of such a man must have been when he was the chattel of a Verres, a Clodius, or a Catiline.  It is pleasant to turn away from the thought, which is the very darkest perhaps in the repulsive subject of Roman slavery, to observe the sympathy and tenderness which Cicero shows to the sick man from whom he has been reluctantly compelled to part.  The letters to Tiro fill one of the sixteen books of “Letters to Friends.”  They are twenty-seven in number, or rather twenty-six, as the sixteenth of the series contains the congratulations and thanks which Quintus Cicero addresses to his brother on receiving the news that Tiro has received his freedom.  “As to Tiro,” he writes, “I protest, as I wish to see you, my dear Marcus, and my own son, and yours, and my dear Tullia, that you have done a thing that pleased me exceedingly in making a man who certainly was far above his mean condition a friend rather than a servant.  Believe me, when I read your letters and his, I fairly leaped for joy; I both thank and congratulate you.  If the fidelity of my Statius gives me so much pleasure[9], how valuable in Tiro must be this same good quality with the additional and even superior advantages of culture, wit, and politeness?  I have many very good reasons for loving you; and now there is this that you have told me, as indeed you were bound to tell me, this excellent piece of news.  I saw all your heart in your letter.”

[Footnote 9:  See page 277.]

Cicero’s letters to the invalid are at first very frequent.  One is dated on the third, another on the fifth, and a third on the seventh of November; and on the eighth of the month there are no fewer than three, the first of them apparently in answer to a letter from Tiro.  “I am variously affected by your letter—­much troubled by the first page, a little comforted by the second.  The result is that I now say, without hesitation, till you are quite strong, do not trust yourself to travel either by land of sea.  I shall see you as soon as I wish if I see you quite restored.”  He goes on to criticise the doctor’s prescriptions.  Soup was not the right thing to give to a dyspeptic patient.  Tiro is not to spare any expense.  Another fee to the doctor might make him more attentive.  In another letter he regrets that the invalid had felt himself compelled to accept an invitation to a concert, and tells him that he had left a horse and mule for him at Brundisium.  Then, after a brief notice of public affairs, he returns to the question of the voyage.  “I must again ask you not to be rash in your traveling.  Sailors, I observe, make too much haste to increase their profits.  Be cautious, my dear Tiro.  You have a wide and dangerous sea to traverse.  If you can, come with Mescinius.  He is wont to be careful in his voyages.  If not with him, come with a person of distinction, who will have influence with the captain.”  In another letter he tells Tiro that he must revive his love of letters and learning.  The physician thought that his mind was ill at ease; for this the best remedy was occupation.  In another he writes:  “I have received your letter with its shaky handwriting; no wonder, indeed, seeing how serious has been your illness.  I send you Aegypta (probably a superior slave) to wait upon you, and a cook with him.”  Cicero could not have shown more affectionate care of a sick son.