Part 2

2. It being now apprehended what _persons_ are most fit to be shewn in Dialogue, the next inquiry will be, concerning their _style or manner of expression_. And this, in general, must be suited to the condition and qualities of the persons themselves: that is, it must be grave, polite, and something raised above the ordinary pitch or tone of conversation; for, otherwise, it would not agree to the ideas we form of the speakers, or to the regard we owe to _real_, _known_, and _respected_ persons, seriously debating, as the philosophic dialogue imports in the very terms, on some useful or important subject.

Thus far the case is plain enough. The conclusion flows, of itself, from the very idea of a philosophic conversation between such men.

But as it appeared that the speaker’s _proper manners_ are to be given, in this Dialogue, it may be thought (and, I suppose, commonly is thought) that the speaker’s _proper style or expression_ should be given, too.

Here the subject begins to be a little nice; and we must distinguish between the _general cast_ of expression, and its _smaller and more peculiar features_.

As to the _general cast or manner of speaking_, it may be well to preserve some resemblance of it; for it results so immediately from the speaker’s character, and sometimes makes so essential a part of it, that the _manners_ themselves cannot, otherwise, be sufficiently expressed.

Accordingly CICERO tells us, that, in his Dialogues of the _complete Orator_, he had _endeavoured to shadow out_, that is, give the outline, as it were, of the kind of eloquence, by which his chief speakers, CRASSUS and ANTONIUS, were severally distinguished[10]. This attention has certainly no ill effect when the _manners of speaking_, as here, are sufficiently distinct, and generally known. It was, besides, essentially necessary in this Dialogue, where the subject is, of eloquence itself; and where the principal persons appeared, and were accordingly to be represented, in the light and character of _speakers_; that is, where their different kinds or manners of speaking were, of course, to be expressed.

In Dialogues on other subjects, CICERO himself either neglects this rule, or observes it with less care[11]; and this difference of conduct is plainly justified, from the reason of the thing.

But now when the question is, of the _smaller features and more peculiar qualities of style or expression_, it will be found that the writer of Dialogue is under no obligation, either from the reason of the thing, or the best authorities, to affect a resemblance of that kind.

Authorities, I think, there are none, or none at least that deserve to be much regarded; though I remember what has been observed of an instance or two of this sort, in some of PLATO’S Dialogues, where his purpose is, to _expose a character_, not to _debate a philosophic question_: and for _the impropriety of the thing itself_, it may appear from the following considerations.

In general, the reason, why _character_ is preserved in this Dialogue, is, because such speakers, as are introduced in it, cannot be supposed to converse for any time on a subject of importance without discovering somethings of their own _peculiar manners_; though the occasion may not be warming enough to throw them out with that distinctness and vivacity, which we expect in the progress of a dramatic plot. But as to the _language of conversation_, it is so much the same between persons of education and politeness, that, whether the subject be interesting, or otherwise, all that you can expect is that the _general cast of expression_ will be somewhat tinctured by the _manners_, which shine through it; but by no means that the smaller differences, the nicer peculiarities of style, will be shewn.

Or, we may take the matter thus:

The reason, why the _general cast or kind of expression_ is different in two speakers, is, because their _characters_ are different, too. But _character_ has no manner of influence, in the ease and freedom of conversation, on the _idiomatic differences_ of expression; which flow not from the _manners_, but from some degree of study and affectation, and only characterize their written and artificial works.

Thus, for instance, if SALLUST and CICERO had come together in conversation, the _former_ would certainly have dropped his _new words and pointed sentences_: and the _latter_ his _numerous oratorial periods_. All that might be expected to appear, is, that SALLUST’S expression would be shorter and more compact; CICERO’S more gracious and flowing, agreeably to the characters of the two men.

