III.

Latin Quarter. The Hospital of Hotel-Dieu.

AWAY from the palaces, gardens, statues, galleries of paintings, and even from the fashion and respectability of the city, lies the

Latin Quarter. Let us hurry through its generally dirty and narrow streets, and visit its numerous hospitals, colleges, schools of medicine and law, dissecting rooms, museums, and botanical gardens. Here also are the dwellings of the poor and destitute, the student, and of that class, known only in Paris-the grisette. All these are found almost exclusively in this quarter, which is separated from the habitations of the wealthy and fashionable by the river Seine.

The hospitals of Paris deserve the fame, which they enjoy throughout the world, of being the best in existence, on every account. They are the best for the physicians, who there acquire their reputation and subsistence; best for the student, who can there see every species of disease, that afflicts humanity anywhere, reated with consummate skill by the most scientifict professors of the age; and finally, best for the patient who, coming from the highways and byways of life, and from the haunts of misery, penury, and vice, finds al here, which money, religion, and skill can bestow, to make him comfortable, though suffering from the anguish of disease. It is impossible too highly to prize or praise such noble institutions.

A long list of illustrious names commemorates the benefactors of these charities, the origin of which is veiled in impenetrable obscurity, though it can be traced back more than a thousand years. When at home we can calmly take up a book, and read of the effeminacy of one king, and the cruelty of another; we can believe all the vices which are ascribed to a monarch, and shrink

C

with horror from the contemplation of crimes, magnified and coloured, if not invented, by some political historian; and we congratulate ourselves, that such enormities cannot be committed in our own favoured country. But, when contemplating these buildings, founded by a Mazarin, or Richelieu, and supported and enlarged by a long line of sovereigns, whose characters have been portrayed in the blackest hues, we cannot but suspect them, in many instances, to be injured men; and that their histories, which now exist, are too often the offspring of the malicious imagination of partizan writers. It is difficult to imagine such contradictory conduct, so strange a union of virtue and vice, so incongruous a conjunction of cruelty and humanity. The monuments of their benevolence remain; and, therefore, it is but justice, that we should examine the evidence of their atrocities with cautious impartiality.

The oldest hospital in Paris, and, among the first in extent, stands the Hotel-Dieu. or Hospice D'Humanité. There are twenty other institutions, or more of this nature, in the city, for the accommodation of patients of every description, on the most soothing and liberal principles. The noble buildings of the Hotel-Dieu have no claim to architectural elegance, being chiefly remarkable for solidity. The work of several ages. their uncertain origin is attributed to St. Landri, Bishop of Paris in the seventeenth century. This hospital has been successively enlarged by Philip, Augustus, Louis XIII, XIV, XV, and XVI. It extends, at present, along both sides of the river Seine, the buildings being united by a tunnel passing under it. Numerous changes are in constant progress, having for their object the ultimate enlargement of the institution, and the substitution of new buildings in modern style. This, however, has for the present reduced the number of beds from 1200 to 800. The different halls are embellished with the statues and portraits of the distinguished physicians and surgeons, who have here spent a large portion of every day in attending the sick and suffering, among which are those of the celebrated Bichat and Dupuytren.

Into this establishment the sick and wounded of all descriptions are received, with the exception of children, incurable and insane persons, and those who are afflicted

The annual

with cutaneous and syphilitic diseases. average number of patients is eleven thousand, and the average mortality, one in eight hundred and seventy-two. Besides numerous house pupils (internes) the daily service of nine physicians and three surgeons is required. Drs. Chomel and Magendie, and surgeons Roux and Blandin, are the most eminent. The hospital is open only to students, who have received a diploma, and desire to see the practice and hear the cliniques of these celebrated men. Strangers with passports are admitted to view every day, and the public twice a week.

In order to obtain a more particular knowledge of the appearance and customs of the place, you must follow me in imagination in my diurnal visit. Rising at seven o'clock in the morning, I hasten to arrive at the HotelDieu, a distance of a mile from my lodgings, by halfpast seven o'clock. At the door I am stopped by the guard, whose cocked hat and uniform are the evidences of his authority. On showing a ticket, given by the officers of the institution, or, on the exhibition of my diploma, admittance is instantly granted. The medical gentleman from the United States must not neglect to bring his diploma with him, as he will find it quite necessary, on frequent occasions, to the free and proper prosecution of his studies.

