Florence Nightingale Page #5

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- Here, let me.

Thank you, Reverend Mother.

And my body is strong. lt's my spirit.

l 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?

lf Sir John Hall sins,

l believe the sacrifice of Jesus can redeem it.

Sometimes l think l expect too much from God.

Well, he is God Almighty, Florence,

and not your private secretary.

l suppose not.

lf he were, l'd say,

''Send more bedpans, Lord.''

You can't get around it, Florence.

God is in charge, not you.

(Bell rings)

Time for rounds.

They love you, you know...

those soldiers.

Then l am most blessed.

Spring came,

and so did the government inspectors,

sent out after Sidney Herbert

''spoke to the right people''.

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 l tell the world of all they suffered.

(Knocking)

- Who is it?

- Dr Farr.

- Just a moment.

The wonderful Doctor Farr,

a member of my unofficial war cabinet.

He brings me such charming gifts -

sets of figures all neatly tabulated.

- Pardon me, do l intrude?

- No, Dr Farr, come in.

- No work today, Miss Nightingale?

- Yes, of course.

l have to go out, but l'll be back in an hour.

What have you got for me?

Some very interesting comparative death rates.

Excellent. Will you write up a precis for me?

We'll look it over when l get back.

- Meanwhile you can wish me luck.

- Luck? Why? Where are you going?

lnto battle.

l 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, l shall be brief.

l 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.

lndeed, yes, well,

you must understand there are...

- How shall l put it?

- l know. Susceptibilities?

Tell me, my lord,

in all candour, do you mean to shelve it?

- Shelve it?

- To silence me. To shut me up?

Miss Nightingale, you must understand,

this is the start of the grouse-shooting season.

Yes, of course, those poor birds.

The point is, my dear,

all the important people are leaving town.

l understand.

Then perhaps with so many people at leisure,

now would be a good time to publish

my own narrative of the Crimean campaign.

l believe - correct me if l am wrong -

we agreed your report would be confidential.

lndeed we did.

And once it is fully commissioned

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

Until that happy moment,

l believe l 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?

- l think we won.

- Brilliant!

By the way,

you might want to look at my precis.

The mortality rates in each regiment...

- Wonderful. Let me see.

- You're sure you're not too tired?

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

- Are you sure these figures are correct?

- Yes, of course.

Then we must go over them. Every 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.

- l am to blame.

- l'm sure you did your best.

lt was not enough!

(Knock)

Dr Farr. Florence.

My dear young girl,

do you realise what you just did?

The papers for the Royal Commission

will be signed tomorrow.

l have it on the best authority. Well done, Flo.

And guess who will be chairman!

(Cork pops)

What?

What?

My poor men who endured so patiently.

l have been such a bad mother to you.

God.

God, why have you forsaken me?

Flo?

Guilty? How can you say that?

Because l 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 1 7 per 1 ,000.

At Scutari, a 25% greater chance of death

from diseases of the stomach and bowels.

Flo, please, these are just figures.

Just figures!

l 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,'' l said.

''Wash the sheets, dress the wounds,

feed the men and they'll get better.''

lt 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.

lgnorance.

Exhaustion from my fights with doctors.

Arrogance. l was God's own handmaid, wasn't l,

so of course l knew best.

But you had absolutely no authority.

No, but l had Sidney Herbert in London,

at the centre of power.

l wrote to him every week

and not once did l ask for help with sanitation.

l asked for pillows.

lt 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.

And all the time l 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!

lt's over.

You did your duty.

Nothing more to be done now.

- Yes, there is.

- What?

Tell the truth.

lf that means l'm to be crucified with other

murderers like Sir John Hall on each side of me,

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.

(Knocking)

l trust you slept well.

ls it morning?

Yes.

And Lord Palmerston is expecting your report.

- Oh.

- ls that it?

- Yes.

- All done?

lt is finished.

Let it go.

l 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.

lf l 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.

lt would set back the cause for those

very reforms you - and our gracious Queen -

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