August 19, 2025 • 8 mins
In 1887, Nellie Bly, a pioneering female journalist and soon-to-be famous investigative reporter, made a daring decision she had herself committed to the Blackwell’s Island Insane Asylum in New York. Her mission? To unveil the shocking realities faced by those labeled insane. What she discovered was a harrowing tale of mistreatment and neglect that would change public perception and lead to significant reforms in the asylum. Join us as we explore her incredible journey and the impact of her groundbreaking reporting. (Summary by Alice)
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Speaker 1 (00:01):
This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in
the public domain. For more information or to find out
how you can volunteer, please visit LibriVox dot org. Ten
Days in a Madhouse by Nellie Blig, Chapter one, A
delicate mission. On the twenty second of September, I was
asked by the world if I could have myself committed
(00:22):
to one of the asylums for the assayane in New York,
with a view to writing a plain and unvarnished narrative
of the treatment of the patients therein and the methods
of management, et cetera. Did I think I had the
courage to go through with such an ordeal as the
mission would demand. Could I assume the characteristics of insanity
to such a degree that I could pass the doctors
(00:43):
live for a week among the insane, without the authorities
there finding out that I was only a giolaminghum take
of notes. I said I believed I could. I had
some faith in my own ability as an actress, and
thought I could assume insanity long enough to accomplish any
mission entrusted to me. Could I pass a week in
the insane word at Blackwell's Island, I said, I could,
(01:04):
and I would, and I did. My instructions were simply
to go on with my work as soon as I
felt that I was ready. I was to chronicle faithfully
the experience as I underwent, and when once within the
walls of the asylum, to find out and describe its
inside workings, which are always so effectively hidden by white
capped nurses, as well as by bolts and bars, from
(01:26):
the knowledge of the public. Would you not ask you
to go there for the purpose of making sensational revelations,
Write up things as you find them, good or bad,
give praise or blame as you think best, and the
truth all the time. But I am afraid of that
chronic smile of yours, said the editor. I will smile
no more, I said, and I went away to execute
(01:47):
my delicate, and as I found out difficult mission. If
I did get into the asylum, which I hardly hoped
to do, I had no idea that my experiences would
contain aught else than a simple tale of life in
an asylum, That such an institution could be mismanaged, and
that cruelties could exist neath its roof. I did not
deem possible. I always had a desire to know asylum
(02:10):
life more thoroughly, A desire to be convinced that the
most helpless of God's creatures, the insane, were cared for
properly and kindly. The many stories I had read of
abuses in such institutions I had regarded as wildly exaggerated
or else romances. Yet there was a latent desire to
know positively. I shuddered to think how completely the insane
(02:31):
were in the power of their keepers, and how one
could weep and plead for release and all of no
avail if the keepers were so minded. Eagerly I accepted
the mission to learn the inside workings of the Blackwell
Island Insane Asylum. How will you get me out, I
asked my editor after I once get in. I do
not know, he replied, but we will get you out
(02:52):
if we have to tell who you are and for
what purpose you feigned insanity only get in. I had
little belief in my ability to deceive the insanity experts,
and I think my editor had less. All the preliminary
preparations for my ordeal were left to be planned by myself.
Only one thing was decided upon, namely that I should
(03:13):
pass under the pseudonym of Nellie Brown, the initials of
which would agree with my own name and my linen,
so that there would be no difficulty in keeping track
of my movements and assisting me out of any difficulties
or dangers I might get into. There were ways of
getting into the insane Ward, but I did not know them.
I might adopt one of two courses. Either I could
(03:33):
feign insanity at the house of friends and get myself
committed on the decision of two competent physicians, or I
could go to my goal by way of the police courts.