But there is a further reason why these _characteristic peculiarities of style_ must not be exhibited, or must be infinitely restrained at least, in the sort of composition we are now considering. It is, that the studied imitation of such peculiarities would be what we call _mimickry_; and would therefore border upon _ridicule_, the thing of all others which the genius of this Dialogue most abhors. In Comedy itself, the most exact writers do not condescend to this minute imitation. TERENCE’S characters all express themselves, I think, with equal elegance: even his slaves are made to speak as good Latin, as their masters. In the serious Dialogue, then, which, from its nature, is, in a much lower degree, _mimetic_, that minute attention can by no means be required. It will be sufficient that the speakers express themselves in _the same manner_, that is, (provided the _general cast_ of expression be suited to their respective characters) _in the writer’s own_.

If there be any exception from this rule, it must be, when the peculiarities of expression are so great, and so notorious, that the reader could hardly acknowledge the speaker in any other dress, than that of his own style. Hence it is possible, though CICERO has left us no example of this sort, that if, in the next age, any one had thought fit to introduce MÆCENAS into Dialogue, he might perhaps have been allowed to colour his language with some of those _spruce turns and negligent affectations_, by which, as a writer, he was so well known. It is, at least, on this principle that the Author of the following Dialogues must rest his apology for having taken such liberty, in _one or two instances, only_: in which, however, he has confined his imitation to the single purpose of exhibiting some degree of likeness to their acknowledged manner of expression, without attempting to expose it in any strong or invidious light. And, after all, if even this liberty, so cautiously taken, be thought too much, he will not complain of his critics; since the fault, if it be one, was committed rather in compliance with what he supposed might be the public judgment, than with his own.

The reader has now before him a sketch of what I conceive to be the _character_ of the ancient philosophic Dialogue; which, in one word, may be said to be, “An imitated, and mannered conversation between certain real, known, and respected persons, on some useful or serious subject, in an elegant, and suitably adorned, but not characteristic style.”

At least, I express, as I can, my notion of CICERO’S Dialogue, which unites these several characters; and, by such union, has effected, as it seems to me, all that the nature of this composition requires or admits.

This, I am sensible, is saying but little, on the subject. But I pretend not to do justice to CICERO’S DIALOGUES; which are occasionally set off by that lively, yet chaste colouring of the _manners_, and are, besides, all over sprinkled with that exquisite grace of, what the Latin writers call, _urbanity_, (by which, they meant as well what was most polite in the _air_ of conversation, as in the language of it) that there is nothing equal to them, in Antiquity itself: and I have sometimes fancied, that even LIVY’S Dialogues[12], if they had come down to us, would perhaps have lost something, on a comparison with these master-pieces of CICERO’S pen.

3. But to this apology for the ancient Dialogue, I suspect it will be replied, “That though, in the hands of the Greek and Latin writers, it might, heretofore, have all this grace and merit, yet who shall pretend to revive it in our days? or, how shall we enter into the spirit of this composition, for which there is no encouragement, nor so much as the countenance of example in real life? No man writes well, but from his own experience and observation: and by whom is the way of dialogue now practised? or, where do we find such precedents of grave and continued conversation in modern times?”

A very competent judge, and one too, who was himself, as I have observed, an adventurer in this class of composition, puts the objection home in the following words:

“The truth is,” says he, “it would be an abominable falsehood, and belying of the age, to put so much good sense together in any _one_ conversation, as might make it hold out steadily, and with plain coherence, for an hour’s time, till any _one_ subject had been rationally examined[13].”

Nor is this the only difficulty. _Another_ occurs, from the prevailing manners of modern times, which are over-run with respect, compliment, and ceremony. “Now put _compliments_,” says the same writer, “put _ceremony_ into a Dialogue, and see what will be the effect! This is the plain _dilemma_ against that ancient manner of writing—if we avoid ceremony, we are unnatural: if we use it, and appear as we naturally are, as we salute, and meet, and treat one another, we hate the sight[14].”

