Rare group lot of four handwritten letters from Douglas MacArthur to love interest Lucretia Le Bourgeois, three signed “Douglas” and one unsigned, 11 total pages, dated between April and May 1907.
The earliest letter, April 30, 1907, Officers Club, Washington Barracks letterhead, in part: “The wild spell has been with me again and all night long. I have been fighting it out with myself to keep from going to you like a thief in the night. Too late now the spell is over to wish you good night for you must have been asleep there many hours—but I can bespeak you at least sweet dreams. Mine will be so far I know they will carry me across the broad stretch of Washington town—away from the gloomy barracks, away from the soldier men, away even from the thoughts of friends and loved ones—to a little drawing room, and to an open grate—and to thy side—sweet lady.”
The unsigned letter, May 6, 1907, Washington Barracks letterhead, in full: “I have searched high and low and these are all I can find. Will you take them with all my love?—I leave for home on Friday. I will probably be at the country club until written but mail will always reach me if addressed Custom House—care U.S. Engineer Office Wilmette, Wisconsin.”
The third letter, May 8, 1907, Washington Barracks letterhead, in part: “There is little to write of from these gloomy barracks save to tell you the old, old, story—I love you. I love you—love you. How many countless millions in every land, in every age have used the same phrase! And yet I whisper it to you now how poignant with meaning, how heavy with memories, the words seem. I am desperately tired and sick of everything about me tonight. Even my ride has failed to drive away the ‘little blue devils’—on my way back I lingered by the river until sunset. There were just enough clouds to make it beautiful and I sat on the bluff above and watched for it. Purple and gold and azure and crimson change to opal and gray.”
The final letter, May 31, 1907, written from High Point, Virginia, in part: “You are haunting me. Not a bird sings under my window but carols your name, not a breeze stirs the leaves but whispers of you—not a wind in the storm last night but moan out, ‘Lucretia—Lucretia.’ You make work impossible. I see you everywhere. My books blur—the lines fade into nothingness, the words blot out and your lips smile up at me.” In overall fine condition. Accompanied by three original handwritten mailing envelopes.
