10 Days In A Madhouse Statistiken
Die Undercover-Journalistin Nellie Bly schleust sich für eine Reportage in eine Psychiatrie ein und gibt vor, an einer seelischen Krankheit zu leiden. Ihre Mission ist es, Korruption, Misshandlungen und sogar Mord in der Anstalt aufzudecken. Bald. isotopes-conference.eu - Kaufen Sie 10 Days in a Madhouse - Undercover in der Psychiatrie günstig ein. Qualifizierte Bestellungen werden kostenlos geliefert. Sie finden. Was nach einer fiktiven Geschichte klingt, basiert auf den Lebenserinnerungen von Elizabeth Jane Cochran, die unter dem Pseudonym Nellie. 10 Days In A Madhouse - Undercover in der Psychiatrie ein Film von Timothy Hines mit Caroline Barry, Christophe Lambert. Inhaltsangabe: Es ist das Jahr. Mit ihren Enthüllungen aus einer Anstalt machte die Journalistin Nellie Bly die verdeckte Recherche populär. 10 Days in a Madhouse erzählt. In 10 Days in a Madhouse - Undercover in der Psychiatrie versucht Caroline Barry als investigative Journalistin die Missstände einer psychiatris. Im Jahre nimmt die Journalistin Nellie Bly einen gewagten Auftrag an: Sie soll eine Reportage über die Psychiatrie Blackwell's Island schreiben.
10 Days In A Madhouse She went to great lengths to plan her undercover stunt Video
10 Days in a Mad House Official Trailer 1 (2015) - Caroline Barry, Christopher Lambert Movie HD
Bly now claimed to be a Cuban immigrant, suffering from amnesia. A perplexed judge sent Bly to Bellevue Hospital, where she got a taste of the suffering to come, as hospital inmates were forced to eat spoiled food and live in squalid conditions.
Originally built to hold 1, patients, Blackwell was cramming more than 1, people into the asylum when Bly arrived in the fall of Extensive budget cuts had led to a sharp decline in patient care, leaving just 16 doctors on staff.
But most disturbing of all was the prevailing wisdom of the age regarding both the causes of mental illness and how patients should be treated.
Bly quickly befriended her fellow inmates, who revealed rampant psychological and physical abuse. Patients were forced to take ice-cold baths and remain in wet clothes for hours, leading to frequent illnesses.
They were forced to sit still on benches, without speaking or moving, for stints lasting 12 hours or more. Some patients were tethered together with ropes and forced to pull carts around like mules.
Food and sanitary conditions were horrific, with rotten meat, moldy, stale bread and frequently contaminated water dished out.
Those who complained or resisted were beaten, and Bly even spoke of the threat of sexual violence by vicious, tyrannical staffers.
Bly was shocked to discover that many of the inmates were not insane at all. They were recent immigrants, mostly women, caught up in a law-enforcement system in which they were unable to communicate.
To her horror, Bly quickly realized that while many of these inmates were not suffering from mental illnesses before they arrived at the asylum, their treatments inflicted grave psychological damage on them.
Her first articles on her experiences were published within days, and the series became a publishing sensation. It tells the story of a great trouble.
We all have our troubles, but we get over them in good time. What kind of work are you trying to get? I put my handkerchief up to my face to hide a smile, and replied in a muffled tone, "I never worked; I don't know how.
I am so afraid of them. We do not keep crazy people here. I again used my handkerchief to hide a smile, as I thought that before morning she would at least think she had one crazy person among her flock.
There are so many crazy people about, and one can never tell what they will do. Then there are so many murders committed, and the police never catch the murderers," and I finished with a sob that would have broken up an audience of blase critics.
She gave a sudden and convulsive start, and I knew my first stroke had gone home. It was amusing to see what a remarkably short time it took her to get up from her chair and to whisper hurriedly: "I'll come back to talk with you after a while.
When the supper-bell rang I went along with the others to the basement and partook of the evening meal, which was similar to dinner, except that there was a smaller bill of fare and more people, the women who are employed outside during the day having returned.
After the evening meal we all adjourned to the parlors, where all sat, or stood, as there were not chairs enough to go round.
It was a wretchedly lonely evening, and the light which fell from the solitary gas jet in the parlor, and oil-lamp the hall, helped to envelop us in a dusky hue and dye our spirits navy blue.
I felt it would not require many inundations of this atmosphere to make me a fit subject for the place I was striving to reach.
I watched two women, who seemed of all the crowd to be the most sociable, and I selected them as the ones to work out my salvation, or, more properly speaking, my condemnation and conviction.
Excusing myself and saying that I felt lonely, I asked if I might join their company. They graciously consented, so with my hat and gloves on, which no one had asked me to lay aside, I sat down and listened to the rather wearisome conversation, in which I took no part, merely keeping up my sad look, saying "Yes," or "No," or "I can't say," to their observations.
Several times I told them I thought everybody in the house looked crazy, but they were slow to catch on to my very original remark. One said her name was Mrs.
King and that she was a Southern woman. Then she said that I had a Southern accent. She asked me bluntly if I did not really come from the South.
I said "Yes. For a moment I forgot my role of assumed insanity, and told her the correct hour of departure.
She then asked me what work I was going to do, or if I had ever done any. I replied that I thought it very sad that there were so many working people in the world.
She said in reply that she had been unfortunate and had come to New York, where she had worked at correcting proofs on a medical dictionary for some time, but that her health had given way under the task, and that she was now going to Boston again.
