Letter 11.29

I was uncertain about this whole plan of departure, as our Atticus knows, because many thoughts came to mind on both sides. Your judgment and advice added great weight in removing that uncertainty. You wrote openly what seemed right to you, and Atticus reported your conversation to me. I have always judged that you have the highest wisdom in forming advice and the highest good faith in giving it. I especially experienced this at the beginning of the civil war, when I consulted you by letter about what you thought I should do: go to Pompey or remain in Italy. You advised me to consult my own dignity. From that I understood what you thought, and I admired your good faith and conscientiousness in giving advice, because, though you thought your dearest friend preferred the other course, my duty mattered more to you than his wish. For my part, I loved you even before that time, and I always felt myself loved by you. When I was absent and in great danger, I remember that both I in my absence and my people who were present were cared for and defended by you. After my return, all those who usually notice such things can testify how intimately you lived with me, and what I felt and declared about you. But you made the weightiest judgment about my loyalty and constancy when, after Caesar's death, you gave yourself wholly to my friendship. Unless I prove that judgment by the greatest goodwill toward you and by every service, I shall not think myself a human being. You, my dear Oppius, will preserve your love for me, though I write this more from custom than because I think you need reminding, and you will protect all my interests. So that they would not be unknown to you, I have entrusted them to Atticus. From me, when I have gained a little leisure, expect a fuller letter. Take pains to be well. Nothing you can do will please me more. Cicero

DCCLIX (Fam. XI, 29) TO GAIUS OPPIUS (AT ROME) (ANAGNIA, JULY) WHEN I was hesitating — as my friend Atticus knows-about the entire idea of my journey, because many considerations on both sides kept occurring to my mind, your judgment and advice had great weight in clearing away all feeling of hesitation: for not only did your letter express your opinion frankly, but Atticus also conveyed to me what you had said by word of mouth. It has ever been my opinion that nothing could exceed your wisdom in conceiving or your honesty in imparting advice. I had a supreme instance of this when I wrote to consult you at the beginning of the civil war as to what you thought I ought to do — go to Pompey , or stay in Italy . You advised me to consider what was due to my position. That told me plainly what your opinion was; and I admired your honesty and conscientiousness in giving advice. For though you thought that your dearest friend would wish it to be otherwise, your duty to me was of superior importance in your eyes to his wishes. For my part, even before that time I was attached to you, and always felt that you were attached to me. And when I was abroad and in the midst of great dangers, I remember that both I myself in my absence and my family who were at home enjoyed your attentions and protection. Again, after my return I can call all who usually observe such things to witness on what intimate terms you have been with me, and what feelings I have both entertained and avowed in regard to you. But the weightiest expression of your judgment as to my honour and consistency was given by you when, after Caesar 's death, you devoted yourself heart and soul to my friendship. If I fail to justify that judgment by displaying the warmest affection for you and serving you in every possible way, I shall regard myself as a monster of ingratitude. Pray, my dear Oppius , maintain your love for me — though, after all, I say this more because it is usual to say it, than from an idea that you need to be reminded — and continue to protect all my interests. As to what they are I have charged Atticus to enlighten you. As soon as I have secured a little leisure you may expect a longer letter from me. Take good care to keep well; you cannot oblige me more than by doing that.

XXIX. Scr. ineunte mense Quinctili a.u.c. 710. CICERO OPPIO S. D. Dubitanti mihi—quod scit Atticus noster—de hoc toto consilio profectionis, quod in utramque partem in mentem multa veniebant, magnum pondus accessit ad tollendam dubitationem iudicium et consilium tuum; nam et scripsisti aperte, quid tibi videretur, et Atticus ad me sermonem tuum pertulit. Semper iudicavi in te et in capiendo consilio prudentiam summam esse et in dando fidem, maximeque sum expertus, cum initio civilis belli per litteras te consuluissem, quid mihi faciendum esse censeres, eundumne ad Pompeium an manendum in Italia; suasisti, ut consulerem dignitati meae; ex quo, quid sentires, intellexi et sum admiratus fidem tuam et in consilio dando religionem, quod, cum aliud malle amicissimum tuum putares, antiquius tibi officium meum quam illius voluntas fuit. Equidem et ante hoc tempus te dilexi et semper me a te diligi sensi: et, cum abessem atque in magnis periculis essem, et me absentem et meos praesentes a te cultos et defensos esse memini et post meum reditum, quam familiariter mecum vixeris, quaeque ego de te et senserim et praedicarim, omnes, qui solent haec animadvertere, testes habemus; gravissimum vero iudicium de mea fide et constantia fecisti, cum post mortem Caesaris totum te ad amicitiam meam contulisti, quod tuum iudicium nisi mea summa benevolentia erga te omnibusque meritis comprobaro, ipse me hominem non putabo. Tu, mi Oppi, conservabis amorem tuum—etsi more magis hoc quidem scribo, quam quo te admonendum putem—meaque omnia tuebere: quae tibi ne ignota essent, Attico mandavi; a me autem, cum paullum otii nacti erimus, uberiores litteras exspectato. Da operam, ut valeas: hoc mihi gratius facere nihil potes. Cicero