A host of another type might have imitated certain very mean patrons who would invite poor clients to fill up the triclinium and then deliberately serve them with cheap wine and coarse scrappy food, while the best was being set before himself and the guests of honor. Such great men were also equal to pettiness of stationing special slaves behind each less-favored guest to watch lest the latter should with his finger nails pick out the gems set in the drinking cups. Pliny the Younger has already recorded his emphatic opinion of noblemen who will not serve dependents with as good fare as they get themselves,--declaring that if the host _must_ economize, he should eat and drink nothing better that night than what he gives his clients and freedmen. Of course, many an evening meal is far simpler than the one just described. If the triclinium is not full, Calvus and Gratia may sometimes offer their near acquaintances merely “some lettuce, three snails, two eggs, spelt mixed with honey and snow, olives from Spain, cucumbers, onions, and a few like delicacies.” Old Roman simplicity still--but every dish will be perfect of its kind, and the cookery excellent; and even the modest Calvi are none too fond of this diet praised by the philosophers. Rome is not merely the mistress of the world, she is the citadel of the gourmands. CHAPTER VII THE SOCIAL ORDERS: THE SLAVES =101. Enormous Alien Population in Rome. The “Græcules.”=--Rome, as already discovered, is a city with an enormous cosmopolitan population, and in that population is a sadly large proportion of drones, parasites, and selfish purveyors to the vices or luxuries of the rich. The influx of aliens, of course, impresses one at every turn, be the visit to obscure Mercury Street or to the famous Old Forum. “The Syrian Orontes (quoting lines of Juvenal hackneyed already) has long since poured into the Tiber, bringing its lingo and its manners, its flutes and its timbals, and its coarse girls who hang around the Circus.” A large fraction of these invaders, however, are not confessed Orientals, but olivine-featured, nimble creatures of very Levantine morality who like to be called “Greeks.” The poet, just cited, has other familiar lines deriding their suppleness, servility, and willingness for any shift promising favor or reward. The self-same adventurer is ready to be “grammarian, orator, geometrician, painter, trainer, rope-dancer, augur, doctor, or astrologer,” or if you bid “‘Græculus’ to mount to heaven--why, to heaven he’ll go!’” They squeeze out tears or split with laughter at a sign, and, of course, they readily sell themselves for any well-paid villainy.