Various
The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction / Volume 10, No. 268, August 11, 1827

HOSPITAL OF ST. THOMAS, CANTERBURY

The subject of the above engraving claims the attention of the antiquarian researcher, not as the lofty sculptured mansion of our monastic progenitors, or the towering castle of the feudatory baton, for never has the voice of boisterous revelry, or the tones of the solemn organ, echoed along its vaulted roof; a humbler but not less interesting trait marks its history. It was here that the zealous pilgrim, strong in bigot faith, rested his weary limbs, when the inspiring name of Becket led him from the rustic simplicity of his native home, to view the spot where Becket fell, and to murmur his pious supplication at the shrine of the murdered Saint; how often has his toil-worn frame been sheltered beneath that hospitable roof; imagination can even portray him entering the area of yon pointed arch, leaning on his slender staff—perhaps some wanderer from a foreign land.

The hospital of St. Thomas the Martyr of Eastbridge, is situated on the King's-bridge, in the hundred of Westgate, Canterbury, and was built by Becket, but for what purpose is unknown. However, after the assassination of its founder, the resort of individuals being constant to his shrine, the building was used for the lodgment of the pilgrims. For many years no especial statutes were enacted, nor any definite rules laid down for the treatment of pilgrims, till the see devolved to the jurisdiction of Stratford, who, in 15th Edward III. drew up certain ordinances, as also a code of regulations expressly to be acted on; he appointed a master in priest's orders, under whose guidance a secular chaplain officiated; it was also observed that every pilgrim in health should have but one night's lodging to the cost of fourpence; that applicants weak and infirm were to be preferred to those of sounder constitutions, and that women "upwards of forty" should attend to the bedding, and administer medicines to the sick.

This institution survived the general suppression of monasteries and buildings of its cast, during the reigns of Henry VIII. and the sixth Edward; and after alternately grading from the possession of private families to that of brothers belonging to the establishment, it was at last finally appropriated to the instruction of the rising generation, whose parents are exempt from giving any gratuity to the preceptor of their children.

Its present appearance is ancient, but not possessing any of those magic features which render the mansions of our majores so grand and magnificently solemn; a hall and chapel of imposing neatness and simplicity are still in good condition, but several of the apartments are dilapidated in part, and during a wet season admit the aqueous fluid through the chinks and fissures of their venerable walls.

SAGITTARIUS.

THE LECTURER

MINOR AFFECTIONS OF THE BRAIN

Pain in the head may arise from very different causes, and is variously seated. It has had a number of different appellations bestowed upon it, according to its particular character. I need not observe that headach is a general attendant of all inflammatory states of the brain, whether in the form of phrenitis, hydrocephalus acutus, or idiopathic fever; though with some exceptions in regard to all of them, as I before showed you. It is often also said to be a symptom of other diseases, of parts remotely situated; as of the stomach, more especially; whence the term sick headach, the stomach being supposed to be the part first or principally affected, and the headach symptomatic of this. I am confident, however, that in a majority of instances the reverse is the case, the affection of the head being the cause of the disorder of the stomach. It is no proof to the contrary, that vomiting often relieves the headach, for vomiting is capable of relieving a great number of other diseases, as well as those of the brain, upon the principle of counter-irritation. The stomach may be disordered by nauseating medicines, up to the degree of full vomiting, without any headach taking place; but the brain hardly ever suffers, either from injury or disease, without the stomach having its functions impaired, or in a greater or less degree disturbed: thus a blow on the head immediately produces vomiting; and, at the outset of various inflammatory affections of the brain, as fever and hydrocephalus, nausea and vomiting are almost never-failing symptoms. It is not denied, that headach may be produced through the medium of the stomach; but seldom, unless there is previously disease in the head, or at least a strong predisposition to it. In persons habitually subject to headach, the arteries of the brain become so irritable, that the slightest cause of disturbance, either mental or bodily, will suffice to bring on a paroxysm.

The occasional or exciting causes of headach, then, are principally these:—

1. Emotions of mind, as fear, terror, and agitation of spirits; yet these will sometimes take off headach when present at the time.

2. Whatever either increases or disorders the general circulation, and especially all causes that increase the action of the cerebral arteries, or, as it is usually though improperly expressed, which occasion a determination of blood to the head. Of the former kind are violent exercise, and external heat applied to the surface generally, as by a heated atmosphere or the hot bath; of the latter, the direct application of heat to the head; falls or blows, occasioning a shock to the brain; stooping; intense thinking; intoxicating drinks, and other narcotic substances. These last, however, as well as mental emotions, often relieve a paroxysm of headach, though they favour its return afterwards.

3. A disordered state of the stomach, of which a vomiting of bile may be one symptom, is also to be ranked among the occasional causes of headach.

These occasional causes do not in general produce their effect, unless where a predisposition to the disease exists. This predisposition is often hereditary, or it may be acquired by long-protracted study and habits of intoxication.—Dr. Clutterbuck's Lectures on the Diseases of the Nervous System.

