August 19, 2025 • 27 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 eleven. In
the bath a few more songs, and we were told
to go with miss group. We were taken into a cold,
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wet bathroom, and I was ordered to undress. Did I protest? Will?
I never grew so earnest in my life as when
I tried to beg off. They said if I did not,
they would use force, and that it would not be
very gentle. At this I noticed one of the craziest
women in the ward standing by the filled bath tub
with a large, discolored rag in her hands. She was
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chattering away to herself and chuckling in a manner which
seemed to me fiendish. I knew now what was to
be done with me. I shivered. They began to undress me,
and one by one they pulled off my clothes. At
last everything was gone excepting one garment. I will not
remove it, I said, vehemently, but they took it off.
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I gave one glance at the group of patients gathered
at the door, watching the scene, and I jumped into
the bath tub with more energy than grace. The water
was ice cold, and I again began to protest how
useless it all was. I begged at least that the
patience be made to go away, but was ordered to
shut up. The crazy woman began to scrub me. I
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can find no other word that will express it, but
scrubbing from a small tin pan. She took some soft
soap and rubbed it all over me, even all over
my face and my pretty hair. I was at last
past seeing or speaking, although I had begged that my
hair be left untouched. Rub, rub, rub, went the old woman,
chattering to herself. My teeth chattered, and my limbs were
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goose fleshed and blue with cold. Suddenly I got one
after the other, three buckets of water over my head,
ice cold water too, into my eyes, my ears, my nose,
and my mouth. I think I experienced some of the
sensations of a drowning person as they dragged me, gasping,
shivering and quaking from the tub. For once I did
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look insane. I caught a glance of the indescribable look
on the faces of my companions, who had witnessed my
fate and knew theirs was surely following. Unable to control
myself at the absurd picture I presented, I burst into
roars of laughter. They put me, dripping wet, into a
short canton flannel slip labeled across the extreme end in
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large black letters, Lunatic Asylum b I H six. The
letters meant Blackwell's Island Hall six. By this time Miss
Mayard had been undressed, and much as I hated my
recent bath, I would have taken another if by it
I could have saved her the experience. Imagine plunging that
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sick girl into a cold bath when it made me,
who had never been ill, shake as if with og.
I heard her explain to Miss Group that her head
was still sore from her illness, her hair was short
and had mostly come out, and she asked that the
crazy woman be made to rub more gently, but Miss
Group said, there isn't much fear of hurting you. Shut up,
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or you'll get it worse. Miss Mayer did shut up,
and that was my last look at her for the night.
I was hurried into a room where there were six beds,
and bed had been put into bed when some one
came along and jerked me out again, saying, Nellie Brown
has to be put in a room alone to night,
for I suppose she's noisy. I was taken to room
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twenty eight and left to try and make an impression
on the bed. It was an impossible task. The bed
had been made high in the center and sloping on
either side. At the first touch, my head flooded the
pillow with water, and my wet slip transferred some of
its dampness to the sheet. When miss group came in,
I asked if I could not have a night gown.
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We do not have such things in this institution, she said,
I do not like to sleep without it. I replied, well,
I don't care about that. She said. You are in
a public institution now, and you can't expect to get anything.
This is charity and you should be thankful for what
you get. But the city pays to keep these places up,
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I urged, and pays people to be kind to the
unfortunates brought here. Well, you don't need to expect any
kindness here, for you won't get it, she said, and
she went out and closed the door. A sheet and
an oilcloth were under me, and a sheet and black
wool blanket above. I never felt anything so annoying as
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that wool blanket as I tried to keep it around
my shoulders to stop the chills from getting underneath. When
I pulled it up, I left my feet bare, and
when I pulled it down, my shoulders were exposed. There
was absolutely nothing in the room but the bed and myself.
As the door had been locked, I imagined I should
be left alone for the night. But I heard the
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sound of the heavy tread of two women down the hall.
They stopped at every door, unlocked it, and in a
few minutes I could hear them re lock it. This
they did, without the least attempt at quietness, down the
whole length of the opposite side of the hall and
up to my room. Here they paused. The key was
inserted in the lock, and turned. I watched those about
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to enter in. They came dressed in brown and white
striped dresses, fastened by brass buttons, large white aprons, a
heavy green cord about the waist, from which dangled a
bunch of key, large keys, and small white caps on
their heads. Being dressed as were the attendants of the day,
I knew they were nurses. The first one carried a lantern,
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and she flashed its light into my face while she
said to her assistant, this is Nellie Brown. Looking at her,
I asked, who are you the night nurse? My dear,
she replied, and, wishing that I would sleep well, she
went out and locked the door after her. Several times
during the night they came into my room, and even
had I been able to sleep, the unlocking of the
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heavy door, their loud talking and heavy tread would have
awakened me. I could not sleep, so I lay in bed,
picturing to myself the horrors in case a fire should
break out in the asylum. Every door is locked separately
and the windows are heavily barred, so that escape is impossible.
In the one building alone, there are, I think Doctor
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Ingram told me some three hundred women. They are locked
one to ten to a room. It is impossible to
get out unless these doors are unlocked. A fire is
not improbable, but one of the most likely occurrences. Should
the building burn, the jailers or nurses would never think
of releasing their crazy patience. This I can prove to
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you later when I come to tell of their cruel
treatment of the poor things entrusted to their care. As
I say, in case of fire, not a dozen women
could escape. All would be left to roast to death.
Even if the nurses were kind, which they are not.
