I see.
Yes, thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
I'm sorry, but what's he doing here?
Oh, Jeremiah. He killed his wife with a hammer.
Not without provocation, mind you.
But what's he doing here in the staff parlor?
When I was a medical officer in the war,
we would on occasion invite the enlisted men to dine with us.
It strengthened the bond between the men and...kept morale high.
And I believe the same principal applies here.
It's therapeutic for the patients to mix with polite society,
and, I might add, for polite society to mix with them.
Dinner is served.
Good boy.
Good boy. Good boy.
Tell me, doctor, what do you think of our little asylum?
Why, it's quite...unlike anything I've ever known.
Newgate recently took his medical degree at Oxford.
But why come all the way here
when there are other asylums far closer to London?
Well, I've always longed to return to the countryside, I suppose.
You know, I-I grew up in a farm in Yorkshire,
and, uh, some of my fondest memories
are of the cows and chickens that were my playmates.
You don't have the Yorkshire man's accent.
Why's that, Ted?
Well, my, my, my parents died when I was six
so I was sent to an orphanage in London.
Appalling place.
But, I mean, you know, fascinating if one was curious about human nature as I was.
In a funny way, I was quite grateful to them.
How so?
Well, misery has a way of clarifying one's convictions.
See, it was in the orphanage that I realized what my life's work would be.
To labor amongst the wretched and the friendless.
And to give these poor souls some small measure
of hope and kindness
in a world that knows too little.
Forgive me, I-I seem to have turned dinner into a Dickens' novel.
Bon appetite.
What is this tonight, Finn? Squirrel?
At present we find ourselves somewhat modestly provisioned.
A toast to Mr. Finn
for providing such fine victuals for our Christmas repast.
Mickey Finn.
I'm-I'm sorry. Is that really your name?
'Tis. Why?
Well, you know, to slip someone a Mickey Finn,
you know, with knock-out drops.
It's quite, quite, uh--
Well, quite.
That never occurred to me. "Slip someone a Mickey."
That must be how me da got me dear old ma
to lie still while he ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah.
You'll forgive me if I don't find that at all amusing.
No?
What would bring a smile to that puckered-ass of a mouth of yours?
That will be enough, Finn.
My apologies. I meant no offense.
Yeah, well, none taken.
That's the Christmas spirit. Come now.
Let me offer you a little drink of friendship.
No, no, no. I've had quite enough.
Come on, we're celebrating.
Honestly, Finn.
I'm sure he doesn't mind raising a glass to our Lord and Savior.
Do you now, Doctor?
I-I'd be delighted.
Oh, dear. I'm afraid that will stain.
Soda water will save it.
Follow me.
You must leave here immediately.
But I've only just arrived.
You do not belong here.
Why, I was going to say the same thing about you.
There's time before they get suspicious.
They'll assume you went to your room to change your shirt, but don't.
Leave your things. Go straight to the stable.
The roan is the most sure-footed on the moor.
She'll see you safely back to town.
You want me to steal a horse?
Lower your voice.
No, not until you tell me what's going on.
Do as I say.
Leave. Now.
Eliza. Eliza, please--
Mrs. Graves, I'm...I'm so sorry.
I didn't mean to upset you.
Mrs. Graves, indeed, then listen to me.
There's-There's something I need to tell you.
Help us. Please.
Get off me.
Help us! Help us!
Help us. We need food.
Please. Please, help us.
Who are you, boy?
I-I'm a doctor.
Liar. I've never set eyes on you.
Where are you from?
Upstairs. Before that, you fool.
I'm from Oxford.
You listen to me,
and listen carefully, boy.
You have got to help us escape from these cages.
We're not mad. We're not mad.
We're not mad. We're not mad. Please.
Please help us.
Of course you're not.
You've got to help us. I will, I will.
First thing in the morning, I'll consult with Dr. Lamb.
Dr. Lamb? Are you daft?
If he learns that you found us, he'll slit your throat and ours.
You must get the keys. Let us out.
Please, we're not mad. All right.