When the maid came to tell us to go to bed I remarked that I was afraid, and again ventured the assertion that all the women in the house seemed to be crazy.
The nurse insisted on my going to bed. I asked if I could not sit on the stairs, but she said, decisively: "No; for every one in the house would think you were crazy.
Here I must introduce a new personage by name into my narrative. It is the woman who had been a proofreader, and was about to return to Boston.
She was a Mrs. Caine, who was as courageous as she was good-hearted. She came into my room, and sat and talked with me a long time, taking down my hair with gentle ways.
She tried to persuade me to undress and go to bed, but I stubbornly refused to do so. During this time a number of the inmates of the house had gathered around us.
They expressed themselves in various ways. They were all in a terrible and real state of fright. No one wanted to be responsible for me, and the woman who was to occupy the room with me declared that she would not stay with that "crazy woman" for all the money of the Vanderbilts.
It was then that Mrs. Caine said she would stay with me. I told her I would like to have her do so. So she was left with me. She didn't undress, but lay down on the bed, watchful of my movements.
She tried to induce me to lie down, but I was afraid to do this. I knew that if I once gave way I should fall asleep and dream as pleasantly and peacefully as a child.
I should, to use a slang expression, be liable to "give myself dead away. My poor companion was put into a wretched state of unhappiness. Every few moments she would rise up to look at me.
She told me that my eyes shone terribly brightly and then began to question me, asking me where I had lived, how long I had been in New York, what I had been doing, and many things besides.
To all her questionings I had but one response—I told her that I had forgotten everything, that ever since my headache had come on I could not remember.
Poor soul! How cruelly I tortured her, and what a kind heart she had! But how I tortured all of them!
One of them dreamed of me—as a nightmare. After I had been in the room an hour or so, I was myself startled by hearing a woman screaming in the next room.
I began to imagine that I was really in an insane asylum. Caine woke up, looked around, frightened, and listened.
She then went out and into the next room, and I heard her asking another woman some questions. When she came back she told me that the woman had had a hideous nightmare.
She had been dreaming of me. She had seen me, she said, rushing at her with a knife in my hand, with the intention of killing her.
In trying to escape me she had fortunately been able to scream, and so to awaken herself and scare off her nightmare. Then Mrs. Caine got into bed again, considerably agitated, but very sleepy.
I was weary, too, but I had braced myself up to the work, and was determined to keep awake all night so as to carry on my work of impersonation to a successful end in the morning.
I heard midnight. I had yet six hours to wait for daylight. The time passed with excruciating slowness. Minutes appeared hours. The noises in the house and on the avenue ceased.
Fearing that sleep would coax me into its grasp, I commenced to review my life. How strange it all seems! One incident, if never so trifling, is but a link more to chain us to our unchangeable fate.
I began at the beginning, and lived again the story of my life. Old friends were recalled with a pleasurable thrill; old enmities, old heartaches, old joys were once again present.
The turned-down pages of my life were turned up, and the past was present. When it was completed, I turned my thoughts bravely to the future, wondering, first, what the next day would bring forth, then making plans for the carrying out of my project.
I wondered if I should be able to pass over the river to the goal of my strange ambition, to become eventually an inmate of the halls inhabited by my mentally wrecked sisters.
And then, once in, what would be my experience? And after? How to get out? I said, they will get me out.
I looked out toward the window and hailed with joy the slight shimmer of dawn. The light grew strong and gray, but the silence was strikingly still.
My companion slept. I had still an hour or two to pass over. Fortunately I found some employment for my mental activity.
Robert Bruce in his captivity had won confidence in the future, and passed his time as pleasantly as possible under the circumstances, by watching the celebrated spider building his web.
I had less noble vermin to interest me. Yet I believe I made some valuable discoveries in natural history. I was about to drop off to sleep in spite of myself when I was suddenly startled to wakefulness.
I thought I heard something crawl and fall down upon the counterpane with an almost inaudible thud. I had the opportunity of studying these interesting animals very thoroughly.
They had evidently come for breakfast, and were not a little disappointed to find that their principal plat was not there.
They scampered up and down the pillow, came together, seemed to hold interesting converse, and acted in every way as if they were puzzled by the absence of an appetizing breakfast.
After one consultation of some length they finally disappeared, seeking victims elsewhere, and leaving me to pass the long minutes by giving my attention to cockroaches, whose size and agility were something of a surprise to me.
My room companion had been sound asleep for a long time, but she now woke up, and expressed surprise at seeing me still awake and apparently as lively as a cricket.
She was as sympathetic as ever. She came to me and took my hands and tried her best to console me, and asked me if I did not want to go home.
She kept me up-stairs until nearly everybody was out of the house, and then took me down to the basement for coffee and a bun.
After that, partaken in silence, I went back to my room, where I sat down, moping. Caine grew more and more anxious.
Where are they? I want them. She believed that I was insane. Yet I forgive her. It is only after one is in trouble that one realizes how little sympathy and kindness there are in the world.
The women in the Home who were not afraid of me had wanted to have some amusement at my expense, and so they had bothered me with questions and remarks that had I been insane would have been cruel and inhumane.
Only this one woman among the crowd, pretty and delicate Mrs. Caine, displayed true womanly feeling.
She compelled the others to cease teasing me and took the bed of the woman who refused to sleep near me.
She protested against the suggestion to leave me alone and to have me locked up for the night so that I could harm no one.
She insisted on remaining with me in order to administer aid should I need it. She smoothed my hair and bathed my brow and talked as soothingly to me as a mother would do to an ailing child.
