6
Advice works in two ways: it teaches us to choose this and avoid that. So first let us say what the writer of history has to avoid, from what contaminations he must in particular be free; then what means he must use in order not to lose the right road that carries him straight ahead—I mean how to begin, how to arrange his material, the proper proportions for each part, what to leave out, what to develop, what it is better to handle cursorily, and how to put the facts into words and fit them together.
6
These and kindred matters will come later. But now let us mention the vices which follow on the heels of shoddy historians. To recount the faults of diction in single and combined words, of meaning and other marks of bad workmanship which are common to all literary genres would take a long time and not be peculiar to our present enquiry.
7
But as to faults in historical writing, you will probably find by observation that they are of the same sort as I have noticed in many attendances at readings, especially if you open your ears to everyone. But it will not be out of place in the meantime to recall by way of example some of the histories already written in this faulty manner.
7
To begin with, let us look at this for a serious fault: most of them neglect to record the events and spend their time lauding rulers and generals, extolling their own to the skies and slandering the enemy’s beyond all reserve; they do not realise that the dividing line and frontier between history and panegyric is not a narrow isthmus but rather a mighty wall; as musicians say, they are two diapasons apart, since the encomiast’s sole concern is to praise and please in any way he can the one he praises, and if he can achieve his aim by lying, little will he care; but history cannot admit a lie, even a tiny one, any more than the windpipe, as sons of doctors say, can tolerate anything entering it in swallowing.
