August 19, 2025 • 19 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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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 Blye, Chapter three. In
the Temporary Home, I was left to begin my career
as Nellie Brown, the insane girl. As I walked down
(00:24):
the avenue, I tried to assume the look which maidens
wear in pictures entitled dreaming far Away Expressions have a
crazy air. I passed through the little paved yard to
the entrance of the home. I pulled the bell, which
sounded loud enough first church chime, and nervously awaited the
opening of the door to the home, which I intended
should ere long cast me forth and out upon the
(00:45):
charity of the police. The door was thrown back with
a vengeance, and a short, yellow haired girl of some
thirteen summers stood before me. Is the matron inn? I
asked faintly, Yes, she's in. She's busy, go to the
back parlor, answered the girl in a loud voice, without
one change in her peculiarly matured face. I followed these
(01:09):
not overkind or polait instructions and found myself in a dark,
uncomfortable back parlor. There I awaited the arrival of my hostess.
I had been seated some twenty minutes at the least,
when a slender woman, glad in a plain dark dress, entered, and,
stopping before me, ejaculated inquiringly, well, are you the matron?
(01:31):
I asked, No, she replied, the matron is sick. I
am her assistant. What do you want? I want to
stay here for a few days if you can accommodate me. Well,
I have no single rooms, we are so crowded. But
if you will occupy a room with another girl, I
shall do that much for you. I shall be glad
of that, I answered, How much do you charge? I
(01:54):
had brought only about seventy cents along with me, knowing
full well that the sooner my funds were exhausted, the
sooner I should be put out, and to be put
out was what I was working for. We charged thirty
cents a night, was her reply to my question, and
with that I paid her for one night's lodging, and
she left me on the plea of having something else
to look after. Left to amuse myself as best I could.
(02:18):
I took a survey of my surroundings. They were not cheerful,
to say the least. A wardrobe, desk, bookcase, organ and
several chairs completed the furnishment of the room, into which
the daylight barely came. By the time I had become
comfortable with my quarters, a bell, which rivaled the door
bell in its loudness, began clanging in the basement, and
(02:40):
simultaneously women went trooping downstairs from all parts of the house.
I imagined from the obvious signs that dinner was served,
but as no one had said anything to me, I
made no effort to follow in the hungry train. Yet
I did wish that some one would invite me down.
It always produces such a lonely, homesick feeling to know
(03:00):
others are eating and we haven't a chance, even if
we are not hungry. I was glad when the assisted
matron came up and asked me if I did not
want something to eat. I replied that I did, and
then I asked her what her name was, missus Stannard.
She said, and I immediately wrote it down in a
note book I had taken with me for the purpose
of making memoranda and in which I had written several
(03:21):
pages of utter nonsense for inquisitive scientists. Thus equipped, I
awaited developments, But my dinner well. I followed Missus Stannard
down the uncarpeted stairs into the basement, where a large
number of women were eating. She found room for me
at a table with three other women. The short haired
slavey who had opened the door, now put in an
(03:42):
appearance as waiter, placing her arms akimbo and staring me
out of countenance. She said, boiled mutton, boiled beef, beans, potatoes, coffee,
or tea beef, potatoes, coffee and bread. I responded, Bread
goes in, she explained, as she made her way to
the kitchen, which was in the rear. It was not
very long before she returned with what I had ordered
(04:04):
on a large, badly battered tray, which she banged down
Before me. I began my simple meal. It was not
very enticing, so while making a feint of eating, I
watched the others. I have often moralized on the repulsive form.
Charity always assumes here was a home for deserving women.
And yet what a mockery the name was. The floor
(04:26):
was bare, and the little wooden tables were sublimely ignorant
of such modern beautifiers as varnish, polish and table covers.
It is useless to talk about the cheapness of linen
and its effect on civilization. Yet these honest workers, the
most deserving of women, are asked to call this spot
of barrenness home. When the meal was finished, each woman
(04:48):
went to the desk in the corner where Missus Stannard
sat and paid her bill. I was given a much
used and abused red check by the original piece of
humanity in shape of my waitress. My bill was thirty cents.
