The First Class Friends, it is true, pay for their glory by a heavy obligation--to appear at the Palace every morning usually before daylight, and greet the Lord of the World while he sits up in bed and is dressed by his valets.[153] Very much of state business is then transacted, but the obligation to appear merely to say an “_Ave_” is imperative provided the Emperor is in his residence. Sometimes merely to avoid giving gouty ministers great inconvenience Hadrian has been known considerately to pass the night away from the Palace in order to dispense with the ceremonial in the morning. =253. The Imperial Audiences.=--After the Emperor has been clad with due ceremony, has conversed with his intimates, and perhaps has sealed some urgent rescripts, he is ready for the morning audience. A full cohort (1000 men) of the Prætorian Guard is always on service at the Palace and a platoon of these without armor, but in magnificent cloaks, stands by the entrance to the hall of state. Only men as a rule are admitted.[154] Under certain evil or very suspicious Emperors such as Claudius there has been the humiliating custom of searching every visitor (whatever his rank) for weapons, ere admission; but that abomination has ceased at last, beginning with Nerva. In the broad courts before the audience chamber some dozens of senators dismount from their litters every morning when the monarch is in Rome, and sometimes the delay ere the doors are opened is so long that much personal business can be transacted and philosophical disquisitions indulged in. Second Class Friends do not have to appear every morning, but it is a serious error to fail to use your entrée fairly often. =254. Social Ruin through Imperial Disfavor.=--The process resembles that with the clients in the noble lords’ own houses a little earlier in the day, although with greater solemnity and formality.[155] A group of gorgeously dressed “admissioners” (_admissionales_) keep the doors, and scan every applicant closely, but besides the regular Friends they frequently admit certain distinguished visitors from the provinces, especially members of those provincial delegations that are always junketing to Rome to proffer the homage of their district to the Emperor, or to present some kind of a public petition. The last day that Hadrian gave audience ere leaving Rome, when our friend Calvus waited upon him, there was an awkward happening. A very roistering and immoral young nobleman, Calvisius, presented himself when the doors were opened, whereupon an imperial freedman took him by the arm, announcing: “You are no longer admitted to the palace.” Calvisius instantly slunk away, overwhelmed by his calamity. He would have suffered less if he had forfeited half his fortune.