It would require more presence of mind than women of
their class possess to risk the flames in their own
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lives while they unlocked the hundred doors for the insane prisoners.
Unless there is a change, there will some day be
a tale of horror never equalled in this connection is
an amusing incident which happened just previous to my release.
I was talking to Doctor Ingram about many things, and
at last told him what I thought would be the
result of a fire. The nurses are expected to open
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the doors, he said, But you know positively that they
would not wait to do that, I said, and these
women would burn to death. He sat silent, unable to
contradict my assertion. Why don't you have it changed, I asked?
What can I do? He replied, I offer suggestions until
my brain is tired, But what good does it do.
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What would you do, he asked, turning to me, the
proclaimed insane girl. Well, I should insist on them having
locks put in as I have seen in some places
that by turning a crank at the end of the
hall you can lock or unlock every door on the
one side. Then there would be some chance of escape.
Now every door being locked separately, there is absolutely none.
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Doctor Ingram turned to me with an anxious look on
his kind face as he asked slowly, Nellie Brown, what
institution have you been an inmate of before you came here? None.
I was never confined in any institution except boarding school
in my life. Where then, did you see the locks
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you have described? I had seen them in the New
Western Penitentiary at Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, but I did not dare
say so. I merely answered, oh, I've seen them in
a place I was in, a I mean, as a visitor.
There is only one place I know of where they
have those locks, he said, sadly, and that is at
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Sing Sing. The inference is conclusive. I laughed very heartily
over the implied accusation, and tried to assure him that
I had never up to date been an inmate of
Sing Sing, or even ever visited it. Just as the
morning began to dawn, I went to sleep. It did
not seem many moments until I was rudely awakened and
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told to get up, the window being opened and the
clothing pulled off me. My hair was still wet, and
I had pains all through me, as if I had
the rheumatism. Some clothing was flung on the floor and
I was told to put it on. I asked for
my own, but was told to take what I got
and keep quiet by the apparently head nurse, Miss Grady.
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I looked at it, one underskirt made of coarse, dark
cotton goods, and a cheap white calico dress with a
black spot in it. I tied the strings of the
skirt around me and put on the little dress. It
was made, as are all those worn by the patients,
into a straight, tight waist sewed on to a straight skirt.
As I buttoned the waist, I noticed the underskirt was
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about six inches longer than the upper and for a
moment I sat down on the bed and laughed at
my own appearance. No woman ever longed for a mirror
more than I did. At that moment. I saw the
other patients hurrying past in the hall, so I decided
not to lose anything that might be going on We
numbered forty five patients in Hall six and were sent
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to the bathroom, where there were two coarse towels. I
watched crazy patients who had the most dangerous eruptions all
over their faces dry on the towels, and then saw
women with clean skins turned to use them. I went
to the bathtub and washed my face at the running faucet,
and my underskirt did duty for a towel. Before I
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had completed my ablutions, a bench was brought into the bathroom.
Miss Group and Miss mac Carton came in with combs
in their hands. We were told so to sit down
on the bench, and the hair of forty five women
was combed with one patient, two nurses, and six combs.
As I saw some of the sore heads combed, I
thought this was another dose I had not bargained for.
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Miss Tilly Mayred had her own comb, but it was
taken from her by Miss Grady. Oh that combing. I
never realized before what the expression I'll give you a
combing meant, but I knew then. My hair, all matted
and wet from the night previous, was pulled and jerked,
and after expostulating to no avail, I set my teeth
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and endured the pain. They refused to give me my hairpins,
and my hair was arranged in one plait and tied
with a red cotton rag. My curly bangs refused to
stay back, so that at least was left of my
former glory. After this, we went to the sitting room
and I looked for my companions. At first I looked vainly,
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unable to distinguish them from the other patients, but after
a while I recognized miss Mayerd by her short hair.
How did you sleep after your cold bath? I almost froze,
and then the noise kept me awake. It's dreadful. My
nerves were so unstrung before I came here, and I
fear I shall not be able to stand the strain.
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I did the best I could to cheer her. I
asked that we be given additional clothing, at least as
much as custom says women shall wear, but they told
me to shut up, that we had as much as
they intended to give us. We were compelled to get
up at five thirty o'clock, and at seven fifteen we
were told to collect in the hall, where the experience
of waiting as on the evening previous was repeated. When
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we got to the dining room at last we found
a bowl of cold tea, a slice of buttered bread,
and a saucer of oatmeal with molasses on it for
each patient. I was hungry, but the food would not down.
I asked for unbuttered bread and was given it. I
cannot tell you of anything which is the same dirty
black color. It was hard, and in places nothing more
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than dried dough. I found a spider in my slice,
so I did not eat it. I tried the oatmeal
and molasses, but it was wretched, and so I endeavored,
without much show of success, to choke down the tea.
After we were back to the sitting room, a number
of women were ordered to make the beds, and some
of the patients were put to scrubbing, and others given
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different duties which covered all the work in the hall.
It is not the attendants who keep the institution so
nice for the poor patients, as I had always thought,
but the patients who do it all themselves, even to
cleaning the nurse's bedrooms and caring for their clothing. About
nine thirty, the new patients, of which I was one,
were told to go out to see the doctor. I
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was taken in and my lungs and heart were examined
by the flirty young doctor who was the first to
see us the day we arrived. The one who made
out the report if I mistake not was the assistant
Superintendent Ingram. A few questions and I was allowed to
return to the sitting room. I came in and saw
Miss Gradie with my notebook and long lead pencil, bought
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just for the occasion. I want my book and pencil,
I said, quite truthfully. It helps me remember things. I
was very anxious to get it to make notes, and
was disappointed when she said you can't have it, so
shut up. Some days after I asked Doctor Ingram if
I could have it, and he promised to consider the matter.
