The Bixby Boys: A Story of Deception
One of the most revered documents attributed to President Abraham Lincoln is his letter to widow Lydia Parker Bixby, written on November 21, 1864. Some consider it the most heartfelt condolence letter ever penned by an American president. Over the past 157 years, the letter has become a lasting symbol of patriotic sacrifice. Originally intended as a simple note of sympathy, it has gained profound significance, transcending its initial purpose. Through countless conflicts, it has come to represent a fundamental aspect of the American spirit as it has been portrayed and propagated. Notably, the letter played a pivotal role in Steven Spielberg’s World War II epic Saving Private Ryan, serving as the inspiration for the film’s plot. Written in the spirit of a grateful nation, it was meant to honor those who sacrificed their lives to preserve the Union and embody the very essence of patriotism.
On September 24, 1864, Massachusetts Adjutant General William Schouler wrote to Governor John Albion Andrew regarding a discharge request from Otis Newhall, the father of five Union soldiers. In his letter, Schouler mentioned that about ten days earlier, Lydia Bixby—a destitute widow who claimed to have lost five sons in service to the Union—had visited him. Governor Andrew subsequently informed President Lincoln about Mrs. Bixby, prompting Lincoln to draft the now-famous letter. However, evidence suggests the letter may not be exactly as it appears. Questions about its authenticity have circulated since it first became public.
Abraham Lincoln, the 16th President of the United States, served from March 4, 1861, until his assassination on April 15, 1865. Widely regarded for his leadership during the American Civil War, Lincoln navigated the nation’s greatest crisis, shaping its moral, cultural, constitutional, and political future.
On September 24, 1864, Massachusetts Adjutant General William Schouler wrote to Governor John Albion Andrew regarding a discharge request from Otis Newhall, the father of five Union soldiers. In his letter, Schouler mentioned that about ten days earlier, Lydia Bixby—a destitute widow who claimed to have lost five sons in service to the Union—had visited him. Governor Andrew subsequently informed President Lincoln about Mrs. Bixby, prompting Lincoln to draft the now-famous letter. However, evidence suggests the letter may not be exactly as it appears. Questions about its authenticity have circulated since it first became public.
The Lincoln Memorial, dedicated in 1922, was designed by architect Henry Bacon in the form of a Greek Doric temple. The central statue of Abraham Lincoln, sitting solemnly at the heart of the memorial, was designed by sculptor Daniel Chester French and carved by the Piccirilli Brothers. The memorial’s interior murals, painted by Jules Guerin, depict key moments from Lincoln’s life and leadership during the Civil War. Above the statue, the epithet written by Royal Cortissoz reads: ‘In this temple, as in the hearts of the people for whom he saved the Union, the memory of Abraham Lincoln is enshrined forever.’ The Lincoln Memorial stands as a symbol of national unity and the enduring principles of liberty and equality. It has become a central gathering place for American civil rights movements and historic events, making it not only a tribute to Lincoln but also a symbol of the nation’s values.
Executive Mansion, Washington, November 21, 1864.
Dear Madam,
I have been shown in the files of the War Department a statement of the Adjutant General of Massachusetts 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 word of mine which should attempt to beguile you from the grief of a loss so overwhelming. But I cannot refrain from tendering you the consolation that may be found in the thanks of the Republic they died to save.
I pray that our Heavenly Father may assuage 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. A. Lincoln.
The story surrounding the letter is more complex than a simple tale of American heroism. While Lydia Bixby was a Massachusetts woman with five sons involved in the war, she does not quite fit the image of a grieving, exemplary Union mother. In truth, that portrayal is far from accurate. Bixby passed away on October 27, 1878, at Massachusetts General Hospital. In the years that followed, historians have scrutinized her loyalty and character, casting doubt on the long-accepted narrative.
Bathed in the serene glow of the night, the Lincoln Memorial stands as a powerful symbol of freedom and unity. The towering statue of Abraham Lincoln, seated in quiet reflection, faces westward, representing both the legacy of the past and the promise of the future. The neoclassical design of the memorial evokes the enduring ideals of democracy and justice, while its place on the National Mall makes it a focal point for both national remembrance and moments of social change. The memorial’s significance has only grown over the decades, becoming a gathering place for pivotal moments in American history, including Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s iconic ‘I Have a Dream’ speech in 1963.
In 1904, Boston socialite Sarah Cabot Wheelwright wrote a letter to Bixby’s daughter, recalling her encounter with Lydia Bixby during the war. Wheelwright claimed to have provided financial assistance to Bixby and hoped that one of her sons, when on leave, would help forward packages to Union prisoners of war. However, Wheelwright stated that the requested assistance never materialized. Adding to the complexity, Wheelwright alleged that she had heard gossip suggesting Lydia Bixby ran a brothel in Boston and was “perfectly untrustworthy and as bad as she could be.”
