To realise this, we should bear in mind the ancient esteem for chaplets, rose-leaves, and perfumes of all kinds at the banquet, and the expense to which Roman hosts would go to gratify this taste. To judge by Martial (whom Theodore Martin quotes on this passage), it sometimes went to the length of the banquet striking the guests as much more a concern of the nose than of the mouth or palate. Perhaps it is no bad thing that we have gone back to a more natural arrangement. Another glimpse at a dinner or supper at which the poet assisted may have belonged to this period, and at any rate is amusing and characteristic. It is in a squib upon one Marrucinus Asinius, apparently a brother of Horace's and Virgil's friend, the poet-statesman Asinius Pollio, imputing to him a petty larceny of which we have heard in modern boarding-houses, and which many know, to their sorrow, is at least matched by the modern disregard of meum and tuum in the matter of umbrellas and wraps. It was in jest, of course—but sorry, ill-understood jest, according to Catullus—that this worthy had a knack of purloining his brother guests' napkins whilst at meat; and what made matters worse was, that the convives of old brought these napkins with them, and if they missed them during the meal, were reduced to an inconvenience which we who don't eat with our fingers cannot realise. Catullus begins by telling this low joker that his fun is not such as gentlemen understand—fun which he is sure his refined and witty brother, Pollio, would pay a talent rather than have tacked to the name of any of his kin. But he adds