You've got to help us.
I'll see to it in the morning.
Let us out.
Newgate.
Edward Newgate.
How do you know my name?
Your letter.
You remember, Benjamin? It was weeks ago.
The young man who wrote to us from Oxford.
I remember. Newgate.
Your letter came with the last mail delivery
before Lamb overthrew us.
Overthrew you? Yes.
Overthrew?
What is going on?
I am Marion Pike. Matron.
Charles Swanwick. Chief medical officer.
Nurse. William Paxton, groundskeeper.
Dr. Benjamin Salt,
rightful Superintendent of Stonehearst asylum.
Wait. Wait, wait, wait.
If you really are the superintendent,
then that means that Dr. Lamb is--
A lunatic demon of the worst kind.
Oh, good God.
God.
What happened?
They put something in our drink, Doc.
Chloral hydrate. It's-It's a surgical anesthetic.
It's colorless and odorless,
but lethal in imprecise doses.
I lost four doctors that night.
Three of my nurses died. Poor creatures.
They'd been planning this for months. Treacherous bastards.
Just biding their time to slip us--
A Mickey Finn.
I don't believe--
They give us water, a pittance of food.
But make no mistake, Doctor, we are dying.
We are dying.
You could steal the keys from Finn.
Ah? Set us free.
They'd tear us apart before we'd gone a hundred yards.
We'll take our chances fighting.
In our condition, against their numbers?
There are homicidal maniacs upstairs with guns, Charles.
Look around you. None of us are fit to fight.
Some of us are too far gone already.
There's only one solution.
It's you, Doctor. You're our only chance. Please.
Run, boy. The keys.
Run, boy. Get to town.
Bring help. Run.
The keys.
Run. Run, boy.
Who is it, Eliza? I'm frightened.
It's no one, dearest.
Just the Sandman.
Mrs. Graves.
Is he going to try and make love to us?
Back to sleep.
Mrs. Graves, we must leave here immediately.
You had your chance to leave before.
I have found Salt and the others, Mrs. Graves.
Do you realize what would've happened if you'd been caught?
I have some idea. You have no idea.
We can argue about this later.
Right now I need you to fetch your warmest coat
and meet me in the gazebo in ten minutes.
We can steal a horse, and if we're lucky
we can make it to town and summon help.
Why would you presume I would go anywhere with you?
Because I cannot--
I will not leave without you.
I must go back to bed. Listen to me.
The lunatics are running this asylum.
Yes, and I am one of them.
What's this I see?
Evening rounds are finished, Doctor.
I was just giving Dr. Newgate directions back to his room.
Lost, is he?
Ah, yes, embarrassingly so.
I was looking for the staff library.
I must have made a wrong turn.
Well, any event, I know where I'm headed now,
so I'll bid you all good night.
Thank you, Mrs. Graves.
Finn, see the young doctor to his room.
My pleasure.
No, no. Won't be necessary.
Oh, I insist. And I shall expect you for morning rounds.
Half past eight.
Right. Of course.
This way, Ted.
Does he suspect anything?
No.
We must endeavor to make sure it stays that way.
Something is troubling you, my dear.
This cannot last, Silas.
Eventually we will be discovered.
The spring is coming. People will come.
Visitors.
We cannot just lock them out.
The only reason any of us are here
is because the world wanted to be rid of us.
We're embarrassments to our family,
exiles to the human race.
We will not be discovered for the simple reason that no one cares.
My husband does.
I promise you
you will always be safe within these walls.
I'm afraid this is all I could find.
Supplies upstairs are running low.
I'll bring more next time.
And some laudanum for that cough of yours.
Bless you, Doctor.
It's men with guns we need, not medicine.
That's not an option anymore, Doctor.
After last night, Finn and his goons are watching me like hawks.
I barely made it here undetected.
Come back here. Please mate, come on.
I could be wrong, but Lamb strikes me as a man
who would rather see the ship sink with everyone in it
than give up the helm.
Oh, sweet Jesus.
