rough division, the regions of philosophy would be assigned to men,
those of literature to women. We need scarcely warn the reader against
too rigorous an interpretation of this statement, which is purposely
exaggerated the better to serve as a signpost. It is quite true that no
such absolute distinction will be found in authorship. There is no man
whose mind is shrivelled up into pure intellect; there is no woman
whose intellect is completely absorbed by her emotions. But in most men
the intellect does not move in such inseparable alliance with the
emotions as in most women, and hence, although often not so great as in
women, yet the intellect is more commonly dominant. In poets, artists,
and men of letters, _par excellence_, we observe this feminine trait,
that their intellect habitually moves in alliance with their emotions;
and one of the best descriptions of poetry was that given by Professor
Wilson, as the "intellect colored by the feelings."

Woman, by her greater affectionateness, her greater range and depth
of emotional experience, is well fitted to give expression to
the emotional facts of life, and demands a place in literature
corresponding to that she occupies in society; and that literature
must be greatly benefited thereby, follows from the definition we have
given of literature.

But hitherto, in spite of illustrations, the literature of woman has
fallen short of its function, owing to a very natural and a very
explicable weakness--it has been too much a literature of imitation. To
write as men write, is the aim and besetting sin of women; to write as
women, is the real office they have to perform. Our definition of
literature includes this necessity. If writers are bound to express
what they have really known, felt and suffered, that very obligation
imperiously declares they shall not quit their own point of view for
the point of view of others. To imitate is to abdicate. We are in no
need of more male writers; we are in need of genuine female experience.
The prejudices, notions, passions and conventionalisms of men are amply
illustrated; let us have the same fulness with respect to women.
Unhappily the literature of women may be compared with that of Rome: no
amount of graceful talent can disguise the internal defect. Virgil,
Ovid and Catullus were assuredly gifted wit