By every means she tried to have me go to bed and rest, and when it drew toward morning she got up and wrapped a blanket around me for fear I might get cold; then she kissed me on the brow and whispered, compassionately:.
How much I admired that little woman's courage and kindness. How I longed to reassure her and whisper that I was not insane, and how I hoped that, if any poor girl should ever be so unfortunate as to be what I was pretending to be, she might meet with one who possessed the same spirit of human kindness possessed by Mrs.
Ruth Caine. B UT to return to my story. I kept up my role until the assistant matron, Mrs. Stanard, came in. She tried to persuade me to be calm.
I began to see clearly that she wanted to get me out of the house at all hazards, quietly if possible. This I did not want.
I refused to move, but kept up ever the refrain of my lost trunks. Finally some one suggested that an officer be sent for.
After awhile Mrs. Stanard put on her bonnet and went out. Then I knew that I was making an advance toward the home of the insane.
Soon she returned, bringing with her two policemen—big, strong men—who entered the room rather unceremoniously, evidently expecting to meet with a person violently crazy.
The name of one of them was Tom Bockert. When they entered I pretended not to see them. Fortunately Mrs. Caine came to my rescue.
She told the officers about my outcries for my lost trunks, and together they made up a plan to get me to go along with them quietly by telling me they would go with me to look for my lost effects.
They asked me if I would go. I said I was afraid to go alone. Stanard then said she would accompany me, and she arranged that the two policemen should follow us at a respectful distance.
She tied on my veil for me, and we left the house by the basement and started across town, the two officers following at some distance behind.
We walked along very quietly and finally came to the station house, which the good woman assured me was the express office, and that there we should certainly find my missing effects.
I went inside with fear and trembling, for good reason. At that time I had asked him for some information which he had given me. If he were in, would he not recognize me?
And then all would be lost so far as getting to the island was concerned. I pulled my sailor hat as low down over my face as I possibly could, and prepared for the ordeal.
Sure enough there was sturdy Captain McCullagh standing near the desk. He watched me closely as the officer at the desk conversed in a low tone with Mrs.
Stanard and the policeman who brought me. I said I supposed I was. I told him I did not know, and then Mrs.
Stanard gave him a lot of information about me—told him how strangely I had acted at her home; how I had not slept a wink all night, and that in her opinion I was a poor unfortunate who had been driven crazy by inhuman treatment.
There was some discussion between Mrs. Standard and the two officers, and Tom Bockert was told to take us down to the court in a car. Stanard, Tom Bockert, and myself.
I said it was very kind of them to go with me, and I should not soon forget them. As we walked along I kept up my refrain about my trucks, injecting occasionally some remark about the dirty condition of the streets and the curious character of the people we met on the way.
They told me that the people around me were working people. I remarked once more that I thought there were too many working people in the world for the amount of work to be done, at which remark Policeman P.
Bockert eyed me closely, evidently thinking that my mind was gone for good. We passed several other policemen, who generally asked my sturdy guardians what was the matter with me.
By this time quite a number of ragged children were following us too, and they passed remarks about me that were to me original as well as amusing.
Poor Mrs. Stanard was more frightened than I was. The whole situation grew interesting, but I still had fears for my fate before the judge.
At last we came to a low building, and Tom Bockert kindly volunteered the information: "Here's the express office. We shall soon find those trunks of yours.
The entrance to the building was surrounded by a curious crowd and I did not think my case was bad enough to permit me passing them without some remark, so I asked if all those people had lost their trunks.
I said, "They all seem to be foreigners, too. They have all lost their trunks, and it takes most of our time to help find them for them.
We entered the courtroom. It was the Essex Market Police Courtroom. At last the question of my sanity or insanity was to be decided.
Judge Duffy sat behind the high desk, wearing a look which seemed to indicate that he was dealing out the milk of human kindness by wholesale.
I rather feared I would not get the fate I sought, because of the kindness I saw on every line of his face, and it was with rather a sinking heart that I followed Mrs.
Stanard as she answered the summons to go up to the desk, where Tom Bockert had just given an account of the affair. Some one else who had been listening to the brief dialogue here asserted that he had lived south and that my accent was southern, while another officer was positive it was eastern.
I felt much relieved when the first spokesman turned to the judge and said:. You had better attend to it at once. I commenced to shake with more than the cold, and I looked around at the strange crowd about me, composed of poorly dressed men and women with stories printed on their faces of hard lives, abuse and poverty.
Some were consulting eagerly with friends, while others sat still with a look of utter hopelessness. Everywhere was a sprinkling of well-dressed, well-fed officers watching the scene passively and almost indifferently.
It was only an old story with them. One more unfortunate added to a long list which had long since ceased to be of any interest or concern to them.
You know the Queen of England, if she were here, would have to lift her veil," he said, very kindly. Stanard, who stood, pale and trembling, by my side.
She was all alone. I had just got into the house when the bell rang and she came in. When I talked with her she wanted to know if she could stay all night, and I said she could.
After awhile she said all the people in the house looked crazy, and she was afraid of them. Then she would not go to bed, but sat up all the night. There was a general smile at this, and some murmurs of "She's not so crazy on the food question.
Her English is perfect, and I would stake everything on her being a good girl. I am positive she is somebody's darling. At this announcement everybody laughed, and I put my handkerchief over my face and endeavored to choke the laughter that threatened to spoil my plans, in despite of my resolutions.
