Abraham Lincoln was tired. By November 1864, the Civil War had been grinding on for three agonizing years, and the sheer weight of the dead was enough to break anyone. Then, a letter landed on his desk. It was a request from Governor John Andrew of Massachusetts, telling a story that seemed too tragic to be real. A widow named Lydia Bixby had supposedly lost five sons on the battlefield. Lincoln sat down and wrote what many consider the most beautiful letter of condolence ever penned in the English language.
But here’s the thing: almost everything we thought we knew about Lincoln's letter to Mrs Bixby is either a mystery or a flat-out lie.
The Words That Stopped a Nation
When the letter was published in the Boston Evening Transcript on November 25, 1864, it hit like a lightning bolt. It wasn't long. It didn't ramble. It was just a few sentences that managed to capture the "solemn pride" of a mother’s sacrifice. Lincoln wrote about the "overwhelming bereavement" and the "costly sacrifice laid upon the altar of freedom."
People wept. They clipped it out of newspapers and framed it. Even today, if you watch Saving Private Ryan, you’ll hear General George C. Marshall read those words to justify a rescue mission. It’s the gold standard of empathy.
But honestly? Mrs. Bixby herself wasn't exactly the grieving saint the public imagined. History is messy like that.
The Bixby Boys: What Really Happened?
Here is where the factual accuracy starts to get a bit uncomfortable. Governor Andrew told Lincoln that five Bixby sons had died for the Union. Lincoln believed him. Why wouldn't he? But later research by historians like William Barton and Michael Burlingame revealed a much weirder, darker reality.
Lydia Bixby had five sons, yes. But they didn't all die in a "glorious" sacrifice.
- Arthur Bixby: He didn't die. He actually deserted and might have even fled to sea.
- Charles Bixby: He was killed at the Battle of Fredericksburg. This one was real.
- Francis Bixby: He deserted, too. Then he was captured and supposedly ended up working on a blockade runner.
- Oliver Bixby: He was killed in action during the Siege of Petersburg.
- Henry Bixby: He was captured, exchanged, and survived the war.
So, instead of five dead heroes, Lydia had two dead sons, two deserters, and one survivor. It’s still a tragedy, sure, but it’s not the narrative Lincoln thought he was honoring. To make matters worse, Mrs. Bixby was rumored to be a Confederate sympathizer who lived in a part of Boston known for "houses of ill fame." Some accounts even suggest she destroyed the original letter shortly after receiving it because she didn't care for Lincoln’s politics.
Did Lincoln Even Write It?
This is the debate that keeps Civil War buffs up at night. For decades, a theory has circulated that Lincoln’s personal secretary, John Hay, actually wrote the Bixby letter.
John Hay was a brilliant writer. He later became Secretary of State. In his old age, he reportedly told friends that he had "written the Bixby letter" and that Lincoln was too busy to handle every piece of correspondence. In the 1980s and 90s, "stylometric" analysis—basically using computers to look at word patterns—suggested the vocabulary and rhythm looked more like Hay than Lincoln. Hay used the word "cherish" in ways Lincoln rarely did. He liked complex, rhythmic sentences that felt a bit more "literary" than Lincoln’s usually sparse, legalistic prose.
However, the "Lincoln camp" fights back hard. They argue that the emotional core of Lincoln's letter to Mrs Bixby is pure Honest Abe. It has that same biblical cadence found in the Gettysburg Address. Does it matter who held the pen? Some say yes, because if Hay wrote it, the letter is a masterful piece of PR. If Lincoln wrote it, it’s a soul-baring moment of a Commander-in-Chief feeling the weight of his decisions.
We’ll likely never know for sure. The original manuscript is gone.
Why We Can't Let Go of the Bixby Letter
Even if the facts are shaky—even if the mom was a Southern sympathizer and the kids didn't all die—the letter survives because we need it to be true. It represents the ideal of leadership.
Think about the context. November 1864. The North was winning, but the body count was astronomical. Grant was grinding through the Wilderness. The public was exhausted. Lincoln was up for reelection and wasn't sure he’d win. He was surrounded by death every single day.
When you read the line, "I pray that our Heavenly Father may assuage the anguish of your bereavement," you aren't just reading a formal note. You're reading the exhaustion of a man who had seen 600,000 Americans die on his watch.
Common Misconceptions That Rankle Historians
People love to spread the myth that the letter is on display at the Library of Congress. It isn't. Because the original disappeared almost immediately, what you see in museums or online are "facsimiles"—reproductions made for sale in the late 19th century.
Another weird one? The idea that Lincoln wrote it on a train. That’s the Gettysburg Address myth bleeding over. Lincoln likely wrote this (or Hay did) in the quiet of the White House, probably with a heavy heart and a scratchy dip pen.
The Impact on Modern Mourning
The Bixby letter changed how the U.S. government talks to the families of the fallen. Before the Civil War, you didn't always get a letter from the top. But Lincoln set a precedent for the "Presidential Condolence Letter." Every Gold Star family since then owes a bit of that recognition to the precedent set by this one disputed, 139-word note to a widow in Boston.
What You Should Do Next
If you're a history nerd or just someone who appreciates great writing, don't just take the legend at face value.
- Read the text out loud. Seriously. It takes 45 seconds. Notice the lack of "I" and the focus on "the Republic." It’s a masterclass in selfless writing.
- Check out "Lincoln's Secretary" by Helen Nicolay. It gives a great look at John Hay's role and might convince you he was the real author.
- Visit the American Battlefield Trust website. They have detailed breakdowns of the Bixby boys' actual service records if you want to see the primary sources for their desertions and deaths.
- Compare it to the Gettysburg Address. Look for the similarities in how Lincoln uses "hallow" and "dedicate." Whether he wrote it or just signed it, the letter reflects the "Second Inaugural" era of his presidency—the part where he moved from politician to national priest.
The Bixby letter proves that a story doesn't have to be factually perfect to be emotionally true. It’s a reminder that in the middle of a literal war, words were the only thing that could bridge the gap between a president in a mansion and a grieving mother in a tenement. That’s why it’s still on our stamps and in our movies. It’s the best version of ourselves, even if the reality was a whole lot messier.