8
Again, such writers seem unaware that history has aims and rules different from poetry and poems. In the case of the latter, liberty is absolute and there is one law—the will of the poet. Inspired and possessed by the Muses as he is, even if he wants to harness winged horses to a chariot, even if he sets others to run over water or the top of the corn, Homer, Il. xx, 226, f. nobody gets annoyed; not even when their Zeus swings land and sea together suspended from a single cord Homer, Il. viii, 18, ff. are they afraid it will break and everything fall and smash. If they want to praise Agamemnon there is no one to prevent his having a head and eyes like Zeus, a chest like Zeus’ brother Poseidon, and a belt like Ares, Homer, Il. ii, 478, f. and in general the son of Atreus and Aerope must be a compound of all the gods for not Zeus nor Poseidon nor Ares alone is adequate to give the fullness of his beauty. But if history introduces flattery of that sort, what else does it become but a sort of prose-poetry, lacking indeed the high style of poetry, but showing the rest of poetry’s sorcery without metre, and for that reason in a more conspicuous way? So it is a great deal—all too great a fault—not to know how to keep the attributes of history and poetry separate, and to bring poetry’s embellishments into history—myth and eulogy and the exaggeration of both: it is as if you were to dress one of our tough, rugged athletes in a purple dress and the rest of the paraphernalia of a pretty light-o’-love and daub and paint his face. Heavens! how ridiculous you would make him look, shaming him with all that decoration.
9
I do not say that there is no room for occasional praise in history. But it must be given at the proper time and kept within reasonable limits to avoid displeasing future readers. In general such matters should be controlled with a view to what posterity demands; I shall treat of them a little later.