After dinner, I went upstairs and resumed my former place
in the back parlor. I was quite cold and uncomfortable,
(05:08):
and had fully made up my mind that I could
not endure that sort of business long. So the sooner
I assumed my insane points, the sooner I would be
released from enforced idleness. Ah. That was indeed the longest
day I ever lived. I listlessly watched the women in
the front parlor, where all sat except myself. One did
nothing but read and scratch her head and occasionally call
(05:29):
out mildly Georgie, without lifting her eyes from her book.
Georgie was her over frisky boy who had more noise
in him than any child I ever saw before. He
did everything that was rude and unmannerly, I thought. And
the mother never said a word unless she heard someone
yell at him. Another woman always kept going to sleep
(05:49):
and waking herself up with her own snoring. I really
felt wickedly thankful that it was only herself she awakened.
The majority of the women sat there doing nothing, but
there were a few who made lace and knitted unceasingly.
The enormous door bell seemed to be going all the time,
and so did the short haired girl. The latter was
besides one of those girls who sing all the time
(06:12):
snatches of all the songs and hymns that have been
composed for the last fifty years. There is such a
thing as martyrdom in these days. The ringing of the
bell brought more people who wanted shelter for the night,
excepting one woman who was from the country on a
day's shopping expedition. They were working women, some of them
with children. As it drew toward evening, Missus Stannard came
(06:34):
to me and said, what is wrong with you? Have
you some sorrow or trouble, No, I said, almost stunned
at the suggestion. Why oh, because she said, woman like
I can see it in your face. It tells the
story of a great trouble. Yes, everything is so, Sad,
(06:54):
I said, in a haphazard way, which I had intended
to reflect my craziness. But you must not allow that
to worry you. We all have our troubles. We get
over them in good time. What kind of work are
you trying to get? I do not know. It's all so, sad,
I replied. Would you like to be a nurse for
children and wear a nice white cap and apron? She asked.
(07:17):
I put my handkerchief up to my face to hide
a smile, and replied in a muffled tone. I never worked.
I don't know how, but you must learn, She urged.
All these women here work, do they, I said, in
a low, thrilling whisper. Why they look horrible to me,
just like crazy women. I'm so afraid of them. They
(07:41):
don't look very nice, she answered assentingly. But they are good, honest,
working women. We do not keep crazy people here. I
again used my handkerchief to hide a smile, as I
thought that before morning she would at least think she
had one crazy person among her flock. They all look crazy,
(08:01):
I asserted again, And I am afraid of them. There
are so many crazy people about, and one can never
tell what they will do. Then there are so many
murders committed, and the police never catch the murderers. And
I finished with a sob that would have broken up
an audience of blase critics. She gave a sudden and
convulsive start, and I knew my first stroke had gone home.
(08:23):
It was amusing to see what a remarkably short time
it took her to get up from her chair and
to whisper hurriedly, I'll come back to talk with you.
After a while, I knew she would not come back,
and she did not. When the supper bell rang, I
went along with the others to the basement and partook
of the evening meal, which was similar to dinner, except
that there was a smaller bill of fare and more people.
(08:46):
The women who are employed outside during the day. Having
returned after the evening meal, we all adjourned to the parlors,
where we all sat or stood, as there were not
enough chairs to go around. It was a wretchedly lonely
evening and the light which fell from the solitary gas
jet in the parlor and oil lamp the hall, helped
to envelop us in a dusky hue and dye our
(09:07):
spirits navy blue. I felt it would not require many
inundations of this atmosphere to make me a fit subject
for the place I was striving to reach. I watched
two women who seemed of all the crowd to be
the most sociable, and I selected them as the ones
to work out my salvation, or more properly speaking, my
condemnation and conviction. Excusing myself and saying that I felt lonely,
(09:30):
I asked if I might join their company. They graciously consented, so,
with my hat and gloves on which no one had
asked me to lay aside, I sat down and listened
to the rather wearisome conversation, in which I took no part,
merely keeping up my sad look, saying yes or no
or I can't say to their observations. Several times I
(09:51):
told them I thought everybody in the house looked crazy,
but they were slow to catch on to my very
original remark. One said her name was missus Key King,
and that she was a Southern woman. Then she said
that I had a Southern accent. She asked me bluntly
if I did not really come from the South. I
said yes. The other woman got to talking about the
Boston boats and asked me if I knew at what
(10:13):
time they left. For a moment, I forgot my roll
of assumed insanity and told her the correct hour of departure.
