All language subtitles for Stonehearst.Asylum.2014.720p.BluRay.x264.YIFY

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...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. 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.

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...

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 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 anymore.

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 will 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.

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'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.

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!

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.

Silas!

Keep going. Faster. Faster!

Feck, I don't need you.
I'll do it me self.

Eliza. Eliza, my feet.

Hurry.

Eliza!

Eliza!

Eliza.

Look at me.

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.

Go that way. Keep going. Quickly.

Please help, Dr. Lamb.

Please help, Dr. Lamb.

Dr. Lamb.

They were suffering, so...

And I...

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.

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