All language subtitles for Dr.Quinn.Medicine.Woman.S05E21.The.Body.Electric.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP2.0.H.264-Kitsune_track3_[eng]

The telegram, where is it?

I know it's here somewhere.

How long's it been here?

This arrived two days ago.

Why didn't you tell me?

I been busy.

He's coming today. Y--

Dorothy, I need you to --

Brian.
Where's Dorothy?

In Chicago at that meeting
of the Western Publishers.

What's she doing there?

You told her to go, find out
how to expand the Gazette.

I need a notice
printed right away.

A public invitation
to a poetry reading.

A poetry reading?

America's most famous poet,
Mr. Walt Whitman,

is coming to stay at my hotel.

- Walt Whitman's coming here?
- Yes.

He's recovering from a stroke,

and he's chosen my resort
to restore him to health.

A stroke?
Is he paralyzed?

I don't know.
Preston offered him

a rest-cure in exchange
for doing a poetry reading.

Oh, I wish he hadn't done
that.

Why's that?

I heard that he
advocates free love.

Oh, that's a load of rubbish.

- You read his poetry, Loren?
- No.

I suppose a man's free
to write what he wants,

but why does he have
to go reading it in public?

Public reading?

Well, that's wonderful, Brian.

The whole town will get
to hear him speak his own words.

Mr. Whitman is Sully's
favorite writer.

He's more than a writer,
Brian.

He's a famous poet.

And he started off
working for a newspaper

when he was about your age.

Really?

Well, maybe he
can give you some pointers.

You think so?

A famous man like him?

Sure, he's famous.

'Cause of all those racy poems

- he wrote.
- Racy?

That's just another word
for artistic, Jake.

A true genius.

Staying in your hotel?

Which reminds me,
can you hurry it along?

He's arriving
on the 4 o'clock train.

Excuse me.

Preston, I must talk to you --

Not now, Andrew!

Howdy.

"Howdy"?

Preston A. Lodge III,
at your service.

Allow me to assist you.

Why, thank you,

Preston A. Lodge III,
my gracious patron.

Ah, the fragrance of wilderness.

Allow me to introduce you to
the Harvard educated physician

who will supervise
your treatment.

Dr. Andrew Cook.

Pleased to meet you.

Actually Dr. Quinn here

is far more experienced
than I to see to your care, sir.

Well, I'm honored
to meet you, Mr. Whitman.

A small misunderstanding, sir.

I can straighten it out
in no time.

There's nothing
to straighten out.

I'm perfectly delighted
with the arrangements.

You must be tired
after your trip.

Ah, yes, yes, of course.

- The carriage is right here.
- Come on.

I'll get your bags.

Ah, thank you.

My name's Byron Sully.

Have you lost your mind?

I -- I -- I'm sorry.
I cannot treat this man.

What, because of his poetry?

Please don't ask me
to explain.

Well, as physicians

we have a duty
to put aside person feelings.

I beg you, Michaela.

Trust me.

Do you work for her
or do you work for me?

You will thank me for this.

Ah, doctors.

I love 'em.

And I hate their medicine.

I was a volunteer nurse
myself in the war.

Oh, I see.

You don't feel this?

- Nothing?
- Mm-mm.

How long has it been this way?

Long enough to know
it isn't gonna get better.

Well, perhaps
it's only temporary.

I have seen cases
of delayed recovery.

Like you, doctor,
I've looked death in the face.

So many young men.

So much waste.

We're old friends, death and I.

Friends?

Well, as a doctor I've always
viewed death as the enemy.

Oh, well.
Guess there's no point

in dying now with a whole week
of free room and board.

I've been reading
about experimental treatments

for, uh, damaged nerves
using electrical current.

Tried that.
Tried it all --

electrical therapy, hydropathy,
phrenology.

What is that?

Hot pepper ointment.

That I have not tried.

Oh, we use it to warm
and stimulate the affected parts

of the body.

A positive attitude's very
important for recovery.

You celebrate life with
such eloquence in your work.

"I sing the body electric."

You know my work.

Oh, yes.

And now, as a married woman,
I can appreciate it more fully.

Never married, myself.

I've known love though.
Yes, indeed.

I've known love.

Well, your heart's strong,

and you appear to be
very much alive.

Apply this twice daily.

And come back tomorrow.

I'd like very much to help you.

I can think of no one
I'd rather be cured by.

So long.

Dr. Mike.

Well?
What's he like?

Mr. Whitman?

Oh, he's very charming.

There's a gentleness about him,
a sweet, sensitive nature.

- What is it, Dr. Mike?
- I don't know.

He seems sad.

