Ten Days in a Mad-House and Other Stories (11 page)

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 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 mad-house for ten days.

The eating was one of the most horrible things. Excepting the first

two days 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 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 were food

was prepared for the nurses and doctors. There we got glimpses of

melons and grapes and all kinds of fruits, beautiful white bread and

nice meats, and the hungry feeling would be increased 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 Tillie Mayard so suddenly overcome at 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 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! Of course, she refused it. Then I saw a nurse, Miss McCarten,

go to test her temperature, and she returned with a report of it being

some 150 degrees. I smiled at the report, and Miss Grupe, seeing it,

asked me how high my temperature had ever run. I refused to

answer. Miss Grady then decided to try her ability. She returned

with the report of 99 degrees.

Miss Tillie Mayard suffered more than any of us from the cold, and

yet she tried to follow my advice to be cheerful and try to keep up

for a short time. Superintendent Dent brought in a man to see me.

He felt my pulse and my head and examined my tongue. I told them

how cold it was, and assured them that 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

doctors left they said, “After awhile, when you see that the doctors

will not notice you, you will quit running up to them.” Before the

doctors left me I heard one say–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 awhile he said my face was the

brightest he 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 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

have described. 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 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

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 patients put them on her again, and when she

did it several times, and fought against having them on, I counted

seven people at her at once trying to put the shoes on her. The old

woman then tried 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 saw Miss Grupe sit down on her and run her cold hands

over the old woman’s face and down inside the 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.

CHAPTER XIII.

CHOKING AND BEATING PATIENTS.

MISS TILLIE MAYARD suffered greatly from cold. One morning she

sat on the bench next to me and was livid with the cold. Her limbs

shook and her teeth chattered. I spoke to the three attendants who

sat with coats on at the table in the center of the floor.

“It is cruel to lock people up and then freeze them,” I said. They

replied she had on as much as any of the rest, and she would get no

more. Just then Miss Mayard took a fit and every patient looked

frightened. Miss Neville caught her in her arms and held her,

although the nurses roughly said:

“Let her fall on the floor and it will teach her a lesson.” Miss Neville

told them what she thought of their actions, and then I got orders to

make my appearance in the office.

Just as I reached there Superintendent Dent came to the door and I

told him how we were suffering from the cold, and of Miss Mayard’s

condition. Doubtless, I spoke incoherently, for I told of the state of

the food, the treatment of the nurses and their refusal to give more

clothing, the condition of Miss Mayard, and the nurses telling us,

because the asylum was a public institution we could not expect

even kindness. Assuring him that I needed no medical aid, I told him

to go to Miss Mayard. He did so. From Miss Neville and other

patients I learned what transpired. Miss Mayard was still in the fit,

and he caught her roughly between the eyebrows or thereabouts,

and pinched until her face was crimson from the rush of blood to the

head, and her senses returned. All day afterward she suffered from

terrible headache, and from that on she grew worse.

Insane? Yes, insane; and as I watched the insanity slowly creep over

the mind that had appeared to be all right I secretly cursed the

doctors, the nurses and all public institutions. Some one may say that

she was insane at some time previous to her consignment to the

asylum. Then if she were, was this the proper place to send a woman

just convalescing, to be given cold baths, deprived of sufficient

clothing and fed with horrible food?

On this morning I had a long conversation with Dr. Ingram, the

assistant superintendent of the asylum. I found that he was kind to

the helpless in his charge. I began my old complaint of the cold, and

he called Miss Grady to the office and ordered more clothing given

the patients. Miss Grady said if I made a practice of telling it would

be a serious thing for me, she warned me in time.

Many visitors looking for missing girls came to see me. Miss Grady

yelled in the door from the hall one day:

“Nellie Brown, you’re wanted.”

I went to the sitting-room at the end of the hall, and there sat a

gentleman who had known me intimately for years. I saw by the

sudden blanching of his face and his inability to speak that the sight

of me was wholly unexpected and had shocked him terribly. In an

instant I determined, if he betrayed me as Nellie Bly, to say I had

never seen him before. However, I had one card to play and I risked

it. With Miss Grady within touching distance I whispered hurriedly

to him, in language more expressive than elegant:

“Don’t give me away.”

I knew by the expression of his eye that he understood, so I said to

Miss Grady:

“I do not know this man.”

“Do you know her?” asked Miss Grady.

“No; this is not the young lady I came in search of,” he replied, in a

strained voice.

“If you do not know her you cannot stay here,” she said, and she

took him to the door. All at once a fear struck me that he would 74

Ten Days in a Mad-House

think I had been sent there through some mistake and would tell my

friends and make an effort to have me released. So I waited until

Miss Grady had the door unlocked. I knew that she would have to

lock it before she could leave, and the time required to do so would

give me opportunity to speak, so I called:

“One moment, senor.” He returned to me and I asked aloud:

“Do you speak Spanish, senor?” and then whispered, “It’s all right.

I’m after an item. Keep still.” “No,” he said, with a peculiar

emphasis, which I knew meant that he would keep my secret.

People in the world can never imagine the length of days to those in

asylums. They seemed never ending, and we welcomed any event

that might give us something to think about as well as talk of. There

is nothing to read, and the only bit of talk that never wears out is

conjuring up delicate food that they will get as soon as they get out.

Anxiously the hour was watched for when the boat arrived to see if

there were any new unfortunates to be added to our ranks. When

they came and were ushered into the sitting-room the patients

would express sympathy to one another for them and were anxious

to show them little marks of attention. Hall 6 was the receiving hall,

so that was how we saw all newcomers.

Soon after my advent a girl called Urena Little-Page was brought in.

She was, as she had been born, silly, and her tender spot was, as with

many sensible women, her age. She claimed eighteen, and would

grow very angry if told to the contrary. The nurses were not long in

finding this out, and then they teased her.

“Urena,” said Miss Grady, “the doctors say that you are thirty-three

instead of eighteen,” and the other nurses laughed. They kept up this

until the simple creature began to yell and cry, saying she wanted to

go home and that everybody treated her badly. After they had gotten

all the amusement out of her they wanted and she was crying, they

began to scold and tell her to keep quiet. She grew more hysterical

every moment until they pounced upon her and slapped her face

and knocked her head in a lively fashion. This made the poor

creature cry the more, and so they choked her. Yes, actually choked

her. Then they dragged her out to the closet, and I heard her terrified

cries hush into smothered ones. After several hours’ absence she

returned to the sitting-room, and I plainly saw the marks of their

fingers on her throat for the entire day.

This punishment seemed to awaken their desire to administer more.

They returned to the sitting-room and caught hold of an old gray-

haired woman whom I have heard addressed both as Mrs. Grady

and Mrs. O’Keefe. She was insane, and she talked almost continually

to herself and to those near her. She never spoke very loud, and at

the time I speak of was sitting harmlessly chattering to herself. They

grabbed her, and my heart ached as she cried:

“For God sake, ladies, don’t let them beat me.”

“Shut up, you hussy!” said Miss Grady as she caught the woman by

her gray hair and dragged her shrieking and pleading from the

room. She was also taken to the closet, and her cries grew lower and

lower, and then ceased.

The nurses returned to the room and Miss Grady remarked that she

had “settled the old fool for awhile.” I told some of the physicians of

the occurrence, but they did not pay any attention to it.