All language subtitles for Florence.Nightingale.2008.720p.WEBRip.x264.AAC-[YTS.MX]

[haunting orchestral music]

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[cheering]

What's all the racket for?

War's over, brother.

Peace broke out.

That's nice.

[gasping for air]

We just won a war, Prime Minister

and now it appears we've
lost its greatest heroine.

Lost track of her, ma'am,
for the time being.

Well, where is she?

I understand the Lord Mayor
was arranging a parade,

the Royal Fusiliers.

She was last seen
entering a convent of nuns

in Bermondsey.

Nuns, Catholic nuns?

Yes, ma'am.

Are we still in England?

I thought you knew the family.

[Lord Palmerston] I do,
highly respected people.

[Victoria] And yet their daughter.

[Lord Palmerston] I would say

she was always unusual, ma'am.

[whistle blasting loudly]

[background chattering]

One bundle.

[light melodic orchestral music]

[Rail Guard] All aboard!

[train whistle tooting]

[birds twittering]

[melodic orchestral music]

[war cry shouting]

[crow cawing]

[war cry shouting]

[shouting in foreign language]

[heavy artillery firing]

[melodic orchestral music]

[shouting]

[Soldier] Argh!

Argh!

[birds twittering]

[light melodic orchestral music]

Miss Florence!

Hello, Watson.

[thudding to floor]

[Watson] Help, help, help, help!

[melodic piano music]

♪ One dark lonely night
on Crimea's dread shore ♪

♪ There was bloodshed and
fighting the morning before ♪

♪ The dead and the dying
lay bleeding around ♪

♪ Some crying for help ♪

-Help!
-[audience laughing]

♪ But none could be found ♪

♪ Then God sent his angel
to succor the brave ♪

♪ 10,000 she saved from
an untimely grave ♪

[audience applauding]

♪ The wounded, they love her ♪

♪ As it can be seen ♪

♪ She's the soldiers' preserver ♪

♪ They call her their Queen ♪

Hello, Queenie.

♪ What we got was a miracle ♪

♪ A blooming, human miracle ♪

♪ We got a lady when all else did fail ♪

♪ Who made us well, o,
bless Miss Nightingale ♪

♪ What we got was a miracle ♪

♪ A miracle down here right now ♪

Rest, rest and more rest.

Yes, thank you, doctor, we'll see to it.

Do you know what they're calling her?

The soldiers' preserver.

Who calls her that?

All sorts, ma'am, it's from a song.

Really?

A song about Florence?

Oh, my poor, brave, little girl.

Come, come, my dear.

My beloved mother and father,

how they fought to keep me at home,

fought all my plans and dreams for myself.

But now that I'm a national
heroine, how proud they are.

They even call me brave.

Brave?

Brave for doing my duty?

The soldiers, they were the brave ones,

lying there strapped down,

while their shattered legs were hacked off

and no chloroform for the lower ranks,

I'm still in a rage about it.

[birds twittering]

Still there.

The tree, the little bench,

the garden where all my
troubles first began.

But then, if scripture is to be believed,

isn't a garden where all
our troubles first began?

I was so young.

[light melodic orchestral music]

I was innocent,

no thoughts of war or disease.

My only struggle, how
to escape from a life,

that was poisoning me with
vanity and social expectations.

But one day something happened
that changed me forever.

I remember sunlight so bright, too bright,

then a voice, really, a voice,

I was being asked, no,

I was being told, in no uncertain terms,

that my life belonged to God,

that he had work for me to do.

Yes, Lord, let me think of
thy will, only of thy will.

Let me serve you, you alone.

[birds twittering]

Listen to this.

Whene'er a noble deed is wrought,

whene'er is spoken a noble thought,

lo in that house of misery,

a lady with a lamp I see.

She passes through the glimmering gloom

and flits and flits from room to room.

Flits?

I doubt if our Florence has
ever flitted in her life.

Well, Mr. Henry Wadsworth
Longfellow thinks she does,

so who are we to argue?

-Flo!
-Flo, are you all right?

Florence, what are you doing downstairs?

Please, stop.

If anyone asks me any more questions,

I'll buy a revolver and shoot them,

well, anyone except the Queen.

What are they saying now?

Mr. Longfellow has
written a poem about you.

An entire army murdered and
what's being done about it?

Absolutely nothing!

Well, we shall have to see about that.

I need some air.

Florence, no, not outside,

you'll catch your death of cold!

At least wear a coat.

[Florence Voiceover] My dear Papa,

never sure about anything.

Though years ago when I was struggling

to discover God's will for me,

he did at least try to
understand my pain and help me.

[gentle piano music]

Flo?