On reflection, I thought it wiser not to inflict myself
upon my friends or to get any good natured doctors
to assist me in my purpose. Besides, to get to
Blackwell's Island, my friends would have had to feign poverty,
(03:54):
and unfortunately, for the end I had in view, my
acquaintance with the struggling poor, except my own self, was
only very superficial. So I determined upon the plan which
led me to the successful accomplishment of my mission. I
succeeded in getting myself committed to the insane Ward at
Blackwell's Island, where I spent ten days and nights and
had an experience which I shall never forget. I took
(04:17):
upon myself to enact the part of a poor, unfortunate
crazy girl, and felt it my duty not to shirk
any of the disagreeable results that should follow. I became
one of the cities insane wards, for that length of time,
experienced much, and saw and heard more of the treatment
accorded to this helpless class of our population. And when
I had seen and heard enough, my release was promptly secured.
(04:41):
I left the insane Ward with pleasure and regret. Pleasure
that I was once more able to enjoy the free
breath of heaven, regret that I could not have brought
with me some of the unfortunate women who lived and
suffered with me, and who I am convinced are just
as sane as I was and am now myself. But
here let me say one thing. From the moment I
entered the insane Ward on the island, I made no
(05:03):
attempt to keep up the assumed role of insanity. I
talked and acted just as I do in ordinary life.
Yet strange to say, the more sanely I talked and
acted the crazier I was thought to be by all
except one physician, whose kindness and gentle ways I shall
not soon forget. End of chapter one, Chapter two, preparing
(05:24):
for the ordeal, but to return to my work in
my mission. After receiving my instructions, I returned to my
boarding house, and when evening came, I began to practice
the role in which I was to make my debut
on the morrow. What a difficult task, I thought. To
appear before a crowd of people and convince them that
I was insane. I had never been near insane peer
(05:46):
since before in my life, and had not the faintest
idea of what their actions were like. And then to
be examined by a number of learned physicians who make
insanity a specialty, and who daily come in contact with
insane people. How could I hope to pay the doctors
and convinced them that I was crazy? I feared that
they could not be deceived. I began to think my
(06:07):
task a hopeless one, but it had to be done.
So I flew to the mirror and examined my face.
I remembered all I had read of the doings of
crazy people. How first of all, they have staring eyes,
And so I opened mine as wide as possible, and
stared unblinkingly at my own reflection. I assure you the
sight was not reassuring, even to myself, especially in the
(06:28):
dead of night. I tried to turn the gas up
higher in hopes that it would raise my courage. I
succeeded only partially, but I consoled myself with the thought
that in a few nights more I would not be
there but locked up in a cell with a lot
of lunatics. The weather was not cold, but nevertheless, when
I thought of what was to come, wintery chills ran
races up and down my back, in a very mockery
(06:50):
of the perspiration which was slowly but surely taking the
curl out of my banks. Between times practicing before the
mirror and picturing my future as a lunatic, I read
snatches of improbable and impossible ghost stories, so that when
the dawn came to chase away the night, I felt
that I was in a fit mood for my mission,
yet hungry enough to feel keenly that I wanted my breakfast.
(07:12):
Slowly and sadly, I took my morning bath and quietly
bade farewell to a few of the most precious articles
known to modern civilization. Tenderly, I put my toothbrush aside,
and when taking a final rub of the soap, I murmured,
it may be for days, and it may be for longer.
Then I dawned the old clothing I had selected for
the occasion. I was in the mood to look at
(07:34):
everything through very serious glasses. It's just as well to
take a last fond look, I mused, for who could tell,
but that the strain of playing crazy and being shut
up with a crowd of mad people might turn my
own brain and I would never get back. But not
once did I think of shirking my mission. Calmly outwardly,
at least, I went out to my crazy business. I
(07:57):
first thought it best to go to a boarding house and,
after secure during lodging, confidentially tell the landlady or lord,
whichever it might chance to be, that I was seeking work,
and in a few days after apparently go insane. When
I reconsidered the idea, I found it would take too
long to mature. Suddenly I thought how much easier it
would be to go to a boarding home for working women.
(08:18):
I knew if once I made a house full of
women believe me crazy, that they would never rest until
I was out of their reach and did secure quarters.