She then asked me what work I was going to do,
or if I had ever done any. I replied that
I thought it was very sad that there were so
many working people in the world. She said in reply
that she had been unfortunate and had come to New York,
where she had worked at correcting proofs on a medical
(10:36):
dictionary for some time, but that her health had given
way under the task, and that she was now going
to Boston again. When the maid came to tell us
to go to bed, I remarked that I was afraid,
and again ventured the assertion that all the women in
the house seemed to be crazy. The nurse insisted on
my going to bed. I asked if I could not
sit on the stair, but she said decisively no, for
(10:58):
every one in the house would think you were crazy.
Finally I allowed them to take me to a room.
Here I must introduce a new personage by name into
my narrative. It is the woman who had been a
proof reader and was about to return to Boston. She
was a missus Kane, who was as courageous as she
was good hearted. She came into my room and sat
(11:18):
and talked with me a long time, taking down my
hair with gentle ways. She tried to persuade me to
undress and go to bed, but I stubbornly refused to
do so. During this time, a number of the inmates
of the house had gathered around us. They expressed themselves
in various ways, poor loon, They said, why she's crazy enough.
(11:39):
I'm afraid to stay with such a crazy being in
the house. She will murder us all before morning. One
woman was for sending for a policeman to take me
at once. They were all in a terrible and real
state of fright. No one wanted to be responsible for me,
and the woman who was to occupy the room with
me declared that she would not stay with that crazy
(12:01):
woman for all the money of the Vanderbilts. It was
then that missus Kane said she would stay with me.
I told her I would like to have her do so,
so she was left with me. She didn't undress, but
lay down on the bed, watchful of my movements. She
tried to induce me to lie down, but I was
afraid to do this. I knew that if I once
gave way, I should fall asleep and dream as pleasantly
(12:24):
and peacefully as a child. I should, to use a
slaying expression, be liable to give myself dead away. So
I insisted on sitting on the side of the bed
and staring blankly at vacancy. My poor companion was put
into a wretched state of unhappiness. Every few moments she
would rise up to look at me. She told me
that my eyes shone terribly bright, and then began to
(12:47):
question me, asking me where I had lived, how long
I had been in New York, what I had been doing,
and many things. Besides. To all her questions, I had
but one response. I told her that I had forgotten
every thing that ever since my headache had come on,
I could not remember. Poor soul, how cruelly I tortured her,
(13:07):
and what a kind heart she had, But how I
tortured all of them. One of them dreamed of me
as a nightmare. After I had been in the room
an hour or so, I was myself startled by hearing
a woman screaming in the next room. I began to
imagine that I was really in an insane asylum. Missus
kan woke up, looked around, frightened, and listened. She then
(13:30):
went out into the next room, and I heard her
asking another woman some questions. When she came back, she
told me that the woman had had a hideous nightmare.
She had been dreaming of me. She had seen me,
she said, rushing at her with a knife in my hand,
with the intention of killing her in trying to escape me.
She had fortunately been able to scream and so to
(13:50):
awaken herself and scare off her nightmare. Then missus Kane
got into bed again, considerably agitated but very sleepy. I
was weary too, but I had braced myself up to
the work, and was determined to keep awake all night
so as to carry on my work of impersonation to
a successful end. In the morning, I heard midnight I
(14:11):
had yet six hours to wait for daylight. The time
passed with excruciating slowness. Minutes appeared hours, The noises in
the house and on the avenue ceased. Fearing that sleep
would coax me into its grasp, I commenced to review
my life. How strange it all seems. One incident, if
never so trifling, is but a link more to chain
(14:32):
us to our unchangeable fate. I began at the beginning
and lived again the story of my life. Old friends
were recalled with a pleasurable thrill. Old enmities, old heart aches,
old joys were once again present. The turned down pages
of my life were turned up, and the past was present.