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When I again referred to it, he said that Miss
Gradie said I only brought a book there and that
I had no pencil. I was provoked and insisted that
I had, whereupon I was advised to fight against the
imaginations of my brain. After the housework was completed by
the patients, and as day was fine but cold, we
were told to go out into the hall and get
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on shawls and hats for a walk, poor patience. How
eager they were for a breath of air, how eager
for or a slight release from their prison. They went
swiftly into the hall, and there was a skirmish for hats,
such hats end of Chapter eleven, Chapter twelve, promenading with lunatics.
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I shall never forget my first walk. When all the
patients had donned the white straw hats, such as the
bathers wear at Coney Island, I could not but laugh
at their comical appearance. I could not distinguish one woman
from another. I lost Miss Neville and had to take
my hat off and search for her. When we met,
we put our hats on and laughed at one another.
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Two by two, we formed in line, and, guarded by
the attendants, we went out a back way on to
the walks. We had not gone many paces when I saw,
proceeding from every walk long lines of women, guarded by nurses.
How many there were. Every way I looked, I could
see them in the queer dresses, comical straw hats and shawls,
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marching slowly around. I eagerly watched the passing lines, and
a thrill of horror crept over me. At the sight,
vacant eyes and meaningless faces, and their tongues uttered meaningless nonsense.
One crowd passed, and I noted by nose as well
as eyes that they were fearfully dirty. Who are they,
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I asked of a patient near me. They are considered
the most violent on the island. She replied. They are
from the Lodge, the first building with the high steps.
Some were yelling, some were cursing. Others were singing or
praying or preaching as the fancy struck them, and they
made up the most miserable collection of humanity I had
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ever seen. As the dinner of their passing faded in
the distance, there came another sight I can never forget.
A long cable rope fastened to wide leather belts, and
these belts locked around the waists of fifty two women.
At the end of the rope was a heavy iron cart,
and in it two women, one nursing foot, another screaming
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at some nurse, saying, you beat me, and I shall
not forget it. You want to kill me, and then
she would sob and cry. The women on the rope,
as the patients called it, were each busy on their
individual freaks. Some were yelling all the while. One who
had blue eyes saw me look at her, and she
turned as far as she could, talking and smiling, with
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that terrible, horrifying look of absolute insanity stamped on her.
The doctors might safely judge on her case. The horror
of that sight, to one who had never been near
an insane person before, was something unspeakable. God help them,
breathed Miss Neville. It is so dreadful. I cannot look
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on they passed, but for their places to be filled
by more. Can you imagine the sight? According to one
of the physicians, there are one thousand, six hundred insane
women on Blackwell's Island mad. What can be half so horrible?
My heart thrilled with pity when I looked on old,
gray haired women talking aimlessly to space. One woman had
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on a strait jacket, and two women had to drag
her along. Crippled, blind, old, young, homely and pretty one's
senseless mass of humanity. No fate could be worse. I
looked at the pretty lawns, which I had once thought
was such a comfort to the poor creatures confined on
the island, and laughed at my own notions. What enjoyment
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is it to them. They are not allowed on the grass,
it is only to look at. I saw some patients
eagerly and caressingly lift a nut or a colored leaf
that had fallen on the path, but they were not
permitted to keep them. The nurses would always compel them
to throw their little bit of God's comfort away. As
I passed a low pavilion where a crowd of helpless
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lunatics was combined, I read a motto on the wall
While I live, I hope. The absurdity of it struck
me forcibly. I would have liked to put above the
gates that open to the asylum, he who enters here
leaveth hope behind. During the walk, I was annoyed a
great deal by nurses who had heard my romantic story,
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calling to those in charge of us to ask which
one I was. I was pointed out repeatedly. It was
not long until the dinner hour arrived, and I was
so hungry that I felt I could eat anything. The
same old story of standing for half and three quarters
of an hour in the hall was repeated before we
got down to our dinners. The bowls in which we
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had had our tea were now filled with soup, and
on a plate was one cold boiled potato and a
chunk of beef, which on investigation proved to be slightly spoiled.
There were no knives or forks, and the patients looked
fairly savage as they took the tough beef in their
fingers and pulled an opposition to their teeth. Those toothless
or with poor teeth could not eat it. One tablespoon
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was given for the soup, and a piece of bread
was the final entree. Butter is never allowed at dinner,
nor coffee or tea. Miss Mayard could not eat, and
I saw many of the sick ones turn away in disgust.
I was getting very weak from the want of food,
and tried to eat a slice of bread. After the
first few bites, hunger asserted itself, and I was able
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to eat all but the crusts of one's slice. Superintendent
Dent went through the sitting room, giving an occasional how
do you do? How are you to day? Here and
there among the patients. His voice was as cold as
the hall, and the patients made no movement to tell
him of their sufferings. I asked some of them how
they were suffering from the cold and insufficiency of clothing,
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but they replied that the nurse would beat them if
they told I was never so tired as I grew
sitting on those benches. Several of the patients would sit
on one foot or sideways to make a change, but
they were always reproved and told to sit up straight.
If they talked, they were scolded and told to shut up.
If they wanted to walk around in order to take
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the stiffness out of them, they were told to sit
down and be still. What excepting torture would produce insanity
quicker than this treatment. Here is a class of women
sent to be cured. I would like the expert physicians
who are condemning me for my action, which has proven
their ability to take a perfectly sane and healthy woman,
Shut her up and make her sit from six a m.
