Cornelliana Love Letters: How Willard Straight Wooed his ‘Princesse’ Stories You May Like Who Wrote the Book of Love? Cornell Alums and Profs! In a New Book, Prof Translates Ancient Advice for the Lovelorn In this Love-Oriented Month, Tips on ‘Mindful Communication’ For Valentine’s Day, we revisit the epistolary romance between the future student union namesake and the woman he adored By Joe Wilensky Willard Straight 1901 met his future bride—socialite and heiress Dorothy Payne Whitney—at a 1909 dinner party on Long Island, where he was staying with family friends between overseas postings. The friendship turned romantic when she and her traveling party visited Beijing later that year, and Willard—a diplomat then on his way to becoming U.S. consul general in China—served as host and tour guide. Their courtship would play out as a globetrotting romance, set amid steamer ships crossing the Atlantic and railroad cars winding through Europe and Asia, with telegrams and lengthy letters deepening their bond during their many months apart. “I don’t think I realized what a sad break our departure was going to be until I stood on the wall with you yesterday morning and said goodbye to the great city and the distant hills—and hardest of all to you,” Dorothy wrote to Willard after leaving China. “When we stood on the station platform and the whistle suddenly blew and we all said goodbye, I had a lump in my throat that was very hard to smile away, for the veil was being drawn then over two of the happiest weeks I have ever known.” Library of CongressDorothy as the picture of fashion in 1915. Willard replied in kind, praising her “bonny laugh” and noting that the city “will be very different now. Dearer because you have been here—and more lonely because you have gone.” He signed off with his affectionate nickname for her: “It is not goodbye—is it Princesse?” The couple were mostly apart over the next two years, with brief visits when their travel schedules allowed; Willard once journeyed two days each way just to spend a precious 12 hours with Dorothy in Milan. A letter Willard sent Dorothy when she was sailing on the RMS Lusitania, “to be delivered on board.” But it was the steady stream of letters and telegrams that sustained them. As a friend later wrote in a biography of Willard: “Only by constantly communicating with her could he soothe his aching heart and render their separation tolerable.” Willard proposed in summer 1911, and the couple married that September. They ultimately settled in NYC and had three children before World War I separated them again. The couple’s honeymoon scrapbook includes newspaper clippings and Willard's artistic embellishments. After volunteering for service and being commissioned as a major, Willard headed to France to direct the Bureau of War Risk Insurance. As the war was ending in late 1918, Willard stayed in Paris to assist with peace negotiations and arrange the arrival of the American mission. Tragically, he contracted influenza and died—aged just 38—before he and Dorothy were reunited. (She would eventually channel her grief into a project in his memory: a stately building at his alma mater, devoted to the nonacademic pursuits that enrich student life.) During his final year, Willard wrote lengthy letters to his family back home. Many read like diary entries as he recounted his progress and challenges with the ongoing negotiations. But his most passionate entries were reserved for the soulmate whom he often addressed as “Best Beloved” and “Sweetheart Dorothy.” “The days, the weeks, the months are barren and meagre without you,” he wrote. “But in spirit we are closer than ever before. I think we both know as we never have before what we have—what has been given to us. To me, it is a constant marvel—that you, my Wonder Wife, should care—that I should be blessed with your love.” At work for the U.S. Army in 1917, looking weary from the weight of wartime business. In his last letter to her—sent just days before he fell ill—he asked if she and the children would soon travel to him. “Dear Beloved, are you coming? This is all I’m thinking of—I love you everywhere. Your Willard.” Scroll down for a (lightly edited) sampling of Willard’s courtship letters to Dorothy—artifacts of a more romantic era—from Cornell's Rare and Manuscript Collections. Beijing (then Peking), April 1910: “Perhaps if you read twixt the lines here, you’ll see that I am none too cheerful, for I’m rather achy and overtrained—and my one glimmer is the thought of getting away. For the one thing I care about Princesse is to see you again—as soon as ever I can—as soon as ever I can.” Willard typically addressed Dorothy as “Princesse” in hundreds of letters over the years. En route to Milan, spring 1910: “I am crossing half the world to see you, Princesse. I want you more than I want anything