Letter IX. To Monsieur de Rochefort

Consolations on the death of his son.

20th January, 1614.

Sir, — Knowing what you have felt about your son by what I have felt myself, I realize that your pain has been extreme; for truly, remembering the contentment which yon took in speaking to me the other day about this child, I felt a great compassion, when I reflected how painful would be your sorrow at the news of his decease; but still I did not dare to express to you my sympathy, not knowing whether the loss was certain, nor whether it had been announced to you. And now, sir, I come too late to contribute towards the consolation of your heart, which will already, I am sure, have received much relief, so as no longer to remain in the grief which so sensible an affliction had caused it.

For you will have well known how to consider that this dear child was more God's than yours, who had it only as a loan from that sovereign liberality. And if his Providence judged that it was time to withdraw it to himself, we must believe that it was for the child's good, in which a loving father like you must quietly acquiesce. Our age is not so delightsome that those who quit it should be much lamented. This son has, I think, gained much by leaving it almost before properly entering it.

The word " dead" is terrifying, as it is spoken to us: for some one comes to you and says: your dear father is dead, and your son is dead: — but this is not a fit way of speaking among us Christians, for we should say: your son or your father has gone into his and your country; and because it was necessary he has passed through death, not stopping in it. I know not, indeed, how we can in right judgment esteem this world to be our country, in which we are for so short a time, in comparison with heaven, in which we are to be eternally. We are on our way, and are more assured of the presence of our dear friends there above than of these here below; for those are expecting us, and we go towards them; these let us go, and will delay as long after us as they can, and if they go with us, it is against their will.

But if some remains of sorrow still oppress your mind for the departure of this sweet soul, throw your heart before our Lord crucified, and ask his help; he will give it you, and will inspire into you the thought and the firm resolution to prepare yourself well to make in your turn, at the hour he has fixed, this terrifying passage, in such way that you may happily arrive at the place in which we hope already is lodged our poor — or rather, our happy departed. Sir, if I am heard in my continual desire, you will be filled with all holy prosperity; for it is with all my heart that I cherish and honour yours, and in this occasion, and in every other, I name myself and make myself, sir, your, &c.