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nothing can be more admirable than the skill which Socrates displays in
the conversations which Plato has reported or invented, his victories,
for the most part, seem to us unprofitable. A trophy is set up; but no
new province is added to the dominions of the human mind.

Still, where thousands of keen and ready intellects were constantly
employed in speculating on the qualiies of actions and on the principles
of government, it was impossible that history should retain its whole
character. It became less gossiping and less picturesque; but much more
accurate, and somewhat more scientific.

The history of Thucydides differs from that of Herodotus as a portrait
differs from the representation of an imaginary scene; as the Burke or
Fox of Reynolds differs from his Ugolino or his Beaufort. In the former
case, the archetype is given: in the latter it is created. The faculties
which are required for the latter purpose are of a higher and rarer
order than those which suffice for the former, and indeed necessarily
comprise them. He who is able to paint what he sees with the eye of the
mind will surely be able to paint what he sees with the eye of the body.
He who can invent a story, and tell it well, will also be able to tell,
in an interesting manner, a story which he has not invented. If, in
practice, some of the best writers of fiction have been among the worst
writers of history, it has been because one of their talents had merged
in another so completely that it could not be severed; because, having
long been habituated to invent and narrate at the same time, they found
it impossible to narrate without inventing.

Some capricious and discontented artists have affected to consider
portrait-painting as unworthy of a man of genius. Some critics have
spoken in the same contemptuous manner of history. Johnson puts the case
thus: The historian tells either what is false or what is true: in the
former case he is no historian: in the latter he has no opportunity for
displaying his abilities: for truth is one: and all who tell the truth
must tell it alike.

It is not difficult to elude both the horns of this dilemma. We will
recur to the analogous art of portrait-painting. Any man with eyes and
hands may be taught to take a likeness. The process, up to a certain
point, is merely mechanical. If this were all, a man of talents might
justly despise the occupation. But we could mention portraits which are
resemblances,--but not