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Mary Myles is Mrs. Edmonds’s first attempt at writing fiction.  Mrs. Edmonds is well known as an authority on modern Greek literature, and her style has often a very pleasant literary flavour, though in her dialogues she has not as yet quite grasped the difference between la langue parlee and la langue ecrite.  Her heroine is a sort of Nausicaa from Girton, who develops into the Pallas Athena of a provincial school.  She has her love-romance, like her Homeric prototype, and her Odysseus returns to her at the close of the book.  It is a nice story.

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Lady Dilke’s Art in the Modern State is a book that cannot fail to interest deeply every one who cares either for art or for history.  The ‘modern State’ which gives its title to the book is that political and social organisation of our day that comes to us from the France of Richelieu and Colbert, and is the direct outcome of the ‘Grand Siecle,’ the true greatness of which century, as Lady Dilke points out, consists not in its vain wars, and formal stage and stilted eloquence, and pompous palaces, but in the formation and working out of the political and social system of which these things were the first-fruits.  To the question that naturally rises on one’s lips, ’How can one dwell on the art of the seventeenth century?—­it has no charm,’ Lady Dilke answers that this art presents in its organisation, from the point of view of social polity, problems of the highest intellectual interest.  Throughout all its phases—­to quote her own words—­’the life of France wears, during the seventeenth century, a political aspect.  The explanation of all changes in the social system, in letters, in the arts, in fashions even, has to be sought in the necessities of the political position; and the seeming caprices of taste take their rise from the same causes which went to determine the making of a treaty or the promulgation of an edict.  This seems all the stranger because, in times preceding, letters and the arts, at least, appeared to flourish in conditions as far removed from the action of statecraft as if they had been a growth of fairyland.  In the Middle Ages they were devoted to a virgin image of Virtue; they framed, in the shade of the sanctuary, an ideal shining with the beauty born of self-renunciation, of resignation to self-enforced conditions of moral and physical suffering.  By the queenly Venus of the Renaissance they were consecrated to the joys of life, and the world saw that through their perfect use men might renew their strength, and behold virtue and beauty with clear eyes.  It was, however, reserved for the rulers of France in the seventeenth century fully to realise the political function of letters and the arts in the modern State, and their immense importance in connection with the prosperity of a commercial nation.’