Ten Days in a Mad-House; or, Nellie Bly's Experience on Blackwell's Island.: Feigning Insanity in Order to Reveal Asylum Horrors. The Trying Ordeal of the New York World's Girl Correspondent. — John Shaqi
Ten Days in a Mad-House; or, Nellie Bly's Experience on Blackwell's Island.: Feigning Insanity in Order to Reveal Asylum Horrors. The Trying Ordeal of the New York World's Girl Correspondent.Bly, Nellie
History
Ten Days in a Mad-House; or, Nellie Bly's Experience on Blackwell's Island.: Feigning Insanity in Order to Reveal Asylum Horrors. The Trying Ordeal of the New York World's Girl Correspondent.
Bly, Nellie
Bly, Nellie, 1864-1922; Mentally ill -- Commitment and detention -- New York (State) -- History -- 19th century; N.Y. City Lunatic Asylum; Psychiatric hospital care -- New York (State) -- History -- 19th century; Psychiatric hospitals -- New York (State) -- History -- 19th century; Women -- Mental h
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 a half
and three-quarters of an hour in the hall was repeated before we got
down to our dinners. The bowls in which we 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 in opposition to their
teeth. Those toothless or with poor teeth could not eat it. One
tablespoon 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
to eat all but the crusts of the one 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 to tell
how they were suffering from the cold and insufficiency of clothing, 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 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 6 A. M. until 8 P. M. on 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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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