else—I know I am right and hence have no smiting conscience.” Moscow, May 1910: Stories You May Like Who Wrote the Book of Love? Cornell Alums and Profs! In a New Book, Prof Translates Ancient Advice for the Lovelorn “Princesse, there’s much more to say to you, but paper and pen are poor things at best—and soon I hope I shall see you. … I am glad—so very glad, to think that now it cannot be very long—though sometimes, the last days of waiting are harder than all the rest.” Willard—a talented artist—included drawings in many of his letters, often depicting himself in odd situations. Paris, May 1910: “You are speeding now through the mountains on the way to Turin and I follow you and wish that I were by your side as yesterday. … The whole world seems brighter with the great hope that I have that you may care—that you will tell me that you love me—that we shall be together always, in body and spirit. Dear Heart, sweetness, if ever I had any, has been for you, but today somehow, with you filling my every thought, with the thought of these last precious moments to cherish—to help me—to give me hope. The whole world seems brighter with the great hope that I have that you may care—that you will tell me that you love me—that we shall be together always, in body and spirit. … You have asked me to wait. Do you know how hard it is? Do you know that I can’t wait long—and that at any moment I am apt—very apt, Princesse—to let the spirit of the Moyen Age sweep me away—to ride for you and swing you on the saddle before me. I shall be quite terrible then—on a very big horse—and all in tin clothes. Are you not afraid? Thank you again and again for these hours that we have spent together. They are the most precious I have known … Someday I hope that we shall always be together on the platform, going or coming, but never saying au revoir, and that train we take together shall be for life. Princesse dear, with all my heart and soul and mind—that all are yours—I love you.” “God bless you, dear—and bring us—grant us the miracle,” Willard wrote in 1910, hinting at an upcoming marriage proposal. London, May 1910: “So Princesse dear—you have brought me this great love for you—and I thank you, because it fills me and makes me hope more and dare more—and I pray, be more for you—and with it all too, there somehow seems to be a greater sympathy and understanding for others—and at the same time the feeling that I can give them but little, for all is for you. Isn’t that strange and paradoxical?” Sent with roses to Paris, May 1910: “You may shake you may scatter / Your boy if you will / But the scent of his roses / Will cling round you still!” Paris & Liège, Belgium, June 1910: "Oh Princesse mine—for you are mine, my Princesse. Your voice still sings—always—in my ears—and your smile lingers in my eyes. … You and I seem so much closer, somehow—as if we know each so much better—and I feel that our lives have merged, and become more one than ever before. … You are indeed the Wonder of the World.” In uniform during World War I. Surrey, England, June 1910: “Princesse dearest—You must never think that I would ‘try to kiss you.’ Don’t you know that you are far too sacred and holy to me—to let me dream of such a thing? When you can give this, I shall be happy. I can’t take it—dear—it must come from you. God grant that it may come soon.” Someday I hope that we shall always be together on the platform, going or coming, but never saying au revoir, and that train we take together shall be for life. Herkimer County, NY, August 1910: “I watch Mrs. Teddy [Roosevelt] with her youngsters … and they are so sweet. … Teddy mixes cocktails, and she comes down to dinner with an infant on her arm—a radiant mother—and I think of you coming in like that and how proud I’d be. With their first child, Whitney. It’s the greatest wish in the world—Dorothy dear—and it is love that passeth all understanding.” New York, NY, September 1910: “I ache for you. I want you to stroke my brow dear—and to press you very close.” From Moscow heading east, October 1910: “Here tonight I am starting out across Siberia, and you are four thousand miles away—even though you say the miracle has not yet been granted—there is that bond between us—the bond that makes me wake with thoughts of you—that gives you my last waking thought, and weaves you through my dreams.” Top: Willard and Dorothy Straight as newlyweds in 1911; photo illustration by Caitlin Cook / Cornell University. All images from Rare and Manuscript Collections, unless otherwise indicated. Published January 31, 2025 Leave a Comment Cancel replyOnce your comment is approved, your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *Comment * Name * Class Year Email * Save my name, email, and class year in this browser for the next time I comment. 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