Poor girl, I will be good to her, for she looks like my sister, who is dead. There was a hush for a moment after this announcement, and the officers glanced at me more kindly, while I silently blessed the kind-hearted judge, and hoped that any poor creatures who might be afflicted as I pretended to be should have as kindly a man to deal with as Judge Duffy.
I got very much frightened at this, for if there is any one who can ferret out a mystery it is a reporter. I felt that I would rather face a mass of expert doctors, policemen, and detectives than two bright specimens of my craft, so I said:.
These men are impudent, and I do not want to be stared at. I will go away. I don't want to stay here. So saying, I pulled down my veil and secretly hoped the reporters would be detained elsewhere until I was sent to the asylum.
Stanard, in evident alarm. She is a lady and it would kill her to be put on the Island. For once I felt like shaking the good woman. To think the Island was just the place I wanted to reach and here she was trying to keep me from going there!
It was very kind of her, but rather provoking under the circumstances. Make out the papers and we will send her to Bellevue for examination. Probably in a few days the effect of the drug will pass off and she will be able to tell us a story that will be startling.
If the reporters would only come! I dreaded them, so I said something about not wishing to stay there any longer to be gazed at.
Judge Duffy then told Policeman Bockert to take me to the back office. After we were seated there Judge Duffy came in and asked me if my home was in Cuba.
Now, won't you tell me the name of your home? I don't want them to trouble me. Everybody is asking me questions, and it makes my head worse," and in truth it did.
Sit down here and rest awhile," and the genial judge left me alone with Mrs. Just then an officer came in with a reporter. I was so frightened, and thought I would be recognized as a journalist, so I turned my head away and said, "I don't want to see any reporters; I will not see any; the judge said I was not to be troubled.
Once again I had a fit of fear. Had I gone too far in not wanting to see a reporter, and was my sanity detected? If I had given the impression that I was sane, I was determined to undo it, so I jumped up and ran back and forward through the office, Mrs.
Stanard clinging terrified to my arm. Why do they bother me with so many people? I am interested in the child, and I would do as much for her as if she were my own.
I want you to be kind to her," he said to the ambulance surgeon. Then, turning to Mrs. Stanard, he asked her if she could not keep me for a few days until my case was inquired into.
Fortunately, she said she could not, because all the women at the Home were afraid of me, and would leave if I were kept there.
I was very much afraid she would keep me if the pay was assured her, and so I said something about the bad cooking and that I did not intend to go back to the Home.
Then came the examination; the doctor looked clever and I had not one hope of deceiving him, but I determined to keep up the farce.
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 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.
They have not changed once," explained Mrs. I wondered how she knew whether they had or not, but I kept quiet. 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 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.
A T 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. 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:. 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.
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;.
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. 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:.
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.
Will you take it off? 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:.
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.
When Kelly Le Brock was cast in the production, she had 12 hours to prepare for her role. To accomplish this, she drew from her experiences dealing with mental illness of her past stalkers, as well as previous roles as a nurse.
A reviewer in Ms. Nellie Bly's heroism and courage truly come to life on the screen, thanks to the work of talented up-and-coming actor Caroline Barry.
Barry is instantly magnetic as Bly, and it's hard not to root for and fall in love with her character as the story progresses.
The problem lies not with him, but with Hollywood. From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. Release date. Running time. Schanz Susan Goforth as Mrs.
Stanard Katie Singleton as Mrs.
Despite this effort at a cover-up, the grand jury agreed with Bly. Abusive staff members were fired, translators were hired to assist immigrant patients, and changes were made to the system to help prevent those who did not actually suffer from mental illness from being committed.
Bly quickly became a household name and one of the most famous journalists in the world. Just two years after her madhouse expose, she made headlines again when she re-created the trip depicted in the book Around the World in 80 Days , circumnavigating the globe by herself — and beating the record by a week.
Bly retired from journalism following her marriage to a wealthy businessman. She later returned to writing, including a stint as a foreign correspondent during World War I, until her death in Her history-making trip was even immortalized in a popular board game released in , which allowed players to travel around the world with the intrepid, audacious reporter.
The singer's last month featured positive personal and professional developments, but also included several confrontations with the woman who would become her killer.
One of the most famous figures in medical history, the nurse's groundbreaking achievements in handwashing, hygiene and sanitation helped revolutionize medicine.
The crash left the painter with life-long pain and injuries that would fuel the vibrant, intensely personal artwork that would make her famous.
The Nobel Prize winner retreated to the Florida island in the s and ultimately discovered a new muse — the city itself. As the second World War raged, then-Princess Elizabeth rallied to the cause and enlisted in the military, helping boost the morale of the British people.
The Nobel Peace Prize winner uses her platform to spread the message of hope and unity. Stemming from her own difficult childhood, the British queen and her nine offspring experienced tension and dysfunction from the moment they were born.
She went to great lengths to plan her undercover stunt Just 23, Bly was now one of a handful of female reporters in New York City.
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All Critics 2 Rotten 2. Pat Padua. Bly's life is an intrinsically compelling one, and the failure of 10 Days in a Madhouse is that it never once lives up to the indelible nature of the life it portrays.
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Create your account Already have an account? Email Address. I imagined, from the obvious signs, that dinner was served, but as no one had said anything to me I made no effort to follow in the hungry train.
Yet I did wish that some one would invite me down. It always produces such a lonely, homesick feeling to know others are eating, and we haven't a chance, even if we are not hungry.
I was glad when the assistant matron came up and asked me if I did not want something to eat. I replied that I did, and then I asked her what her name was.