Well, it must be discouraging,
big, strong man

like that suddenly
finding himself crippled.

I have a feeling
there's more to it.

He seems resigned.

I don't believe
he expects to be cured.

It's a shame
that he doesn't have anyone

to support him
in this difficult time.

Could be
he's just plain lonesome.

A little companionship
might help him.

Mom!
Are you ready?

You said we could go
to the library.

- Hi, Mr. Bray.
- Oh, why, Loren.

You're reading
"Leaves of Grass."

You call this poetry?

Isn't that by Mr. Whitman?

You're not gonna
let him read this, are ya?

Well, yes.

Not all Mr. Whitman's work
is so -- so unfettered.

What's unfettered?

Well, it means free,
liberated.

It means disgusting,
is what it means.

Well, Mr. Whitman's poems
ask us to look at certain things

in a new way.

- What's wrong with that?
- Well, nothing.

It's just that sometimes people
are afraid of new ideas.

I'm sure we'll find some poems
that are suitable.

I like this part --

"Afoot and light-hearted.

"I take to the open road.

"Healthy, free,
the world before me.

"The long brown path before me
leading wherever I choose.

"Now I see the secret of
the making of the best persons.

"It is to grow in the open air.

"And to eat
and sleep with the earth.

"Camerado, I give you my hand.

"I give you myself
more precious than money.

"I give you myself
before preaching or law.

Allons!
The road is before us..."

His poems say
what I feel in my heart.

If only people could see
it's nothing to be afraid of.

"Will you give me yourself?

"Will you come travel with me?

Shall we stick by each other
as long as we live?"

Whitman's portrait
will be the first.

One day this entire wall

will be a gallery
of our famous visitors.

Andrew?
A word with you?

Ah, Preston, if you'll excuse
me I have patients waiting.

I'm not in business to provide
patients for Michaela Quinn.

Now you owe me an explanation.

Well, I --

I should think again about
placing Whitman's photograph

on your wall or in any way

associating the reputation
of this establishment with him.

Why?

What are you talking about?

I'd rather not gossip, but --

Uh, the photographer
is ready, sir.

Ready?

That was very nice.

Thank you, sir.

My pleasure.

Mr. Whitman.

Mm.

I was wondering
if I could do an interview?

- An interview?
- Yeah, I'm Brian Cooper.

I'm a reporter
for the town paper, The Gazette.

No perfume like printers' ink
to the nose of a young writer,

eh, Mr. Cooper?

No, sir.

Unfortunately I'm just
on my way out.

I'm in need
of some cool, clear air

in this magnificent wilderness
of yours.

Sure.

Maybe some other time.

Or maybe you'd like
to walk with me just

so I don't get lost.

I'd be glad to!

Whatcha writin'?

My journal.

It goes with me wherever I go.

Something comes into my head,
I write it down.

Is that how you got
to be a writer?

Mm-hmm.

You ought to keep one.

- Mr. Whitman?
- You can call me Walt.

Walt, how'd you
learn to write poems?

Ever wonder
what it's like to be that tall?

To have roots for toes
digging deep down into the soil?

To bend in the wind,

to feel the sap coursing
up and down through your veins?

To have nests in...

- Your hair?
- Exactly.

It's the only way
I know to be a poet.

To smell and hear and feel
and see as the tree does,

until I lose track of myself
and become the tree.

And the tree becomes part of me.

It does?

There was a child
went forth every day.

And the first object
he looked upon

and received with wonder
or pity or love or dread.

That object he became.

What is this?

Opportunity.

Something you need to learn
to seize.

Preston.

My roommate at Harvard
had a cousin

who spent a good deal of time
in Whitman's company.

He told me Whitman is peculiar.

Peculiar?

A deviant.

A deviant?

He prefers the company of men,
if you understand my meaning.

- Well, I only told because --
- Yes, yes, yes.

Yes, of course.

A word of this to no one.

"I am for those
who believe in loose delights.

I share the midnight orgies
of young men."

"I dance with the dancers
and drink with the drinkers."

Preston.

You should have booked his act
here.

Our customers
would appreciate this stuff.

I can't wait to see Dr. Mike's
face when he reads that poem.

Ah, Mr. Whitman.

I've been looking for you.

Your kind attention
flatters me.

No, quite the opposite.

I'm afraid
I've been terribly remiss.

I had no idea
the extent of your infirmity,

and I see now
that a public reading

would be all too taxing for you.

It's no trouble,

- no trouble at all.
- No, no, no.

No, I cannot allow you to run
the risk of another stroke.

It seems to me
it's up to Mr. Whitman to decide

if he feels well enough.

Perhaps there's
another reason, Mr. Lodge?

Of course not.

