lurked a prodigious amount of stupidity and
weakness. At all events, let us see the man as
he was, and harmonise his work and his appearance
as best we may. They will generally be
found, on reflection, to correspond very closely.

No doubt an adherence to the peculiarities
and individualities of his model is more aimed
at by the portrait-painter now, than it was a few
years ago. It is not now considered essential
that a man should be eight heads high—
that is, that his head should go eight times in
his height from crown to heel; nor is it deemed
indispensable that the form of a lady's mouth
should approximate to that of the cupid's bow;
but still, the "ought to be" is more considered
than the lover of truth could wish, and it is to
be feared that the faces of public characters are
improved upon before they are hung up in
Trafalgar-square, just as their speeches are said to
be doctored before they reach us in the public
prints.

It is because people have become so accustomed
to this improving process that they are
so apt to quarrel with their photographic
portraits as they commonly are. They have been
so long accustomed to have their eyes enlarged,
and their noses, and mouths, and jaws reduced,
that when they find themselves represented as
they really are, they are apt to be disappointed
and angry. It may even happen that, unless
they are posed very carefully indeed, and at a
considerable distance from the photographic
apparatus, the more ignoble portions of their
countenances will be unduly insisted upon, and
that the "ought-not-to-be" qualities which
their faces exhibit will even be slightly
exaggerated. It is certain that photographic
portraits do not flatter, and that, in the case of
ladies especially, they cannot always be said
even to do justice to the originals; nevertheless,
their value is incalculably great, and most of us
would rather see a photograph of some one
concerning whom our curiosity has been powerfully
excited than a painted portrait.

Suppose, for instance, that some one were to
find out that photography was a much older
invention than has generally been imagined.
Suppose we were to learn that it had flourished
in the Elizabethan age, and that a
photographic portrait of Shakespeare, concerning
whose authenticity there could be no doubt, had
been discovered. With what prodigious haste
we should all rush off to inspect it! What
would then be the worth of all your Chandos
portraits, and the rest of the miserably
unconvincing likenesses of the poet, with which
people try to satisfy themselves, and which
are so entirely unsatisfactory, and so
irreconcilable with what Shakespeare did, that
one thinks it would be better to let them
alone altogether, and turn them with their
faces to the wall and have done with them.
What wonderful revelations would be made to
us, too. We should be so surprised at first to
see how unlike this portrait was to the "gentleman
with the turn-down collar and tassels,"
whom we know so much too well. We should be
perhaps disappointed, as well as surprised at
first; but then, as we looked longer, we should
get to see and understand it all. We should
find somewhere—maybe in the eyes or round
about them—some of that penetration which
told him that "when love begins to sicken and
decay, it useth an enforced ceremony," or that,
to tortured Lear, the misery and degradation of
"Mad Tom" could only be accounted for by
his having "unkind daughters." What
discoveries we should make, too, among those
delicate markings about the mouth, which
could not be wanting. What abundance of
sarcastic power, yet how much of pity. What
contempt for evil, what admiration of good, and
withal what sympathy with suffering!

And if with this hypothetical portrait were
associated others of such men as Watt, Harvey,
Marlborough, Hogarth, Pitt, Nelson, what a
national portrait-gallery that would be, and
how—to use the theatrical phrase—it would
draw! And yet just such a collection of modern
illustrious persons might be formed now for the
benefit of future ages.

What seems, then, to be wanted is, that, as
we have already a national collection of painted
portraits, so we should proceed to get together a
collection of likenesses taken by the
photographic process, to be chosen and preserved by
persons selected especially on account of their
fitness for the work, and who should be national
servants in the employ of the public. This is
not an undertaking which ought to be left
to private enterprise; for, in that case,
we should have no security that the
portraits would be preserved at all—no assurance
that they would not in time get to be
destroyed or lost; while there would be every
reason to fear that the portraits of those persons
whose likenesses we most want might not be
those which it would be most to the interest of
the trade to preserve. It often happens that
the portrait of a really remarkable personage
will prove in the dealers' hands a less saleable
commodity than that of some public favourite
of the moment, concerning whose lineaments
posterity will not care one single straw. If the
photograph of a dancer, an acrobat, or a comic
singer, sell better than that of a great philosopher
or a luminary of science, we may be sure
that the negatives of the dancer, the acrobat, or
the comic singer, will be more carefully
preserved and more closely looked after than that
of the philosopher or scientific luminary.

There would be many important points which
it would be necessary to consider in organising
any such institution as this which we have been
considering. It would be needful to ascertain
—and to do this no amount of pains should be
spared—which among the many photographic
portraits taken of eminent persons was the best,
and the most to be relied on. And in coming
to a decision on this question, it seems only
fair that the original of the portrait should have
a voice. Supposing many portraits of a great
author, for instance, to be in existence, he
should be allowed to say by which he would