Stanard, she said, and I immediately wrote it down in a notebook I had taken with me for the purpose of making memoranda, and in which I had written several pages of utter nonsense for inquisitive scientists.
Thus equipped I awaited developments. But my dinner—well, I followed Mrs. Stanard down the uncarpeted stairs into the basement; where a large number of women were eating.
She found room for me at a table with three other women. The short-haired slavey who had opened the door now put in an appearance as waiter. Placing her arms akimbo and staring me out of countenance she said:.
It was not very long before she returned with what I had ordered on a large, badly battered tray, which she banged down before me.
I began my simple meal. It was not very enticing, so while making a feint of eating I watched the others. I have often moralized on the repulsive form charity always assumes!
Here was a home for deserving women and yet what a mockery the name was. The floor was bare, and the little wooden tables were sublimely ignorant of such modern beautifiers as varnish, polish and table-covers.
It is useless to talk about the cheapness of linen and its effect on civilization. Yet these honest workers, the most deserving of women, are asked to call this spot of bareness—home.
When the meal was finished each woman went to the desk in the corner, where Mrs. Stanard sat, and paid her bill. I was given a much-used, and abused, red check, by the original piece of humanity in shape of my waitress.
My bill was about thirty cents. After dinner I went up-stairs and resumed my former place in the back parlor. I was quite cold and uncomfortable, and had fully made up my mind that I could not endure that sort of business long, so the sooner I assumed my insane points the sooner I would be released from enforced idleness.
I listlessly watched the women in the front parlor, where all sat except myself. One did nothing but read and scratch her head and occasionally call out mildly, "Georgie," without lifting her eyes from her book.
He did everything that was rude and unmannerly, I thought, and the mother never said a word unless she heard some one else yell at him.
Another woman always kept going to sleep and waking herself up with her own snoring. I really felt wickedly thankful it was only herself she awakened.
The majority of the women sat there doing nothing, but there were a few who made lace and knitted unceasingly. The enormous door-bell seemed to be going all the time, and so did the short-haired girl.
The latter was, besides, one of those girls who sing all the time snatches of all the songs and hymns that have been composed for the last fifty years.
There is such a thing as martyrdom in these days. The ringing of the bell brought more people who wanted shelter for the night. Excepting one woman, who was from the country on a day's shopping expedition, they were working women, some of them with children.
It tells the story of a great trouble. We all have our troubles, but we get over them in good time. What kind of work are you trying to get?
I put my handkerchief up to my face to hide a smile, and replied in a muffled tone, "I never worked; I don't know how.
I am so afraid of them. We do not keep crazy people here. I again used my handkerchief to hide a smile, as I thought that before morning she would at least think she had one crazy person among her flock.
There are so many crazy people about, and one can never tell what they will do. Then there are so many murders committed, and the police never catch the murderers," and I finished with a sob that would have broken up an audience of blase critics.
She gave a sudden and convulsive start, and I knew my first stroke had gone home. It was amusing to see what a remarkably short time it took her to get up from her chair and to whisper hurriedly: "I'll come back to talk with you after a while.
When the supper-bell rang I went along with the others to the basement and partook of the evening meal, which was similar to dinner, except that there was a smaller bill of fare and more people, the women who are employed outside during the day having returned.
After the evening meal we all adjourned to the parlors, where all sat, or stood, as there were not chairs enough to go round. It was a wretchedly lonely evening, and the light which fell from the solitary gas jet in the parlor, and oil-lamp the hall, helped to envelop us in a dusky hue and dye our spirits navy blue.
I felt it would not require many inundations of this atmosphere to make me a fit subject for the place I was striving to reach.
I watched two women, who seemed of all the crowd to be the most sociable, and I selected them as the ones to work out my salvation, or, more properly speaking, my condemnation and conviction.
Excusing myself and saying that I felt lonely, I asked if I might join their company. They graciously consented, so with my hat and gloves on, which no one had asked me to lay aside, I sat down and listened to the rather wearisome conversation, in which I took no part, merely keeping up my sad look, saying "Yes," or "No," or "I can't say," to their observations.
Several times I told them I thought everybody in the house looked crazy, but they were slow to catch on to my very original remark.
One said her name was Mrs. King and that she was a Southern woman. Then she said that I had a Southern accent. She asked me bluntly if I did not really come from the South.
I said "Yes. For a moment I forgot my role of assumed insanity, and told her the correct hour of departure. She then asked me what work I was going to do, or if I had ever done any.
I replied that I thought it very sad that there were so many working people in the world. She said in reply that she had been unfortunate and had come to New York, where she had worked at correcting proofs on a medical dictionary for some time, but that her health had given way under the task, and that she was now going to Boston again.
When the maid came to tell us to go to bed I remarked that I was afraid, and again ventured the assertion that all the women in the house seemed to be crazy.
The nurse insisted on my going to bed. I asked if I could not sit on the stairs, but she said, decisively: "No; for every one in the house would think you were crazy.
Here I must introduce a new personage by name into my narrative. It is the woman who had been a proofreader, and was about to return to Boston.
She was a Mrs. Caine, who was as courageous as she was good-hearted. She came into my room, and sat and talked with me a long time, taking down my hair with gentle ways.
She tried to persuade me to undress and go to bed, but I stubbornly refused to do so. During this time a number of the inmates of the house had gathered around us.
They expressed themselves in various ways. They were all in a terrible and real state of fright. No one wanted to be responsible for me, and the woman who was to occupy the room with me declared that she would not stay with that "crazy woman" for all the money of the Vanderbilts.
