impostors, who made their first appearance at Rome, not long before
the days of Cicero. That they were unwelcome visitors, is evident from
the circumstance of their being silenced by the two censors [b],
Crassus and Domitius. They were ordered, says Cicero, to shut up their
school of impudence. Those scenes, however, are open at present, and
there our young students listen to mountebank oratory. I am at a loss
how to determine which is most fatal to all true genius, the place
itself, the company that frequent it, or the plan of study universally
adopted. Can the place impress the mind with awe and respect, where
none are ever seen but the raw, the unskilful, and the ignorant? In
such an assembly what advantage can arise? Boys harangue before boys,
and young men exhibit before their fellows. The speaker is pleased
with his declamation, and the hearer with his judgement. The very
subjects on which they display their talents, tend to no useful
purpose. They are of two sorts, persuasive or controversial. The
first, supposed to be of the lighter kind, are usually assigned to the
youngest scholars: the last are reserved for students of longer
practice and riper judgement. But, gracious powers! what are the
compositions produced on these occasions?

The subject is remote from truth, and even probability, unlike any
thing that ever happened in human life: and no wonder if the
superstructure perfectly agrees with the foundation. It is to these
scenic exercises that we owe a number of frivolous topics, such as the
reward due to the slayer of a tyrant; the election to be made by [c]
violated virgins; the rites and ceremonies proper to be used during a
raging pestilence; the loose behaviour of married women; with other
fictitious subjects, hackneyed in the schools, and seldom or never
heard of in our courts of justice. These imaginary questions are
treated with gaudy flourishes, and all the tumor of unnatural