These considerations are to the purpose; and shew perhaps in a mortifying manner, that the modern writers of Dialogue, the very best of them, cannot aspire to the unrivalled elegance of the ancient; as being wholly unfurnished of many advantages, to this end, which they enjoyed. But still the _form_ of writing itself is neither impracticable, nor unnatural: and there are certain _means_, by which the disadvantages, complained of, may be lessened at least, if not entirely removed.

To begin with the LAST. It is very true, that the constraint of a formal and studied civility is foreign to the genius of this sort of composition; and it is, also, as true, that somewhat of this constrained civility is scarce separable from a just copy and faithful picture of conversation in our days. The reason of which is to be gathered from the nature of our policies and governments. For conversation, I mean the serious and manly sort, as well as eloquence, is most cultivated and thrives best amidst the quality of conditions in republican and popular states.

And, though this inconvenience be less perceived by us of this free country than by most others, yet something of it will remain wherever monarchy, with its consequent train of subordinate and dependent ranks of men, subsists.

Now the proper remedy in the case is, to bring such men only together in Dialogue as are of the same rank; or at least to class our speakers with such care as that any great inequality in that respect may be compensated by some other; such as the superiority of age, wisdom, talents, or the like. A Chancellor of _England_ and a Country Justice, or even a Lord and his Chaplain, could hardly be shewn in Dialogue, without incurring some ridicule. But a Judge and a Bishop, one would hope, might be safely brought together; and if a great Philosopher should enter into debate with a lettered Man of Quality, the indecorum would not be so violent as to be much resented.

But the influence of modern manners reaches even to names and the ordinary forms of address. In the Greek and Roman Dialogues, it was permitted to accost the greatest persons by their obvious and familiar appellations. ALCIBIADES had no more addition, than SOCRATES: and BRUTUS and CÆSAR lost nothing of their dignity from being applied to in those direct terms. The moderns, on the contrary, have their guards and fences about them; and we hold it an incivility to approach them without some decent periphrasis, or ceremonial title—

——gaudent prænomine molles Auriculæ.

It was principally, I believe, for this reason, that modern writers of Dialogue have had recourse to fictitious names and characters, rather than venture on the use of real ones: the _former_ absolving them from this cumbersome ceremony, which, in the case of the _latter_, could not so properly be laid aside. PALÆMON and PHILANDER, for instance, are not only well-sounding words; but slide as easily into a sentence, and as gracefully too, as CICERO and ATTICUS: while the _Mr’s_ and the _Sirs_, nay his _Grace_, his _Excellency_, or his _Honour_[15], of modern Dialogue, have not only a formality that hurts the ease of conversation, but a harshness too, which is somewhat offensive to a well-tuned Attic or Roman ear.

All this will be allowed; and yet, to speak plainly and with that freedom which ancient manners indulge, the barbarity of these forms is not worse than the pedantry of taking such disgust at them. And there are ways, too, by which the most offensive circumstances in this account may be so far qualified as to be almost overlooked, or at least endured. What _these_ are, the capable and intelligent reader or writer is not to be told; and none but such would easily apprehend.

To come then to the OTHER objection of Lord SHAFTESBURY, which is more considerable.

It would be a manifest falsehood, he thinks, and directly against the truth both of art and nature, to engage the moderns in a grave discourse of any length. And it is true, the great men of our time do not, like the Senators of ancient _Rome_, spend whole days in learned debate and formal disputation: yet their meetings, especially in private parties, with their friends, are not so wholly frivolous, but that they sometimes discourse seriously, and even pursue a subject of learning or business, not with coherence only, but with some care. And will not this be ground enough for a capable writer to go upon, in reviving the way of Dialogue between such men?

But, to give the most probable air to his fiction, he may find it necessary to recede from the strict imitation of his originals, in one instance.

It may be advisable not to take for his speakers, _living persons_; I mean, persons, however respectable, of his own age. We may fancy of the dead, what we cannot so readily believe of the living. And thus, by endeavouring a little to deceive ourselves, we may come to think that natural, which is not wholly incredible; and may admit the writer’s invention for a picture, though a studied and flattering one, it may be, of real life.