Passing through this building, the court-yard, and under the river, I arrive at the edifice devoted to the females. Each of the doors, forming the entrance into the various wards, has over it a name, being that of some saint. On entering, I find myself in a long hall, extending as far almost as the eye can reach. Upon both sides is a row of beds, numbering nearly a hundred, making a striking appearance to an American. The bedsteads are constructed of iron, which however are concealed from sight by curtains. This iron frame work effectually excludes all vermin. Many hospitals in the United States, supplied with wooden bedsteads, and admitting patients from similar classes of society, are much annoyed by them. The curtains answer the double purpose of temporary seclusion and a screen from the light. The objections, which have been offered by many physicians in the United States in regard to the detrimental influence of curtained beds upon the sick, by

confining the air, rendered impure by the breathing of the patients, and the exhalations from the body and open wounds, do not apply to these. The top is left uncovered, which consequently admits a free passage of the atmosphere. At the foot of this hall is perceived, either a painting, a plaster, or perhaps a carved oak representation of the Virgin Mary, or of the patron saint, to whom it is dedicated. This is surrounded by flowers real and artificial, candles, and other emblems of catholic worship.

The description of the practice in this hospital will be given in my next letter.

IV.

Catholic Religion. French Hospitals. Hotel-Dieu. Nuns. Hospital Practice. Mons. Blandin. Dr. Mott, of New York.

COMING from a country where harsh judgments are hazarded on the tendency of the Catholic religion, and the hypocrisy of its professors, it gives one the pleasure of a surprise to visit a hospital in France, and witness the hold which it has upon the public mind. However strongly one may be convinced of the erroneousness of many of their doctrines, he cannot, after such a sight, but be less egotistical and self-sufficient; less disposed to condemn others, and to exalt his own judgment, as the only certain standard of right and wrong. I pronounce not on their articles of faith, of which they surely have abundance, nor on the merits of their works, which few will affirm to be inferior to those of others in the daily walks of life. But the heart has its prerogatives, which will not be slighted, and does not wait before it feels, to inquire whether it is right or not.

In this hospital, as in almost every other in France, may be witnessed the unremitting care of the religieuses. That which I visited at Havre, is under the general direc tion of the nuns, the Lady Superior herself giving £400 sterling a year for its support in addition to her undivided

attention. There I saw seven hundred beds, and in one of them a sailor, who had fallen from the top of a New York and Havre packet on her passage out. He struck upon the sky-light, and when taken up, his leg was found to be completely separated from his thigh, and was left on deck, while he was carried below. Sixty_religieuses of the order of St. Augustine devoted the whole time and attention to the suffering in the Hotel-Dieu alone. Undistracted by the amusements of the world, they find "their meat and their drink" in bathing the burning brow, and moistening the parched lip; in pointing the convalescent to a nobler sphere of duty, in a different path from that in which they have been travelling; in whispering to the dying of Christ's love, and directing their wandering thoughts "to the bright realms of peace and happiness in another and a better world." When I see these women thus engaged, I forget, that they are attendants and nurses, and regard them with a sentiment of veneration. They appear to me to be fulfilling a holy mission upon earth. I see no ostentation in their peculiar dress, their large and uncomely cap or hood, and the bandages by which the principal part of their faces is concealed. To me they seem to say, "Come unto me, all ye that are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest; buy of me wine and oil, without money and without price.” Revenons d

nos moutons.

I said, that I saw these things, but at this early hour (half-past seven A. M.) the streets themselves are hardly visible, much less the interior of a house. By accident I am in the surgical ward of Mons. Blandin. Directing my steps to two or three flickering candles, I traverse the long hall. Stranger, tread with care, lest this waxed oaken floor, which reflects, like a mirror, the little light in the distance, should convert you, on a sudden, from the character of a student into that of a patient of the learned surgeon. Around the bed stand fifty, or perhaps a hundred, students, some with note-books, listening to the words of the surgeon, and completely hiding him and his "suite" from view. Anticipating his progress, and taking his position by the side of the next patient, I may perhaps succeed in seeing him.

The idea I had formed of this excellent man is not disappointed by his personal appearance. He is some fifty