HYDROPHOBIA

There is no cure for this disease when once the symptoms show themselves. A variety of remedies have from time to time been advertised by quacks. The "Ormskirk Medicine," at one time, was much in vogue; it had its day, but it did not cure the disease, nor, as far as I know, did it mitigate any of its symptoms. With regard to the affection of the mind itself in this disease, it does not appear that the patients are deprived of reason; some have merely, by the dint of resolution, conquered the dread of water, though they never could conquer the convulsive motions which the contact of liquids occasioned; while this resolution has been of no avail, for the convulsions and other symptoms increasing, have almost always destroyed the unhappy sufferers. —Abernethy's Lectures.

EFFECTS OF KINDNESS ON THE SICK

Under all circumstances, man is a poor and pitiable being, when stricken down by disease. Sickened and subdued, his very lineaments have a voice which calls for commiseration and assistance. Celsus says, that knowing two physicians equally intelligent, he should prefer the one who was his friend, for the obvious reason that he would feel a deeper interest in his welfare. Kindness composes, and harshness disturbs the mind, and each produces correspondent effects upon the body. A tone, a look, may save or destroy life in extremely delicate cases. Whatever may be the prognosis given to friends, in all febrile cases, the most confident and consoling language about the ultimate recovery should be used to the sick, as prophecies not unfrequently contribute to bring about the event foretold, by making people feel, or think, or act, differently from what they otherwise would have done. Again, in chronic cases, as time is required for their cure, by explaining to the patient this fact, we maintain his confidence, we keep his mind easy, and thus gain a fair opportunity for the operation of regimen or remedies; in short, the judicious physician, like the Roman general, Fabius, conquers through delay, by cutting off the supplies, and wearing out the strength of the enemy. In large cities, where the mind is so much overwrought in the various schemes of private ambition, or of public business, anxiety is very frequently the grand opposing circumstance to recovery; so that while the causes which produced it are allowed to operate, mere medical prescription is of no avail. The effects of this anxiety are visible in the pallid face and wasted body. But if the patient be possessed of philosophy enough to forego his harassing pursuits; if he have not, from the contact and cares of the world, lost his relish for the simple and sublime scenes of nature, a removal into the country is of the utmost efficacy. The deformity and conflict of the moral world are exchanged for the beauty and calm of the physical world; and surrounded by all the poetry of earth and heaven, the mind regains its peace, and the health, as if by magic, is perfectly restored.—Dr. Armstrong's Lectures.

DIET

Experience has taught us that the nature of our food is not a matter of indifference to the respiratory organs. Diseased lungs are exasperated by a certain diet, and pacified by one of an opposite kind. The celebrated diver, Mr. Spalding, observed, that whenever he used a diet of animal food, or drank spirituous liquors, he consumed in a much shorter period the oxygen of the atmospheric air in his diving-bell; and he therefore, on such occasions, confined himself to vegetable diet. He also found the same effect to arise from the use of fermented liquors, and he accordingly restricted himself to the potation of simple water. The truth of these results is confirmed by the habits of the Indian pearl-divers, who always abstain from every alimentary stimulus previous to their descent into the ocean.—Dr. Paris on Diet.

THE MONTHS

The season has now advanced to full maturity. The corn is yielding to the sickle, the husbandmen,

"By whose tough labours, and rough hands,"

our barns are stored with grain, are at their toils, and when nature is despoiled of her riches and beauty, will, with glad and joyous heart, celebrate the annual festival of

THE HARVEST HOME

BY CORNELIUS WEBBE

Hark! the ripe and hoary rye
Waving white and billowy,
Gives a husky rustle, as
Fitful breezes fluttering pass.
See the brown and bending wheat,
By its posture seems to meet
The harvest's sickle, as it gleams
Like the crescent moon in streams,
Brown with shade and night that run
Under shores and forests dun.

Lusty Labour, with tired stoop,
Levels low, at every swoop,
Armfuls of ripe-coloured corn,
Yellow as the hair of morn;
And his helpers track him close,
Laying it in even rows,
On the furrow's stubbly ridge;
Nearer to the poppied hedge.
Some who tend on him that reaps
Fastest, pile it into heaps;
And the little gleaners follow
Them again, with whoop and halloo
When they find a hand of ears
More than falls to their compeers.

Ripening in the dog-star's ray,
Some, too early mown, doth lay;
Some in graceful shocks doth stand
Nodding farewell to the land
That did give it life and birth;
Some is borne, with shout and mirth,
Drooping o'er the groaning wain.
Through the deep embowered lane;
And the happy cottaged poor,
Hail it, as it glooms their door,
With a glad, unselfish cry,
Though they'll buy it bitterly.

And the old are in the sun,
Seeing that the work is done
As it was when age was young;
And the harvest song is sung;
And the quaint and jocund tale
Takes the stint-key from the ale,
And as free and fast it runs
As a June rill from the sun's
Dry and ever-drinking mouth:—
Mirth doth alway feel a drowth.
Butt and barrel ceaseless flow
Fast as cans can come and go;
One with emptied measures comes
Drumming them with tuneful thumbs;
One reels field-ward, not quite sober,
With two cans of ripe October,
Some of last year's brewing, kept
Till the corn of this is reaped.