In short, it may be a good rule in modern Dialogue, as it was in ancient Tragedy, to take our subjects, and choose our persons, out of former times. And, under the prejudice of that opinion which is readily entertained of such subjects and characters, an artist may contrive to pass that upon us for _Fact_, which was only ingenious _Fiction_; and so wind up his piece to the perfection of ancient Dialogue, without departing too widely from the decorum and truth of conversation in modern life.

Such at least is the IDEA, which the Author of these Dialogues has formed to himself of the manner in which this exquisite sort of composition may be attempted by more successful writers. For to conceive an excellence, and to copy it, he understands and laments, are very different things.

THURCASTON. MDCCLXIV.

MORAL AND POLITICAL

DIALOGUES.

DIALOGUE I.

ON SINCERITY IN THE COMMERCE

OF THE WORLD.

BETWEEN

DR. HENRY MORE,

AND

EDMUND WALLER, ESQ.

DIALOGUE I.

ON SINCERITY IN THE COMMERCE OF THE WORLD.

DR. HENRY MORE, EDMUND WALLER, ESQ.

MR. WALLER.

Enough, enough, my friend, on the good old chapter of _Sincerity and Honour_. Your rhetoric, and not your reasoning, is too much for me. Believe it, your fine stoical lessons must all give way to a little common sense, I mean, to a prudent accommodation of ourselves to times and circumstances; which, whether you will dignify it with the name of philosophy, or no, is the only method of living with credit in the world, and even with safety.

DR. MORE.

Accommodation is, no doubt, a good word to stand in the place of insincerity. But, pray, in which of the great moral masters have you picked up this term, and, much more, the virtuous practice, it so well expresses?

MR. WALLER.

I learnt it from the great master of life, EXPERIENCE: A doctor, little heard of in the schools, but of more authority with men of sense, than all the solemn talkers of the porch, or cloister, put together.

DR. MORE.

After much reserve, I confess, you begin to express yourself very clearly. But, good Sir, not to take up your conclusion too hastily, have the patience to hear—

MR. WALLER.

Have I not, then, heard, and sure with patience enough, your studied harangues on this subject? You have discoursed it, I must own, very plausibly. But the impression, which fine words make, is one thing, and the conviction of reason, another. And, not to waste more time in fruitless altercation, let ME, if you please, read you a lecture of morals: not out of ancient books, or the visions of an unpractised philosophy, but from the schools of business and real life. Such a view of things will discredit these high nations, and may serve, for the future, to amend and rectify all your systems.

DR. MORE.

Commend me to a man of the world, for a rectifier of moral systems!—Yet, if it were only for the pleasure of being let into the secrets of this new doctrine of _Accommodation_, I am content to become a _patient_ hearer, in my turn; and the rather, as the day, which you see, wears apace, will hardly give leave for interruption, or indeed afford you time enough for the full display of your wit on this extraordinary subject.

MR. WALLER.

We have day enough before us, for the business in hand. ’Tis true, this wood-land walk has not the charms, which you lately bestowed on a certain _philosophical garden_[16]. But the heavens are as clear, and the air, that blows upon us, as fresh, as in that fine evening which drew your friends abroad, and engaged them in a longer debate, than that with which I am now likely to detain you. For, indeed, I have only to lay before you the result of my own experience and observation. All my arguments are plain facts, which are soon told, and about which there can be no dispute. You shall judge for yourself, how far they will authorize the conclusion I mean to draw from them.

The point, I am bold enough to maintain against you philosophers, is, briefly, this; “That _sincerity_, or a scrupulous regard to _truth_ in all our conversation and behaviour, how specious soever it may be in theory, is a thing impossible in practice; that there is no living in the world on these terms; and that a man of business must either quit the scene, or learn to temper the strictness of your discipline with some reasonable accommodations. It is exactly the dilemma of the poet,

Vivere si recte nescis, discede peritis;

of all which I presume, as I said, to offer my own experience, as the shortest and most convincing demonstration.”