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Until eight p m. On a straight back benches. Do
not allow her to talk or move during these hours.
Give her no reading, and let her know nothing of
the world or its doings. Give her bad food and
harsh treatment, and see how long it will take to
make her insane. Two months would make her a mental
and physical wreck. I have described my first day in
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the asylum, and as my other nine were exactly the
same in the general run of things, it would be
tiresome to tell about each. In giving this story, I
expect to be contradicted by many who are exposed. I
merely tell, in common words, without exaggeration, of my life
in a madhouse for ten days. The eating was one
of the most horrible things, excepting the first two days.
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After I entered the asylum. There was no salt for
the food. The hungry and even famishing women made an
attempt to eat the horrible messes. Mustard and vinegar were
put on meat and in soup to give it a taste,
but it only helped to make it worse. Even that
was all consumed after two days, and the patients had
to try to choke down fresh fish just boiled in
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water without salt, pepper or butter, mutton beef, and potatoes
without the faintest seasoning. The most insane refused to swallow
the food and were threatened with punishment. In our short walks,
we passed the kitchen where food was prepared for the
nurses and doctors. There we got glimpses of melons and grapes,
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and all kinds of fruit, beautiful white bread and nice meats,
and the hungry feeling would increase tenfold. I spoke to
some of the physicians, but it had no effect, and
when I was taken away, the food was yet unsalted.
My heart ached to see the sick patients grow sicker
over the table. I saw Miss Tilley mayerd so suddenly
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overcome it a bite that she had to rush from
the dining room, and then got a scolding for doing so.
When the patients complained of the food, they were told
to shut up, that they would not have as good
if they were at home, and that it was too
good for charity patients. A German girl, Louise I have
forgotten her last name, did not eat for several days,
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and at last one morning she was missing from the
conversation of the nurses. I found she was suffering from
a high fever. Poor thing, she told me she unceasingly
prayed for death. I watched the nurses make a patient
carry such food as the well ones were refusing up
to Louise's room. Think of that stuff for a fever patient.
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Of course, she refused it. Then I saw a nurse,
miss mac Carton go to test her temperature, and she
returned with the report of it being some hundred fifty degrees.
I smiled at the report, and misgroup, seeing it, asked
me how high my temperature had ever run. I refused
to answer. Miss Gradie then decided to try her ability.
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She returned with the report of ninety nine degrees. Miss
Tillie Mayard suffered more than any of us from the cold,
and she tried to follow my advice to be cheerful
and tried to keep up for a short time. Superintendent
Dent brought in a man to see me. He felt
my pulse in my head and examined my tongue. I
told them how cold it was, and assured them that
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I did not need medical aid, but that Miss Mayard
did and they should transfer their attentions to her. They
did not answer me, and I was pleased to see
Miss Mayard leave her place and come forward to them.
She spoke to the doctors and told them she was ill,
but they paid no attention to her. The nurses came
and dragged her back to the bench, and after the
doctor's left, they said, after a while, when you see that,
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the doctors will not notice you you will quit running
up to them. Before the doctors left me, I heard
one say I I cannot give it in his exact words,
that my pulse and eyes were not that of an
insane girl. But Superintendent Dent assured him that in cases
such as mine, such tests failed. After watching me for
a while, he said my face was the brightest he
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had ever seen for a lunatic. The nurses had on
heavy undergarments and coats, but they refused to give us shawls.
Nearly all night long, I listened to a woman cry
about the cold and beg for God to let her die.
Another one yelled murder at frequent intervals, and police at others,
until my flesh felt creepy. The second morning, after we
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had begun our endless set for the day, two of
the nurses, assisted by some patients, brought the woman in
who had begged the night previous for God to take
her home. I was not surprised at her prayer. She
appeared easily seventy years old, and she was blind. Although
the halls were freezing cold, that old woman had no
more clothing on than the rest of us, which I
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have to say. When she was brought into the sitting
room and placed on the hard bench. She cried, oh
what are you doing with me? I am so cold,
so cold? Why can't I stay in bed or have
a shawl? And then she would get up and endeavor
to feel her way to leave the room. Sometimes the
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attendants would jerk her back to the bench, and again
they would let her walk and heartlessly laugh when she
bumped against the table or the edge of the benches.
At one time she said, the heavy shoes which Charity
provides hurt her feet, and she took them off. The
nurses made two patience put them on her again, and
when she did it several times and fought against having
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them on, I counted seven people at her at once,
trying to put the shoes on her. The old woman
then turned to lie down on the bench, but they
pulled her up again. It sounded so pitiful to hear
her cry, Oh, give me a pillow and pull the
covers over me. I am so cold. At this I
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saw miss Group sit down on her and run her
cold hands over the woman's face and down the inside
neck of her dress. At the old woman's cries, she
laughed savagely, as did the other nurses and repeated her
cruel action. That day, the old woman was carried away
to another ward end of Chapter twelve.
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 eleven. In
the bath a few more songs, and we were told
to go with miss group. We were taken into a cold,
(00:23):
wet bathroom, and I was ordered to undress. Did I protest? Will?
I never grew so earnest in my life as when
I tried to beg off. They said if I did not,
they would use force, and that it would not be
very gentle. At this I noticed one of the craziest
women in the ward standing by the filled bath tub
with a large, discolored rag in her hands. She was
(00:45):
chattering away to herself and chuckling in a manner which
seemed to me fiendish. I knew now what was to
be done with me. I shivered. They began to undress me,
and one by one they pulled off my clothes. At
last everything was gone excepting one garment. I will not
remove it, I said, vehemently, but they took it off.