So, even if we did steal away and find help,
God knows what would await us when we returned.
We?
Well, me-me and Mrs. Graves.
Eliza Graves?
Don't be a fool, man. She's as mad as the lot of them.
No, no, I-- I don't believe she is.
Tell that to her husband.
But make sure you speak into his good ear, the one she didn't bite off.
The man is a monster. She was right to defend herself.
Mrs. Pike, may I remind you on which side of the bars you sit?
So, you cannot flee,
you cannot steal Finn's keys.
What do you propose to do? Huh?
Look, I came here to study his methods.
Now, Lamb sees me as his protégé.
If I could just maintain that-that trust,
you know, understand the workings of his mind,
maybe I could bring him to reason.
He killed five soldiers in cold blood.
And do you think you can outfox him, boy?
If you could just give me his case file.
Long gone.
It's the first thing he'd have destroyed.
Well then...well then, I'd best be back before I'm missed.
In the medicine cabinet.
Behind the Scotch.
In his-- In-in my office.
He escaped once before and he stole it, briefly.
I didn't want to give him that pleasure again,
so I hid his casebook.
Right.
Doctor?
I want to warn you.
I do not know what Lamb's plan is for us,
but I do know that if he believes you could jeopardize it,
he will not hesitate to slit your throat.
Deplorable conditions these, but soon I mean to make a change.
And what better way to bring in the new century
than by doing away with this godforsaken ward
and all the backward thinking it represents.
Right, Finn? Right, then.
So, what do you hope to do with the current residents?
Introduce them to the general population.
You're not serious.
Keep a man in a cage and he'll behave like an animal.
Give him his freedom and he'll remember his humanity.
And that's your plan, is it, to create an enlightened society?
Do I sense skepticism in your question, Doctor?
No, not at all. I suppose I'm just curious to know
if you think there are any individuals whose crimes are so heinous
they justify imprisonment.
Sadists...who find gratification
in the debasement of others.
And those cowards who would send younger men to their deaths
in battles they themselves would avoid.
Except for these, I believe all men can be rehabilitated
often by the simple act of having their dignity restored.
Who-who's down there?
The Ogre of Oxbridge.
The Ogre of what? Stage name.
His family sold him off to a side show when he was a child.
He injured his hand a few days ago whilst attacking a nurse.
Would you be so kind as to change the dressing, Doctor?
You expect me to go down there?
You came here for clinical experience, did you not?
Yes, of course.
Well, two grains of opium, I should think, will do the trick.
Don't need that.
What do you expect me to do, sing him a lullaby?
Use these.
The asylum doctor's greatest ally.
Look out for the piss bucket.
Hello?
Now listen here.
I don't mean to harm you, Mr. Ogre.
I just want to see your hand.
Oh, good God.
It's all right.
It's all right. It's all right.
Lamb, please help.
Eyes, Newgate. Eyes.
Arthur.
Arthur. Arthur, please.
P-Please, Arthur.
Arthur. Arthur.
Forgive me, Arthur.
May I call you Arthur?
Can I?
I-I didn't mean to enter without permission.
I meant no offense.
I'm Dr. Newgate.
But you can call me Edward.
It's all right.
Eddard?
That's right, Edward.
Eddard.
Now, Arthur,
let's, let's have a look at that hand, shall we?
It's okay. All right.
That's it, Arthur.
Bravo, Doctor.
Bravo.
Can you take your trousers off, please?
No, no. It's, uh, it's my shoulder.
Please?
I will do that, Millie.
You may return to your duties.
But I want to. Leave us.
Sit down.
Bare your shoulder.
Stubborn fool. Why didn't you listen?
You could've left when you had the chance.
I didn't know then what I do now, Eliza.
Don't call me that.
Mrs. Graves, you have to understand,
you are in danger here.
I can assure you I am not.
Give me your hand.
And what of those down below?
What about them?
Mrs. Pike and the women,
are they suffering terribly?
Yes, all of them are.
You could go down there yourself.
Or are you afraid that what you'll see will weaken your loyalty to Lamb?