I'll arrange a private car
for you on tomorrow's train

to take you to Dr. Tuckman's
Institute in Omaha.

Oh, but I find
your resort quite adequate.

You were gracious enough
to offer me a full week's board

and lodging.

I think I'll stick
to the bargain.

If you insist.

But the poetry reading --

Will be cancelled.

I understand you perfectly.

Good day, Preston A. Lodge III.

What happened?

You've given in to pressure,
haven't you?

I do not give in to pressure.

I have my reasons.

What's the matter, Preston?

Lose your taste for poetry?

I should have known
better than to think

you'd ultimately take a stand.

Well, considering
your such a Whitman fan,

I'll leave that to you.

Perhaps one day you'll come to
see the wisdom of my decision.

Well, Dr. Mike,
what are you gonna do now?

I don't know, Jake.

But there will be
a poetry reading.

I can promise you that.

Yes?

It's Michaela, Reverend.

What can I do for you?

I've come to ask you a favor.

I know we both had reservations
about Mr. Whitman in the past,

and I know this is asking a lot
of you.

But I hope you'll consider this
with an open mind.

Consider what?

I've come to ask you if we
could have the poetry reading

- here.
- This is the house of the Lord.

But it's also
a public gathering place.

It would be a shame

if the people didn't get
a chance to hear a great writer

read his own words.

Mm.

Mr. Whitman is a lonely man
going through a difficult time.

He needs our help, Reverend.

When do you need to know?

I'm afraid
we only have a few days.

I will probably regret this.

What's that doing there?

I put it where you instructed.

- Take it down.
- Sir?

Get rid of it now!

Have you seen Mr. Whitman?

He's in the springs.

Nice picture.

The reverend's agreed to let us

have the poetry reading
at the church.

The church?

Oh,
we aren't all like Mr. Lodge.

The reverend's
fairly broad-minded.

You've been very kind.

Bad news?

A proposal of marriage
from a lady I've never met.

It's my own fault.

All those poems of yearning for
a soul mate get me into trouble.

Perhaps you should reply.

Truth is I already
have a soul mate.

Well, you didn't mention it.

Where is she?

I left my beloved
in Washington.

When Sully's away
I feel very lonely.

Why don't you send for her?

It just ain't natural, Grace.

It's evil.

Well, all I know is,

when I was a girl
growing up in New Orleans,

there was all kinds of folks.

We just learned to mind
our own business.

Oh, folks like him?

Oh, plenty of families
have their bachelor uncles

or aunties.

You're the one
that's always quoting the Bible,

and you gonna tell me that the
Bible said that this is right?

The Bible says, "Judge
not that ye be not judged."

Hey, Reverend.

- Robert E.
- Morning.

Good morning, Sully.

I'd like to have a word
with Michaela, please.

Reverend.

Michaela.

I'm sorry I've come to say
that I've changed my mind.

The poetry reading cannot be
at the church after all.

But you agreed.

I've already told Mr. Whitman.

What made you change
your mind?

There's really no point
to further discussion.

Robert E.?

The sooner Whitman
leaves our town, the better.

Good day, Sully, Michaela.

Why won't they
give him a chance?

Well,
if they only opened their minds,

they'd see that his poetry's
all about love.

Maybe that's what's bothering
them.

I'm going to have to find
another place for the reading.

Find a place that's large enough
to get everyone inside.

Why inside?

How about the meadow?

You know Mr. Whitman
enjoys the outdoors.

That's a wonderful idea.
That's perfect.

♪ Writing this letter

♪ Containing three lines

♪ Answer my question

♪ Will you be mine?

- ♪ Will you be mine --
- Mr. Whitman?

Uh, come no closer, dear lady.

I wasn't expecting company.

Are you sure you're all right?

I'm not half cracked,
if that's what you mean.

You stumbled by chance upon
my daily rejuvenation routine.

Well, I, uh, I don't want
to disturb you, so --

Oh, n-- wait, please.

Sweet.
Same.

Still.
Nakedness in nature.

Ah, the poor sick humanity
in cities

might come to know it once more.

There come moods

when these clothes
of ours are too irksome to wear.

Well, your mood
seems rather improved.

I thought over what you
said about being lonely.

I've sent for my soul mate.

Well, that's wonderful.

I think I should --

No wonder
your spirits are lifted so.

I am pleased.

I heard about your Whitman
fellow over at the livery.

Seems he ain't interested
in ladies like the regular man.

No kidding.

You sure about that?

I heard it with my own ears.

That's right.
I heard it from Miss Bailey,

whose brother was by the station
picking up feed,

and his friend told him
all about that Mr. Whitman.