When it was completed, I turned my thoughts bravely to
(14:54):
the future, wondering first what the next day would bring forth,
then making plans for the carrying out of my project.
I wondered if I should be able to pass over
the rivers to the goal of my strange ambition to
become eventually an inmate of the halls inhabited by my
mentally racked sisters. And then once in what would be
my experience and after how to get out? Bah? I said,
(15:18):
they will get me out. That was the greatest night
of my existence. For a few hours, I stood face
to face with self. I looked out toward the window
and hailed with joy the slight shimmer of dawn. The
lake grew strong and gray, but the silence was strikingly still.
My companion slept. I had still an hour or two
(15:39):
to pass over. Fortunately, I found some employment for my
mental activity. Robert Bruce, in his captivity, had won confidence
in the future and passed his time as pleasantly as
possible under the circumstances by watching the celebrated spider building
his web. I had less noble vermin to interest me,
yet I believe I made some valuable discoveries in natural history.
(16:01):
I was about to drop off to sleep in spite
of myself, when I suddenly startled to wakefulness. I thought
I heard something crawl and fall down upon the counterpane
with an almost inaudible thud. I had the opportunity of
studying these interesting animals very thoroughly. They had evidently come
for breakfast, and were not a little disappointed to find
that their principal, Platt was not there. They scampered up
(16:23):
and down the pillow, came together, seemed to hold interesting converse,
and acted in every way as if they were puzzled
by the absence of an appetizing breakfast. After one consultation
of some length, they finally disappeared, seeking victims elsewhere, and
leaving me to pass the long minutes by giving my
attention to cockroaches, whose sighs and agility were something of
(16:44):
a surprise to me. My room companion had been sound
asleep for a long time, but she now woke up
and expressed a surprise at seeing me still awake, and
apparently as lively as a cricket, she was as sympathetic
as ever. She came to me and took my hands
and tried her back to console me and asked me
if I did not want to go home. She kept
(17:04):
me upstairs until nearly everybody was out of the house,
and then took me down to the basement for coffee
and a bun. After that, partaken in silence, I went
back to my room, where I sat down moping. Missus
Kane grew more and more anxious what is to be done?
She kept exclaiming, where are your friends? No? I answered,
(17:25):
I have no friends, but I have some trunks. Where
are they? I want them? The good woman tried to
pacify me, saying that they would be found in good time.
She believed that I was insane, yet I forgive her.
It is only after one is in trouble that one
realizes how little sympathy and kindness there are in the world.
(17:46):
The women in the home who were not afraid of me,
had wanted to have some amusement at my expense, and
so they had bothered me with questions and remarks that,
had I been insane, would have been cruel and inhumane.
Only this one woman among the crowd, pretty and delicate
missus Kane, displayed true womanly feeling. She compelled the others
to cease teasing me, and took the bed of the
(18:08):
woman who refused to sleep near me. She protested against
the suggestion to leave me alone and to have me
locked up for the nights, that I could harm no one.
She insisted on remaining with me in order to administer
aid should I need it. She smoothed my hair and
bathed my brow, and talked as soothingly to me as
a mother would do to an ailing child. By every means,
(18:29):
she tried to have me go to bed and rest,
and when it drew toward morning, she got up and
wrapped a blanket around me, for fear I might get cold.