On August 12, 1925, Mrs. Sylvia Elizabeth Towers, Bixby’s granddaughter, revealed to the Boston Herald that her grandmother held Southern sympathies and spoke little favorably of Lincoln. Surprisingly, she admitted that Bixby had destroyed the original letter shortly after receiving it, unaware of its eventual significance. Towers recalled, “I remember so clearly my surprise when my mother told me how my grandmother resented the letter.” Echoing this sentiment, the widow’s great-grandson later recounted, “I was advised by my father that my great-grandmother was an ardent Southern sympathizer, and when she received the letter, she destroyed it in anger, shortly after receipt, without realizing its value.” Beyond Bixby’s questionable character and Southern loyalties, it appears that even the foundational premise of the letter was false.
War records reveal that Lydia Bixby did not lose five sons on the battlefield. While two were killed in action—Charles N. Bixby, a sergeant in Company D, 20th Massachusetts Infantry, who died on May 3, 1863, near Fredericksburg, Virginia, and Oliver Cromwell Bixby, Jr., a private in Company E, 58th Massachusetts Infantry, who was killed on July 30, 1864, near Petersburg, Virginia—her other sons met different fates.
Henry Cromwell Bixby, a corporal in Company K, 32nd Massachusetts Infantry, was captured at Gettysburg but later paroled on March 7, 1864. He ultimately received an honorable discharge. George Way Bixby, a private in Company B, 56th Massachusetts Infantry, is believed to have joined the Confederate ranks and was captured at Petersburg on July 30, 1864. Military records provide conflicting reports about his fate, listing either his death at Salisbury or his desertion to the Confederate Army.
The youngest son, Arthur Edward Bixby, a private in Company C, 1st Massachusetts Heavy Artillery, deserted from Fort Richardson, Virginia, on May 28, 1862. In an affidavit filed on October 17, 1862, Lydia Bixby claimed he had enlisted underage without her permission. After the war, he was eventually returned to Boston.
The origin of the letter can be traced back to Lydia Bixby’s presentation of what William Schouler described as “Five letters from five different company commanders,” each reporting the death of one of her sons. Despite this, Schouler informed Governor John A. Andrew that she was “The best specimen of a true-hearted Union woman I have yet seen,” urging him to correspond with President Lincoln. It’s plausible that Bixby sought both financial aid and sympathy, which might explain her later act of destroying the letter in anger. Despite the complex motivations at play, Bixby successfully secured recognition from the President of the United States.
A similar incident had occurred in September 1862 when she claimed one of her sons was injured at Antietam. Seeking financial assistance to visit him in a Maryland hospital, Governor Andrew granted her forty dollars. However, War Department files show no indication that any of Bixby’s sons were wounded at Antietam. In his report to the War Department, Schouler erroneously listed Edward Bixby as a member of the 22nd Massachusetts Infantry. This mistake led to confusion, as it incorrectly associated Bixby’s son with another soldier of the same name who had been killed at Folly Island, South Carolina. It’s believed that Bixby may have tried to conceal Edward’s desertion in 1862, perhaps in hopes of securing additional financial aid. At the time of Schouler’s September meeting with Lydia Bixby, where she presented the five fraudulent letters claiming the loss of her sons, she was already receiving a pension following Charles’s death in 1863. Bixby’s son George was a prisoner of war in Richmond, Virginia, and Henry was still hospitalized after his exchange.
Between Lydia Bixby’s initial attempt to claim money after Antietam and the Bixby letter of November 1864, the rising Union casualties posed a significant challenge for the War Department, making record verification increasingly difficult. Thousands of soldiers were dying anonymously, their identities lost in the chaos of war. Consider the staggering losses from key battles: Fredericksburg saw 12,653 Union casualties, Chancellorsville 12,145, Brandy Station 907, Gettysburg 23,049, Chattanooga 5,824, the Wilderness 17,666, Spotsylvania Court House 18,399, and Cold Harbor 12,738. In just these battles alone, a total of 103,381 casualties occurred, with many soldiers listed as missing in action or their bodies too badly damaged to be identified—often buried as ‘unknown soldiers.’ Given the sheer scale of devastation and the limitations of wartime record-keeping, it is understandable how someone claiming to have lost five sons could slip through the administrative cracks.
It seems that Lydia Bixby operated more as a con artist than anything else, ironically without any real loyalty to the Union. Yet, paradoxically, she has come to symbolize perhaps the worst example of Union patriotism. Despite the lack of records and the challenges in verifying her claims, the letter ultimately found its way to her. Even decades after the war, historian William E. Barton referred to the letter as a “beautiful blunder.” It may indeed have been a blunder, but the letter has since taken on a life of its own, transcending the story behind it. Lydia Bixby’s name has become a symbol of the solemn pride felt by many Americans. The letter remains as poignant today as it was in 1864 because the empathy and hope it expresses are undeniable. Ultimately, the controversy surrounding the letter fades in significance when measured against the larger truth of its words.
Reference Materials:
Barton, W. E. (1926). The Bixby letter: A story of patriotism and a beautiful blunder. University of Chicago Press.
Downey, P. (2003). Lydia Bixby: Patriot or fraud? Civil War History, 49(1), 55-70. https://doi.org/10.1353/cwh.2003.0020
Fehrenbacher, D. H. (1981). The Lincoln legend: A study in changing attitudes. Stanford University Press.
Sears, S. W. (2003). Gettysburg. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt.
Williams, W. H. (2007). The Union in the balance: The Civil War and its soldiers. University of Virginia Press.