(01:07):
I gave one glance at the group of patients gathered
at the door, watching the scene, and I jumped into
the bath tub with more energy than grace. The water
was ice cold, and I again began to protest how
useless it all was. I begged at least that the
patience be made to go away, but was ordered to
shut up. The crazy woman began to scrub me. I
(01:29):
can find no other word that will express it, but
scrubbing from a small tin pan. She took some soft
soap and rubbed it all over me, even all over
my face and my pretty hair. I was at last
past seeing or speaking, although I had begged that my
hair be left untouched. Rub, rub, rub, went the old woman,
chattering to herself. My teeth chattered, and my limbs were
(01:52):
goose fleshed and blue with cold. Suddenly I got one
after the other, three buckets of water over my head,
ice cold water too, into my eyes, my ears, my nose,
and my mouth. I think I experienced some of the
sensations of a drowning person as they dragged me, gasping,
shivering and quaking from the tub. For once I did
(02:14):
look insane. I caught a glance of the indescribable look
on the faces of my companions, who had witnessed my
fate and knew theirs was surely following. Unable to control
myself at the absurd picture I presented, I burst into
roars of laughter. They put me, dripping wet, into a
short canton flannel slip labeled across the extreme end in
(02:37):
large black letters, Lunatic Asylum b I H six. The
letters meant Blackwell's Island Hall six. By this time Miss
Mayard had been undressed, and much as I hated my
recent bath, I would have taken another if by it
I could have saved her the experience. Imagine plunging that
(02:58):
sick girl into a cold bath when it made me,
who had never been ill, shake as if with og.
I heard her explain to Miss Group that her head
was still sore from her illness, her hair was short
and had mostly come out, and she asked that the
crazy woman be made to rub more gently, but Miss
Group said, there isn't much fear of hurting you. Shut up,
(03:21):
or you'll get it worse. Miss Mayer did shut up,
and that was my last look at her for the night.
I was hurried into a room where there were six beds,
and bed had been put into bed when some one
came along and jerked me out again, saying, Nellie Brown
has to be put in a room alone to night,
for I suppose she's noisy. I was taken to room
(03:42):
twenty eight and left to try and make an impression
on the bed. It was an impossible task. The bed
had been made high in the center and sloping on
either side. At the first touch, my head flooded the
pillow with water, and my wet slip transferred some of
its dampness to the sheet. When miss group came in,
I asked if I could not have a night gown.
(04:04):
We do not have such things in this institution, she said,
I do not like to sleep without it. I replied, well,
I don't care about that. She said. You are in
a public institution now, and you can't expect to get anything.
This is charity and you should be thankful for what
you get. But the city pays to keep these places up,
(04:27):
I urged, and pays people to be kind to the
unfortunates brought here. Well, you don't need to expect any
kindness here, for you won't get it, she said, and
she went out and closed the door. A sheet and
an oilcloth were under me, and a sheet and black
wool blanket above. I never felt anything so annoying as
(04:48):
that wool blanket as I tried to keep it around
my shoulders to stop the chills from getting underneath. When
I pulled it up, I left my feet bare, and
when I pulled it down, my shoulders were exposed. There
was absolutely nothing in the room but the bed and myself.
As the door had been locked, I imagined I should
be left alone for the night. But I heard the
(05:08):
sound of the heavy tread of two women down the hall.
They stopped at every door, unlocked it, and in a
few minutes I could hear them re lock it. This
they did, without the least attempt at quietness, down the
whole length of the opposite side of the hall and
up to my room. Here they paused. The key was
inserted in the lock, and turned. I watched those about
(05:30):
to enter in. They came dressed in brown and white
striped dresses, fastened by brass buttons, large white aprons, a
heavy green cord about the waist, from which dangled a
bunch of key, large keys, and small white caps on
their heads. Being dressed as were the attendants of the day,
I knew they were nurses. The first one carried a lantern,
(05:51):
and she flashed its light into my face while she
said to her assistant, this is Nellie Brown. Looking at her,
I asked, who are you the night nurse? My dear,
she replied, and, wishing that I would sleep well, she
went out and locked the door after her. Several times
during the night they came into my room, and even
had I been able to sleep, the unlocking of the
(06:13):
heavy door, their loud talking and heavy tread would have
awakened me. I could not sleep, so I lay in bed,
picturing to myself the horrors in case a fire should
break out in the asylum. Every door is locked separately
and the windows are heavily barred, so that escape is impossible.
In the one building alone, there are, I think Doctor
(06:34):
Ingram told me some three hundred women. They are locked
one to ten to a room. It is impossible to
get out unless these doors are unlocked. A fire is
not improbable, but one of the most likely occurrences. Should
the building burn, the jailers or nurses would never think
of releasing their crazy patience. This I can prove to
(06:55):
you later when I come to tell of their cruel
treatment of the poor things entrusted to their care. As
I say, in case of fire, not a dozen women
could escape. All would be left to roast to death.
Even if the nurses were kind, which they are not.
It would require more presence of mind than women of
their class possess to risk the flames in their own
(07:16):
lives while they unlocked the hundred doors for the insane prisoners.
Unless there is a change, there will some day be
a tale of horror never equalled in this connection is
an amusing incident which happened just previous to my release.