You have no idea what it was like here before.
What monsters Salt and his men were.
How we were stripped bare and subjected to examinations
of the most disgusting, intimate nature.
Strapped to tables,
given drugs to dull our senses, and doused with ice-cold water
and made to suffer a thousand other indignities too horrible to mention.
But you couldn't possibly understand.
I can. I-I can.
I can.
I know what cruelty is, Mrs. Graves.
I-I know.
And I give you my word
that you will never again have to suffer the way that you have.
Never.
Why do you care so much what happens to me?
Because
the very thought of you locked away in this madhouse
is abhorrent to everything that I believe,
as a doctor and...and as a man.
Excuse me.
For Christ's sake, Swanwick, will you give it up ?
We have as much chance of escaping that way
as a man clawing his way out of his own grave.
Maybe so, but at least it won't say on my gravestone what it'll say on yours.
"He died like a dog in the dark."
You done it. You done it.
Get to town. Quick. Hurry.
Get help. Hurry.
I still don't get why he's walking around.
He should be down in a cage with the others.
I cannot continue to run this bloody asylum on my own.
I need an assistant. I thought that was me.
With medical training.
How hard can it be to play a doctor?
"Turn your head and cough."
"Bend over, young lady, while I take a little look at you."
Your talents are better suited to other duties.
Like making sure the dipsomaniacs keep the bloody boilers stoked.
Bloody icebox in here.
What's he got on you?
What are you talking about?
You haven't been the same since he showed up.
I suppose I feel a certain sense of duty towards him.
He has the makings of a fine asylum doctor.
Reminds me of myself, a...headstrong, idealistic.
Ah.
Fetch another, would you?
I sense a kindred spirit in him.
I believe he may understand what I'm trying to accomplish here.
Yeah, well, how understanding is he going to be
if he discovers Salt and all them others?
Come the New Year, that won't matter any longer.
There'll be nothing to discover.
I tell you, I don't trust that little gutterfuck.
He's up to something.
Perhaps I'm wrong about him,
but he's taken a keen interest in our Lady Graves.
He won't be raising any alarms
unless he has her on his side.
And that I can assure you will never happen.
Someone's escaped.
Oi. Hai!
Here. Here. Here.
If they reach town, it's the end of us.
They won't.
Come on. Come on.
Oh, Lord, no. No.
Now, now, gentlemen.
You get back. You bastards.
Back. Get back.
There's no need for tears.
You have my word you won't be harmed.
Is that what you said to your mother and sister
before you slashed their throats? Hm?
Aye, Mr. Swan.
But your methods have cured my madness.
I'm a peaceful man now.
I am.
A veritable...lamb.
No!
It's a sad and shameful thing that.
Come now, Mr. Swanwick.
Let's get inside before we all catch our deaths.
Oh, dear.
One of them threw themselves from Stag's Leap.
And this one came at me like a banshee.
The horse spooked, reared up and kicked the old pecker in the nut.
Fell down stone dead.
Suicidal tendencies are not uncommon amongst the seriously deranged.
As we know.
Finn.
See that the body is buried. Aye.
Dr. Lamb.
Did he stab himself in the back as well?
He must have landed on something when he fell.
Something sharp.
Pity.
No, you can't just walk away from this.
From what, dear boy?
Sir, if you would only just examine the body yourself.
I am not a coroner. Nor are you.
Dr. Lamb, this man has clearly been--
Killed by a horse.
I have an asylum to run.
And you I believe, Doctor, have patients to attend to.
This is madness.
What did you say?
I said this is madness. Madness.
Madness, you say?
How dare you accuse me of madness in front of my own staff?
I didn't accuse you of anything.
Two patients are dead, Newgate,
because you were not doing your duty and watching over them.
Silas. Where were you, Newgate,
when these two fellows escaped?
How many more must die because of your negligence?
Silas!
Nurse, I think we'd better get ourselves inside.
March 1st, 1891.
This enigma called Silas Lamb continues to mystify me.
