Ten Days in a Mad-House

Ten Days in a Mad-House
by Nellie Bly
New York:
Ian L. Munro, Publisher,
24 And 26 Vandewater Street
INTRODUCTION.
SINCE my experiences in Blackwell's Island Insane Asylum were
published in the World I have received hundreds of letters in regard to
it. The edition containing my story long since ran out, and I have been
prevailed upon to allow it to be published in book form, to satisfy the
hundreds who are yet asking for copies.
I am happy to be able to state as a result of my visit to the asylum and
the exposures consequent thereon, that the City of New York has
appropriated $1,000,000 more per annum than ever before for the care
of the insane. So I have at least the satisfaction of knowing that the
poor unfortunates will be the better cared for because of my work.
TEN DAYS IN A MAD-HOUSE.

CHAPTER I
A DELICATE MISSION.
ON the 22d of September I was asked by the World if I could have
myself committed to one of the asylums for the insane in New York,
with a view to writing a plain and unvarnished narrative of the
treatment of the patients therein and the methods of management, etc.

Did I think I had the courage to go through such an ordeal as the
mission would demand? Could I assume the characteristics of insanity
to such a degree that I could pass the doctors, live for a week among
the insane without the authorities there finding out that I was only a
"chiel amang 'em takin' notes?" I said I believed I could. I had some
faith in my own ability as an actress and thought I could assume
insanity long enough to accomplish any mission intrusted to me. Could
I pass a week in the insane ward at Blackwell's Island? I said I could
and I would. And I did.
My instructions were simply to go on with my work as soon as I felt
that I was ready. I was to chronicle faithfully the experiences I
underwent, and when once within the walls of the asylum to find out
and describe its inside workings, which are always, so effectually
hidden by white-capped nurses, as well as by bolts and bars, from the
knowledge of the public. "We do not ask you to go there for the
purpose of making sensational revelations. Write up things as you find
them, good or bad; give praise or blame as you think best, and the truth
all the time. But I am afraid of that chronic smile of yours," said the
editor. "I will smile no more," I said, and I went away to execute my
delicate and, as I found out, difficult mission.
If I did get into the asylum, which I hardly hoped to do, I had no idea
that my experiences would contain aught else than a simple tale of life
in an asylum. That such an institution could be mismanaged, and that
cruelties could exist 'neath its roof, I did not deem possible. I always
had a desire to know asylum life more thoroughly--a desire to be
convinced that the most helpless of God's creatures, the insane, were
cared for kindly and properly. The many stories I had read of abuses in
such institutions I had regarded as wildly exaggerated or else romances,
yet there was a latent desire to know positively.
I shuddered to think how completely the insane were in the power of
their keepers, and how one could weep and plead for release, and all of
no avail, if the keepers were so minded. Eagerly I accepted the mission
to learn the inside workings of the Blackwell Island Insane Asylum.
"How will you get me out," I asked my editor, "after I once get in?"

"I do not know," he replied, "but we will get you out if we have to tell
who you are, and for what purpose you feigned insanity--only get in."
I had little belief in my ability to deceive the insanity experts, and I
think my editor had less.
All the preliminary preparations for my ordeal were left to be planned
by myself. Only one thing was decided upon, namely, that I should
pass under the pseudonym of Nellie Brown, the initials of which would
agree with my own name and my linen, so that there would be no
difficulty in keeping track of my movements and assisting me out of
any difficulties or dangers I might get into. There were ways of getting
into the insane ward, but I did not know them. I might adopt one of two
courses. Either I could feign insanity at the house of friends, and get
myself committed on the decision of two competent physicians, or I
could go to