[birds twittering]

I wish...

[sighing]

[dog barking nearby]

-If only--
-If only I could be satisfied

with a life that satisfies you.

I can't be.

But you make it so hard for yourself.

When I heard my call, I
didn't hear it would be easy.

Your call.

Papa, you've never believed
in it, not for a minute.

[sighing]

Have you?

-Well, I--
-I thought not.

You don't know what struggle is.

And so we continued to
observe our uneasy truce.

Deuced if I see how Turkey

can stand up for itself anymore.

[Florence Voiceover] My
mother played hostess

to the powerful and well connected

and I, the dutiful daughter attended.

The men talked politics,
the women talked husbands.

I hear the Bible is
forbidden all over Russia.

[Florence Voiceover] One frequent guest

was Sidney Herbert, a
rising star in Parliament.

He sympathized with my hopes and dreams.

In years to come, I would
often turn to him for help.

Back then though, my
thoughts were all taken up

with matters of the heart.

Yes, I read that speech of
yours, Sidney, exciting stuff,

but don't you think there
might be a case for compromise?

I mean, the Otterman Empire could--

What's your point, sir?

My point is that the sick man of Europe

may be past curing.

Isn't the real point that
the Czar is a brutal tyrant

and we have to stand up to
tyranny, wherever we find it,

even at home?

[scoffing]

Quite so.

Nicely put.

[sheep bleating]

I do believe that we're on a drift to war.

Well, I was talking to Palmerston

the other day at our club about it.

He's full bore at facing down the Ruskies.

A bit behind time.

What's that?

It's young Monckton Milnes,

become quite a regular visitor.

It's useful actually, you
can set your watch by him.

[Richard] Do you know what happened

on this day five years ago?

[Florence] No, should I?

[Richard] We'd all been
invited to the Bonham Carters.

Your sister recited a poem,

you played the piano,
something new by Mr. Chopin.

[Florence] Badly, I'm sure.

[Richard] Well, yes,
rather badly, I'm afraid.

And because of my poor performance,

that day must go down in history?

Oh, dear.

No,

on that day we talked for the first time,

really talked, I mean

and you said something
I've never forgotten,

that if only people knew what
a young girl is thinking,

while she's playing the
piano, or busy embroidering.

Do you remember?

If only people knew

she was actually imagining
extraordinary adventures.

With someone by her
side, whom she had chosen

as her loving and loved companion in life.

Yes, it's true.

I did say that.

Florence.

[light melodic music]

You must know by now that
everything you believe in,

everything you hold dear,

I do too.

Do you think today the
two of them perhaps?

Well?

Florence?

Nothing.

What do you mean, nothing?

He proposed,

I said no.

Florence!

No, wait!

Do you realize what you've done?

Yes.

Saved myself from a life of slavery.

Oh, my goodness, Florence, how could you?

I just couldn't, is
that so hard to believe?

You have kept that man
dangling for five years!

He understood, he understood
perfectly, better than you.

And you did exactly the same
thing with the Nicholson boy

and now our families rarely
speak to one another!

Look at this.

Look at it!

Can any reasonable person want all this?

The linen, the china, the 56 pots of jam!

Well, if ever one is
to entertain properly--

And to be treated like
a piece of furniture,

nailed to an existence where
you talk about nothing,

but who's coming to dinner!

Would you kindly excuse me, please?

Florence, you know I never
asked you to be anyone's slave,

I have been very indulgent.

I'm sure my mother never
considered what I thought.

The least you can do in common
courtesy is to listen to me.

I'll go out and I'll find work.

Oh, my dear, young lady,

this absurd notion of becoming a nurse,

-which I will never agree to.
-That is God's way for me.

Oh, don't bring God into this again,

it has nothing to do
with him and you know it!

I will not allow you to disgrace yourself,

emptying slop buckets,

living at the beck and
call of lechers and drunks.

Have you any idea what
goes on in hospitals?

No woman of character would ever--

Yes, dear?

Fanny, my love, the
Colonel's just leaving,

what shall I say to him?

Tell him there's no tyranny

like the petty tyranny of
a good, English family!

After that, everything changed.

Dismayed but resigned, my parents gave in

and I set about acquiring the
largest hospital experience

man or woman ever had.

In truth, I lost Richard,
but I gained my freedom.

[light melodic orchestral music]

And yet I confess if I
were to see him again,

even now, I don't understand it,

I'm ashamed to understand it,

but not one day has passed
without my thinking of him.

[knocking on door]

Flo, are you all right?

It's nothing.

I'm over it, the Crimean
fever, I mean, I was quite ill.

Guess who's here.

