, one which perhaps previously requires a few words of apology;
for the strong recommendations with which I have pressed their study
upon you may sound strangely to the ears of many worthy people. In your
own enlightened and liberal mind, I do not indeed suspect the
indwelling of any such exclusive prejudices as those which forbid
altogether the perusal of works of fiction: such prejudices belong,
perhaps, to more remote periods, to those distant times when title-pages
were seen announcing "Paradise Lost, translated into prose for the
benefit of those pious souls whose consciences would not permit them to
read poetry."[81] This latter prejudice--that against poetry--seems, as
far as my observation extends, to be entirely forgotten. Fiction in this
form is now considered universally allowable; and some conscientious
persons, who would not allow themselves or others the relaxation of a
novel of any kind, will indulge unhesitatingly in the same sort of
love-stories, rendered still more exciting through the medium of poetry.
Most women, unfortunately, are incapable of carrying out the argument
from one course of action into another, or even of clearly
comprehending, when it is suggested to them, that whatever is wrong in
prose cannot be right in poetry. In a general way you will be able to
form your own judgment on this subject, by observing how much safer
prose-fiction is for yourself at times, when your feelings are excited,
and your mind unsettled and exhausted. A novel, even the most trifling
novel of fashionable life, if it has only cleverness sufficient to
engage your thoughts, would be, perhaps, a very desirable manner of
spending your time at the very period that poetry would be decidedly
injurious to you. Indeed, at all times, those who have vivid
imaginations and strong feelings should carefully guard and sparingly
indulge themselves in the perusal of poetic fictions.

If it were possible, as some say, to study poetry artistically alone,
contemplating it as a work of art, and not allowing it to excite the
affections or the passions, there is no kind of poetry that might not be
enjoyed with safety in any state of mind: it is doubtful, however,
whether any work of art ought to be so contemplated. Its excellence can
only be estimated by the degree of emotion it produces; how then can an
unimpassioned examination ever form a true estimate of its merit? When
such an inspection of any work of art can be carried through,