I was talking to Doctor Ingram about many things, and
at last told him what I thought would be the
result of a fire. The nurses are expected to open
(07:39):
the doors, he said, But you know positively that they
would not wait to do that, I said, and these
women would burn to death. He sat silent, unable to
contradict my assertion. Why don't you have it changed, I asked?
What can I do? He replied, I offer suggestions until
my brain is tired, But what good does it do.
(08:02):
What would you do, he asked, turning to me, the
proclaimed insane girl. Well, I should insist on them having
locks put in as I have seen in some places
that by turning a crank at the end of the
hall you can lock or unlock every door on the
one side. Then there would be some chance of escape.
Now every door being locked separately, there is absolutely none.
(08:26):
Doctor Ingram turned to me with an anxious look on
his kind face as he asked slowly, Nellie Brown, what
institution have you been an inmate of before you came here? None.
I was never confined in any institution except boarding school
in my life. Where then, did you see the locks
(08:46):
you have described? I had seen them in the New
Western Penitentiary at Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, but I did not dare
say so. I merely answered, oh, I've seen them in
a place I was in, a I mean, as a visitor.
There is only one place I know of where they
have those locks, he said, sadly, and that is at
(09:08):
Sing Sing. The inference is conclusive. I laughed very heartily
over the implied accusation, and tried to assure him that
I had never up to date been an inmate of
Sing Sing, or even ever visited it. Just as the
morning began to dawn, I went to sleep. It did
not seem many moments until I was rudely awakened and
(09:29):
told to get up, the window being opened and the
clothing pulled off me. My hair was still wet, and
I had pains all through me, as if I had
the rheumatism. Some clothing was flung on the floor and
I was told to put it on. I asked for
my own, but was told to take what I got
and keep quiet by the apparently head nurse, Miss Grady.
(09:49):
I looked at it, one underskirt made of coarse, dark
cotton goods, and a cheap white calico dress with a
black spot in it. I tied the strings of the
skirt around me and put on the little dress. It
was made, as are all those worn by the patients,
into a straight, tight waist sewed on to a straight skirt.
As I buttoned the waist, I noticed the underskirt was
(10:12):
about six inches longer than the upper and for a
moment I sat down on the bed and laughed at
my own appearance. No woman ever longed for a mirror
more than I did. At that moment. I saw the
other patients hurrying past in the hall, so I decided
not to lose anything that might be going on We
numbered forty five patients in Hall six and were sent
(10:32):
to the bathroom, where there were two coarse towels. I
watched crazy patients who had the most dangerous eruptions all
over their faces dry on the towels, and then saw
women with clean skins turned to use them. I went
to the bathtub and washed my face at the running faucet,
and my underskirt did duty for a towel. Before I
(10:52):
had completed my ablutions, a bench was brought into the bathroom.
Miss Group and Miss mac Carton came in with combs
in their hands. We were told so to sit down
on the bench, and the hair of forty five women
was combed with one patient, two nurses, and six combs.
As I saw some of the sore heads combed, I
thought this was another dose I had not bargained for.
(11:14):
Miss Tilly Mayred had her own comb, but it was
taken from her by Miss Grady. Oh that combing. I
never realized before what the expression I'll give you a
combing meant, but I knew then. My hair, all matted
and wet from the night previous, was pulled and jerked,
and after expostulating to no avail, I set my teeth
(11:35):
and endured the pain. They refused to give me my hairpins,
and my hair was arranged in one plait and tied
with a red cotton rag. My curly bangs refused to
stay back, so that at least was left of my
former glory. After this, we went to the sitting room
and I looked for my companions. At first I looked vainly,
(11:56):
unable to distinguish them from the other patients, but after
a while I recognized miss Mayerd by her short hair.
How did you sleep after your cold bath? I almost froze,
and then the noise kept me awake. It's dreadful. My
nerves were so unstrung before I came here, and I
fear I shall not be able to stand the strain.
(12:19):
I did the best I could to cheer her. I
asked that we be given additional clothing, at least as
much as custom says women shall wear, but they told
me to shut up, that we had as much as
they intended to give us. We were compelled to get
up at five thirty o'clock, and at seven fifteen we
were told to collect in the hall, where the experience
of waiting as on the evening previous was repeated. When
(12:42):
we got to the dining room at last we found
a bowl of cold tea, a slice of buttered bread,
and a saucer of oatmeal with molasses on it for
each patient. I was hungry, but the food would not down.
I asked for unbuttered bread and was given it. I
cannot tell you of anything which is the same dirty
black color. It was hard, and in places nothing more
(13:05):
than dried dough. I found a spider in my slice,
so I did not eat it. I tried the oatmeal
and molasses, but it was wretched, and so I endeavored,
without much show of success, to choke down the tea.
After we were back to the sitting room, a number
of women were ordered to make the beds, and some
of the patients were put to scrubbing, and others given
(13:26):
different duties which covered all the work in the hall.
It is not the attendants who keep the institution so
nice for the poor patients, as I had always thought,
but the patients who do it all themselves, even to
cleaning the nurse's bedrooms and caring for their clothing. About
nine thirty, the new patients, of which I was one,
were told to go out to see the doctor. I
(13:49):
was taken in and my lungs and heart were examined
by the flirty young doctor who was the first to
see us the day we arrived. The one who made
out the report if I mistake not was the assistant
Superintendent Ingram. A few questions and I was allowed to
return to the sitting room. I came in and saw
Miss Gradie with my notebook and long lead pencil, bought
(14:10):
just for the occasion. I want my book and pencil,
I said, quite truthfully. It helps me remember things. I
was very anxious to get it to make notes, and
was disappointed when she said you can't have it, so
shut up. Some days after I asked Doctor Ingram if
I could have it, and he promised to consider the matter.