Sidney!

He just arrived from
Westminster, he has news.

Really?

I knew he'd get the
government to see sense.

Nothing?

Nothing at all?

My dear, the British
public has had quite enough

of the Crimean Catastrophe, it's over.

No, no, it's only just begun,

the catastrophe, I mean with our silence.

You must help me, Sidney,
you absolutely must.

You have before and you can
do it again, I know you can.

Florence, I'm no longer Minister at War,

just a plain, old, humble
Member of Parliament

making occasional speeches.

Oh!

Very fine occasional speeches,
Sidney, if I may say so.

I brought you this.

You don't have to bring me presents,

just tell me justice will be done.

May I see?

Sir John Hall, for instance,

that miserable excuse
for a military surgeon,

has he been court-martialed,
stripped of his command?

No.

Entered a monastery perhaps,

to do some well-deserved penance?

He's been given a KCB.

A KCB?

Which stands for Knight of
the Crimean Burial grounds,

-I suppose.
-Flo.

[gasping]

What a beautiful brooch!

A bit overdone, isn't it?

But see who it is from.

ln appreciation of her
service, Victoria Reg.

Her Majesty will be in Balmoral next week.

She wants to meet you and to talk,

I believe she may even
be inclined to listen.

Do you follow me?

Do try to be tactful, Florence,

don't say anything that
might upset Her Majesty,

nothing about maggots and wounds

and frostbite and limbs falling off.

Please.

[lively cheering]

♪ You're off to see the Queen today ♪

♪ Oh, do be careful what you say ♪

♪ Or you will quickly be excused ♪

♪ Her Majesty is not amused ♪

♪ By stories set to shock and scare ♪

♪ So listen to Mother and please beware ♪

♪ We don't want to hear
about maggots, maggots ♪

♪ We'd rather not learn about lice, lice ♪

♪ Just make everything pretty ♪

♪ And jolly and happy and nice, nice ♪

♪ We don't want to hear a soldier swear ♪

♪ Or listen to moaning and screams ♪

♪ We don't want to hear a single cough ♪

[coughing]

[audience laughing]

♪ To bother Her Majesty's dreams ♪

♪ Sweet dreams ♪

♪ Be sure never to tell her ♪

♪ About all the blood and the gore ♪

♪ Surely you know it's
not right or polite ♪

♪ To make a queen faint on the floor ♪

♪ She's happy to hear of daring deeds ♪

♪ By soldier, colonel or toff ♪

♪ But never, not ever, no, never discuss ♪

♪ The fingers that keep falling off ♪

♪ The hands that keep falling off ♪

♪ The legs that keep falling off ♪

♪ The heads that keep falling off ♪

♪ 'Cause everything keeps falling off ♪

Attention!

[clock bell chiming]

May I offer you some tea, dear?

Thank you, ma'am.

[bell ringing]

Please continue.

Yes, ma'am.

We,

we lost 10,000 men in six
months and I came home to find

that many of the officers
responsible have been promoted,

given honors, medals, titles.

Crimes were committed,
terrible suffering inflicted,

that could easily have been avoided.

Yes, yes, Miss Nightingale,

but what exactly entitles
you to be the judge of that?

I studied and visited all
the hospitals in London,

Dublin, Edinburgh, Paris, Rome and Berlin,

I was twice in training with
the Protestant Deaconesses

at the Kaiserswerth Institute in Germany,

I spent one year as Superintendent

of a Harley Street nursing home,

I personally scrubbed
the floors of sickrooms,

emptied bedpans, I
nursed cholera patients,

whose whole bodies were a mass of--

Thank you.

And your parents permitted all of this?

They,

they came to understand
that I had a calling,

that this has truly
been God's will for me.

I see.

And what is it you suggest we do

about these crimes, as you call them?

A Royal Commission, ma'am.

A Royal Commission?

Nothing less than a Royal Commission

will suffice to bring out the truth.

It is our sacred duty to the Crimean dead

and if I may, Your Majesty,

it is also a heaven-sent opportunity

to reform the entire hospital
system of the nation,

not just of the army.

Beg your pardon, ma'am, of your army.

We shall think about it.

[clearing throat]

Remarkable woman, I wish we
had her at the War Office.

I'll convey that sentiment
to the Minister, ma'am.

Good.

Oh, and as to that Commission.

Yes, ma'am, I seriously doubt,

whether it's in the best interests--

May I finish?

Ma'am.

We do want our brave soldiers

to receive the very best
care, please see to it.

The Commission?

The Commission, Prime Minister.

A difficult meeting, I'm afraid the Queen

was somewhat taken aback by your proposal.

