Portia fled from Italy with her husband, and it was well for her that she did so; for under the Triumvirate there was inaugurated a reign of terror which caused the people of Rome to recall the bloody proscriptions of Sylla, and in which the wife of Cæsar's murderer would hardly have been secure. Hatred, greed, and all evil passions were let loose. It became easy for heirs to hasten to the possession of legacies by having the owners' names placed on the lists of the proscribed. The toga was given to children, in order that their property, they being then considered of age, might come into their own possession; then they were condemned to death.
During this reign of terror, the citizens of Rome were cowed by the soldiery into abject silence and inactivity; but, to their honor, it is recorded that the women did not suffer so resignedly the despoiling of their goods. A heavy contribution was levied upon fourteen hundred of the richest matrons. Led by Hortensia, the daughter of the orator, these ladies went to the Forum and appeared in the presence of the Triumvirate. Hortensia spoke. "Before presenting ourselves before you" she said, "we have solicited the intervention of Fulvia; her refusal has obliged us to come hither. You have taken away our fathers, our children, our brothers, our husbands; to deprive us of our fortune also is to reduce us to a condition which befits neither our birth, nor our habits, nor our sex; it is to extend your proscriptions to us. But have we raised soldiers against you, or sought after your offices? Do we dispute the power for which you are fighting? From the time of Hannibal, Roman women have willingly given to the treasury their jewels and ornaments; let the Gauls or the Parthians come, and there will be found in us no less patriotism. But do not ask us to contribute to this fratricidal war which is rending the Republic; neither Marius, nor Cinna, nor even Sylla during his tyranny, dared to do so." The triumvirs were inclined to drive the matrons from the Forum; but the people began to be stirred, so they yielded and set forth another edict, reducing to four hundred the number of women who were to be taxed.
Much of this cruelty was instigated by a woman whom Hortensia mentions. Antony, whose amatory experiences were as varied as they were numerous, was at one time engaged in an intrigue with Fulvia, then the wife of Clodius. She afterward became Antony's wife. Here was a woman the exact opposite of Portia; a resentful, stubborn, masculine woman, "in whom," says Velleius Paterculus, "there was nothing feminine but her body." It is told of her that when Cicero was murdered, his head was brought to her, and she drove her bodkin through the tongue which had so bitterly rated her and her husband. On another occasion, the head of one of the proscribed was brought to Antony. "I do not know it," he said; "let it be taken to my wife." It was the head of a citizen of whom nothing worse is known than that he had refused to sell a farm which Fulvia desired to obtain. Plutarch relates that Antony was obliged to resort to all sorts of boyish tricks in order to keep Fulvia in good humor. Among other like stories which he says were current, he gives the following, relating to the triumvir's sudden return to Rome: "Disguising himself, he came to her by night, muffled up as a servant that brought letters from Antony. She, with great impatience, before she receives the letter, asks if Antony were well, and instead of an answer he gives her the letter; and, as she was opening it, he takes her about the neck and kisses her." The historian gives this characterization of Fulvia: "a woman not born for spinning or housewifery, nor one that could be content with ruling a private husband, but prepared to govern a first magistrate, or give orders to a commander-in-chief. So that Cleopatra was under great obligations to her for having taught Antony to be so good a servant, he coming to her hands tame and broken into entire obedience to the commands of a mistress." Evidently, we must regard Mark Antony as being the great historical type of the "henpecked" husband; there is, however, no occasion for sympathy; his punishment was no greater than he deserved. The chief misfortune lay in the fact that Fulvia died, and thus made room for the noble and much-abused Octavia, whom he afterward married.
Let us return to Portia. There is a beautiful incident related of her final parting from Brutus in the island of Nisida. She was overcome with grief, but refrained from showing it for fear that it might shake her husband's fortitude. But in passing through a hall, a picture which she there saw accidentally betrayed her. It was a representation of Hector parting from Andromache when he went to engage the Greeks. He was in the act of giving his little son Astyanax into her arms, while she fixes her tearful eyes for the last time upon her husband. Portia could not look upon this piece, so suggestive of her own circumstances, without weeping; and every day, as long as she remained in the place, she went to gaze upon it. It was on one of those occasions that Acilius, a friend of Brutus, repeated from Homer the lines where Andromache speaks to Hector:
"'But, Hector, you
To me are father and are mother too,
My brother, and my loving husband true.'"
Brutus, sadly smiling, replied, "But I must not answer Portia, as Hector did Andromache:
"'Mind you your loom, and to your maids give law.'
For though the natural weakness of her body hinders her from doing what only the strength of men can perform, yet she has a mind as valiant and as active for the good of her country as the best of us."