ey were in a private
party at the orator's own house. Having sold their voices, this venal
crew rush forward from one tribunal to another, the distributors of
fame, and the sole judges of literary merit. The practice is, no
doubt, disgraceful. To brand it with infamy, two new terms have been
invented [d], one in the Greek language, importing the venders of
praise, and the other in the Latin idiom, signifying the parasites who
sell their applause for a supper. But sarcastic expressions have not
been able to cure the mischief: the applauders by profession have
taken courage, and the name, which was intended as a stroke of
ridicule, is now become an honourable appellation.

9. This infamous practice rages at present with increasing violence.
The party no longer consists of freeborn citizens; our very slaves are
hired. Even before they arrive at full age, we see them distributing
the rewards of eloquence. Without attending to what is said, and
without sense enough to understand, they are sure to crowd the courts
of justice, whenever a raw young man, stung with the love of fame, but
without talents to deserve it, obtrudes himself in the character of an
advocate. The hall resounds with acclamations, or rather with a kind
of bellowing; for I know not by what term to express that savage
uproar, which would disgrace a theatre.

Upon the whole, when I consider these infamous practices, which have
brought so much dishonour upon a liberal profession, I am far from
wondering that you, Maternus, judged it time to sound your retreat.
When you could no longer attend with honour, you did well, my friend,
to devote yourself entirely to the muses. And now, since you are to
close the debate, permit me to request, that, besides unfolding the
causes of corrupt eloquence, you will fairly tell us, whether you
entertain any hopes of better times, and, if you do, by what means a
reformation may be accomplished.

10. It is true [a], said Maternus, that seeing the forum deluged by an
inundation of vices, I was glad, as my friend expressed it, to sound
my retreat. I saw corruption rushing on with hasty strides, too
shameful to be defended, and too powerful to be resisted. And yet,
though urged by all those motives, I should hardly have renounced the
business of the bar, if the bias of my nature had not inclined me to
other studies. I balanced, however, for some time. It was, at first,
my fixed resolution to stand to the last a poor remnant o