Letter 10: To my most dear son Braulio, bishop, my joy and my comfort,

To my most dear son Braulio, bishop, my joy and my comfort, I am writing this from my sickbed, and I will not pretend otherwise. The physicians tell me very little that I believe, and what I observe for myself tells me what I need to know: that I am old and that the body has done most of what it intends to do. I am not afraid of death — I have been preparing for it all my life — but I find that I wish to be sure certain things are said before the opportunity passes. The first thing is this: you have been the best of my students and the most faithful of my correspondents. In the years when the Etymologiae threatened to become nothing but an embarrassment gathering dust in my study, it was your insistence that gave me the push to finish it. Whatever good that work does in the world — and I hope it does some good — is partly your doing. The second thing: I am leaving the care of my library and my unpublished notes to the cathedral chapter here in Seville, but I am asking that you be consulted on any questions about what should be copied and circulated. You know my work better than anyone, and you know my mind. I trust your judgment. I commend you to God's protection and to the company of the saints. We will meet again where there is no more need of letters. Your father in Christ, Isidore