-Oh.
-Yes, a Royal Commission,

that could have
consequences, ramifications.

-Well, I had hoped--
-And you were quite forceful,

-you know.
-Well, I'm sorry, but--

However, I did prevail upon
Her Majesty to change her mind

and she has graciously agreed
to allow the Commission

to go forward under my supervision.

Thank you, my lord, thank
you, thank you very much.

Yes, I well remember one
evening at the Verneys,

when you were very eloquent

on the subject of nursing
and so forth, a worthy cause.

Now, one minor detail.

Of course.

I would like you to
submit your evidence to me

in the form of a report,
a confidential report.

There are susceptibilities
to be considered.

Are we agreed?

Yes, agreed.

Good.

[light melodic orchestral music]

Miss Nightingale, if I
could just have a word,

the suite room is ready
and waiting for you

and please, if there's
anything that you need,

-anything at all--
-Thank you.

They want a report from me, do they?

Then they shall have it.

This room shall be my War Office,

my family always stay here
when we come to London,

the fine old Burlington Hotel.

This room is ample

and compared with my lodgings
in the Crimea, utter luxury.

But how could I sleep in comfort,

when so many of my children
lie in unmarked graves?

I call them my children,
those ordinary soldiers,

who died in pain and
silence, uncomplaining,

though the officers called them brutes,

the scum of the earth.

My children.

What a tale I have to tell.

How eager and proud they all
were, when they first set out.

The very names of those regiments

made our hearts beat faster,

the Royal Dragoons, the Grenadier Guards,

the 93rds, the Inniskillings,

the Coldstream Guards,
the Royal Fusiliers.

Off they went with their brand new rifles

and pretty, sparkling uniforms,

off to teach the Russian bear a lesson.

The finest army in the world, we thought,

invincible, we thought.

Back home in a month,

we thought.

[audience cheering]

Come on, everybody, let's hear it

for our brave boys in British uniforms!

[trumpet fanfare music]

I don't believe it, is it?

Oh, no, it isn't!

[Audience] Oh, yes, it is!

You're right!

It's our lightning, frightening,
fighting Light Brigade!

[audience applauding]

[cheerful military music]

Bravo!

♪ Oh, we're the glorious Light Brigade ♪

♪ The put the Ruskies to flight brigade ♪

♪ For glory, Queen and country too ♪

♪ We draw our steel and shout haroo ♪

♪ The lightning, frightening,
fighting Light Brigade ♪

♪ Who never, not ever, not
ever have been afraid ♪

♪ Oh, we're the glorious Light Brigade ♪

♪ The put the Ruskies to flight brigade ♪

♪ You've never seen
soldiers like us before ♪

♪ Who boldly charge as the cannons roar ♪

♪ The lightning, frightening,
fighting Light Brigade ♪

♪ Who never, not ever, have been afraid ♪

[explosive booming]

[heavy artillery firing]

[war cry shouting]

[heavy artillery firing]

[screaming in pain]

[melancholic orchestral music]

An army that had spent more
time on the parade ground,

than on the battlefield,

commanded by a dear old gentleman,

whose last taste of action
was Waterloo 40 years before.

This force, incredibly,

due to the heroism of the common soldier,

won three battles against huge odds.

But the cost, and those
blundering generals.

I know this much,

if any woman had managed her kitchen

the way our generals
managed that campaign,

she and her entire family

would have been reduced
to the poorhouse in weeks.

As it was, the British Army was reduced

to a regiment of living skeletons,

dressed in rags, crawling with vermin

and if they were wounded or
got sick, worse was waiting,

a death house in the shape

of the military hospital at Scutari.

[explosive booming nearby]

The casualties mounted
and the death rate soared.

[coughing]

But the soldiers were writing home

and The London Times sent
out its best reporter.

Before long, the appalling truth was known

in every English parlor,

only then did we begin to understand

the full horror of what
our men were going through.

Listen to this.

It is with feelings of anger and surprise,

that the public will learn,

that no preparations have been made

to care for our wounded in the Crimea.

Not only are there not
sufficient surgeons,

there's not even linen to make bandages.

Arriving at the hospital,
they lie in their own waste,

covered by a single blanket,

eating meat, raw, stiff with salt

or rotten with maggots.

Not over breakfast, dear, please.

Let me see.

Excuse me, Papa.

[Florence Voiceover] At
last I knew what I must do.

All my training could now be put to use,

but I needed an ally,

so I wrote to my dear, old
friend, Sidney Herbert,

now a powerful member of the War Cabinet.

As it happened, a letter from him

crossed with mine in the post.

