They do things differently in France, and to point out the difference between their point of view and ours in most matters that have to do with artistic or literary manifestations, is not to show partisanship for either side. But books like _Ariel_, _The Divine Lady_, _Zélide_, must be admitted to be nothing more nor less than tales of love, under guise of historical veracity. This pretence soothes the sense of decorum of the American public which would be outraged if the books were openly and unreservedly published as “romances.” The French adopt the opposite policy. And one of the most respectable and ancient publishing houses in Paris has recently commissioned several prominent authors to write the biographies of the “loves” of great historical characters. The series opened with Marcelle Tinayre’s _La Vie Amoureuse de Madame de Pompadour_, and continued with that of _Talma_, by André Antoine; _Louis XIV_, by his great biographer, Louis Bertrand; _Casanova_, by the coming great poet, Maurice Rostand; and _Marceline Desbordes-Valmore_, by the Goncourt Academician, Lucien Descaves. The amorous life of _Joséphine_ has also appeared, written in the delightful style and sensitive vein of Gérard d’Houville, the wife of Henri de Régnier. More are coming, and they all bear the general name of _Leurs Amours_. It is a new sort of biography which is bound to be popular. Although it might be misunderstood in this country, it is not in France where love and lovers are not taboo, even when they concern great characters. These books purposely neglect historical facts, except insofar as they relate to the love-lives of their subjects or as they are necessary to the guidance of the reader. The object of the series is to portray various personages solely in their relation to love; and, so far, the experiment has been successful. _The Portrait of Zélide_, by Geoffrey Scott, is the best fictional biography that has been published in English. It is the story of an eighteenth century Dutch belle, Isabelle Van Tuyll, who, after she married her brother’s tutor, Monsieur de Charrière, developed a reputation for wit, wilfulness and culture that extended far beyond her native or her adopted country. She had the artistic temperament associated with unusual intellectual endowment, remarkable facility of expression and a great fascination for men. A friendly critic told her that she wrote better than any one known to him, not even excepting Voltaire; and Sainte-Beuve, the greatest critic of the day, said that she had the “authentic tongue of Versailles.” She wrote a brief description of herself which she called “The Portrait of Zélide,” and which, as literary self-portraiture, has rarely been surpassed: