How to Write Letters (Formerly The Book of Letters) Part 15

My dear Mrs. Burroughs,

May every consolation be given you in your great loss. Kindly accept my deepest sympathy.

Sincerely yours, Jane Everett.

October 4, 1921

(B)

My dear Mrs. Burroughs,

It is with the deepest regret that we learn of your bereavement. Please accept our united and heartfelt sympathies.

Very sincerely yours, Katherine Gerard Evans.

October 5, 1921

(C)

My dear Eleanor,

May I express my sympathy for you in the loss of your dear mother, even though there can be no words to comfort you? She was so wonderful to all of us that we can share in some small part in your grief.

With love, I am

Affectionately yours, Ruth Evans.

July 8, 1922

(D)

My dear Mrs. Burroughs,

I am sorely grieved to learn of the death of your husband, for whom I had the greatest admiration and regard. Please accept my heartfelt sympathy.

Yours sincerely, Douglas Spencer.

October 6, 1921

A letter of condolence that is something of a cla.s.sic is Abraham Lincoln's famous letter to Mrs. Bixby, the bereaved mother of five sons who died for their country:

Washington, November 21, 1864.

Dear Madam:

I have been shown in the files of the War Department a statement of the Adjutant-General of Ma.s.sachusetts that you are the mother of five sons who have died gloriously on the field of battle. I feel how weak and fruitless must be any words of mine which should attempt to beguile you from the grief of a loss so overwhelming. But I cannot refrain from tendering to you the consolation that may be found in the thanks of the Republic they died to save. I pray that our Heavenly Father may a.s.suage the anguish of your bereavement, and leave you only the cherished memory of the loved and lost, and the solemn pride that must be yours to have laid so costly a sacrifice upon the altar of freedom.

Yours very sincerely and respectfully, Abraham Lincoln.

This is the letter[5] that Robert E. Lee, when he was president of Washington College, wrote to the father of a student who was drowned:

Washington College, Lexington, Virginia, March 19, 1868.

My dear Sir:

Before this you have learned of the affecting death of your son. I can say nothing to mitigate your grief or to relieve your sorrow: but if the sincere sympathy of his comrades and friends and of the entire community can bring you any consolation, I can a.s.sure you that you possess it in its fullest extent. When one, in the pureness and freshness of youth, before having been contaminated by sin or afflicted by misery, is called to the presence of his Merciful Creator, it must be solely for his good. As difficult as this may be for you now to recognize, I hope you will keep it constantly in your memory and take it to your comfort; pray that He who in His wise Providence has permitted this crushing sorrow may sanctify it to the happiness of all. Your son and his friend, Mr. Birely, often pa.s.sed their leisure hours in rowing on the river, and, on last Sat.u.r.day afternoon, the 4th inst., attempted what they had more than once been cautioned against--to approach the foot of the dam, at the public bridge. Unfortunately, their boat was caught by the return-current, struck by the falling water, and was immediately upset. Their perilous position was at once seen from the sh.o.r.e, and aid was hurried to their relief, but before it could reach them both had perished. Efforts to restore your son's life, though long continued, were unavailing. Mr. Birely's body was not found until next morning. Their remains were, yesterday, Sunday, conveyed to the Episcopal church in this city, where the sacred ceremonies for the dead were performed by the Reverend Dr. Pendleton, who nineteen years ago, at the far-off home of their infancy, placed upon them their baptismal vows. After the service a long procession of the professors and students of the college, the officers and cadets of the Virginia Military Academy, and the citizens of Lexington accompanied their bodies to the packetboat for Lynchburg, where they were placed in charge of Messrs. Wheeler & Baker to convey them to Frederick City.

With great regard and sincere sympathy, I am,

Most respectfully, R. E. Lee.

[5] From "Recollections and Letters of General Robert E. Lee," by Capt.

Robert E. Lee. Copyright, 1904, by Doubleday, Page & Co.

LETTERS OF SYMPATHY IN CASE OF ILLNESS

When President Alderman, of the University of Virginia, was forced to take a long rest in the mountains in 1912 because of incipient tuberculosis, the late Walter H. Page, at the time editor of the _World's Work_, wrote the following tenderly beautiful letter of sympathy to Mrs. Alderman:

Cathedral Avenue, Garden City, L. I., December 9, 1912.

My dear Mrs. Alderman:

In Raleigh the other day I heard a rumor of the sad news that your letter brings, which I have just received on my return from a week's absence. I had been hoping that it was merely a rumor. The first impression I have is thankfulness that it had been discovered so soon and that you have acted so promptly.

On this I build a great hope.

But underlying every thought and emotion is the sadness of it--that it should have happened to _him_, now when he has done that prodigious task and borne that hard strain and was come within sight of a time when, after a period of more normal activity, he would in a few years have got the period of rest that he has won.--But these will all come yet; for I have never read a braver thing than your letter. That bravery on your part and his, together with the knowledge the doctors now have, will surely make his recovery certain and, I hope, not long delayed. If he keep on as well as he has begun, you will, I hope, presently feel as if you were taking a vacation.

Forget that it is enforced.

There comes to my mind as I write man after man in my acquaintance who have successfully gone through this experience and without serious permanent hurt. Some of them live here. More of them live in North Carolina or Colorado as a precaution. I saw a few years ago a town most of whose population of several thousand persons are recovered and active, after such an experience. The disease has surely been robbed of much of its former terror.

Your own courage and cheerfulness, with his own, are the best physic in the world. Add to these the continuous and sincere interest that his thousands of friends feel--these to keep your courage up, if it should ever flag a moment--and we shall all soon have the delight to see and to hear him again--his old self, endeared, if that be possible, by this experience.

And I pray you, help me (for I am singularly helpless without suggestions from you) to be of some little service--of any service that I can. Would he like letters from me? I have plenty of time and an eagerness to write them, if they would really divert or please him. Books? What does he care most to read? I can, of course, find anything in New York. A visit some time? It would be a very real pleasure to me. You will add to my happiness greatly if you will frankly enable me to add even the least to his.

And now and always give him my love. That is precisely the word I mean; for, you know, I have known Mr. Alderman since he was graduated, and I have known few men better or cared for them more.

And I cannot thank you earnestly enough for your letter; and I shall hope to have word from you often--if (when you feel indisposed to write more) only a few lines.

How can I serve? Command me without a moment's hesitation.

Most sincerely yours, Walter H. Page.

To Mrs. Edwin A. Alderman.

Joaquin Miller wrote the following letter to Walt Whitman on receiving news that the latter was ill:

Revere House, Boston, May 27, '75.

My dear Walt Whitman:[6]

Your kind letter is received and the sad news of your ill health makes this pleasant weather even seem tiresome and out of place. I had hoped to find you the same hale and whole man I had met in New York a few years ago and now I shall perhaps find you bearing a staff all full of pain and trouble. However my dear friend as you have sung from _within_ and not from _without_ I am sure you will be able to bear whatever comes with that beautiful faith and philosophy you have ever given us in your great and immortal chants. I am coming to see you very soon as you request; but I cannot say to-day or set to-morrow for I am in the midst of work and am not altogether my own master. But I will come and we will talk it all over together. In the meantime, remember that whatever befall you you have the perfect love and sympathy of many if not all of the n.o.blest and loftiest natures of the two hemispheres. My dear friend and fellow toiler good by.