Silas remains mute about his years as a military surgeon,
the war,
and most of all, the horrific incident
that had him committed to this asylum.
No! No!
And yet he has no such reservations
when it comes to protesting what he calls
my "barbaric" methods.
How ironic to be called cruel by a man such as this,
a man accused of such atrocities.
No! No!
When you have found the thing a man fears most,
you will have discovered the key to his madness
and the means to control it.
Silas appears to fear very little.
But all men have their breaking points.
And I am bound by my oath as his doctor to find his.
To cure him
and to make him whole.
I believe Silas enjoys what he mistakenly believes
is his control over me.
In his tormented mind, his stay at Stonehearst
is merely a chess match.
And I am his pawn to move as he sees fit
for his pleasure.
But like most children, Silas seems to forget
all games must end.
And there is only one victor.
October 3rd., 1899.
Over the past nine years now
I have struggled to determine
what it is that haunts the soul of Silas Lamb.
A cruel mother?
A sadistic father?
Indifferent God?
I don't claim to know the answer.
I only know that animals like Silas Lamb
must be broken
to be made men again.
That's one of my suits you are wearing.
Fits me well, don't you think?
Of course, I had to have it taken in a bit.
But then,
you're a stouter fellow than I am.
Or were.
I suppose I shouldn't be surprised
that killing unarmed men in cold blood
hasn't affected your appetite.
On the contrary.
Their deaths were most distressing
to myself and my staff. Staff?
A bunch of inebriates and chronic masturbators more like it.
Funny I've never seen the harm in chronic masturbation.
Nevertheless, I bring condolences
and a recommendation that no one else repeat their error.
And as a show of good faith,
I'll increase your rations
and send down more fresh water.
You see, old friend, unlike you,
I'm not a cruel man.
Whilst, uh,
whilst I'm here,
I thought you might like a report on the condition of the patients.
I don't give a damn.
They're not my responsibility any more.
The melancholiacs are less lethargic
since being weaned off the large doses of opium you had them on.
The hysterics are less listless
now that they don't have you poking around their private parts.
Even the mongoloids are thriving since being taken out of their restraints
and put to meaningful work in the kitchens.
A pity it's all for naught
when they starve to death.
We are sufficiently provisioned.
I'll tell you what I think, old friend.
I think that you haven't taken anything for that cough
because you neglected to lock the medical cabinet
and the opium addicts got into the laudanum.
And I suspect that you're wearing that suit
because it's the warmest suit in my closet,
which comes in very handy when you have imbeciles
looking after the boilers.
I hope you've enjoyed
pretending to be sane, Silas.
Has this masquerade
helped you to forget what it was like
blowing those poor boys' brains through their skulls?
Mr. Finn. Dr. Lamb.
Find Dr. Newgate.
Have him meet me in the surgery.
Fine. Don't eat.
See if I care. Silly old cow.
Millie.
I'm tired.
I'm tired of being a nurse.
Can't things go back to the way they were before?
May I try?
Thank you.
Now,
will you try one for me?
He doesn't like the taste of it. No.
Your son, right?
And he tastes what you taste, does he?
But how? Right through the cord.
Do you not see how it stretches from me out the window to him?
He's off fighting the Afghans, he is.
You don't want me to starve, do you,
Mother?
Daniel?
Yes. Blessed Lord.
Is it really you, Daniel?
Yes, it's me.
Listen, no matter how great the distance between us,
you will always be on my mind.
My dearest boy.
Listen, Mother,
I'm afraid I have to go abroad again
on a secret diplomatic mission for Her Majesty the Queen.
Where?
I'm not at liberty to say.
But food is very scarce there
so I need you to eat for the both of us.
Can you do that for me?
For Daniel?
I will. I will.
That's it. That's it.
Well done.
Very good.
No, no, no. Go off to bed. Get some rest.
I still have the bedpans to do.
No, doctor's orders.
Fine. Go.
Millie, lock the door.
A couple more.
Very good. That's it.
That's it.
Very good.
Thank you so much.
