Semanticate

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 					<p>Cicero, in a well-known passage of his <i epub:type="se:name.publication.book">Ethics</i>, speaks of trade as irredeemably base, if petty; but as not so absolutely felonious, if wholesale. He gives a <em>real</em> merchant (one who is such in the English sense) leave to think himself a shade above small beer. <a href="the-affliction-of-childhood.xhtml#noteref-1" epub:type="backlink">↩</a></p>
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-					<p>Her medical attendants were <abbr>Dr.</abbr> Percival, a well-known literary physician, who had been a correspondent of Condorcet, D’Alembert, <abbr>etc.</abbr>, and <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Charles White, a very distinguished surgeon. It was he who pronounced her head to be the finest in its structure and development of any that he had ever seen⁠—an assertion which, to my own knowledge, he repeated in after years, and with enthusiasm. That he had some acquaintance with the subject may be presumed from this, that he wrote and published a work on the human skull, supported by many measurements which he had made of heads selected from all varieties of the human species. Meantime, as I would be loath that any trait of what might seem vanity should creep into this record, I will candidly admit that she died of hydrocephalus; and it has been often supposed that the premature expansion of the intellect in cases of that class is altogether morbid⁠—forced on, in fact, by the mere stimulation of the disease. I would, however, suggest, as a possibility, the very inverse order of relation between the disease and the intellectual manifestations. Not the disease may always have caused the preternatural growth of the intellect; but, on the contrary, this growth coming on spontaneously, and outrunning the capacities of the physical structure, may have caused the disease. <a href="the-affliction-of-childhood.xhtml#noteref-2" epub:type="backlink">↩</a></p>
+					<p>Her medical attendants were <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Dr.</abbr> Percival, a well-known literary physician, who had been a correspondent of Condorcet, D’Alembert, <abbr>etc.</abbr>, and <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Charles White, a very distinguished surgeon. It was he who pronounced her head to be the finest in its structure and development of any that he had ever seen⁠—an assertion which, to my own knowledge, he repeated in after years, and with enthusiasm. That he had some acquaintance with the subject may be presumed from this, that he wrote and published a work on the human skull, supported by many measurements which he had made of heads selected from all varieties of the human species. Meantime, as I would be loath that any trait of what might seem vanity should creep into this record, I will candidly admit that she died of hydrocephalus; and it has been often supposed that the premature expansion of the intellect in cases of that class is altogether morbid⁠—forced on, in fact, by the mere stimulation of the disease. I would, however, suggest, as a possibility, the very inverse order of relation between the disease and the intellectual manifestations. Not the disease may always have caused the preternatural growth of the intellect; but, on the contrary, this growth coming on spontaneously, and outrunning the capacities of the physical structure, may have caused the disease. <a href="the-affliction-of-childhood.xhtml#noteref-2" epub:type="backlink">↩</a></p>
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 					<p>Amongst the oversights in the <i epub:type="se:name.publication.poem">Paradise Lost</i>, some of which have not yet been perceived, it is certainly <em>one</em>⁠—that, by placing in such overpowering light of pathos the sublime sacrifice of Adam to his love for his frail companion, he has too much lowered the guilt of his disobedience to God. All that Milton can say afterwards does not, and cannot, obscure the beauty of that action; reviewing it calmly, we condemn, but taking the impassioned station of Adam at the moment of temptation, we approve in our hearts. This was certainly an oversight; but it was one very difficult to redress. I remember, amongst the many exquisite thoughts of John Paul (Richten), one which strikes me as particularly touching, upon this subject. He suggests, not as any grave theological comment, but as the wandering fancy of a poetic heart, that, had Adam conquered the anguish of separation as a pure sacrifice of obedience to God, his reward would have been the pardon and reconciliation of Eve, together with her restoration to innocence. <a href="the-affliction-of-childhood.xhtml#noteref-3" epub:type="backlink">↩</a></p>
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 					<p><i epub:type="se:name.publication.play">Death of Wallenstein</i>, Act <span epub:type="z3998:roman">V</span>, Scene 1 (Coleridge’s translation), relating to his remembrances of the younger Piccolomini. <a href="the-affliction-of-childhood.xhtml#noteref-11" epub:type="backlink">↩</a></p>