[Sidney Voiceover] Dear Miss Nightingale,

I have recently been
receiving letters from ladies

offering to go out to the Crimea

and give medical care
to our injured troops.

I know of only one person in England

capable of organizing and
directing such a scheme,

yourself, I suggest that
you start interviewing

likely candidates as soon as possible.

Well, I wrote back immediately.

Dear Mr. Herbert, I've already begun,

which was only partly untrue,
I started the next day,

only to discover that while
many called themselves nurses,

few were fit to be chosen.

And why do you feel yourself qualified?

Well, when I read about
it in the newspapers,

I cried buckets, [sobbing]

and buckets and buckets.

Well, I just thought of
those poor, poor boys,

how they must miss a woman's touch.

Pardon?

Well, I never did mind hard work

and I'm not easily shocked,

I just do my best and carry on.

Well, I won't deny that the
money will come in useful,

I take it we do get paid?

Good, how much?

At our convent in Bermondsey,

we see every kind of
disease and deformity.

You are a Catholic order, I believe?

We make it our business
to save the body first,

then and only then do
we attend to the soul,

if that's what concerns you.

We leave in a week,
how many can you bring?

[cheerful military music]

[audience booing]

♪ War ain't no place for a woman ♪

♪ It's only a place for a man ♪

♪ This foe we fight from morn till night ♪

♪ And beat him when we can ♪

♪ So don't come near to interfere ♪

♪ With the British battle plan ♪

♪ War ain't no place for a woman ♪

♪ It's only a place for
a man, quite clear ♪

♪ It's only a place for a man ♪

[audience laughing]

♪ If war's no place for a woman ♪

♪ It's hardly a place for a man ♪

♪ We'll ride the wave and try
to save as many as we can ♪

♪ We're Nightingale and nurses ♪

♪ You'll thank us and not curse us ♪

♪ We'll rescue you from pain and fear ♪

♪ We'll bring you comfort and good cheer ♪

♪ We've come to hold your hand ♪

♪ War ain't no place for a woman ♪

♪ It's really a masculine game ♪

♪ So when some females move
in, it's simply not the same ♪

♪ Just when the fun is starting ♪

♪ You come with your ribbons and curls ♪

♪ Our only need's to do great deeds ♪

♪ And not be hobbled, but utterly freed ♪

♪ From a gaggle of twittering, dithering ♪

♪ Simpering, whimpering ♪

♪ Girls ♪

[audience applauding]

[background chattering]

[Florence Voiceover] We landed in Turkey

just as autumn gave way to winter.

My final choice of nurses
were a mixed brigade,

requiring much drilling, some
experienced, some less so,

some happy just to be paid,

some there out of pure
charity and love of God.

Follow me, step lively.

Mind where you put your feet.

[Florence Voiceover]
We had expected chaos,

but nothing had prepared us
for those barracks at Scutari.

[coughing]

[background chattering]

[background screaming in pain]

[moaning]

Here, just across a narrow strip of water

from Constantinople,

the British High Command had established

the nearest thing I'd ever
seen to hell on Earth,

it was in fact the main hospital

for receiving the
casualties from the Crimea.

[background screaming in pain]

It was there I met Sir John Hall,

Chief Medical Officer for
the British Army in the East.

Chloroform.

No chloroform for the
lower ranks, Mr. Davis.

Let us hear the man bawl lustily,

at least then we'll know he's still alive.

Fine, carry on.

[Orderly] Sir.

[background screaming in pain]

Ah, Miss Nightingale, I'd
heard you were coming.

And from what I've seen so
far, not a moment too soon.

Maybe so and maybe not.

As I read the instructions
from your friend,

the Right Honorable Sidney Herbert,

you are under the clear direction
of the medical staff here,

that means that neither
you nor any of your ladies

will do anything without the
express written permission

of a military doctor.

In other words, Miss Nightingale,

here in my hospital, you
are in charge of nothing,

with the exception of
your personal laundry.

Am I clear?

But do let us know when you need help.

See to them.

Do we have to give them rations, sir?

Certainly not.

This way.

[melancholic cello music]

[coughing]

[Florence Voiceover] The
quarters we were herded into

were squalid and cramped,
alive with vermin,

the air heavy with the
stench of fever and death.

[sobbing]

Oh, so that's where he went,

been missing for a day or two.

Sorry about that, ladies, we'll
have it removed forthwith.

First, the strongest of
you to the wash tubs,

everyone else, let us
have these floors swept,

the windows cleaned, that stove working.

Where are the brooms?

Brooms, that's a joke.

Find brooms, if you can't
find them, make them.

To wait, to have to listen to the screams

of the sick and dying was
almost passed endurance.

But I knew those gentlemen officers,

they saw us as twittering
society do-gooders

in search of a fevered brow
to mop or a manly hand to hold

as a brave soldier
slipped off to his maker.

But I'd grown up with
ministers of the realm

and titled bigwigs sitting
at our dinner table,

I knew the little games, I knew the rules

and I knew how to win.

So we waited.

[coughing]

[background chattering]

[melancholic cello music]

[knocking on door]

Yes, what is it?

Big battle, incoming casualties,
they're coming in, a lot!

-Sir John says can you--
-Ladies, follow me.

[background screaming in pain]

[melancholic orchestral music]

That was the moment of victory,

we were liberated, set free

to do what we had trained
for and had come to do.

But after victory comes counterattack

in the shape of a system

seemingly designed to create confusion.

The officials in charge of
supplies, I soon discovered

were masters of red tape,
experts in obfuscation and delay.

I was clearly marked out as
the enemy, I needed allies

and I knew of only two
sources I could rely on,

the Good Lord, who never
left me through all my trials

and his chief angel of mercy,
my old friend, Sidney Herbert.

Dear Mr. Herbert, the supply
officers fix their attention

on the correctness of their book-keeping

as the primary object of life.

Last week we had run out
of bread, soap, carrots,

poultices and many other necessities.

I went to the supply
officer and asked him,

was he expecting these
things from England?

"No," he said.

Are you doing anything
about purchasing them?

"No," he said.

Can they be had in the local town?

"If they can, I don't know how
to get them," was his answer.

So Mr. Herbert, I went out myself

and I bought them with my own money,

in short, I am now a general dealer

in socks, shirts, knives
and forks, tin baths.

The meat is not cooked,
the water is not boiled.

The cooking is done by drunken soldiers.

I must refer again to the deficiency

of knives and forks here,

the men tear their food like animals.

Will you send us 1,000
mops, 3,000 tin plates?

I go about making the orderlies

empty huge tubs of human waste.

The mortality is frightful,
30 in the last 24 hours.

Christmas Day, 1854.

The state of the troops who return here

is frost-bitten, starved, ragged,

no wonder they die in their hundreds.

No washing has been performed for the men,

neither of body linen nor of
bed linen, except by ourselves,

the consequences of
this are fever, cholera.

I shall endure.

I shall not break my
heart of disappointment

at the total inefficiency
of the hospital system here.

I shall bear it willingly.

I was called to do this work

and I will fight on for
God and for the right,

for they are worth fighting for.

I now see clearly what must be done.

If these conditions are happening here,

they are happening elsewhere.

I have written a plan

for the systematic re-organization
of these hospitals.

Please make sure, Mr. Herbert,

that it reaches the highest
levels of the government.

I have more and more reason to believe

that these hospitals
are the kingdom of hell,

but I fervently believe they can be made

-into the kingdom of heaven.
-The kingdom of heaven.

[Mary Clare] Get some sleep,

I don't know how your body keeps going.

Why doesn't this silly thing?

Here, let me.

Thank you, Reverend Mother.

And my body is strong,

it's my spirit, I get so discouraged.

How could even Jesus not
be, how did he persist?

He was the love of God incarnate,

he could love the good even in the worst.

Could Jesus love Sir John Hall,

when he forbids the men chloroform?

If Sir John Hall sins,

I believe the sacrifice
of Jesus can redeem it.

Sometimes I think I
expect too much from God.

Well, he is God Almighty, Florence

and not your private secretary.

I suppose not.

If he were, I'd say
send more bedpans, Lord.

You can't get around it, Florence.

God is in charge, not you.

[bell ringing]

Time for rounds.

[melancholic orchestral music]

They love you, you know,

those soldiers.

Then I am most blessed.

Spring came and so did
the government inspectors,

sent out after Sidney Herbert
spoke to the right people

and gradually we began to have something,

that looked more like a real hospital,

staffed by nurses, who were
disciplined and professional.

But those poor fellows,

who died in front of our
eyes that first winter,

they will not let me rest,

until I tell the world
of all they suffered.

[knocking on door]

Who is it?

-Dr. Farr.
-Just a moment.

The wonderful Dr.Farr,

a member of my unofficial War Cabinet.

He brings me such charming gifts,

sets of figures all neatly tabulated.

Pardon me, do I intrude?

No, Dr. Farr, come in.

No work today, Miss Nightingale?

Yes, of course, I have to go
out, I'll be back in an hour.

What have you got for me?

Ah, some very interesting
comparative death rates.

Excellent, will you write up
a precis for me, Dr. Farr?

We'll look it over when I get back.

Meanwhile you can wish me luck.