Then she kissed me on the brow and whispered compassionately,
poor child, Poor, poor child. How much I admired that
little woman's courage and kindness, How I longed to reassure her,
(18:49):
and whispered that I was not insane, And how I
hoped that if any poor girl should ever be so
unfortunate as to be what I was pretending to be,
she might meet with one who possessed the same spirit
of human kindness possessed by Missus Ruth Caine. End of
Chapter three
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 Blye, Chapter three. In
the Temporary Home, I was left to begin my career
as Nellie Brown, the insane girl. As I walked down
(00:24):
the avenue, I tried to assume the look which maidens
wear in pictures entitled dreaming far Away Expressions have a
crazy air. I passed through the little paved yard to
the entrance of the home. I pulled the bell, which
sounded loud enough first church chime, and nervously awaited the
opening of the door to the home, which I intended
should ere long cast me forth and out upon the
(00:45):
charity of the police. The door was thrown back with
a vengeance, and a short, yellow haired girl of some
thirteen summers stood before me. Is the matron inn? I
asked faintly, Yes, she's in. She's busy, go to the
back parlor, answered the girl in a loud voice, without
one change in her peculiarly matured face. I followed these
(01:09):
not overkind or polait instructions and found myself in a dark,
uncomfortable back parlor. There I awaited the arrival of my hostess.
I had been seated some twenty minutes at the least,
when a slender woman, glad in a plain dark dress, entered, and,
stopping before me, ejaculated inquiringly, well, are you the matron?
(01:31):
I asked, No, she replied, the matron is sick. I
am her assistant. What do you want? I want to
stay here for a few days if you can accommodate me. Well,
I have no single rooms, we are so crowded. But
if you will occupy a room with another girl, I
shall do that much for you. I shall be glad
of that, I answered, How much do you charge? I
(01:54):
had brought only about seventy cents along with me, knowing
full well that the sooner my funds were exhausted, the
sooner I should be put out, and to be put
out was what I was working for. We charged thirty
cents a night, was her reply to my question, and
with that I paid her for one night's lodging, and
she left me on the plea of having something else
to look after. Left to amuse myself as best I could.
(02:18):
I took a survey of my surroundings. They were not cheerful,
to say the least. A wardrobe, desk, bookcase, organ and
several chairs completed the furnishment of the room, into which
the daylight barely came. By the time I had become
comfortable with my quarters, a bell, which rivaled the door
bell in its loudness, began clanging in the basement, and
(02:40):
simultaneously women went trooping downstairs from all parts of the house.
I imagined from the obvious signs that dinner was served,
but as no one had said anything to me, I
made no effort to follow in the hungry train. Yet
I did wish that some one would invite me down.
It always produces such a lonely, homesick feeling to know
(03:00):
others are eating and we haven't a chance, even if
we are not hungry. I was glad when the assisted
matron came up and asked me if I did not
want something to eat. I replied that I did, and
then I asked her what her name was, missus Stannard.
She said, and I immediately wrote it down in a
note book I had taken with me for the purpose
of making memoranda and in which I had written several
(03:21):
pages of utter nonsense for inquisitive scientists. Thus equipped, I
awaited developments, But my dinner well. I followed Missus Stannard
down the uncarpeted stairs into the basement, where a large
number of women were eating. She found room for me
at a table with three other women. The short haired
slavey who had opened the door, now put in an
(03:42):
appearance as waiter, placing her arms akimbo and staring me
out of countenance. She said, boiled mutton, boiled beef, beans, potatoes, coffee,
or tea beef, potatoes, coffee and bread. I responded, Bread
goes in, she explained, as she made her way to
the kitchen, which was in the rear. It was not
very long before she returned with what I had ordered
(04:04):
on a large, badly battered tray, which she banged down
Before me. I began my simple meal. It was not
very enticing, so while making a feint of eating, I
watched the others. I have often moralized on the repulsive form.
Charity always assumes here was a home for deserving women.
And yet what a mockery the name was. The floor
(04:26):
was bare, and the little wooden tables were sublimely ignorant
of such modern beautifiers as varnish, polish and table covers.
It is useless to talk about the cheapness of linen
and its effect on civilization. Yet these honest workers, the
most deserving of women, are asked to call this spot
of barrenness home. When the meal was finished, each woman
(04:48):
went to the desk in the corner where Missus Stannard
sat and paid her bill. I was given a much
used and abused red check by the original piece of
humanity in shape of my waitress. My bill was thirty cents.