From a directory, I selected the Temporary Home for Females,
number eighty four, Second Avenue. As I walked down the avenue,
I determined that once inside the home, I should do
the best I could to get started on my journey
(08:38):
to Blackwell's Island and the Insane Asylum. End of Chapter
two
This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in
the public domain. For more information or to find out
how you can volunteer, please visit LibriVox dot org. Ten
Days in a Madhouse by Nellie Blig, Chapter one, A
delicate mission. On the twenty second of September, I was
asked by the world if I could have myself committed
(00:22):
to one of the asylums for the assayane in New York,
with a view to writing a plain and unvarnished narrative
of the treatment of the patients therein and the methods
of management, et cetera. Did I think I had the
courage to go through with such an ordeal as the
mission would demand. Could I assume the characteristics of insanity
to such a degree that I could pass the doctors
(00:43):
live for a week among the insane, without the authorities
there finding out that I was only a giolaminghum take
of notes. I said I believed I could. I had
some faith in my own ability as an actress, and
thought I could assume insanity long enough to accomplish any
mission entrusted to me. Could I pass a week in
the insane word at Blackwell's Island, I said, I could,
(01:04):
and I would, and I did. My instructions were simply
to go on with my work as soon as I
felt that I was ready. I was to chronicle faithfully
the experience as I underwent, and when once within the
walls of the asylum, to find out and describe its
inside workings, which are always so effectively hidden by white
capped nurses, as well as by bolts and bars, from
(01:26):
the knowledge of the public. Would you not ask you
to go there for the purpose of making sensational revelations,
Write up things as you find them, good or bad,
give praise or blame as you think best, and the
truth all the time. But I am afraid of that
chronic smile of yours, said the editor. I will smile
no more, I said, and I went away to execute
(01:47):
my delicate, and as I found out difficult mission. If
I did get into the asylum, which I hardly hoped
to do, I had no idea that my experiences would
contain aught else than a simple tale of life in
an asylum, That such an institution could be mismanaged, and
that cruelties could exist neath its roof. I did not
deem possible. I always had a desire to know asylum
(02:10):
life more thoroughly, A desire to be convinced that the
most helpless of God's creatures, the insane, were cared for
properly and kindly. The many stories I had read of
abuses in such institutions I had regarded as wildly exaggerated
or else romances. Yet there was a latent desire to
know positively. I shuddered to think how completely the insane
(02:31):
were in the power of their keepers, and how one
could weep and plead for release and all of no
avail if the keepers were so minded. Eagerly I accepted
the mission to learn the inside workings of the Blackwell
Island Insane Asylum. How will you get me out, I
asked my editor after I once get in. I do
not know, he replied, but we will get you out
(02:52):
if we have to tell who you are and for
what purpose you feigned insanity only get in. I had
little belief in my ability to deceive the insanity experts,
and I think my editor had less. All the preliminary
preparations for my ordeal were left to be planned by myself.
Only one thing was decided upon, namely that I should
(03:13):
pass under the pseudonym of Nellie Brown, the initials of
which would agree with my own name and my linen,
so that there would be no difficulty in keeping track
of my movements and assisting me out of any difficulties
or dangers I might get into. There were ways of
getting into the insane Ward, but I did not know them.
I might adopt one of two courses. Either I could
(03:33):
feign insanity at the house of friends and get myself
committed on the decision of two competent physicians, or I
could go to my goal by way of the police courts.
On reflection, I thought it wiser not to inflict myself
upon my friends or to get any good natured doctors
to assist me in my purpose. Besides, to get to
Blackwell's Island, my friends would have had to feign poverty,
(03:54):
and unfortunately, for the end I had in view, my
acquaintance with the struggling poor, except my own self, was
only very superficial. So I determined upon the plan which
led me to the successful accomplishment of my mission. I
succeeded in getting myself committed to the insane Ward at
Blackwell's Island, where I spent ten days and nights and
had an experience which I shall never forget. I took
(04:17):
upon myself to enact the part of a poor, unfortunate
crazy girl, and felt it my duty not to shirk
any of the disagreeable results that should follow. I became
one of the cities insane wards, for that length of time,
experienced much, and saw and heard more of the treatment
accorded to this helpless class of our population. And when
I had seen and heard enough, my release was promptly secured.
