05 - Ten Days in a Madhouse by Nellie Bly

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)

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
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 Bly, Chapter eight. Inside
the mad House, As the wagon was rapidly driven through

(00:20):
the beautiful lawns up to the asylum, my feelings of
satisfaction at having obtained the object of my work were
greatly dampened by the look of distress on the faces
of my companions. Poor women, they had no hopes of
a speedy delivery. They were being driven to a prison
through no fault of their own, in all probability for life.

(00:42):
In comparison, how much easier it would be to walk
to the gallows than to this tomb of living horrors.
On the wagon sped, and I, as well as my comrades,
gave a despairing farewell glance at freedom. As we came
in sight of the long stone buildings. We passed one
low building, and the stench was so horrible that I
was compelled to hold my breath, and I mentally decided

(01:05):
that it was the kitchen. I afterward found I was
correct in my surmise and smiled at the signboard at
the end of the walk. Visitors are not allowed on
this road. I don't think the sign would be necessary
if they once tried the road, especially on a warm day.
The wagon stopped and the nurse and officer in charge
told us to get out. The nurse added, thank god

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they came quietly. We obeyed orders to go ahead up
a flight of narrow stone steps, which had evidently been
built for the accommodation of people who climbed stairs three
at a time. I wondered if my companions knew where
we were, so I said to miss Tilley Mayred, where
are we at the Blackwells Island, a lunatic asylum? She answered, sadly,

(01:51):
Are you crazy? I asked no, she replied, but as
we have been sent here, we will have to be
quiet until we find some means of escape. They will
be few, though. If all the doctors, as doctor Field,
refused to listen to me or give me a chance
to prove my sanity, we were ushered into a narrow vestibule,

(02:12):
and the door was locked behind us. In spite of
the knowledge of my sanity and the assurance that I
would be released in a few days my heart gave
a sharp twinge, pronounced insane by four expert doctors, and
shut up behind the unmerciful bolts and bars of a madhouse.
Not to be confined alone, but to be a companion

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day and night of senseless, chattering lunatics, to sleep with them,
to eat with them, to be considered one of them
was an uncomfortable position. Timidly, we followed the nurse up
the long uncarpeted hall to a room filled by so
called crazy women. We were told to sit down, and
some of the patients kindly made room for us. They

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looked at us curiously, and one came up to me
and asked, who sent you here the doctors? I answered,
what for? She persisted, Well, they say I am insane,
I admitted, insane, She repeated, incredulously, it cannot be seen
in your face. This woman was too clever, I concluded,

(03:16):
and was glad to answer the roughly given orders to
follow the nurse to see the doctor. This nurse, miss Group,
by the way, had a nice German face, and if
I had not detected certain hard lines about the mouth,
I might have expected, as did my companions, to receive
but kindness from her. She left us in a small
waiting room at the end of the hall, and left

(03:37):
us alone while she went into a small office opening
in the sitting or receiving room. I like to go
down in the wagon, she said to the invisible party
on the inside. It helps to break up the day.
He answered her that the open air improved her looks,
and she again appeared before us. All smiles and simpers,
come here till he married, she said, Miss Meyrite obeyed,

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and though I could not see into the office, I
could hear her, gently but firmly, pleading her case. All
her remarks were as rational as any I ever heard,
and I thought no good physician could help but be
impressed with her story. She told of her recent illness,
that she was suffering from nervous stability. She begged that
they try all their tests for insanity, if they had any,

(04:21):
and give her justice. Poor girl, how my heart ached
for her. I determined then and there I would try,
by every means to make my mission of benefit to
my suffering sisters, that I would show how they are committed,
without ample trial, without one word of sympathy or encouragement.
She was brought back to where we sat. Missus Louise

(04:42):
Shaans was taken into the presence of din Ter Kinnear,
the medical man. Your name, he asked loudly. She answered
in German, saying she did not speak English, nor could
she understand it. However, when he said Missus Louise Shans,
she said ya ya. Then he tried out questions, and
when he found she could not understand one word of English,

(05:04):
he said to missus Group, you are German. Speak to
her for me. Miss Group proved to be one of
those people who are ashamed of their nationality, and she refused,
saying she could understand but a few words of her
mother tongue. You know you speak German. Ask this woman
what her husband does, and they both laughed, as if

(05:24):
they were enjoying a joke. I can't speak but a
few words, she protested, But at last she managed to
ascertain the occupation of mister Schan's. Now, what was the
use of lying to me, asked the doctor, with a
laugh which dispelled the rudeness. I can't speak any more,
she said, and she did not. Thus was Missus Louise