After dinner, I went upstairs and resumed my former place
in the back parlor. I was quite cold and uncomfortable,
(05:08):
and had fully made up my mind that I could
not endure that sort of business long. So the sooner
I assumed my insane points, the sooner I would be
released from enforced idleness. Ah. That was indeed the longest
day I ever lived. I listlessly watched the women in
the front parlor, where all sat except myself. One did
nothing but read and scratch her head and occasionally call
(05:29):
out mildly Georgie, without lifting her eyes from her book.
Georgie was her over frisky boy who had more noise
in him than any child I ever saw before. He
did everything that was rude and unmannerly, I thought. And
the mother never said a word unless she heard someone
yell at him. Another woman always kept going to sleep
(05:49):
and waking herself up with her own snoring. I really
felt wickedly thankful that it was only herself she awakened.
The majority of the women sat there doing nothing, but
there were a few who made lace and knitted unceasingly.
The enormous door bell seemed to be going all the time,
and so did the short haired girl. The latter was
besides one of those girls who sing all the time
(06:12):
snatches of all the songs and hymns that have been
composed for the last fifty years. There is such a
thing as martyrdom in these days. The ringing of the
bell brought more people who wanted shelter for the night,
excepting one woman who was from the country on a
day's shopping expedition. They were working women, some of them
with children. As it drew toward evening, Missus Stannard came
(06:34):
to me and said, what is wrong with you? Have
you some sorrow or trouble, No, I said, almost stunned
at the suggestion. Why oh, because she said, woman like
I can see it in your face. It tells the
story of a great trouble. Yes, everything is so, Sad,
(06:54):
I said, in a haphazard way, which I had intended
to reflect my craziness. But you must not allow that
to worry you. We all have our troubles. We get
over them in good time. What kind of work are
you trying to get? I do not know. It's all so, sad,
I replied. Would you like to be a nurse for
children and wear a nice white cap and apron? She asked.
(07:17):
I put my handkerchief up to my face to hide
a smile, and replied in a muffled tone. I never worked.
I don't know how, but you must learn, She urged.
All these women here work, do they, I said, in
a low, thrilling whisper. Why they look horrible to me,
just like crazy women. I'm so afraid of them. They
(07:41):
don't look very nice, she answered assentingly. But they are good, honest,
working women. We do not keep crazy people here. I
again used my handkerchief to hide a smile, as I
thought that before morning she would at least think she
had one crazy person among her flock. They all look crazy,
(08:01):
I asserted again, And I am afraid of them. There
are so many crazy people about, and one can never
tell what they will do. Then there are so many
murders committed, and the police never catch the murderers. And
I finished with a sob that would have broken up
an audience of blase critics. She gave a sudden and
convulsive start, and I knew my first stroke had gone home.
(08:23):
It was amusing to see what a remarkably short time
it took her to get up from her chair and
to whisper hurriedly, I'll come back to talk with you.
After a while, I knew she would not come back,
and she did not. When the supper bell rang, I
went along with the others to the basement and partook
of the evening meal, which was similar to dinner, except
that there was a smaller bill of fare and more people.
(08:46):
The women who are employed outside during the day. Having
returned after the evening meal, we all adjourned to the parlors,
where we all sat or stood, as there were not
enough chairs to go around. It was a wretchedly lonely
evening and the light which fell from the solitary gas
jet in the parlor and oil lamp the hall, helped
to envelop us in a dusky hue and dye our
(09:07):
spirits navy blue. I felt it would not require many
inundations of this atmosphere to make me a fit subject
for the place I was striving to reach. I watched
two women who seemed of all the crowd to be
the most sociable, and I selected them as the ones
to work out my salvation, or more properly speaking, my
condemnation and conviction. Excusing myself and saying that I felt lonely,
(09:30):
I asked if I might join their company. They graciously consented, so,
with my hat and gloves on which no one had
asked me to lay aside, I sat down and listened
to the rather wearisome conversation, in which I took no part,
merely keeping up my sad look, saying yes or no
or I can't say to their observations. Several times I
(09:51):
told them I thought everybody in the house looked crazy,
but they were slow to catch on to my very
original remark. One said her name was missus Key King,
and that she was a Southern woman. Then she said
that I had a Southern accent. She asked me bluntly
if I did not really come from the South. I
said yes. The other woman got to talking about the
Boston boats and asked me if I knew at what
(10:13):
time they left. For a moment, I forgot my roll
of assumed insanity and told her the correct hour of departure.