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-					<p>See the Second Book of Kings, Chapter <span epub:type="z3998:roman">XIII</span> <abbr>v.</abbr> 20 and 21. Thirty years ago this impressive incident was made the subject of a large altarpiece by <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Allston, an interesting American artist, then resident in London. <a href="the-affliction-of-childhood.xhtml#noteref-12" epub:type="backlink">↩</a></p>
+					<p>See the Second Book of Kings, Chapter <span epub:type="z3998:roman">XIII</span> <abbr>v.</abbr> 20 and 21. Thirty years ago this impressive incident was made the subject of a large altarpiece by <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Allston, an interesting American artist, then resident in London. <a href="the-affliction-of-childhood.xhtml#noteref-12" epub:type="backlink">↩</a></p>
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 					<p>Thirty years ago it would not have been necessary to say one word of the Obi or Obeah magic; because at that time several distinguished writers (Miss Edgeworth, for instance, in her Belinda) had made use of this superstition in fictions, and because the remarkable history of Three-fingered Jack, a story brought upon the stage, had made the superstition notorious as a fact. Now, however, so long after the case has probably passed out of the public mind, it may be proper to mention, that when an Obeah man⁠—that is, a professor of this dark collusion with human fears and human credulity⁠—had once woven his dreadful net of ghostly terrors, and had thrown it over his selected victim, vainly did that victim flutter, struggle, languish in the meshes, unless the spells were reversed, he generally perished; and without a wound, except from his own too domineering fancy. <a href="the-affliction-of-childhood.xhtml#noteref-13" epub:type="backlink">↩</a></p>
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 					<p>See, amongst Southey’s early poems, one upon this superstition. Southey argues contra, but, for my part, I should have been more disposed to hold a brief on the other side. <a href="the-affliction-of-childhood.xhtml#noteref-15" epub:type="backlink">↩</a></p>
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-					<p>In this place I derive my feeling partly from a lovely sketch of the appearance, in verse, by <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Wordsworth; partly from my own experience of the case; and, not having the poems here I know not how to proportion my acknowledgments. <a href="the-affliction-of-childhood.xhtml#noteref-16" epub:type="backlink">↩</a></p>
+					<p>In this place I derive my feeling partly from a lovely sketch of the appearance, in verse, by <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Wordsworth; partly from my own experience of the case; and, not having the poems here I know not how to proportion my acknowledgments. <a href="the-affliction-of-childhood.xhtml#noteref-16" epub:type="backlink">↩</a></p>
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 					<p>“And so, then,” the cynic objects, “you rank your own mind (and you tell us so frankly) amongst the primary formations?” As I love to annoy him, it would give me pleasure to reply⁠—“Perhaps I do.” But as I never answer more questions than are necessary, I confine myself to saying, that this is not a necessary construction of the words. Some minds stand nearer to the type of the original nature in man, are truer than others to the great magnet in our dark planet. Minds that are impassioned on a more colossal scale than ordinary, deeper in their vibrations, and more extensive in the scale of their vibrations, whether, in other parts of their intellectual system, they had or had not a corresponding compass, will tremble to greater depths from a fearful convulsion, and will come round by a longer curve of undulations. <a href="the-affliction-of-childhood.xhtml#noteref-17" epub:type="backlink">↩</a></p>
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 					<p>As one who loves and venerates Chaucer for his unrivalled merits of tenderness, of picturesque characterisation, and of narrative skill, I noticed with great pleasure that the word <i>torrettes</i> is used by him to designate the little devices through which the reins are made to pass. This same word, in the same exact sense, I heard uniformly used by many scores of illustrious mail-coachmen to whose confidential friendship I had the honour of being admitted in my younger days. <a href="the-english-mail-coach.xhtml#noteref-28" epub:type="backlink">↩</a></p>
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-					<p>Had the reader lived through the last generation, he would not need to be told that, some thirty or thirty-five years back, <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Waterton, a distinguished country gentleman of ancient family in Northumberland, publicly mounted and rode in top-boots a savage old crocodile, that was restive and very impertinent, but all to no purpose. The crocodile jibbed and tried to kick, but vainly. He was no more able to throw the squire than Sinbad was to throw the old scoundrel who used his back without paying for it, until he discovered a mode (slightly immoral, perhaps, though some think not) of murdering the old fraudulent jockey, and so circuitously of unhorsing him. <a href="the-english-mail-coach.xhtml#noteref-29" epub:type="backlink">↩</a></p>