DR. MORE.

The subject, I confess, is fairly delivered, and nothing can be juster than this appeal to experience, provided you do not attempt to delude yourself or me by throwing false colours upon it.

MR. WALLER.

It will be your business to remonstrate against these arts, if you discover any such. My intention is to proceed in the way of a direct and simple recital.

“I was born, as you know, of a good family, and to the inheritance of this paternal seat[17], with the easy fortune that belongs to it. To this, I succeeded but too soon by the untimely loss of an excellent father. His death, however, did not deprive me of those advantages which are thought to arise from a strict and virtuous education. This care devolved on my mother, a woman of great prudence, who provided for my instruction in letters and every other accomplishment. I was, of myself, enough inclined to books, and was supposed to have some parts which deserved cultivation. I was accordingly trained in the study of those writings, which are the admiration of men of elegant minds and refined morals. I was a tolerable master of the languages, in which they are composed; and, I may venture to say, was at least imbued with their notions and principles, if I was not able at that time to catch the spirit of their composition: all which was confirmed in me, by the constant attendance and admonitions of the best tutors, and the strict discipline of your colleges. I mention these things to shew you, that I was not turned loose into the world, as your complaint of men of business generally is, unprincipled and uninstructed; and that what austere men might afterwards take for some degree of libertinism in my conduct, is not to be charged on the want of a sober or even learned education.”

DR. MORE.

I understand you mean to take no advantage of that plea, if what follows be not answerable to so high expectations.

MR. WALLER.

The season was now come, when my rank and fortune, together with the solicitations of my friends, drew me forth, though reluctantly, from the college into the world. I was then, indeed, under twenty; but so practised in the best things, and so enamoured of the moral lessons which had been taught me, that I carried with me into the last parliament of king James, not the showy accomplishments of learning only, but the high enthusiasm of a warm and active virtue. Yet the vanity, it may be, of a young man, distinguished by some advantages, and conscious enough of them, was, for a time, the leading principle with me. In this disposition, it may be supposed, I could not be long without desiring an introduction to the court. It was not a school of that virtue I had been used to, yet had some persons in it of eminent worth and honour. A vein of poetry, which seemed to flow naturally from me, was that by which I seemed most ambitious to recommend myself[18]. And occasions quickly offered for that purpose. But this was a play of ingenuity in which the heart had no share. I made complimentary verses on the great lords and ladies of the court, with as much simplicity and as little meaning as my bows in the drawing room, and thought it a fine thing to be taken notice of, as a wit, in the fashionable circles. In the mean time, the corruptions of a loose disorderly court gave me great scandal. And the abject flatteries, I observed in some of the highest stations and gravest characters, filled me with indignation. As an instance of this, I can never forget the resentment, that fired my young breast at the conversation you have often heard me say I was present at, betwixt the old king, and two of his court prelates[19]. And if the prudent and witty turn, the venerable bishop of _Winchester_ gave to the discourse, had not atoned, in some measure, for the rank offensive servility of the _other_, it had been enough to determine me, forthwith, to an implacable hatred of kings and courts for ever.

DR. MORE.

It must be owned the provocation was very gross, and the offence taken at it no more than a symptom of a generous and manly virtue.

MR. WALLER.

It left a deep impression on my mind; yet it did not hinder me from appearing at court in the first years of the following reign, when the vanity of a thoughtless muse, rather than any relaxation of my ancient manners, drew from me, again, some occasional panegyrics on greatness; which being presented in verse, I thought would hardly be suspected of flattery.

DR. MORE.

This indulgence of a _thoughtless muse_ (as you call it) was not without its danger. I am afraid this must pass for the first instance of your sacrificing to INSINCERITY.

MR. WALLER.