She then asked me what work I was going to do,
or if I had ever done any. I replied that
I thought it was very sad that there were so
many working people in the world. She said in reply
that she had been unfortunate and had come to New York,
where she had worked at correcting proofs on a medical
(10:36):
dictionary for some time, but that her health had given
way under the task, and that she was now going
to Boston again. When the maid came to tell us
to go to bed, I remarked that I was afraid,
and again ventured the assertion that all the women in
the house seemed to be crazy. The nurse insisted on
my going to bed. I asked if I could not
sit on the stair, but she said decisively no, for
(10:58):
every one in the house would think you were crazy.
Finally I allowed them to take me to a room.
Here I must introduce a new personage by name into
my narrative. It is the woman who had been a
proof reader and was about to return to Boston. She
was a missus Kane, who was as courageous as she
was good hearted. She came into my room and sat
(11:18):
and talked with me a long time, taking down my
hair with gentle ways. She tried to persuade me to
undress and go to bed, but I stubbornly refused to
do so. During this time, a number of the inmates
of the house had gathered around us. They expressed themselves
in various ways, poor loon, They said, why she's crazy enough.
(11:39):
I'm afraid to stay with such a crazy being in
the house. She will murder us all before morning. One
woman was for sending for a policeman to take me
at once. They were all in a terrible and real
state of fright. No one wanted to be responsible for me,
and the woman who was to occupy the room with
me declared that she would not stay with that crazy
(12:01):
woman for all the money of the Vanderbilts. It was
then that missus Kane said she would stay with me.
I told her I would like to have her do so,
so she was left with me. She didn't undress, but
lay down on the bed, watchful of my movements. She
tried to induce me to lie down, but I was
afraid to do this. I knew that if I once
gave way, I should fall asleep and dream as pleasantly
(12:24):
and peacefully as a child. I should, to use a
slaying expression, be liable to give myself dead away. So
I insisted on sitting on the side of the bed
and staring blankly at vacancy. My poor companion was put
into a wretched state of unhappiness. Every few moments she
would rise up to look at me. She told me
that my eyes shone terribly bright, and then began to
(12:47):
question me, asking me where I had lived, how long
I had been in New York, what I had been doing,
and many things. Besides. To all her questions, I had
but one response. I told her that I had forgotten
every thing that ever since my headache had come on,
I could not remember. Poor soul, how cruelly I tortured her,
(13:07):
and what a kind heart she had, But how I
tortured all of them. One of them dreamed of me
as a nightmare. After I had been in the room
an hour or so, I was myself startled by hearing
a woman screaming in the next room. I began to
imagine that I was really in an insane asylum. Missus
kan woke up, looked around, frightened, and listened. She then
(13:30):
went out into the next room, and I heard her
asking another woman some questions. When she came back, she
told me that the woman had had a hideous nightmare.
She had been dreaming of me. She had seen me,
she said, rushing at her with a knife in my hand,
with the intention of killing her in trying to escape me.
She had fortunately been able to scream and so to
(13:50):
awaken herself and scare off her nightmare. Then missus Kane
got into bed again, considerably agitated but very sleepy. I
was weary too, but I had braced myself up to
the work, and was determined to keep awake all night
so as to carry on my work of impersonation to
a successful end. In the morning, I heard midnight I
(14:11):
had yet six hours to wait for daylight. The time
passed with excruciating slowness. Minutes appeared hours, The noises in
the house and on the avenue ceased. Fearing that sleep
would coax me into its grasp, I commenced to review
my life. How strange it all seems. One incident, if
never so trifling, is but a link more to chain
(14:32):
us to our unchangeable fate. I began at the beginning
and lived again the story of my life. Old friends
were recalled with a pleasurable thrill. Old enmities, old heart aches,
old joys were once again present. The turned down pages
of my life were turned up, and the past was present.