It was then that Mrs. Caine said she would stay with me. I told her I would like to have her do so. So she was left with me. She didn't undress, but lay down on the bed, watchful of my movements.
She tried to induce me to lie down, but I was afraid to do this. I knew that if I once gave way I should fall asleep and dream as pleasantly and peacefully as a child.
I should, to use a slang expression, be liable to "give myself dead away. My poor companion was put into a wretched state of unhappiness.
Every few moments she would rise up to look at me. She told me that my eyes shone terribly brightly and then began to question me, asking me where I had lived, how long I had been in New York, what I had been doing, and many things besides.
To all her questionings I had but one response—I told her that I had forgotten everything, that ever since my headache had come on I could not remember.
Poor soul! How cruelly I tortured her, and what a kind heart she had! But how I tortured all of them! One of them dreamed of me—as a nightmare.
After I had been in the room an hour or so, I was myself startled by hearing a woman screaming in the next room.
I began to imagine that I was really in an insane asylum. Caine woke up, looked around, frightened, and listened.
She then went out and into the next room, and I heard her asking another woman some questions. When she came back she told me that the woman had had a hideous nightmare.
She had been dreaming of me. She had seen me, she said, rushing at her with a knife in my hand, with the intention of killing her.
In trying to escape me she had fortunately been able to scream, and so to awaken herself and scare off her nightmare.
Then Mrs. Caine got into bed again, considerably agitated, but very sleepy. I was weary, too, but I had braced myself up to the work, and was determined to keep awake all night so as to carry on my work of impersonation to a successful end in the morning.
I heard midnight. I had yet six hours to wait for daylight. The time passed with excruciating slowness. Minutes appeared hours.
The noises in the house and on the avenue ceased. Fearing that sleep would coax me into its grasp, I commenced to review my life.
How strange it all seems! One incident, if never so trifling, is but a link more to chain us to our unchangeable fate. I began at the beginning, and lived again the story of my life.
Old friends were recalled with a pleasurable thrill; old enmities, old heartaches, old joys were once again present. The turned-down pages of my life were turned up, and the past was present.
When it was completed, I turned my thoughts bravely to the future, wondering, first, what the next day would bring forth, then making plans for the carrying out of my project.
I wondered if I should be able to pass over the river to the goal of my strange ambition, to become eventually an inmate of the halls inhabited by my mentally wrecked sisters.
And then, once in, what would be my experience? And after? How to get out? I said, they will get me out. I looked out toward the window and hailed with joy the slight shimmer of dawn.
The light grew strong and gray, but the silence was strikingly still. My companion slept. I had still an hour or two to pass over.
Fortunately I found some employment for my mental activity. Robert Bruce in his captivity had won confidence in the future, and passed his time as pleasantly as possible under the circumstances, by watching the celebrated spider building his web.
I had less noble vermin to interest me. Yet I believe I made some valuable discoveries in natural history.
I was about to drop off to sleep in spite of myself when I was suddenly startled to wakefulness. I thought I heard something crawl and fall down upon the counterpane with an almost inaudible thud.
I had the opportunity of studying these interesting animals very thoroughly. They had evidently come for breakfast, and were not a little disappointed to find that their principal plat was not there.
They scampered up and down the pillow, came together, seemed to hold interesting converse, and acted in every way as if they were puzzled by the absence of an appetizing breakfast.
After one consultation of some length they finally disappeared, seeking victims elsewhere, and leaving me to pass the long minutes by giving my attention to cockroaches, whose size and agility were something of a surprise to me.
My room companion had been sound asleep for a long time, but she now woke up, and expressed surprise at seeing me still awake and apparently as lively as a cricket.
She was as sympathetic as ever. She came to me and took my hands and tried her best to console me, and asked me if I did not want to go home.
She kept me up-stairs until nearly everybody was out of the house, and then took me down to the basement for coffee and a bun.
After that, partaken in silence, I went back to my room, where I sat down, moping. Caine grew more and more anxious. Where are they?
I want them. She believed that I was insane. Yet I forgive her. It is only after one is in trouble that one realizes how little sympathy and kindness there are in the world.
The women in the Home who were not afraid of me had wanted to have some amusement at my expense, and so they had bothered me with questions and remarks that had I been insane would have been cruel and inhumane.
Only this one woman among the crowd, pretty and delicate Mrs. Caine, displayed true womanly feeling. She compelled the others to cease teasing me and took the bed of the woman who refused to sleep near me.
She protested against the suggestion to leave me alone and to have me locked up for the night so that I could harm no one. She insisted on remaining with me in order to administer aid should I need it.
She smoothed my hair and bathed my brow and talked as soothingly to me as a mother would do to an ailing child. By every means she tried to have me go to bed and rest, and when it drew toward morning she got up and wrapped a blanket around me for fear I might get cold; then she kissed me on the brow and whispered, compassionately:.
How much I admired that little woman's courage and kindness. How I longed to reassure her and whisper that I was not insane, and how I hoped that, if any poor girl should ever be so unfortunate as to be what I was pretending to be, she might meet with one who possessed the same spirit of human kindness possessed by Mrs.
Ruth Caine. B UT to return to my story. I kept up my role until the assistant matron, Mrs. Stanard, came in. She tried to persuade me to be calm.
I began to see clearly that she wanted to get me out of the house at all hazards, quietly if possible. This I did not want.
