London's Hospitals and Clinics: Guy's Hospital in 1900

Arthur H. Beavan continued his survey of London's hospitals at the turn of the twentieth century in Imperial London, published in 1901, with this look at Guy's:

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Guy's Hospital, in St. Thomas's Street, Borough, S.E., owes its existence to one Thomas Guy, who lived in the early part of the eighteenth century.

He was a London bookseller and binder, who had made a fortune, partly by buying up seamen's advance-notes at a discount, and partly by investments in South Sea stock.

He quarrelled with his housekeeper whom he was going to marry, and devoted his wealth to works of charity, the chief of these being the founding of the hospital that bears his name.

In 1900 Guy's covered a larger space of ground than any other similar institution in London, and at the rear of the original building designed by Dance, the City architect - there were numerous departmental additions, and also a miniature park where patients could walk and recreate themselves.

Amongst these modern erections was a college for medical students, of whom there were close upon four hundred; also a new splendid anatomical museum; a special theatre where delicate operations on the eye could be performed; and a small brick house that seemed to court the strictest seclusion.

The last-named was the dissecting department.

Enter it, in company with one of the hospital officials, and if not forewarned, you wouldl be considerably startled by the sight, in an ante-chamber, of an open coffin or two, tenanted by some unfortunates, whose bodies, not being claimed by any one, had lawfully become the property pro tem. of the Medical School.

These relics of mortality had just been undergoing the operation of being preserved by injection for future use.

If you had the nerve to proceed further, you wouldl find yourself in a rather small apartment, well-lighted from above.

On each side of the room were separate slabs of slate or marble, where sundry young pathologists were pursuing their ghastly investigations, and laying bare the closest secrets of the human form divine.

All were smoking hard, more as a matter of habit and tradition than from hygienic necessity, for the antiseptic arrangements were so perfect that there was nothing offensive to the sense of smell.

The principal wards were very spacious, the total number of beds being nearly a thousand (exceeding that of any other Metropolitan bospital).

The wards reserved for casualty cases were a notable feature, the number of accidents that happened to engine-drivers, porters, shunters, etc., employed on the surrounding railways, almost necessitating a department to themselves, while from the great river-side warehouses and the Thames lighters, constantly came cases needing immediate help.

In the main building were the officers' quarters; the laboratories; the apothecary's shop; and the surgical instrument department; the library, the chapel where Sir Astley Cooper is buried, and the Court-room, over whose presidential chair hung a fine portrait of Guy in black gown and flowing wig.

On the ground floor, close to the entrance, was a big bare room, aound which were many basins fixed into stands; and on certain days of the week, should you with innocent rashness peep into this apartment, you would probably rapidly and discreetly retire from the sight and sound of stalwart working-men and labourers having their grinders extracted, gratis, by budding dentists anxious to perfect themselves in the art peculiar to their profession.

Much more trying to the nerves was a first visit to the fine operating theatre at Guy's.

Tier upon tier of students gazed down upon a space on the floor-level, where the operating-table with sawdust beneath reminded one of the significant accompaniments of the guillotine.

Presently there was a murmur, followed by dead silence, as the door at the back of the table opened, and the patient, escorted by nurses and followed by the medical staff, was borne in by stalwart porters, and placed upon the table.

Rapidly, almost before one could notice it, chloroform was applied, the gleaming knives and instruments were set to work, arteries were tied up, bandages were applied with the utmost skill and celerity, and before the poor sufferer could realize his position, he was minus a leg or arm, and back again in his comfortable bed as if nothing had happened.

One thing in this theatre was very noticeable, viz. that the students, who in their enthusiasm had secured the front row, suddenly evinced a marked preference for the back seats near the entrance, towards which they quietly, and generally with white faces, made their way as the operations proceeded.

The kitchen and laundry arrangements at Guy's were on a gigantic scale, and possessed the very latest appliances.

The washing of the linen was a tremendous operation, but centrifugal machines and hot closets materially lightened the labour.

Visiting days at Guy's were Wednesdays from three to four o'clock, and Sundays from two to four o'clock.

Next: London's hospitals and clinics in 1900: St Thomas' Hospital