Ten Days in a Mad-House and Other Stories (5 page)

I gave an inward chuckle at the thought.

“Put out your tongue when I tell you,” he said.

“I don’t want to,” I answered, truthfully enough.

“You must. You are sick, and I am a doctor.”

“I am not sick and never was. I only want my trunks.”

But I put out my tongue, which he looked at in a sagacious manner.

Then he felt my pulse and listened to the beating of my heart. I had

not the least idea how the heart of an insane person beat, so I held

my breath all the while he listened, until, when he quit, I had to give

a gasp to regain it. Then he tried the effect of the light on the pupils

of my eyes. Holding his hand within a half inch of my face, he told

me to look at it, then, jerking it hastily away, he would examine my

eyes. I was puzzled to know what insanity was like in the eye, so I

Ten Days in a Mad-House

thought the best thing under the circumstances was to stare. This I

did. I held my eyes riveted unblinkingly upon his hand, and when

he removed it I exerted all my strength to still keep my eyes from

blinking.

“What drugs have you been taking?” he then asked me.

“Drugs!” I repeated, wonderingly. “I do not know what drugs are.”

“The pupils of her eyes have been enlarged ever since she came to

the Home. They have not changed once,” explained Mrs. Stanard. I

wondered how she knew whether they had or not, but I kept quiet.

“I believe she has been using belladonna,” said the doctor, and for

the first time I was thankful that I was a little near-sighted, which of

course answers for the enlargement of the pupils. I thought I might

as well be truthful when I could without injuring my case, so I told

him I was near-sighted, that I was not in the least ill, had never been

sick, and that no one had a right to detain me when I wanted to find

my trunks. I wanted to go home. He wrote a lot of things in a long,

slender book, and then said he was going to take me home. The

judge told him to take me and to be kind to me, and to tell the people

at the hospital to be kind to me, and to do all they could for me. If we

only had more such men as Judge Duffy, the poor unfortunates

would not find life all darkness.

I began to have more confidence in my own ability now, since one

judge, one doctor, and a mass of people had pronounced me insane,

and I put on my veil quite gladly when I was told that I was to be

taken in a carriage, and that afterward I could go home. “I am so

glad to go with you,” I said, and I meant it. I was very glad indeed.

Once more, guarded by Policeman Brockert, I walked through the

little, crowded courtroom. I felt quite proud of myself as I went out a

side door into an alleyway, where the ambulance was waiting. Near

the closed and barred gates was a small office occupied by several

men and large books. We all went in there, and when they began to

ask me questions the doctor interposed and said he had all the

papers, and that it was useless to ask me anything further, because I

was unable to answer questions. This was a great relief to me, for my

nerves were already feeling the strain. A rough-looking man wanted

to put me into the ambulance, but I refused his aid so decidedly that

the doctor and policeman told him to desist, and they performed that

gallant office themselves. I did not enter the ambulance without

protest. I made the remark that I had never seen a carriage of that

make before, and that I did not want to ride in it, but after awhile I

let them persuade me, as I had right along intended to do.

I shall never forget that ride. After I was put in flat on the yellow

blanket, the doctor got in and sat near the door. The large gates were

swung open, and the curious crowd which had collected swayed

back to make way for the ambulance as it backed out. How they

tried to get a glimpse at the supposed crazy girl! The doctor saw that

I did not like the people gazing at me, and considerately put down

the curtains, after asking my wishes in regard to it. Still that did not

keep the people away. The children raced after us, yelling all sorts of

slang expressions, and trying to get a peep under the curtains. It was

quite an interesting drive, but I must say that it was an

excruciatingly rough one. I held on, only there was not much to hold

on to, and the driver drove as if he feared some one would catch up

with us.

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 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 still-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