Grace, I brought you
a new notice to post.

Good for you, Dr. Mike,
for sticking by him.

Never mind
the whole town talking gossip.

What gossip?

About Mr. Whitman.

Well, what about him?

Don't you know?

Hey.

Something wrong?

Everyone in town
is talking about Mr. Whitman.

So I heard.

Well, what do you think?

It don't matter what I think.

It's just talk.

How do we know it isn't true?

I thought you were the one

saying that folks
ought to keep an open mind?

Well, this is different.

We don't know anything
about him as a person.

Ma, Sully.

Is something the matter?

Anthony called Mr. Whitman
a sinner.

It's not true though.
He's real nice, the way

he explains things that you
never even thought about before.

You spoke with Mr. Whitman?

- You never mentioned that.
- Yeah.

I talked to him for an article
I'm writing for the Gazette.

Oh,
so you were interviewing him.

Yeah.
We took a walk in the woods.

Walt called it a ramble.

Walt?

That's what he said
to call him.

It was just the two of you?

- Yeah.
- Alone?

Uh-huh.

He's helping me to see things
the way a poet does.

I got some reading to do.

Oh, sweetheart.

I know Mr. Whitman's
a very interesting man.

But if you plan to do
another interview, perhaps

it would be more professional
to do it in town.

Sure.

What if it is true?

The Cheyenne believe that some
folks are like that naturally.

Man-woman is what they call 'em.

They're respected just like
every other member of the tribe.

If you're worried
about Brian...

Well, I --

I just don't know what to think.

Mr. Whitman was --

was right there in my clinic,
right in front of me

and I didn't see it.

There's nothing to see.

Well, Sully, if it's true,

and I didn't see it,
what else did I miss?

Mr. Whitman?

I'm here for my appointment.

Yes, of course.

Come in.

- How are you today?
- Same as always.

More to the point, how are you?

Oh, I -- I'm well.
Thank you.

Um, let us begin by testing
the reflexes in your leg.

Have you been
using the ointment?

Mm-hmm.

But some things
cannot be altered, dear doctor.

We must learn
to accept them as they are.

Brian told me
about your ramble.

He's a dear boy.

He said you discussed poetry?

I detect in him the soul
of a poet.

Let -- let me take a look
at your arm.

- Michaela.
- Listen.

"Camerado, I give you my hand.

"I give you my love,
more precious than money.

I give you myself,
before preaching and law."

It's beautiful.

Don't you see what it means?

"Will you give me yourself?

"Will -- will you come travel
with me?

Shall we stick by each other
as long as we live?"

Sully, he's talking
about his Camerado, his comrade.

A man.

With the same words as before.

Sully, are you saying that
even if it is true about him

that it's all right?

What I'm saying
is even if it's true,

he's the same man he always was.

What's changed
is how folks look at him.

Thank you.

Pete!

Walt!

Oh...

- I never thought I'd get here.
- Oh, Pete.

Dr. Quinn.

I want you to meet my friend,
Peter Doyle.

Pete, this is the angel who
persuaded me to send for you.

Pleasure to meet you,
Mr. Doyle.

Ma'am.

Gee, Walt.

I never dreamed I'd get
to come all the way out here.

Welcome to the West, dear boy.

I sure was glad
to get your telegram.

I was getting real lonesome
without you.

Oh, dang, gosh, your mail
is piling up more every day.

I brought it along so's you
wouldn't have so much writing

to do when you get home.

Look at 'em, will ya?

Couple'a nancy boys.

Ah, Mr. Lodge.

Perhaps you'd be so good as to
provide us with transportation

to the hotel.

I'm sorry,
there aren't any more vacancies.

Perhaps the Gold Nugget
can accommodate your friend.

We're all booked up.

Ain't I staying with you,
Walt?

My friend is tired
after his long trip.

You insisted on sticking
to our agreement.

Remember?
That doesn't include him.

I have a room at my clinic.

You're both welcome
to stay there if you want.

It will only be for one night.

We'll be on our way tomorrow.

Come in.

I came to apol--

You knew all along,
didn't you?

I came to apologize, Michaela.

I'm not proud of the way
I dropped Whitman in your lap.

I -- I didn't know
what else to do.

He's not an evil man.

You're absolutely right.

In fact this paper
published last year in Berlin

by Dr. Westphal

suggests that sexual deviancy
may be a genetic defect.

According to Westphal,
these people

can't help themselves
nor control themselves.

It's not their fault.

Fault?

Well, that's an odd idea.

What does he suggest
for treatment?

Normal procedure is placement
in an asylum.

How horrible.

That's unnecessarily cruel.

Well, I need hardly tell you
as physicians our choices

are not always pleasant.

