CHAPTER VI.
IN BELLEVUE HOSPITAL.
At last Bellevue was reached, the third station on my
way to the island. I had passed through successfully the
ordeals at the home and at Essex Market Police Court,
and now felt confident that I should not fail. The ambulance
stopped with a sudden jerk and the doctor
jumped out. “How many have you?” I heard some one
inquire. “Only one, for the pavilion,” was the reply.
A rough-looking man came forward, and catching hold
of me attempted to drag me out as if I had the strength
of an elephant and would resist. The doctor, seeing my
34look of disgust, ordered him to leave me alone, saying
that he would take charge of me himself. He then lifted
me carefully out and I walked with the grace of a queen
past the crowd that had gathered curious to see the new
unfortunate. Together with the doctor I entered a small
dark office, where there were several men. The one behind
the desk opened a book and began on the long string
of questions which had been asked me so often.
I refused to answer, and the doctor told him it was not
necessary to trouble me further, as he had all the papers
made out, and I was too insane to be able to tell anything
that would be of consequence. I felt relieved that
it was so easy here, as, though still undaunted, I had
begun to feel faint for want of food. The order was then
given to take me to the insane pavilion, and a muscular
man came forward and caught me so tightly by the arm
that a pain ran clear through me. It made me angry,
and for a moment I forgot my role as I turned to him
and said:
“How dare you touch me?” At this he loosened his
hold somewhat, and I shook him off with more strength
than I thought I possessed.
“I will go with no one but this man,” I said, pointing
to the ambulance-surgeon. “The judge said that he
was to take care of me, and I will go with no one else.”
At this the surgeon said that he would take me, and so
we went arm in arm, following the man who had at first
been so rough with me. We passed through the well-cared-for
grounds and finally reached the insane ward.
A white-capped nurse was there to receive me.
“This young girl is to wait here for the boat,” said the
surgeon, and then he started to leave me. I begged him
not to go, or to take me with him, but he said he wanted
to get his dinner first, and that I should wait there for
him. When I insisted on accompanying him he claimed
that he had to assist at an amputation, and it would not
35look well for me to be present. It was evident that he
believed he was dealing with an insane person. Just
then the most horrible insane cries came from a yard in
the rear. With all my bravery I felt a chill at the prospect
of being shut up with a fellow-creature who was
really insane. The doctor evidently noticed my nervousness,
for he said to the attendant:
“What a noise the carpenters make.”
Turning to me he offered me explanation to the effect
that new buildings were being erected, and that the noise
came from some of the workmen engaged upon it. I
told him I did not want to stay there without him, and
to pacify me he promised soon to return. He left me
and I found myself at last an occupant of an insane
asylum.
I stood at the door and contemplated the scene before
me. The long, uncarpeted hall was scrubbed to that
peculiar whiteness seen only in public institutions. In
the rear of the hall were large iron doors fastened by a
padlock. Several stiff-looking benches and a number of
willow chairs were the only articles of furniture. On
either side of the hall were doors leading into what I
supposed and what proved to be bedrooms. Near the
entrance door, on the right-hand side, was a small sitting-room
for the nurses, and opposite it was a room where
dinner was dished out. A nurse in a black dress, white
cap and apron and armed with a bunch of keys had
charge of the hall. I soon learned her name, Miss Ball.
An old Irishwoman was maid-of-all-work. I heard her
called Mary, and I am glad to know that there is such a
good-hearted woman in that place. I experienced only
kindness and the utmost consideration from her. There
were only three patients, as they are called. I made the
fourth. I thought I might as well begin work at once,
for I still expected that the very first doctor might declare
me sane and send me out again into the wide, wide
36world. So I went down to the rear of the room and introduced
myself to one of the women, and asked her all
about herself. Her name, she said, was Miss Anne
Neville, and she had been sick from overwork. She had
been working as a chambermaid, and when her health
gave way she was sent to some Sisters’ Home to be
treated. Her nephew, who was a waiter, was out of
work, and, being unable to pay her expenses at the Home,
had had her transferred to Bellevue.
“Is there anything wrong with you mentally as well?”
I asked her.
“No,” she said. “The doctors have been asking me
many curious questions and confusing me as much as
possible, but I have nothing wrong with my brain.”
“Do you know that only insane people are sent to this
pavilion?” I asked.
“Yes, I know; but I am unable to do anything. The
doctors refuse to listen to me, and it is useless to say anything
to the nurses.”
Satisfied from various reasons that Miss Neville was as
sane as I was myself, I transferred my attentions to one of
the other patients. I found her in need of medical aid
and quite silly mentally, although I have seen many
women in the lower walks of life, whose sanity was never
questioned, who were not any brighter.
