successful lawyer, a sort of
public orator. As heir to his uncle's estate, and as coheir to estates
of deceased friends, and as a public man, he amassed considerable
property. He could undoubtedly--and we undoubtingly believe he did--do
this with scrupulous honesty. His fees, salaries and legacies he took
pains to earn. Legacies he claimed as they were left him, though he
stooped to no fawning to obtain them, and in at least one instance
returned the property to the natural (though he says undeserving)
heir. If so, let us give him due credit for generosity. Certainly, he
was not selfish or illiberal. He assisted his friends with money and
influence, as well as advice, and he gave to his native town, Comum,
a public library, besides an endowment of three hundred thousand
sesterces ($12,000) yearly for ever to maintain children born of free
parents. How long this endowment lasted we cannot say, but it must, at
any rate, have disappeared in the dilapidations caused three hundred
and fifty years afterward by the Gothic invaders of Italy. Then he had
two villas at least, besides his town-house, with slaves, attendants
and following to match. This will suffice to show that he had the
wherewithal. But could he enjoy it? He was a literary man: his uncle
had settled that for him. He was an oratorical light in the Senate.
His letters show that he was a gentleman, whose delicacy of feeling
was as fine as the lauded courtesies of modern times. As proof that
he was a gentleman, and that he knew how to distinguish a good from a
poor dinner, and as proof, too, of the good advice he was wont to give
away as freely as good money, we will put in his letter to Avitus upon
occasion of a dinner he had just attended:

"_Cains Pliny to his own Avitus, greeting_: It would take too long,
and do no good, to tell you how, though not on familiar terms, I came
to dine with a man who piques himself upon his elegant and correct,
though sordid and profuse, entertainments. They are so in this: he
placed before the select few some rare delicacies--before the rest he
put indifferent or little food. Even of the wine there were but three
sorts, and these, besides, in little flagons--evidently not that you
should choose" but to prevent your choosing--one sort for himself and
us, another for his poorer friends, a third for his and our freedmen.
A neighbor on the same couch asked me what I thought of it: Did I
approve? 'No.' 'Then what is your rule?' 'I put