(04:41):
I left the insane Ward with pleasure and regret. Pleasure
that I was once more able to enjoy the free
breath of heaven, regret that I could not have brought
with me some of the unfortunate women who lived and
suffered with me, and who I am convinced are just
as sane as I was and am now myself. But
here let me say one thing. From the moment I
entered the insane Ward on the island, I made no
(05:03):
attempt to keep up the assumed role of insanity. I
talked and acted just as I do in ordinary life.
Yet strange to say, the more sanely I talked and
acted the crazier I was thought to be by all
except one physician, whose kindness and gentle ways I shall
not soon forget. End of chapter one, Chapter two, preparing
(05:24):
for the ordeal, but to return to my work in
my mission. After receiving my instructions, I returned to my
boarding house, and when evening came, I began to practice
the role in which I was to make my debut
on the morrow. What a difficult task, I thought. To
appear before a crowd of people and convince them that
I was insane. I had never been near insane peer
(05:46):
since before in my life, and had not the faintest
idea of what their actions were like. And then to
be examined by a number of learned physicians who make
insanity a specialty, and who daily come in contact with
insane people. How could I hope to pay the doctors
and convinced them that I was crazy? I feared that
they could not be deceived. I began to think my
(06:07):
task a hopeless one, but it had to be done.
So I flew to the mirror and examined my face.
I remembered all I had read of the doings of
crazy people. How first of all, they have staring eyes,
And so I opened mine as wide as possible, and
stared unblinkingly at my own reflection. I assure you the
sight was not reassuring, even to myself, especially in the
(06:28):
dead of night. I tried to turn the gas up
higher in hopes that it would raise my courage. I
succeeded only partially, but I consoled myself with the thought
that in a few nights more I would not be
there but locked up in a cell with a lot
of lunatics. The weather was not cold, but nevertheless, when
I thought of what was to come, wintery chills ran
races up and down my back, in a very mockery
(06:50):
of the perspiration which was slowly but surely taking the
curl out of my banks. Between times practicing before the
mirror and picturing my future as a lunatic, I read
snatches of improbable and impossible ghost stories, so that when
the dawn came to chase away the night, I felt
that I was in a fit mood for my mission,
yet hungry enough to feel keenly that I wanted my breakfast.
(07:12):
Slowly and sadly, I took my morning bath and quietly
bade farewell to a few of the most precious articles
known to modern civilization. Tenderly, I put my toothbrush aside,
and when taking a final rub of the soap, I murmured,
it may be for days, and it may be for longer.
Then I dawned the old clothing I had selected for
the occasion. I was in the mood to look at
(07:34):
everything through very serious glasses. It's just as well to
take a last fond look, I mused, for who could tell,
but that the strain of playing crazy and being shut
up with a crowd of mad people might turn my
own brain and I would never get back. But not
once did I think of shirking my mission. Calmly outwardly,
at least, I went out to my crazy business. I
(07:57):
first thought it best to go to a boarding house and,
after secure during lodging, confidentially tell the landlady or lord,
whichever it might chance to be, that I was seeking work,
and in a few days after apparently go insane. When
I reconsidered the idea, I found it would take too
long to mature. Suddenly I thought how much easier it
would be to go to a boarding home for working women.
(08:18):
I knew if once I made a house full of
women believe me crazy, that they would never rest until
I was out of their reach and did secure quarters.
From a directory, I selected the Temporary Home for Females,
number eighty four, Second Avenue. As I walked down the avenue,
I determined that once inside the home, I should do
the best I could to get started on my journey
(08:38):
to Blackwell's Island and the Insane Asylum. End of Chapter
two
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