This morning, dear Jane, we visited the Foundling Hospital. Being told
we should go there very early to behold the emptying of the baskets in
which the babes are deposited at the gate during the night, we
hastened there ere seven o'clock; but we had been misinformed, and
were disappointed in our wishes. The infants are carried there at all
hours; none however were received during our visit. We were conducted
through the numerous wards, and saw many forsaken little creatures--a
distressing sight, indeed! Then to behold the sufferings of such as
were diseased! Some of them lying on hard beds, with a bright light
from opposite windows torturing their eyes, which were generally
inflamed from being thus exposed. Some of the nurses too, were
exceedingly rough. For instance, in an apartment attached to the sick
wards, four or five women were occupied in _dosing_ and feeding
several babes--one of them asked another who stood by a table, to hand
her a spoon; instead of handing it, she threw it, and so carelessly,
that the poor child received a blow on the cheek. I could have boxed
the vixen! Each infant is swathed, and wears on its wrist a piece of
pewter, telling the hour, the day of the month, and the year of its
reception at the hospital; this enables a parent who may desire to
reclaim a child, to find it. About six thousand children are annually
received here, and frequently as many as twenty in the course of a
day. A considerable number are sent into the country to be nursed, and
during our stay, a half a dozen carts drove off, filled with peasant
women and their helpless charges. The destiny of these we thought
enviable, when compared with that of those who remained. At two years
of age, the children are removed to another hospital, and there
instructed until old enough to be put to some trade.
After breakfast, we visited a place of a more pleasing description;
this was the Hotel de Carnavalet, formerly the residence of Madame de
Sévigné. It is now inhabited by a Monsieur de P----, an eminent
engineer, with whom we have become acquainted, and who kindly invited
us there, to see the very chamber and cabinet occupied by that lady,
when she penned those charming letters to the Countess de Grignan. The
window of the cabinet overlooks a small garden, in which is a
flourishing yew tree, that was planted by Madame de Sévigné herself.
As I viewed it, and thought of her who reared it, Lord Byron's
beautiful lines on the cypress came forcibly to my mind.
"Dark tree! still sad when other's grief is fled,
The only constant mourner o'er the dead."
The charming old Count de Ségur has returned to town, and we have paid
him our respects at his residence in the Rue Duphot. He was here
yesterday, and invited us to dine with him _en famille_ to-day; we are
going, and I shall close my letter with an account of the party, when
we come back. At present I must abandon the writing desk for the
toilet table.
Eleven at night. We reached home a half an hour since, and having
changed my dress for a robe de chambre, behold me quite at my ease,
and again in possession of the pen. We spent our hours delightfully at
the Count's! On alighting there, we were for some minutes sole tenants
of the parlor, and thus had an opportunity of examining a beautiful
portrait that decorates the wall of the room, and which we afterwards
learned, is that of the late Countess de Ségur. It was painted during
her youth, and if the resemblance be a good one, she must have been a
lovely creature! Our observations were interrupted by the entrance of
the Count from his library, adjoining the parlor--and our circle was
soon increased by the addition of several French gentlemen, to whom he
introduced us, but I quite forget their names. One of them had
recently been in Greece, and described a horrible scene of carnage he
witnessed there. In the evening the Count had many visiters, this
being the time he prefers his friends to call on him. Among those who
came in, was the authoress of "Adèle de Senange," that interesting
novel we read together last winter. You may depend I heard the name of
Madame de S---- announced with great satisfaction. She entered, and we
beheld a plain looking woman, apparently about fifty years old. Then
there was Monsieur de Marbois, who wrote the history of Louisiana, one
of the United States; and Count Philip de Ségur, author of the
"Russian Campaign," who is considered the ablest military historian of
the age. I am now so sleepy I can write no more, so bid you, in the
name of all of us, a fond adieu.