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 look 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 look 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 world. 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.”
“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?”
“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 Miss 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.”
[Illustration: POSITIVELY DEMENTED.]
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?”
“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. She 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 left 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 down 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.