Luck, why, where are you going?

Into battle.

[door closing]

I know what you're thinking,

here comes that bothering woman again.

Oh, no, not at all.

A delightful interlude in
my all too humdrum day.

Then like all good
interludes, I shall be brief.

I come on behalf of the Crimean dead.

Ah, yes, the Royal Commission.

Which still has not met

and has not even received your
signature, Prime Minister.

Tell me, my lord, in all candor,
do you mean to shelve it?

Shelve it?

To silence me, to shut me up?

Miss Nightingale, you must understand,

that this is the start of
the grouse-shooting season.

Yes, of course, those poor birds.

The point is, my dear,

that all the important
people are leaving town.

I understand, then perhaps
with so many people at leisure,

now would be a good time to publish

my own narrative of the Crimean campaign.

I believe, correct me if I'm wrong,

we agreed your report
would be confidential.

Indeed we did and once
it is fully commissioned

and I hand it over to you, it will be.

Until that happy moment, I
believe I have complete liberty

and Mr. Russell of The Times

has already expressed such an interest

in a first-hand account
of my Crimean experiences.

Good day, my lord.

Ah, how went the battle?

I think we won.

Ah, brilliant!

By the way, you might
want to look at my precis,

the mortality rates in each regiment

-relative to the percentage--
-Wonderful, let me see.

Are you sure you're not too tired?

I'm never tired when I
see a column of numbers.

[light haunting music]

Are you sure these figures are correct?

Yes, of course.

Then we must go over
them, every single one.

Pass me that book and the
figures you gave me yesterday.

So there's no doubt?

Statistics tell us facts,

not who is to blame for them.

I am to blame.

No, I'm sure you did your best.

It was not enough!

[knocking on door]

Dr. Farr.

Florence, my dear young girl,

do you realize what you just did?

The papers for the Royal
Commission will be signed tomorrow,

I have it on the best
authority, well done, Flo

and guess who will be chairman?

[champagne cork popping]

What?

What?

[crow cawing]

[gentle piano music]

My poor men, who endured so patiently,

I've been such a bad mother to you.

God,

God,

why have you forsaken me?

Flo?

Guilty, how can you say that?

Because I am guilty as charged.

Nonsense, my dear, there's
absolutely no proof.

No proof?

Scutari, last January,
mortality from disease,

576 per 1,000.

At the front, same four weeks,

mortality from disease only 17 per 1,000.

At Scutari, a 25% greater chance of death

from diseases of the stomach and bowels.

Flo, please, please,
these are just figures.

Just figures?

I murdered those men!

Come, come, everybody
knows you saved lives.

All that soup you made,

all the knives and forks you procured.

Soup, forks.

That first winter, a
nurse came to me and said,

"There are some beds the men won't lie in,

"they call them bad luck beds,

"whoever goes to sleep in
them doesn't wake up again."

Nonsense, I said, wash the
sheets, dress the wounds,

feed the men and they'll get better.

It turned out they were right,

the whole hospital was
built over a lake of sewage.

Which of course was then cleaned out.

-Too late.
-Why?

Me,

ignorance, exhaustion from
my fights with doctors.

Arrogance, I was God's
own handmaid, wasn't I?

So of course I knew best.

But you had absolutely no authority.

No, but I had Sidney Herbert in London

at the center of power,
I wrote to him every week

and not once did I ask
for help with sanitation.

I asked for pillows.

It took a Government
Commission four months later

to flush out the sewers.

Do you know what they found,
when they dug up the channel,

that brought us our drinking water?

A dead horse.

Oh.

And all the time I was saying,

send your patients here,
we'll take care of them,

we're professionals, we're nurses.

They should never have listened to me,

they should have stayed away.

Oh, my poor children!

It's over.

You did your duty,

nothing more to be done now.

-Yes, there is.
-What?

Tell the truth.

If that means I'm to be
crucified with other murderers

like Sir John Hall on either side of me,

well, isn't that the traditional way?

And what exactly would that achieve, Flo?

Flo, please, child, think carefully,

martyrs seldom leave anything
behind them but their ashes.

Better a useless martyr
than a cowardly deserter!

[sighing]

[melancholic orchestral music]

[knocking on door]

I trust you slept well?

Is it morning?

Yes, and Lord Palmerston
is expecting your report.

Oh.

Is that it?

-Yes.
-All done?

It is finished.

Let it go.

I trust you found Miss
Nightingale's report of use,

your lordship.

Extraordinary, most valuable.

So you will present it to the Commission?

Florence, one must
consider the public mood.

Exactly, the nation wants to move on,

and let us not forget, our Queen,

nay, the whole of Her Majesty's government

are dedicated to reform, but for reform,

we must look to the future.