The third patient, Mrs. Fox, would not say much.
She was very quiet, and after telling me that her case
was hopeless refused to talk. I began now to feel surer
of my position, and I determined that no doctor should
convince me that I was sane so long as I had the hope of
accomplishing my mission. A small, fair-complexioned
nurse arrived, and, after putting on her cap, told Miss
Ball to go to dinner. The new nurse, Miss Scott by
name, came to me and said, rudely:
“Take off your hat.”
37“I shall not take off my hat,” I answered. “I am
waiting for the boat, and I shall not remove it.”
“Well, you are not going on any boat. You might as
well know it now as later. You are in an asylum for the
insane.”
Although fully aware of that fact, her unvarnished
words gave me a shock. “I did not want to come here;
I am not sick or insane, and I will not stay,” I said.
“It will be a long time before you get out if you don’t
do as you are told,” answered Miss Scott. “You might
as well take off your hat, or I shall use force, and if I
am not able to do it, I have but to touch a bell and I
shall get assistance. Will you take it off?”
“No, I will not. I am cold, and I want my hat on,
and you can’t make me take it off.”
“I shall give you a few more minutes, and if you don’t
take it off then I shall use force, and I warn you it will
not be very gentle.”
“If you take my hat off I shall take your cap off; so
now.”
Miss Scott was called to the door then, and as I feared
that an exhibition of temper might show too much sanity
I took off my hat and gloves and was sitting quietly
looking into space when she returned. I was hungry,
and was quite pleased to see Mary make preparations for
dinner. The preparations were simple. She merely
pulled a straight bench up along the side of a bare table
and ordered the patients to gather ’round the feast;
then she brought out a small tin plate on which was a
piece of boiled meat and a potato. It could not have
been colder had it been cooked the week before, and it
had no chance to make acquaintance with salt or pepper.
I would not go up to the table, so Mary came to
where I sat in a corner, and, while handing out the tin
plate, asked:
“Have ye any pennies about ye, dearie?”
38“What?” I said, in my surprise.
“Have ye any pennies, dearie, that ye could give me.
They’ll take them all from ye any way, dearie, so I might
as well have them.”
I understood it fully now, but I had no intention of
feeing Mary so early in the game, fearing it would have
an influence on her treatment of me, so I said I had lost
my purse, which was quite true. But though I did not
give Mary any money, she was none the less kind to me.
When I objected to the tin plate in which she had
brought my food she fetched a china one for me, and
when I found it impossible to eat the food she presented
she gave me a glass of milk and a soda cracker.
All the windows in the hall were open and the cold air
began to tell on my Southern blood. It grew so cold indeed
as to be almost unbearable, and I complained of it
to Miss Scott and Miss Ball. But they answered curtly
that as I was in a charity place I could not expect much
else. All the other women were suffering from the cold,
and the nurses themselves had to wear heavy garments to
keep themselves warm. I asked if I could go to bed.
They said “No!” At last Miss Scott got an old gray
shawl, and shaking some of the moths out of it, told me
to put it on.
“It’s rather a bad-looking shawl,” I said.
“Well, some people would get along better if they
were not so proud,” said Miss Scott. “People on
charity should not expect anything and should not complain.”
So I put the moth-eaten shawl, with all its musty
smell, around me, and sat down on a wicker chair, wondering
what would come next, whether I should freeze to
death or survive. My nose was very cold, so I covered
up my head and was in a half doze, when the shawl was
suddenly jerked from my face and a strange man and
39Miss Scott stood before me. The man proved to be a
doctor, and his first greetings were:
“I’ve seen that face before.”
“Then you know me?” I asked, with a great show of
eagerness that I did not feel.
“I think I do. Where did you come from?”
“From home.”
“Where is home?”
“Don’t you know? Cuba.”
He then sat down beside me, felt my pulse, and examined
my tongue, and at last said:
“Tell Miss Scott all about yourself.”
“No, I will not. I will not talk with women.”
“What do you do in New York?”
“Nothing.”
“Can you work?”
“No, senor.”
“Tell me, are you a woman of the town?”
40“I do not understand you,” I replied, heartily disgusted
with him.
“I mean have you allowed the men to provide for you
and keep you?”
I felt like slapping him in the face, but I had to maintain
my composure, so I simply said:
“I do not know what you are talking about. I always
lived at home.”
After many more questions, fully as useless and senseless,
he left me and began to talk with the nurse. “Positively
demented,” he said. “I consider it a hopeless
case. She needs to be put where some one will take care
of her.”
And so I passed my second medical expert.