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Shan's consigned to the asylum without a chance of making
herself understood. Can such carelessness be excused? I wonder when
it is so easy to get an interpreter. If the
confinement was but for a few days, one might quite
to the necessity. But here was a woman taken without
her own consent from the free world to an asylum,
and there given no chance to prove her sanity, confined

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most probably for life behind asylum bars, without even being
told in her language the why and wherefore? Compare this
with a criminal who was given every chance to prove
his innocence, who would not rather be a murderer and
take the chance for life than be declared insane without
hope of escape. Missus Shawns begged in German to know

(06:31):
where she was and pleaded for liberty, her voice broken
by sobs, she was led unheard out to us. Missus
Fox was then put through this weak, trifling examination and
brought from the office convicted. Miss Annie Neville took her turn,
and I was again left to the last. I had
by this time determined to act as I do when free,

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except that I would refuse to tell who I was
or where my home was. End of Chapter eight, Chapter nine.
An expert at work, Nellie Brown. The doctor wants you, said,
Missus Group. I went in and was told to sit
down opposite doctor Kinnear at the desk. What is your name,

(07:14):
he asked, without looking up, Nellie Brown? I replied easily,
Where is your home? Writing what I had said down
in a large book in Cuba. Oh. He ejaculated with
sudden understanding. Then addressing the nurse, did you see anything
in the papers about her? Yes, she replied, I saw

(07:36):
a long account of this girl in the sun on Sunday.
Then the doctor said keep her here until I go
to the office and see the notice again. He left us,
and I was relieved of my hat and shawl. On
his return he said he had been unable to find
the paper, but he related the story of my debut
as he had read it to the nurse. What's the

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color of her eyes? Miss Group looked and answered gray,
although everybody had always said my eyes were brown or hazel.
What's your age, he asked, and I answered nineteen last May.
He turned to the nurse and said, when do you
get your next pass? This, I ascertained was a leave
of absence or a day off. Next Saturday. She said,

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with a laugh, you will go to town, and they
both laughed as she answered in the infirmative, and he
said measure her. I was stood under a measure and
it was brought down tightly on my head. What is it?
Asked the doctor. Now you know I can't tell? She said, yes,
you can go ahead. What height? I don't know. There

(08:44):
are some figures there, but I can't tell. Yes, you can,
now look and tell me. I can't do it yourself.
And they laughed again as the doctor left his place
at the desk and came forward to see for himself.
My feet five inches, don't you see, he said, taking
her hand and touching the figures. By her voice, I

(09:07):
knew she did not understand yet, but that was no
concern of mine, as the doctor seemed to find a
pleasure in aiding her. Then I was put on the
scales and she worked around until she got them to balance.
How much, asked the doctor, having resumed his position at
the desk. I don't know. You will have to see
for yourself, she replied, calling him by his Christian name,

(09:29):
which I have forgotten. He turned, and, also addressing her
by her baptismal name, said you are getting too fresh,
and they both laughed. I then told the weight a
hundred twelve pounds to the nurse, and she in turn
told the doctor, what time are you going to supper?
He asked, and she told him. He gave the nurse

(09:50):
more attention than he did me, and asked her six
questions to every one of me. Then he wrote my
fate in the book before him. I said, I am,
I'm not sick, and I do not want to stay here.
No one has a right to shut me up in
this manner. He took no notice of my remarks, and,
having completed his writings as well as his talk with
the nurse for the moment, he said that would do,

(10:12):
and with my companions I went back to the sitting room.
You play the piano, they asked. Oh, yes, ever since
I was a child, I replied. Then they insisted that
I should play, and they seated me on a wooden
chair before an old fashioned square. I struck a few notes,
and the untuned response sent a grinding chill through me.

(10:33):
How horrible, I exclaimed, turning to a nurse, Miss Carton,
who stood at my side. I never touched a piano
as much out of tune. It's a pity of you,
she said, spitefully, we'll have to get one made to
order for you. I began to play the variations of Home,
Sweet Home. The talking ceased, and every patient sat silent

(10:55):
while my cold fingers moved slowly and stiffly over the keyboard.
I finish in an aimless fashion and refused all requests
to play more. Not seeing an available space to sit,
I still occupied the chair in the front of the
piano while I sized up my surroundings. It was a long,
bare room with bare yellow benches encircling it. These benches,

(11:17):
which were perfectly straight and just as uncomfortable, would hold
five people, although in almost every instance six were crowded
on them. Barred windows, built about five feet from the floor,
faced the two double doors which led into the hall.
The bare white walls were somewhat relieved by three lithographs,
one of Fritz Emmett and the others of Negro minstrels.