And not fight old battles, Florence.

Well put, Sidney.

If I were to publish my own report?

Ah, but there is that
Confidentiality Clause.

Besides, the public would
not stand for the loss

of one of their greatest heroines,

it would set back the cause
for those very reforms

you and our gracious
Queen so earnestly desire.

You do look tired, Florence,

so much work, it drains the system.

After two years fretting
about the health of our army,

isn't it time you took care of your own?

♪ Then God sent his angel
to succor the brave ♪

♪ 10,000 she saved from
an untimely grave ♪

♪ The wounded, they love her ♪

♪ As it can be seen ♪

♪ She's the soldiers' preserver ♪

♪ They call her their Queen ♪

Hello, Queenie!

♪ What we got was a miracle ♪

♪ A blooming, human miracle ♪

♪ We got a lady when all else did fail ♪

[light haunting music]

[Man] What's going on, what's happened?

Not to worry, ladies and gentlemen.

-You need some help?
-Now she will be fine,

look, there's attendants round her now.

No, no, stay where you
are, she will be all right.

She's faced worse things than this.

[melancholic cello music]

And when does this Commission of ours

expect to start hearing evidence?

Next week, I believe.

And will Miss Nightingale
appear before it?

Ah, no, it was decided

to submit her evidence
in writing through me.

I see,

and how is the dear girl?

Somewhat indisposed, ma'am,
after her Herculean efforts.

I believe she's taking
the waters in Malvern Spa.

Tell her we wish her a speedy recovery.

I'll convey that sentiment to her father,

when I see him next.

-[background chattering]
-Excuse me.

-Mr. Nightingale.
-Excuse me, excuse me.

-You daughter, sir.
-Excuse me, please,

excuse me, excuse me.

She gave strict instructions
not to be disturbed.

-Where's my daughter?
-Especially by her family.

[Wen] I have to see my daughter,

I've been told she
hasn't eaten for a week.

[Man] Well, we can't
exactly force her to eat.

[birds twittering]

[Wen] You didn't even call a doctor.

-I'm sure she's fine, sir.
-Florence!

[Man] Mr. Nightingale!

[knocking on door]

Florence?

[knocking on door]

Florence!

[breathing heavily]

Flo?

I'm aware that we need to talk,

we haven't always done that, have we?

I'm also aware that there've
been times in my life

when I've been too distant,

too much in my books, my thoughts,

but you know I always loved you,

don't you?

Yes, Papa,

yes, I do.

And yet in a way,

I feel I was always a
little afraid of you.

You,

of me?

Well, you were, are

so independent, so headstrong.

Well, I had to be, didn't I?

Yes.

Of course, you know, I had ambitions too,

politics, William Edward Nightingale, MP,

I thought that had a nice ring to it,

better than good old Wen, decent chap,

but not much good at getting the vote out.

Well, it wasn't to be.

I've been left behind in
the race, a lot of races.

Whereas you, on the other hand.

Papa,

I'm sure if there's a House
of Commons in the next life,

you'll be a Member.

Perhaps that my real calling in life

was to be your teacher,
when you were little.

Except, you see, one can be
wrong about one's calling.

Oh, Flo, be patient with yourself.

Haven't I always said that
the world needs pioneers?

Yes, many times.

And you are just such a pioneer.

But if you're a pioneer

and you lead others into
a swamp, into death,

how can you not blame yourself?

What if it's all part of a plan?

What is?

The mistakes.

So when God called me,

he called me to make mistakes?

But you don't believe in my call, do you?

I believe in you, my little genius.

No, you think the call was
just my own voice, don't you?

Nothing more.

Well, I think once I did,

but now I--

What?

[sighing] Oh, does it matter?

It matters to me.

What I think?

Yes, father.

Then I think that you are human

and that God is God

and he teaches us all through our mistakes

and all we common mortals can do

is work through trial and error.

And for my errors I'm now on trial.

And what about Jesus?

What do you mean?

I heard you in the church,
when you were praying,

when you thought you were alone.

"My God, why hast thou forsaken me?"

I meant,

I once felt so close to God

-and now--
-I know,

and I meant that you're not
the first to feel that despair,

yet when you look back on it,

that suffering led to great good.

-But I'm not Christ.
-Precisely.

Flo, let God be the judge,

he's in charge, not you.

[melodic cello music]

Come on.

[uplifting orchestral music]

Well, my dear, what now?

Do you know, if I had my health,

I think I should like to see

what's going on in our English hospitals.

[sighing]

[melodic orchestral music]

[whooshing]

[light melodic music]