Well, suppose
Dr. Westphal is wrong.

Suppose it
isn't a genetic defect.

Then it's a matter of will.

If these people
can't control their impulses...

Oh,
I hope I'm not interrupting.

I thought your guests
might be hungry.

I was just leaving.

That's very kind of you, Grace.
Thank you.

Any time, Dr. Mike.

That's a good one.

Does it really say that?

I, uh,
hope I'm not interrupting.

Oh, no.
Come on in.

Pete's just reading me my mail.

You sound in high spirits
today.

- I feel like a newborn babe.
- Well,

I'm certainly happy to hear that
after what happened yesterday.

Oh, I don't let
that bother me.

These poor human specimens
strapped into their tight boots,

buttons, and the whole cast-iron
civilize-y life.

No time
for that when one is in love.

Oh, yes.

I am in love
with being out of the city.

I'm in love
with the honest gurgling stream

and the rough gray oak
and the emerald cedar.

I am in love
with this rampant wild territory

of yours, this Colorado.

Oh, I almost forgot.

Grace sent over some lunch.

Vittles.

Sustenance.
Marvelous.

I'm starved.

It's probably
from all that talking.

Ah.

I wish you could have seen it.

He was so obviously happy,
so full of life.

And yet I -- I can't help
feeling that --

that it's just not natural.

I wish I could understand it.

Do you remember why you
told him to send for his friend?

Well, I was worried about him.
He appeared to be so discouraged

and sad and lonely.

That ain't natural either,
right?

You're a doctor.

You want to make
him feel better.

Yes, of course.

I didn't know
his soul mate was a man.

Now he's better?

Yes.

Then why can't you just accept
that?

Good afternoon, Mr. Doyle.

Uh, ma'am?

I just want to say thank you
for lookin' after Walt.

Well, he was so poorly.

And whatever you've done,
he's much better.

It was your arrival
that cheered him up.

Now Walt says your boy
is a real fine writer.

Well, it's kind of him
to take an interest.

Well, I guess
they'll be back any time now,

so's we can catch our train.

Back?

Yeah, from fishin'.

They're, uh, out together?

Fishing?

Walt says that's
how he gets his inspiration.

Well, goodbye, Mr. Doyle.

Ma'am.

Sully, Brian's gone fishing
with Mr. Whitman.

You didn't say
he couldn't go fishing.

I told him to stay in town.

For an interview.

Sully, do you ever stop
to think...

Well, what if you're wrong
about him?

- I'm gonna find Brian.
- Michaela, just take it --

- Mr. Whitman?
- I wish you'd call me Walt.

Walt, are you a sinner?

Last time I looked, the good
book said we're all sinners.

In town they're saying
you're a nancy boy.

- What's that mean?
- It's a word, son.

- A word used as a weapon.
- A weapon?

Oh, words can wound
as deeply as a bayonet.

But words also have the power
to heal.

I'm a singer of words,
and so are you.

It's up to us, you and me,

to use words for building up,
not for tearing down.

To babble love
across this wondrous young land.

To celebrate
what's good and true and free

and...

Unfettered?

That's a good word.

Unfettered.

Yes.

Remember what you told me?

That his poetry's about what's
already deep in our hearts.

You said it's nothing
to be scared of.

Well, Pete?
Shall we journey forth, my boy?

Yes, dear doctor.
We must say goodbye.

I was hoping
I could persuade you to stay

until the poetry reading.

It's up to you, Walt.

We all need to hear
your eloquent words.

I sing the body electric.

The bodies
of men and women engirth me,

and I engirth them.

I have perceived that to be
with those I like is enough.

To pass among them,
to touch any one.

To rest my arm, ever so lightly
around his or her neck

for a moment.

I do not ask any more delight.

I hear America singing.

Varied carols I hear.

The carpenter singing
as he measures his plank.

The mason singing his
as he makes ready for work.

The shoemaker singing
as he sits on his bench.

Each singing what belongs
to him or her and to none else.

There was a child
went forth every day.

And the first object

he looked upon and received with
wonder or pity or love or dread.

That object he became.

And that object
became part of him for the day.

Or for a certain part
of the day.

Or for many years.

Or stretching cycles of years.

The early lilacs
became part of this child.

And grass and red
and white morning glories

and red and white clover

and the song of the phoebe bird.

And the school mistress
that passed on the way

to the school.

And the friendly boys
that passed.

And the quarrelsome boys.

And the tidy
and fresh-cheeked girls.

And the barefoot
Negro boy and girl.

And all the changes of city
and country wherever he went,

these became part of that child
who went forth every day.

And who now goes, and will
always go forth

every day.