I refused to move, but kept up ever the refrain of my lost trunks. Finally some one suggested that an officer be sent for.
After awhile Mrs. Stanard put on her bonnet and went out. Then I knew that I was making an advance toward the home of the insane.
Soon she returned, bringing with her two policemen—big, strong men—who entered the room rather unceremoniously, evidently expecting to meet with a person violently crazy.
The name of one of them was Tom Bockert. When they entered I pretended not to see them. Fortunately Mrs. Caine came to my rescue. She told the officers about my outcries for my lost trunks, and together they made up a plan to get me to go along with them quietly by telling me they would go with me to look for my lost effects.
They asked me if I would go. I said I was afraid to go alone. Stanard then said she would accompany me, and she arranged that the two policemen should follow us at a respectful distance.
She tied on my veil for me, and we left the house by the basement and started across town, the two officers following at some distance behind.
We walked along very quietly and finally came to the station house, which the good woman assured me was the express office, and that there we should certainly find my missing effects.
I went inside with fear and trembling, for good reason. At that time I had asked him for some information which he had given me.
If he were in, would he not recognize me? And then all would be lost so far as getting to the island was concerned. I pulled my sailor hat as low down over my face as I possibly could, and prepared for the ordeal.
Sure enough there was sturdy Captain McCullagh standing near the desk. He watched me closely as the officer at the desk conversed in a low tone with Mrs.
Stanard and the policeman who brought me. I said I supposed I was. I told him I did not know, and then Mrs.
Stanard gave him a lot of information about me—told him how strangely I had acted at her home; how I had not slept a wink all night, and that in her opinion I was a poor unfortunate who had been driven crazy by inhuman treatment.
There was some discussion between Mrs. Standard and the two officers, and Tom Bockert was told to take us down to the court in a car.
Stanard, Tom Bockert, and myself. I said it was very kind of them to go with me, and I should not soon forget them. As we walked along I kept up my refrain about my trucks, injecting occasionally some remark about the dirty condition of the streets and the curious character of the people we met on the way.
They told me that the people around me were working people. I remarked once more that I thought there were too many working people in the world for the amount of work to be done, at which remark Policeman P.
Bockert eyed me closely, evidently thinking that my mind was gone for good. We passed several other policemen, who generally asked my sturdy guardians what was the matter with me.
By this time quite a number of ragged children were following us too, and they passed remarks about me that were to me original as well as amusing.
Poor Mrs. Stanard was more frightened than I was. The whole situation grew interesting, but I still had fears for my fate before the judge.
At last we came to a low building, and Tom Bockert kindly volunteered the information: "Here's the express office. We shall soon find those trunks of yours.
The entrance to the building was surrounded by a curious crowd and I did not think my case was bad enough to permit me passing them without some remark, so I asked if all those people had lost their trunks.
I said, "They all seem to be foreigners, too. They have all lost their trunks, and it takes most of our time to help find them for them.
We entered the courtroom. It was the Essex Market Police Courtroom. At last the question of my sanity or insanity was to be decided. Judge Duffy sat behind the high desk, wearing a look which seemed to indicate that he was dealing out the milk of human kindness by wholesale.
I rather feared I would not get the fate I sought, because of the kindness I saw on every line of his face, and it was with rather a sinking heart that I followed Mrs.
Stanard as she answered the summons to go up to the desk, where Tom Bockert had just given an account of the affair. Some one else who had been listening to the brief dialogue here asserted that he had lived south and that my accent was southern, while another officer was positive it was eastern.
I felt much relieved when the first spokesman turned to the judge and said:. You had better attend to it at once. I commenced to shake with more than the cold, and I looked around at the strange crowd about me, composed of poorly dressed men and women with stories printed on their faces of hard lives, abuse and poverty.
Some were consulting eagerly with friends, while others sat still with a look of utter hopelessness. Everywhere was a sprinkling of well-dressed, well-fed officers watching the scene passively and almost indifferently.
It was only an old story with them. One more unfortunate added to a long list which had long since ceased to be of any interest or concern to them.
You know the Queen of England, if she were here, would have to lift her veil," he said, very kindly.
Stanard, who stood, pale and trembling, by my side. She was all alone. I had just got into the house when the bell rang and she came in.
When I talked with her she wanted to know if she could stay all night, and I said she could. After awhile she said all the people in the house looked crazy, and she was afraid of them.
Then she would not go to bed, but sat up all the night. There was a general smile at this, and some murmurs of "She's not so crazy on the food question.
Her English is perfect, and I would stake everything on her being a good girl. I am positive she is somebody's darling. At this announcement everybody laughed, and I put my handkerchief over my face and endeavored to choke the laughter that threatened to spoil my plans, in despite of my resolutions.
Poor girl, I will be good to her, for she looks like my sister, who is dead. There was a hush for a moment after this announcement, and the officers glanced at me more kindly, while I silently blessed the kind-hearted judge, and hoped that any poor creatures who might be afflicted as I pretended to be should have as kindly a man to deal with as Judge Duffy.
I got very much frightened at this, for if there is any one who can ferret out a mystery it is a reporter. I felt that I would rather face a mass of expert doctors, policemen, and detectives than two bright specimens of my craft, so I said:.
These men are impudent, and I do not want to be stared at. I will go away. I don't want to stay here. So saying, I pulled down my veil and secretly hoped the reporters would be detained elsewhere until I was sent to the asylum.
Stanard, in evident alarm. She is a lady and it would kill her to be put on the Island. For once I felt like shaking the good woman.