After this, I began to have a smaller regard for the
ability of doctors than I ever had before, and a greater
one for myself. I felt sure now that no doctor could tell
whether people were insane or not, so long as the case
was not violent.
Later in the afternoon a boy and a woman came. The
woman sat down on a bench, while the boy went in and
talked with Miss Scott. In a short time he came out,
and, just nodding good-bye to the woman, who was his
mother, went away. She did not look insane, but as she
was German I could not learn her story. Her name,
however, was Mrs. Louise Schanz. She seemed quite
lost, but when the nurses put her at some sewing she did
her work well and quickly. At three in the afternoon
all the patients were given a gruel broth, and at five a
cup of tea and a piece of bread. I was favored; for
when they saw that it was impossible for me to eat the
bread or drink the stuff honored by the name of tea, they
gave me a cup of milk and a cracker, the same as I had
had at noon.
Just as the gas was being lighted another patient was
added. She was a young girl, twenty-five years old.
41She told me that she had just gotten up from a sick bed.
Her appearance confirmed her story. She looked like
one who had had a severe attack of fever. “I am now
suffering from nervous debility,” she said, “and my
friends have sent me here to be treated for it.” I did not
tell her where she was, and she seemed quite satisfied.
At 6.15 Miss Ball said that she wanted to go away, and
so we would all have to go to bed. Then each of us—we
now numbered six—were assigned a room and told to undress.
I did so, and was given a short, cotton-flannel
gown to wear during the night. Then she took every
particle of the clothing I had worn during the day, and,
making it up in a bundle, labeled it “Brown,” and
took it away. The iron-barred window was locked, and
Miss Ball, after giving me an extra blanket, which, she
said, was a favor rarely granted, went out and left me
alone. The bed was not a comfortable one. It was so
hard, indeed, that I could not make a dent in it; and
the pillow was stuffed with straw. Under the sheet was
an oilcloth spread. As the night grew colder I tried to
warm that oilcloth. I kept on trying, but when morning
dawned and it was still as cold as when I went to bed,
and had reduced me, too, to the temperature of an iceberg,
I gave it up as an impossible task.
I had hoped to get some rest on this my first night in
an insane asylum. But I was doomed to disappointment.
When the night nurses came in they were curious to see
me and to find out what I was like. No sooner had they
left than I heard some one at the door inquiring for
Nellie Brown, and I began to tremble, fearing always
that my sanity would be discovered. By listening to the
conversation I found it was a reporter in search of me,
and I heard him ask for my clothing so that he might
examine it. I listened quite anxiously to the talk about
me, and was relieved to learn that I was considered hopelessly
insane. That was encouraging. After the reporter
42left I heard new arrivals, and I learned that a doctor
was there and intended to see me. For what purpose
I knew not, and I imagined all sorts of horrible things,
such as examinations and the rest of it, and when they
got to my room I was shaking with more than fear.
“Nellie Brown, here is the doctor; he wishes to speak
with you,” said the nurse. If that’s all he wanted I
thought I could endure it. I removed the blanket which
I had put over my head in my sudden fright and looked
up. The sight was reassuring.
He was a handsome young man. He had the air and
address of a gentleman. Some people have since censured
this action; but I feel sure, even if it was a little
indiscreet, that the young doctor only meant kindness to
me. He came forward, seated himself on the side of my
bed, and put his arm soothingly around my shoulders.
It was a terrible task to play insane before this young
man, and only a girl can sympathize with me in my position.
“How do you feel to-night, Nellie?” he asked, easily.
“Oh, I feel all right.”
“But you are sick, you know,” he said.
“Oh, am I?” I replied, and I turned my head on the
pillow and smiled.
“When did you leave Cuba, Nellie?”
“Oh, you know my home?” I asked.
“Yes, very well. Don’t you remember me? I remember
you.”
“Do you?” and I mentally said I should not forget
him. He was accompanied by a friend who never ventured
a remark, but stood staring at me as I lay in bed.
After a great many questions, to which I answered truthfully,
he left me. Then came other troubles. All night
long the nurses read one to the other aloud, and I know
that the other patients, as well as myself, were unable to
sleep. Every half-hour or hour they would walk heavily
43down the halls, their boot-heels resounding like the
march of a private of dragoons, and take a look at every
patient. Of course this helped to keep us awake. Then,
as it came toward morning, they began to beat eggs for
breakfast, and the sound made me realize how horribly
hungry I was. Occasional yells and cries came from the
male department, and that did not aid in making the
night pass more cheerfully. Then the ambulance-gong,
as it brought in more unfortunates, sounded as a knell to
life and liberty. Thus I passed my first night as an insane
girl at Bellevue.