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In the center of the room was a large table
covered with a white bedspread, and around it sat the nurses.
Everything was spotlessly clean, and I thought, what good and
workers the nurses must be to keep such order. In
a few days after, how I laughed at my own
stupidity to think the nurses would work when they found
I would not play any more. Miss mac Carton came

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up to me, saying roughly, get away from here, and
closed the piano with a bang. Brown Come here was
the next order I got from a rough, red faced
woman at the table. What have you on my clothing?
I replied. She lifted my dress and skirts and wrote
down one pair of shoes, one pair of stockings, one

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cloth dress, one straw sailor hat, and so on. End
of Chapter nine, Chapter ten, My first supper. This examination over,
we heard someone yell go out into the hall. One
of the patients kindly explained that this was an invitation
to supper. We late comers tried to keep together. So

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we entered the hall and stood at the door where
all the women had crowded. How we shivered as we
stood there. The windows were open and the draft went
whizzing through the hall. The patients looked blue with cold,
and the minutes stretched into a quarter of an hour.
At last, one of the nurses went forward and unlocked
a door through which we were all crowded to a

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landing of the stairway. Here again came a long halt
directly before an open window. How very imprudent for the
attendants to keep these thinly clad women standing here in
the cold, said Miss Neville. I looked at the poor
crazy captives shivering, and added emphatically, it's horribly brutal. While

(13:24):
they stood there, I thought I would not relish supper
that night. They looked so lost and hopeless. Some were
chattering nonsense to invisible persons. Others were laughing or crying aimlessly,
and one old gray haired woman was nudging me, and
with winks and sage noddings of the head and pitiful
uplifting of the eyes and hands, was assuring me that

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I must not mind the poor creatures, as they were
all mad. Stop at the heater. Was then ordered, and
get in line, two by two, Mary, get a companion.
How many times must I tell you to keep in line,
stay and still? And as the orders were issued, a
shove and a push were administered, and often a slap

(14:06):
on the ears. After this third and final halt, we
were marched into a long, narrow dining room, where a
rush was made for the table. The table reached the
length of the room and was uncovered and uninviting, long
benches without backs were put for the patients to sit on,
and over these they had to crawl in order to
face the table. Placed close together, all along the table

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were large dressing bowls filled with the pinkish looking stuff
which the patients called tea. By each bowl was laid
a piece of bread, cut thick and buttered. A small
saucer containing five prunes. Accompanied this bread. One fat woman
made a rush, and, jerking up several saucers from those
around her, emptied their contents into her own saucer. Then,

(14:51):
while holding to her own bowl, she lifted up another
and drained its contents at one gulp. This she did
to a second bowl in shorter time than it takes
to tell it. Indeed, I was so amused at her
successful grabbings that when I looked at my own chair,
the woman opposite, without so much as a by your leave,
grabbed my bread and left me without any Another patient,

(15:12):
seeing this, kindly offered me hers, but I declined with thanks,
and turned to the nurse and asked for more. As
she flung a thick piece down on the table, she
made some remark about the fact that if I forgot
where my home was, I had not forgotten how to eat.
I tried the bread, but the butter was so horrible
that one could not eat it. A blue eyed German

(15:33):
girl on the opposite side of the table told me
I could have bread unbuttered if I wished, and that
very few were able to eat the butter. I turned
my attention to the prunes and found that very few
of them would be sufficient. A patient near asked me
to give them to her. I did so. My bowl
of tea was all that was left. I tasted it,

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and one taste was enough. It had no sugar, and
it tasted as if it had been made in copper.
It was as weak as water. This was also transferred
to a hungrier patient in spite of the protest of
Miss Neville. You must force the food down, she said,
else you will be sick, and who know, but what
with these surroundings, you may go crazy. To have a

(16:16):
good brain, the stomach must be cared for. It is
impossible for me to eat that stuff, I replied, and
despite all her urging, I ate nothing that night. It
did not require much time for the patients to consume
all that was eatable on the table, and then we
got our orders to form in line in the hall.
When this was done, the doors before us were unlocked

(16:38):
and we were ordered to proceed back to the sitting room.
Many of the patients crowded near us, and I was
again urged to play, both by them and by the nurses.
To please the patients, I promised to play, and Miss
Tilley Mayrid was to sing. The first thing she asked
me to play was Rockabye Baby, and I did so.
She sang it beautifully. End of Chap to ten