Millie really needs the rest.
Lamb has her running herself ragged doing the work of four nurses.
On an empty stomach, in a ward with no heat.
Well, in a few months it'll be spring.
In a few months we may all be dead.
Pneumonia. Typhus. Starvation.
Finn, even.
Look, Lamb's experiment is crumbling, Eliza.
Look, he cannot see it because he's blinded by madness.
But you're not.
When I first arrived here, Millie could barely speak.
Salt had put her in a morphine coma to control her.
Lamb took her off all sorts of medication.
Had her work on the wards.
It was good for her.
She's grown into a capable young woman.
Yes, with the mind of a child, but she's alive, Edward.
You love her like your own sister. Yes.
That's why I can never leave her.
Well, you don't have to.
Really, you don't have to.
We can go together all three of us. Together.
Start a new life away from here.
Where? Spain, Italy.
Someplace where the sun is always shining
and the sky is blue, and...and you can be free
to do whatever you want to do.
Somewhere you can be truly, truly alive.
I can make that happen.
I can.
Nothing can get in our way. Nothing.
My husband can.
If he does, then I would kill him.
Be careful, Edward.
When you speak like that, you don't sound like a doctor.
When I'm with you, I--
I forget that I am.
I wouldn't get too close to that one.
Bit of a biter, she is.
Dr. Lamb requests your presence.
Where?
Follow me.
Ah, Newgate, just in time. For what?
To assist me in an experimental procedure of my own devising
which, when perfected, I expect to usher in a new era
in the humane treatment of lunacy.
An unfortunate case.
Believes himself to be the rightful superintendent of Stonehearst.
It's a common delusion.
Ranks right behind Napoleon and Jesus Christ.
What are you going do to him?
Treat him, of course.
With Edison's miracle of our age,
we shall banish to history the straitjackets,
the cold baths, the nausea machines,
the floggings.
Finn, we will start with three seconds.
I call it "electrotherapy".
And I think you'll be fascinated to see
what happens when it is applied to the subject's brain.
You'll need a stronger stomach
if you expect to practice asylum medicine.
It may look painful, but I can assure you he feels nothing.
Yeah, but his heart. A tenth of that could stop his heart.
You may do the honors this time, Doctor.
What? No.
A dose of five seconds should clinch it.
But, Dr. Lamb, you can't possibly imagine that I-- Do it!
Do it.
And now
you will see
the miraculous effects
of this remarkable new therapy.
What is your name, sir?
I don't know.
Are you the superintendent here?
I don't know.
As you can see,
a mind that was not moments ago tormented by delusion
is now pacified.
I-- Am I in hospital?
You are a patient at Stonehearst Asylum.
Who are you people?
Tell him, Doctor.
Tell him.
We are your keepers.
I'm afraid that's the last of the laudanum.
Thank you, Doctor.
Now listen. You must rest if you can.
You need your strength. For what?
Tonight I intend to set you free.
All of you. Tonight?
Why?
Because I-I fear Lamb's procedure on Salt
was merely a rehearsal.
I fear he means to do it to all of you.
Tonight.
I never did approve of Dr. Salt's methods.
Of course, it wasn't my place to criticize.
You know, Eliza said you were always very kind to her
and the other patients.
I loved them like my own children.
Even Lamb?
There is some good even in poor Silas.
Though I fear it has become deranged by madness.
How do I understand him?
Your first instinct was the right one.
Think of him as your patient.
Shine the light of your sympathy
into the darkest corners of his mind,
and maybe then you'll find what he so desperately wants
to keep hidden from you and from himself.
Only then will you have what you need.
To defeat him? No.
To heal him.
It is difficult imagining Lamb as a patient.
Perhaps you should spend some time where he spent so much of his.
Why won't you let me go? I want to go.
Because it's not appropriate for a girl your age.
But I'm not a girl. I'm a lady.
Quite beautiful one, mind you.
You should see how the boys stare at me.
Listen to me, Millie.
You must stay in this room with the door locked
until I return, do you understand?