+					<p>Had the reader lived through the last generation, he would not need to be told that, some thirty or thirty-five years back, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Waterton, a distinguished country gentleman of ancient family in Northumberland, publicly mounted and rode in top-boots a savage old crocodile, that was restive and very impertinent, but all to no purpose. The crocodile jibbed and tried to kick, but vainly. He was no more able to throw the squire than Sinbad was to throw the old scoundrel who used his back without paying for it, until he discovered a mode (slightly immoral, perhaps, though some think not) of murdering the old fraudulent jockey, and so circuitously of unhorsing him. <a href="the-english-mail-coach.xhtml#noteref-29" epub:type="backlink">↩</a></p>
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 					<p>Roe-deer do not congregate in herds like the fallow or the red deer, but by separate families, parents and children; which feature of approximation to the sanctity of human hearths, added to their comparatively miniature and graceful proportions, conciliates to them an interest of peculiar tenderness, supposing even that this beautiful creature is less characteristically impressed with the grandeurs of savage and forest life. <a href="the-english-mail-coach.xhtml#noteref-30" epub:type="backlink">↩</a></p>
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 					<p>This, it may be said, requires a corresponding duration of experience; but, as an argument for this mysterious power lurking in our nature, I may remind the reader of one phenomenon open to the notice of everybody⁠—namely, the tendency of very aged persons to throw back and concentrate the light of their memory upon scenes of early childhood, as to which they recall many traces that had faded even to <em>themselves</em> in middle life, whilst they often forget altogether the whole intermediate stages of their experience. This shows that naturally, and without violent agencies, the human brain is by tendency a palimpsest. <a href="the-palimpsest-of-the-human-brain.xhtml#noteref-44" epub:type="backlink">↩</a></p>
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-					<p>As I have never allowed myself to covet any man’s ox nor his ass, nor anything that is his, still less would it become a philosopher to covet other people’s images or metaphors. Here, therefore, I restore to <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Wordsworth this fine image of the revolving wheel and the glimmering spokes, as applied by him to the flying successions of day and night. I borrowed it for one moment in order to point my own sentence; which being done, the reader is witness that I now pay it back instantly by a note made for that sole purpose. On the same principle I often borrow their seals from young ladies, when closing my letters, because there is sure to be some tender sentiment upon them about “memory,” or “hope,” or “roses,” or “reunion,” and my correspondent must be a sad brute who is not touched by the eloquence of the seal, even if his taste is so had that he remains deaf to mine. <a href="levana-and-our-ladies-of-sorrow.xhtml#noteref-45" epub:type="backlink">↩</a></p>
+					<p>As I have never allowed myself to covet any man’s ox nor his ass, nor anything that is his, still less would it become a philosopher to covet other people’s images or metaphors. Here, therefore, I restore to <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Wordsworth this fine image of the revolving wheel and the glimmering spokes, as applied by him to the flying successions of day and night. I borrowed it for one moment in order to point my own sentence; which being done, the reader is witness that I now pay it back instantly by a note made for that sole purpose. On the same principle I often borrow their seals from young ladies, when closing my letters, because there is sure to be some tender sentiment upon them about “memory,” or “hope,” or “roses,” or “reunion,” and my correspondent must be a sad brute who is not touched by the eloquence of the seal, even if his taste is so had that he remains deaf to mine. <a href="levana-and-our-ladies-of-sorrow.xhtml#noteref-45" epub:type="backlink">↩</a></p>
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 					<p>This, the reader will be aware, applies chiefly to the cotton and tobacco States of North America; but not to them only: on which account I have not scrupled to figure the sun which looks down upon slavery as <em>tropical</em>⁠—no matter if strictly within the tropics, or simply so near to them as to produce a similar climate. <a href="levana-and-our-ladies-of-sorrow.xhtml#noteref-46" epub:type="backlink">↩</a></p>