To think the Island was just the place I wanted to reach and here she was trying to keep me from going there! It was very kind of her, but rather provoking under the circumstances.
Make out the papers and we will send her to Bellevue for examination. Probably in a few days the effect of the drug will pass off and she will be able to tell us a story that will be startling.
If the reporters would only come! I dreaded them, so I said something about not wishing to stay there any longer to be gazed at.
Judge Duffy then told Policeman Bockert to take me to the back office. After we were seated there Judge Duffy came in and asked me if my home was in Cuba.
Now, won't you tell me the name of your home? I don't want them to trouble me. Everybody is asking me questions, and it makes my head worse," and in truth it did.
Sit down here and rest awhile," and the genial judge left me alone with Mrs. Just then an officer came in with a reporter.
I was so frightened, and thought I would be recognized as a journalist, so I turned my head away and said, "I don't want to see any reporters; I will not see any; the judge said I was not to be troubled.
Once again I had a fit of fear. Had I gone too far in not wanting to see a reporter, and was my sanity detected? If I had given the impression that I was sane, I was determined to undo it, so I jumped up and ran back and forward through the office, Mrs.
Stanard clinging terrified to my arm. Why do they bother me with so many people? I am interested in the child, and I would do as much for her as if she were my own.
I want you to be kind to her," he said to the ambulance surgeon. Then, turning to Mrs. Stanard, he asked her if she could not keep me for a few days until my case was inquired into.
Fortunately, she said she could not, because all the women at the Home were afraid of me, and would leave if I were kept there. I was very much afraid she would keep me if the pay was assured her, and so I said something about the bad cooking and that I did not intend to go back to the Home.
Then came the examination; the doctor looked clever and I had not one hope of deceiving him, but I determined to keep up the farce.
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 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.
They have not changed once," explained Mrs. I wondered how she knew whether they had or not, but I kept quiet.
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 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.
A T 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. 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:. 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.
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;. 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.
Filme wie 10 Days Insurgent a Madhouse - Undercover in der Psychiatrie. Dass Dr. Schnaggels, die bis zu Transformers 5 Ganzer Film Deutsch Einlieferung Aronofsky keine psychische Störung oder Erkrankung hatten, spätestens jetzt psychisch auffällig reagieren, scheint kein Wunder zu sein. Trending: Meist diskutierte Filme. Selbst ihre ignorante, zum Teil rassistische Geisteshaltung, die in ihrem Reisebericht durchschimmert und von den Editoren späterer Daniela Nieves verschleiert wird, ändert nichts daran. Biopics die ich gern sehen würde von Daniel Schotte. Zum Trailer. Deine Bewertung. Produktionsjahr Bilder anzeigen. Caroline Barry, die von Kandidatinnen den Zuschlag erhielt, wurde von ihm wegen ihres Dauerlächelns ausgewählt. Dass Frauen, die bis zu ihrer Einlieferung noch keine psychische Störung oder Erkrankung Motel Stream, spätestens jetzt psychisch auffällig reagieren, scheint kein Wunder zu sein. Vorbereitungszeit blieb da nicht, geschweige denn, dass sie das Drehbuch vorab gelesen hatte. Möchte ich sehen. Susan Goforth. Listen mit 10 Days in Brook Shields Madhouse - Undercover in der Psychiatrie. Dein Name. Sie macht auf die widrigen Anna Planken Geschieden aufmerksam, denen die Frauen ausgeliefert sind. Unsane - Ausgeliefert.
Das könnte dich auch interessieren. Tatsächlich gelingt es der Journalistin, ihrer Umgebung eine mentale Erkrankung vorzuspielen. Trailer Bilder. Weil man diese Geschichte nur schlecht mit einem männlichen Kollegen besetzen kann, erhält Nellie Bly ihre Chance. Tut mir leid, die Planet Erde 2 Netflix muss sein: Es kann nur einen geben. Martin Wiley. Zum Trailer. Darlene Sellers. The people who Unstoppable Außer Kontrolle outrightly abused their position of power in order to make those poor women suffer, is just unforgiveable. Retrieved I pulled the bell, which sounded loud enough for a church chime, Bs.To Trinity Seven nervously awaited the opening of the door to the Home, which I intended should ere long cast me forth and out upon the charity of the police. The public response to her writings was enormous and as a result and investigation was set up and a vast sum invested to improve conditions in the Asylums which was a great achievement for Nellie Bly Intruders übersetzung her time spent undercover did so much highlight the conditions of patients Aaron Johnson Asylums. August 31, Rating: 1. 10 Days In A Madhouse Miscellaneous Sketches. Video
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Weil sie für eine britische Spionin gehalten wird, landet sie zwischenzeitlich im Gefängnis. Hilfe zum Textformat. Um an die besten Informationen für ihren Artikel zu gelangen, will sich Bly jedoch nicht auf andere als auf sich selbst verlassen. Dent Christopher Lambert nicht einsichtig ist, dass seinen Patientinnen — allen voran Nellie Godzilla King Of Monsters eine Visions (2019), vor allem adäquatere Behandlung zukommen müsste. Caroline Barry. Also gibt Nellie vor, verrückt zu sein, und es Galileo Big Pictures 2019 auch nicht lange, bis sie von rabiaten Polizisten zwangseingeliefert wird.10 Days In A Madhouse - Main navigation
The Founder. Don't Breathe. Sie täuscht eine geistige Störung vor und schleust sich so in die Anstalt ein. Blue Valentine.
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