You just want to leave me here so you can run away with him, don't you?
Who? Dr. Newgate.
Millie, that's absurd.
You're going to run away with him and you're going to leave me here
to wipe bums and empty bedpans, and it's not fair.
Oh, no. Sh.
There, there. I'm not going anywhere.
Eliza?
Yes, darling.
What's it like? What's what like?
To be in love?
You're the belle of the ball.
You look beautiful.
I suppose you've come to ask me to dance.
Believe me, nothing would please me more.
But there isn't time.
Look, I need you to do me a favor.
There's something I must do, and if Lamb asks you,
tell him I've gone outside for some fresh air. Now tell him.
Where are you going?
To find a way to put an end to all of this.
Wait. Edward, wait.
Dinner is served.
Oh.
Eliza.
How do you do?
Who? Me?
Why, I'd be delighted.
May I butt in?
Well, well.
What a beautiful dress.
And lovely shoes.
Think of him as a patient.
Shine the light of your sympathy
into the darkest corners of his mind,
and maybe then you'll find what he so desperately wants to keep hidden from you
and from himself.
No.
Pleurisy, I suspect.
Brought on by catarrh.
The--
The poor child's heart gave out.
Take the body upstairs, would you?
No. Do not touch her.
She's gone to a better place.
No.
This was supposed to be a better place.
It is nearly midnight.
Someone.
You. Fetch the champagne. Bring it here, quickly.
All of my friends.
Join me outside.
The new century is nearly upon us.
Peter!
Where's Peter?
Peter, my pyromaniac friend.
You may do the honors.
Tonight we shall warm ourselves
by the fire
of our ignominious past.
Are you quite finished there, Ted?
Spiking the bubbly, I mean.
You're slipping them all a Mickey Finn.
Not if Mickey Finn slips you one first.
Well, I wasn't expecting that.
Ah!
Jesus, Mary and Joseph.
That's the other one!
Come on. Come on.
Now, now, Ted.
Doctor.
You're just in time.
Indeed.
Ah, there you are.
There we are.
Won't you be joining us, Doctor?
Of course.
Allow me.
Ten,
nine,
eight,
seven, six,
five, four,
three, two,
one.
Stop!
Don't drink the fecking champagne!
Believe nothing that you hear
and only one half of what you see.
Welcome back, Ted.
There, have a little rest while we set the stage.
I'll be back in two shakes of a whore's tail.
Come on.
Dear friends.
A few hours ago
we celebrated the arrival of a new century,
and in a few hours more,
we shall celebrate the dawning of a new day
in this, the grand experiment
we have been conducting together.
Oh, Eliza. Oh, thank God.
Please help me undo these straps.
Please.
Eliza.
It was found on your person.
Why did you come here?
You know why I came here, to study asylum medicine.
You're a liar. He sent you.
Who? My husband.
To take me back to him. No.
I don't believe you.
Why did you come here?
I--
I came here for you.
For me? Why?
I-I saw you
six months ago at a medical lecture.
I saw you.
You were there?
Help me. One of you. Please, I'm not mad.
You looked so lost and so beautiful.
It sickened me to see you exhibited like a sideshow freak.
Look at me.
I would have stopped it if I could, but I couldn't.
I-I couldn't.
So, I vowed there and then
that I would find you and that nothing would stop me.
Did you even know my name?
It didn't matter.
No, it does matter.
Saying otherwise proves you're no better than any of them.
Than who?
My family,
my doctors, my husband.
You act like I'm some precious thing to be bartered
or put on display or possessed.
It-It's not like that with me, Eliza.
No?
How is it different?
It's you who possesses me.
Excuse us, your Ladyship.
You must get out of here.
Go, please. Ride to the village. Please.
Time for Ted's big debut. Eliza, promise me.
Promise me. Promise me.
Eliza. Eliza!
Tonight we will show mercy
to a man who has betrayed us,
and through the miracle of medical science
we make him in our image.
And when we are done, he'll not need to be locked below in a dungeon
like the criminal he was, but will join us
up above in the light,
fully rehabilitated.