(14:32):
When I again referred to it, he said that Miss
Gradie said I only brought a book there and that
I had no pencil. I was provoked and insisted that
I had, whereupon I was advised to fight against the
imaginations of my brain. After the housework was completed by
the patients, and as day was fine but cold, we
were told to go out into the hall and get
(14:52):
on shawls and hats for a walk, poor patience. How
eager they were for a breath of air, how eager
for or a slight release from their prison. They went
swiftly into the hall, and there was a skirmish for hats,
such hats end of Chapter eleven, Chapter twelve, promenading with lunatics.
(15:16):
I shall never forget my first walk. When all the
patients had donned the white straw hats, such as the
bathers wear at Coney Island, I could not but laugh
at their comical appearance. I could not distinguish one woman
from another. I lost Miss Neville and had to take
my hat off and search for her. When we met,
we put our hats on and laughed at one another.
(15:37):
Two by two, we formed in line, and, guarded by
the attendants, we went out a back way on to
the walks. We had not gone many paces when I saw,
proceeding from every walk long lines of women, guarded by nurses.
How many there were. Every way I looked, I could
see them in the queer dresses, comical straw hats and shawls,
(15:58):
marching slowly around. I eagerly watched the passing lines, and
a thrill of horror crept over me. At the sight,
vacant eyes and meaningless faces, and their tongues uttered meaningless nonsense.
One crowd passed, and I noted by nose as well
as eyes that they were fearfully dirty. Who are they,
(16:18):
I asked of a patient near me. They are considered
the most violent on the island. She replied. They are
from the Lodge, the first building with the high steps.
Some were yelling, some were cursing. Others were singing or
praying or preaching as the fancy struck them, and they
made up the most miserable collection of humanity I had
(16:39):
ever seen. As the dinner of their passing faded in
the distance, there came another sight I can never forget.
A long cable rope fastened to wide leather belts, and
these belts locked around the waists of fifty two women.
At the end of the rope was a heavy iron cart,
and in it two women, one nursing foot, another screaming
(17:01):
at some nurse, saying, you beat me, and I shall
not forget it. You want to kill me, and then
she would sob and cry. The women on the rope,
as the patients called it, were each busy on their
individual freaks. Some were yelling all the while. One who
had blue eyes saw me look at her, and she
turned as far as she could, talking and smiling, with
(17:24):
that terrible, horrifying look of absolute insanity stamped on her.
The doctors might safely judge on her case. The horror
of that sight, to one who had never been near
an insane person before, was something unspeakable. God help them,
breathed Miss Neville. It is so dreadful. I cannot look
(17:45):
on they passed, but for their places to be filled
by more. Can you imagine the sight? According to one
of the physicians, there are one thousand, six hundred insane
women on Blackwell's Island mad. What can be half so horrible?
My heart thrilled with pity when I looked on old,
gray haired women talking aimlessly to space. One woman had
(18:08):
on a strait jacket, and two women had to drag
her along. Crippled, blind, old, young, homely and pretty one's
senseless mass of humanity. No fate could be worse. I
looked at the pretty lawns, which I had once thought
was such a comfort to the poor creatures confined on
the island, and laughed at my own notions. What enjoyment
(18:30):
is it to them. They are not allowed on the grass,
it is only to look at. I saw some patients
eagerly and caressingly lift a nut or a colored leaf
that had fallen on the path, but they were not
permitted to keep them. The nurses would always compel them
to throw their little bit of God's comfort away. As
I passed a low pavilion where a crowd of helpless
(18:52):
lunatics was combined, I read a motto on the wall
While I live, I hope. The absurdity of it struck
me forcibly. I would have liked to put above the
gates that open to the asylum, he who enters here
leaveth hope behind. During the walk, I was annoyed a
great deal by nurses who had heard my romantic story,
(19:12):
calling to those in charge of us to ask which
one I was. I was pointed out repeatedly. It was
not long until the dinner hour arrived, and I was
so hungry that I felt I could eat anything. The
same old story of standing for half and three quarters
of an hour in the hall was repeated before we
got down to our dinners. The bowls in which we
(19:32):
had had our tea were now filled with soup, and
on a plate was one cold boiled potato and a
chunk of beef, which on investigation proved to be slightly spoiled.
There were no knives or forks, and the patients looked
fairly savage as they took the tough beef in their
fingers and pulled an opposition to their teeth. Those toothless
or with poor teeth could not eat it. One tablespoon
(19:56):
was given for the soup, and a piece of bread
was the final entree. Butter is never allowed at dinner,
nor coffee or tea. Miss Mayard could not eat, and
I saw many of the sick ones turn away in disgust.
I was getting very weak from the want of food,
and tried to eat a slice of bread. After the
first few bites, hunger asserted itself, and I was able
(20:18):
to eat all but the crusts of one's slice. Superintendent
Dent went through the sitting room, giving an occasional how
do you do? How are you to day? Here and
there among the patients. His voice was as cold as
the hall, and the patients made no movement to tell
him of their sufferings. I asked some of them how
they were suffering from the cold and insufficiency of clothing,
(20:39):
but they replied that the nurse would beat them if
they told I was never so tired as I grew
sitting on those benches. Several of the patients would sit
on one foot or sideways to make a change, but
they were always reproved and told to sit up straight.
