"Then where did Quintilian get the money to pay for so many estates?" Pass by the instances of good fortune that are but rare indeed. It is good _luck_ that makes a man handsome and active; good luck that makes him wise, and noble, and well-bred, and attaches the crescent[381] of the senator to his black shoe. Good luck too that makes him the best of orators and debaters, and, though he has a vile cold, sing well! For it makes all the difference what planets welcome you when you first begin to utter your infant cry, and are still red from your mother. If fortune so wills it, you will become consul instead of rhetorician; or, if she will, instead of rhetorician, consul! What was Ventidius[382] or Tullius aught else than a lucky planet, and the strange potency of hidden fate? Fate, that gives kingdoms to slaves, and triumphs to captives. Yes! Quintilian was indeed lucky, but he is a greater rarity even than a white crow. But many a man has repented of this fruitless and barren employment, as the sad end of Thrasymachus[383] proves, and that of Secundus Carrinas.[384] And you, too, Athens, were witness to the poverty of him on whom you had the heart to bestow nothing save the hemlock that chilled[385] his life-blood! Light be the earth, ye gods![386] and void of weight, that presses on our grandsires' shades, and round their urn bloom fragrant crocus and eternal spring, who maintained that a tutor should hold the place and honor of a revered parent. Achilles sang on his paternal hills, in terror of the lash, though now grown up; and yet in whom even then would not the tail of his master, the harper, provoke a smile? But now Rufus[387] and others are beaten each by their own pupils; Rufus! who so often called Cicero "the Allobrogian!" Who casts into Enceladus'[388] lap, or that of the learned Palæmon,[389] as much as their grammarian labors have merited! And yet even from the wretched sum, however small (and it is smaller than the rhetorician's pay), Acænonoëtus, his pupil's pedagogue, first takes his slice; and then the steward who pays you deducts his fragment. Dispute it not, Palæmon! and suffer some abatement to be made, just as the peddler does that deals in winter rugs and snow-white sheetings.[390] Only let not all be lost,[391] for which you have sat from the midnight hour, when no smith would sit, nor even he that teaches how to draw out wool with the oblique iron. Lose not your whole reward for having smelled as many lamps as there were boys standing round you; while Horace was altogether discolored, and the foul smut clave to the well-thumbed Maro. Yet rare too is the pay that does not require enforcing by the Tribune's court.[392]