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.