Now 'tis eve, and done all labour,
And to merry pipe and tabor,
Or to some cracked viol strummed
With vile skill, or table drummed
To the tune of some brisk measure,
Wont to stir the pulse to pleasure,
Men and maidens timely beat
The ringing ground with frolic feet;
And the laugh and jest go round
Till all mirth in noise is drowned.

Literary Souvenir.

ARMORIAL BEARINGS AT CROYDON PALACE

(To the Editor of the Mirror.)

Sir,—In No. 266 of the Mirror, Sagittarius wishes to know the name of the person whose armorial bearings are emblazoned at Croydon palace.

From the blazon he has given, it is rather difficult to find out; but I should think they are meant for those of king Richard II. Impaled on the dexter side with those of his patron saint, Edward the Confessor. Bearings that may be seen in divers places at Westminster Hall, rebuilt by that monarch.¹

I have subjoined the proper blazon of the arms, which is azure, a cross patonce between five martlets or, impaling France and England quarterly, 1st. and 4th. azure three fleurs de lis. 2nd. or, 2nd and 3rd Gules, 3 lions passant guardant in pale, or.

The supporting of the arms with angels, &c. was a favourite device of Richard, as may be seen in divers antiquarian and topographical works.

It is probable the hall of Croydon palace was built during the reign of Richard, which will account for his arms being placed there.

I am, &c.

C. F.

DEATH OF MR. CANNING

The lamentable and sudden death of the Right Hon. George Canning has produced a general sensation throughout this country. At the opening of the present year our nation deplored the loss of a prince endeared to the people by his honest worth—but a short interval has elapsed and again the country is plunged in sorrow for the loss of one of its most zealous supporters—one of its chiefest ornaments—one of its staunchest friends—and one of its most eloquent and talented statesmen! The life of the late George Canning furnishes much matter for meditation and thought. From it much may be learnt. He was a genius, in the most unlimited sense of the word; and his intellectual endowments were commanding and imperative. Of humble origin he had to contend with innumerable difficulties, consequent to his station in life,—and although his talents, which were of the first order, befitted him for the first rank in society, that rank he did not attain until the scene of this world was about to be closed for ever from him. It may be said of this eminent man, that he owed nothing to patronage—his talents directed him to his elevated station, and to his intellectual superiority homage was made,—not to the man.

But, in other respects, the loss of Mr. Canning is a national bereavement. He was one of the master-spirits of the age. His very name was distinguished—for he has added to the literature of his country—by his writings and his eloquence he has stimulated the march of mind; he has seconded the exertions of liberal friends to the improvements of the uneducated, and he has patronized the useful as well as the fine arts, philosophy and science, of his country. To expatiate at greater length would be superfluous, as we have in another place recorded our humble tribute to his general character.² We have now, therefore, merely to put together the melancholy facts connected with his death, and which will convey to another generation a just sense of the value, in our time, attached to a noble and exalted genius. The just and elegant laconism of Byron, by substituting the past for the present tense, may now be adopted as a faithful and brief summary of what was George Canning.

"Canning was a genius, almost an universal one:—an orator, a wit, a poet, and a statesman."

The king, with his usual quickness, was the first to perceive the dangerous state of Mr. Canning. We understand, that almost immediately after he had quitted him, on Monday, his majesty observed to sir William Knighton, that Mr. Canning appeared very unwell, and that he was in great alarm for him. On Tuesday, sir William repaired to town, at the express command of his majesty, to see Mr. Canning. At the interview with him, at the Treasury, Sir William made particular inquiries into the state of his health. Mr. Canning was then troubled with a cough, and he observed to Sir William that he almost felt as if he were an old man; that he was much weakened; but had no idea of there being anything dangerous in his condition, and that he trusted that rest and retirement would set him to rights. Sir William sent Dr. Maton to Mr. Canning, and on parting with him, he observed that, as he should not leave town until Wednesday morning, he would call on him, at Chiswick, on his way home to Windsor. Sir William found Mr. Canning in bed, at Chiswick. He asked him if he felt any pain in his side? Mr. Canning answered he had felt a pain in his side for some days, and on endeavouring to lie on his side, the pain was so acute that he was unable to do so. Sir William then inquired if he felt any pain in his shoulder? He said he had been for some time affected by rheumatic pains in the shoulder. Sir William told him that the pain did not arise from rheumatism, but from a diseased liver, and he immediately sent for the three physicians, who remained with him, and were to the last unremitting in their attentions.

The disease continued to make rapid progress, in spite of all that the first medical skill could do to baffle it, watching every turn it took, and applying, on the instant, every remedy likely to subdue its virulence, and mitigate his sufferings.

On the following Sunday, August 5, bulletins were issued, stating that Mr. Canning was in most imminent danger. The most painful interest was excited in the public mind by subsequent announcements of his alarming state, and on Wednesday morning, the following melancholy intelligence reached town:—

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1

Vide MIRROR, p. 98, Vol. iii.

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2

Biographical Memoir of Mr. Canning, with a Portrait, MIRROR, Vol. iv.

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