When it was completed, I turned my thoughts bravely to
(14:54):
the future, wondering first what the next day would bring forth,
then making plans for the carrying out of my project.
I wondered if I should be able to pass over
the rivers to the goal of my strange ambition to
become eventually an inmate of the halls inhabited by my
mentally racked sisters. And then once in what would be
my experience and after how to get out? Bah? I said,
(15:18):
they will get me out. That was the greatest night
of my existence. For a few hours, I stood face
to face with self. I looked out toward the window
and hailed with joy the slight shimmer of dawn. The
lake grew strong and gray, but the silence was strikingly still.
My companion slept. I had still an hour or two
(15:39):
to pass over. Fortunately, I found some employment for my
mental activity. Robert Bruce, in his captivity, had won confidence
in the future and passed his time as pleasantly as
possible under the circumstances by watching the celebrated spider building
his web. I had less noble vermin to interest me,
yet I believe I made some valuable discoveries in natural history.
(16:01):
I was about to drop off to sleep in spite
of myself, when I suddenly startled to wakefulness. I thought
I heard something crawl and fall down upon the counterpane
with an almost inaudible thud. I had the opportunity of
studying these interesting animals very thoroughly. They had evidently come
for breakfast, and were not a little disappointed to find
that their principal, Platt was not there. They scampered up
(16:23):
and down the pillow, came together, seemed to hold interesting converse,
and acted in every way as if they were puzzled
by the absence of an appetizing breakfast. After one consultation
of some length, they finally disappeared, seeking victims elsewhere, and
leaving me to pass the long minutes by giving my
attention to cockroaches, whose sighs and agility were something of
(16:44):
a surprise to me. My room companion had been sound
asleep for a long time, but she now woke up
and expressed a surprise at seeing me still awake, and
apparently as lively as a cricket, she was as sympathetic
as ever. She came to me and took my hands
and tried her back to console me and asked me
if I did not want to go home. She kept
(17:04):
me upstairs until nearly everybody was out of the house,
and then took me down to the basement for coffee
and a bun. After that, partaken in silence, I went
back to my room, where I sat down moping. Missus
Kane grew more and more anxious what is to be done?
She kept exclaiming, where are your friends? No? I answered,
(17:25):
I have no friends, but I have some trunks. Where
are they? I want them? The good woman tried to
pacify me, saying that they would be found in good time.
She believed that I was insane, yet I forgive her.
It is only after one is in trouble that one
realizes how little sympathy and kindness there are in the world.
(17:46):
The women in the home who were not afraid of me,
had wanted to have some amusement at my expense, and
so they had bothered me with questions and remarks that,
had I been insane, would have been cruel and inhumane.
Only this one woman among the crowd, pretty and delicate
missus Kane, displayed true womanly feeling. She compelled the others
to cease teasing me, and took the bed of the
(18:08):
woman who refused to sleep near me. She protested against
the suggestion to leave me alone and to have me
locked up for the nights, that I could harm no one.
She insisted on remaining with me in order to administer
aid should I need it. She smoothed my hair and
bathed my brow, and talked as soothingly to me as
a mother would do to an ailing child. By every means,
(18:29):
she tried to have me go to bed and rest,
and when it drew toward morning, she got up and
wrapped a blanket around me, for fear I might get cold.
Then she kissed me on the brow and whispered compassionately,
poor child, Poor, poor child. How much I admired that
little woman's courage and kindness, How I longed to reassure her,
(18:49):
and whispered that I was not insane, And how I
hoped that if any poor girl should ever be so
unfortunate as to be what I was pretending to be,
she might meet with one who possessed the same spirit
of human kindness possessed by Missus Ruth Caine. End of
Chapter three
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