his eyes, but
not his nose;" and perhaps the next will say, "it's his nose, but not his
eyes."

I was present not long since at the showing a portrait, which I think about
the climax of doubt. "Not a bit like," was the first exclamation. The poor
artist sank into his chair; after, however, a brief contemplation, "It's
very like, _in-deed_; it's excellent:" this was said by a gentleman of the
highest attainments, and one of the best poets of the day.

Some persons (I beg pardon of the ladies) take the habiliments as the
standard of recognition. I do not accuse them of doing it wilfully; they do
not know it themselves. For example, Miss Smith will know Miss Jones a mile
or so off. By her general air, or her face? Oh no! It's by the bonnet she
helped her to choose at Madame What-d'ye-call's, because the colour suited
he complexion.

These are some of the mortifications attendant on artistic labour, and if
they occur with the educated classes, they are more likely to happen even
to "intelligent policemen," as the newspaper have it. If I dissent from the
plan it is because I doubt its efficiency, but do not deny that it is worth
a trial. If the French like to carry their portraits about with them on
their passports to show to policemen, let them submit to the humiliation. I
doubt very much whether the Chamber of Deputies would have made a law of
it: it appears a new idea in jurisprudence that a man _must_ sit for his
picture. Any one, however, understanding the camera, would be alive before
the removal of the cup of the lens, and be ready with a wry face; I do not
suppose he could be imprisoned for _that_.

Both plans are miserable travesties on the lovely uses of portrait painting
and photography. Side by side with Cowper's passionate address to his
mother's picture, how does it look?

"Oh, that those lips had language! Life has pass'd
With me but roughly since I saw thee last."

And,

"Blest be the art that can immortalise."

If photography has an advantage over canvas, it does indeed immortalise
(the painting may imitate, and the portrait may be good; but there is
something more profoundly affecting in having the actual, the real shade of
a friend perhaps long {507} since in his grave); and we ought not only to
be grateful to the illustrious inventors of the art, but prevent these base
uses being made of it.

In short, apart from the uncertainty of recognition, which I have not in
the least caricatured, if