The Romans were learning the political uses of a salon. The women began to acquire the knowledge that, for those who have access to the powerful male leaders, much may be accomplished by a fair face if backed by an active brain, even though the ballot be denied. The way was being prepared for a Livia and an Agrippina. The women were forced to take a greater interest in politics, for the simple reason that politics had become a most hazardous business. Their husbands might be riding in triumph one day, and finding their names in the lists of the proscribed the next; hence, it often happened that only by mingling in political intrigues could the wives secure their own safety and that of those to whom they were united by affection. The times had changed. In the old days, the women were accustomed, with patriotic ardor, to encourage their male relatives as they marched out against the public enemy, and they bravely devoted their sons to the welfare of the State; but in the times of which we are now treating, those did the best service who possessed the wit to discover a plot. It was to a courtesan named Fulvia that Cicero was indebted for the detection of the Catiline conspiracy. In the general estimation of the men, however, the chief political use which women might serve was to reinforce, by marriage, the strained relations between rival politicians. Accordingly, the daughter of a powerful leader would be married and divorced, passed from one man to another, with almost as much facility as a detachment of light cavalry might appear first in one part and then in another of a battlefield. These enforced marriages for political purposes had the effect of so training the women that, in the succeeding generations, they could with all the greater levity sever the bonds of matrimony for their own capricious ends. With what nonchalant freedom women made such entrance into the hazardous arena of public life is indicated in the story of Valeria. She was a sprightly young lady, who had been divorced from her husband. One day, in the theatre, as she passed behind Sylla on the way to her seat, she stopped for a moment and plucked a little bit of wool from the dictator's cloak. This caused him to turn and regard her with some wonderment. Whereupon she said: "Surely, sir, you cannot object if in picking a little thread from your garment I also desired to share a small portion of your good fortune." She went on to her seat; but it soon became apparent that Sylla was not displeased. During the performance, the lady was of more interest to him than the gladiatorial spectacle, and it was not long before a marriage was arranged.