If they talked, they were scolded and told to shut up.
If they wanted to walk around in order to take
(20:59):
the stiffness out of them, they were told to sit
down and be still. What excepting torture would produce insanity
quicker than this treatment. Here is a class of women
sent to be cured. I would like the expert physicians
who are condemning me for my action, which has proven
their ability to take a perfectly sane and healthy woman,
Shut her up and make her sit from six a m.
(21:21):
Until eight p m. On a straight back benches. Do
not allow her to talk or move during these hours.
Give her no reading, and let her know nothing of
the world or its doings. Give her bad food and
harsh treatment, and see how long it will take to
make her insane. Two months would make her a mental
and physical wreck. I have described my first day in
(21:41):
the asylum, and as my other nine were exactly the
same in the general run of things, it would be
tiresome to tell about each. In giving this story, I
expect to be contradicted by many who are exposed. I
merely tell, in common words, without exaggeration, of my life
in a madhouse for ten days. The eating was one
of the most horrible things, excepting the first two days.
(22:03):
After I entered the asylum. There was no salt for
the food. The hungry and even famishing women made an
attempt to eat the horrible messes. Mustard and vinegar were
put on meat and in soup to give it a taste,
but it only helped to make it worse. Even that
was all consumed after two days, and the patients had
to try to choke down fresh fish just boiled in
(22:24):
water without salt, pepper or butter, mutton beef, and potatoes
without the faintest seasoning. The most insane refused to swallow
the food and were threatened with punishment. In our short walks,
we passed the kitchen where food was prepared for the
nurses and doctors. There we got glimpses of melons and grapes,
(22:44):
and all kinds of fruit, beautiful white bread and nice meats,
and the hungry feeling would increase tenfold. I spoke to
some of the physicians, but it had no effect, and
when I was taken away, the food was yet unsalted.
My heart ached to see the sick patients grow sicker
over the table. I saw Miss Tilley mayerd so suddenly
(23:04):
overcome it a bite that she had to rush from
the dining room, and then got a scolding for doing so.
When the patients complained of the food, they were told
to shut up, that they would not have as good
if they were at home, and that it was too
good for charity patients. A German girl, Louise I have
forgotten her last name, did not eat for several days,
(23:25):
and at last one morning she was missing from the
conversation of the nurses. I found she was suffering from
a high fever. Poor thing, she told me she unceasingly
prayed for death. I watched the nurses make a patient
carry such food as the well ones were refusing up
to Louise's room. Think of that stuff for a fever patient.
(23:46):
Of course, she refused it. Then I saw a nurse,
miss mac Carton go to test her temperature, and she
returned with the report of it being some hundred fifty degrees.
I smiled at the report, and misgroup, seeing it, asked
me how high my temperature had ever run. I refused
to answer. Miss Gradie then decided to try her ability.
(24:07):
She returned with the report of ninety nine degrees. Miss
Tillie Mayard suffered more than any of us from the cold,
and she tried to follow my advice to be cheerful
and tried to keep up for a short time. Superintendent
Dent brought in a man to see me. He felt
my pulse in my head and examined my tongue. I
told them how cold it was, and assured them that
(24:29):
I did not need medical aid, but that Miss Mayard
did and they should transfer their attentions to her. They
did not answer me, and I was pleased to see
Miss Mayard leave her place and come forward to them.
She spoke to the doctors and told them she was ill,
but they paid no attention to her. The nurses came
and dragged her back to the bench, and after the
doctor's left, they said, after a while, when you see that,
(24:52):
the doctors will not notice you you will quit running
up to them. Before the doctors left me, I heard
one say I I cannot give it in his exact words,
that my pulse and eyes were not that of an
insane girl. But Superintendent Dent assured him that in cases
such as mine, such tests failed. After watching me for
a while, he said my face was the brightest he
(25:14):
had ever seen for a lunatic. The nurses had on
heavy undergarments and coats, but they refused to give us shawls.
Nearly all night long, I listened to a woman cry
about the cold and beg for God to let her die.
Another one yelled murder at frequent intervals, and police at others,
until my flesh felt creepy. The second morning, after we
(25:38):
had begun our endless set for the day, two of
the nurses, assisted by some patients, brought the woman in
who had begged the night previous for God to take
her home. I was not surprised at her prayer. She
appeared easily seventy years old, and she was blind. Although
the halls were freezing cold, that old woman had no
more clothing on than the rest of us, which I
(25:59):
have to say. When she was brought into the sitting
room and placed on the hard bench. She cried, oh
what are you doing with me? I am so cold,
so cold? Why can't I stay in bed or have
a shawl? And then she would get up and endeavor
to feel her way to leave the room. Sometimes the
(26:20):
attendants would jerk her back to the bench, and again
they would let her walk and heartlessly laugh when she
bumped against the table or the edge of the benches.
At one time she said, the heavy shoes which Charity
provides hurt her feet, and she took them off. The
nurses made two patience put them on her again, and
when she did it several times and fought against having
(26:40):
them on, I counted seven people at her at once,
trying to put the shoes on her. The old woman
then turned to lie down on the bench, but they
pulled her up again. It sounded so pitiful to hear
her cry, Oh, give me a pillow and pull the
covers over me. I am so cold. At this I
(27:00):
saw miss Group sit down on her and run her
cold hands over the woman's face and down the inside
neck of her dress. At the old woman's cries, she
laughed savagely, as did the other nurses and repeated her
cruel action. That day, the old woman was carried away
to another ward end of Chapter twelve.
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