And we shall embrace him as one of our own.
Pity.
You would have made a fine asylum doctor.
You showed a rare talent for it.
You're mad.
We're all mad, Dr. Newgate.
Some are simply not mad enough to admit it.
Crank it up, Finn.
Now.
We will start
with a dose of ten seconds.
Wait, wait, wait.
Before you start, I'd like a final request.
In my vest pocket
there's a picture of Eliza Graves.
I'd like her to have it.
Very well.
Silas.
Silas!
Keep going.
Faster. Faster!
Feck, I don't need you. I'll do it me self.
Eliza. Eliza, my feet.
Hurry.
Eliza!
Eliza.
Look at me.
Hit the switch. Hit the switch.
Quick, my hands.
Eliza. Untie me.
Quick, my hands.
Everybody out! Evacuate the building!
Evacuate!
Take these keys and set them free.
Where are you going? To find Lamb.
Everybody outside!
Go that way. Keep going.
Quickly.
Please help, Dr. Lamb.
Dr. Lamb.
They were suffering, so--
And I--
It's over, Silas.
I saved them. I know. I know.
I saved them all. I know.
The war, it's over, Silas.
There you go.
Ladies.
Let's start putting the patients in the far wing.
William. William, you may come with me now.
Yes, Mrs. Pike. Come.
Inside.
Eliza.
Eliza. Eliza.
Down here.
Silas.
Can you hear me?
Silas.
Eliza, he's gone.
Eliza.
We could leave now.
Edward, I can't.
You can't what?
I can't imagine being anywhere but here.
You can't-- I'm quite sure you don't mean that.
Yes.
Because you are sane
and I am not.
I'm not sane.
I'm madly in love with you.
Eliza, listen to me.
Listen to me. There's something I need to tell you.
I should've told you right from the beginning, but I was too afraid.
Eliza--
Inexcusable this.
No way to run an asylum.
Dear God.
You realize we've been ringing for over a quarter of an hour.
We need to speak with your superintendent at once
on a matter of utmost urgency.
No. What?
We can't speak with him? Well, why the devil not?
There you are, dear.
Tea, Benjamin.
Sodomite.
Am I to understand it is you who is in charge here, Madam?
It is.
Highly irregular.
No mind.
And what is this, sir?
Release papers instructing you to discharge a former patient of mine
named Eliza Graves and remit her to our custody.
I'm afraid I cannot, sir.
What? Why not?
Because she was discharged three weeks ago.
On whose orders?
Dr. Newgate's.
I beg your pardon?
Dr. Edward Newgate, from Oxford.
That's impossible. Why?
Because, my good woman, I am Dr. Edward Newgate.
It's as I feared. We're too late.
Would someone please tell me what's going on?
The young man you knew as Dr. Newgate
is neither a Newgate nor a doctor.
How silly. Of course he was a doctor.
I can assure you, madame, he is not.
Well, who is he then?
A very cunning and disturbed patient
who until two months ago was under my care
at Bethlehem Royal Hospital in London.
Forgive me, but that makes no sense, Doctor.
Why would he go to the trouble of escaping from one asylum only to enter another?
To find my wife.
Next patient. Any questions?
It seems he became unduly infatuated with Lady Graves
at a medical demonstration I gave at Oxford.
Some time after that, he managed to escape his room,
elude two orderlies, and flee via a laundry chute,
in the process stealing my pocket watch,
my Derringer, and my, uh--
Identity.
In any event, suffice it to say,
he's a very disturbed young man.
He suffers from Pseudologia fantastica,
one of the most severe cases I've ever encountered.
In all the years I've known him,
I've never uncovered his true identity.
It could very well be that he's an empty shell
incapable of true feeling
beyond a cure.
Check
mate.
You'll excuse me if I disagree, Doctor.
No one is beyond cure.
In fact, I believe your young man has found his.
What precisely might that be?
Not what. Who.
Shall we, Mrs. Lamb?
With pleasure, Dr. Lamb.