The original letters are now in the Archives of the University of Notre Dame Eleanor Sherman Fitch July 11th 1952 New York. 1844 1845 1849 1853 1855 1857 1858 These typed copies of letters written by ELLEN EWING SHERMAN to her husband GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEH SHERMAN have been carefully read and compared by me with the original long hand written letters and are correct copies. Eleanor Sherman Fitch August 28, 1936 Eleanor ("Ellen") Ewing Sherman was born in Lancaster, Ohio, Oct 4th 1824. She married William Tecumseh Sherman in Washington D.C. May 1st, 1850. Her wedding was in the Blair House & the President of George town James Ryders College preformed the ceremony.
Lancaster, Ohio;
July 2/44
[1844/07/02]
My dear Cumpy:
[WTS]
Although I have nothing to communicate and several letters to write this afternoon yet I must drop a few lines to you, lest your letters to me come more seldom than I should like. How do you stand the warm weather at Fort Moultrie? We can scarcely bear it in our more northern latitude. Were not the delightful moonlight nights some recompense for the sufferings of the hot days I beleive I would grow to be one of the seven sleepers -- In fact I haven't been right-wide awake for a week. But I fear we will soon have sickness enough to arouse to exertions, in behalf of friends, at least -- if no considerations of self can do so. Father left us last Wednesday for Cincinnati, Kentucky, Indiana and Illinois and of course he will not be home for some time. I regret very much that he was obliged to take so tiresome a journey in the midst of summer, but yet it is pleasant travelling at any time. At least I enjoyed it when I crossed the mountains in the warmest summer month and in the coldest month in winter. Were I a man I should travel all the time -- that is if I were able. Do you know that I look far enough into futurity to contemplate a visit to Europe about ten years hence? It is the only thing in the world, I beleive that I look forward to with any degree of certainty. But I may not hope that you will be my companion and that together we may pass through 'Sunny England' (detestable England) whose proud Sons you so much admire. With you, too, I will visit that 'green Isle of the Ocean', 'the land of Saints' -- which claims so much of my veneration and love and whose noble children have all my sympathy. Through France and Italy will we journey and judge for ourselves of the manners and customs of all classes of society in both countries. In Italy we will (or I will at least) interrogate Catholics and see what they think of the ignorance and bigotry of those who, though regarded as intelligent and liberal, upon more supposition or through malice declare that they are every thing that is abominable in the sight of God and man -- that they worship paintings, pay that homage to the Blessed Virgin Mary that is due to God alone, that they believe the Pope to be infallible and etc. -- whether they are moral or immoral, temperate or intemperate, profane or pious, Idolators or Christians I shall also in a manner satisfactory to myself at least, then can I defy my Protestants friends to taunt me with untruths. For taunt me they do now with everything, in every manner. Not an hour can be passed in their company (since the riots produced and excitement) during which you hear not some slur cast upon the Papists, some foul slander brought forward which has been twenty times refuted or some expression of bigotry and hatred or glaring insult which you dare not trust yourself to answer lest you unwittingly lay aside the lofty character of Christian and become equally culpable with them. But I must not scold you for what they say and do -- you are not one of them. But yet when you become my protector, when you are to defend me from all harm and all the ills that man can avert-shall not this (the greatest greivance one can endure from others) be classed among them? And how can you be sincere in your defence unless you have proved and can prove the truth of that which I claim to be true, pure and holy. But you are doing so and I must not tire you with too much upon the subject. Yet I must either write or speak my indignation, at times and it were better to trust it to you than speak where I might arouse the passions of others. I have dreamed of you twice very lately and you looked so sad each time, that if I were superstitious I ahould be fearful that some evil was to befall you. I pray that you are well and happy -- On Friday or Saturday I shall expect a letter from you and I hope that you will immediately answer this. Do not be afraid of crossing your letters -- I promise you that I can read all you write. Answer all my questions, why don't you? Though I beleive I have asked you none in this -- you cannot offend a lady more than to neglect or refuse to reply to her queries -- however impertinent they may be. But you have not offended me -- for I excuse you in this way -- I ask so many useless questions that you cannot remember them all. Here is one this time -- Is Mr. Robert Anderson at Fort Moultrie and (I'll join them) how do you like his wife?
Visitors again -- just as I hoped to have the pleasure of saying much more to you across the sheet -- but I must make my letter short if I wish to send it -- to-night, -- as we have no girls and between the parlors and kitchen I have plenty to keep me busy and can hardly steal time to bid you good night. Instead of the moon we have rain this evening, and instead of sentiment -- reality. Much to the astonishment of all Aunt Ir[?]win seems to be recovering and is not only gaining strength this weather, but flesh also. Ida is much better than she was all winter but she looks miserably. Susan looks remarkably well this spring and has a cousin from Virginia visiting her. A Miss Lanckster. I expect Mr. and Mrs. Anderson to make me a visit soon, they will not stay long -- so she says but I think we will persuade her out of that notion when she gets here. I look for a letter from Bub to-morrow he has written but once, but I think it is a good sign -- for if he were homesick he would be scribbling all the time. Susan is still in Mount Vernon and enjoying herself exceedingly. I hope she will return soon, I miss her very much. Cumpy do me up a pretty piece of music and send it by mail, can't you? If it be no trouble. When you hear your little dances played do you ever think of me? I need not tell you that I play them often and why I do so. ---I have (with all my work) been reading a good deal of late and charm myself with Mooris Lalla Book or Scott's novels rather oftener than I should. I intend reading Barnaby Rudge again and all the rest of Dickens works except the notes on American. -- All send love to you Cumpy. Truly yours,
Ellen Ewing
[EES]
Lancaster, Ohio,
Feb. 12th, 1845
[1845/02/12]
[WTS]
My head is so much better today, dearest Cumpy that I can write without the least inconvenience, and I have determined to do so at once, even though my letter should reach Philadelphia before you. Send back the other as you promised and do not give yourself any uneasiness with regard to the contents of it. I will not flatter you by telling you how much we missed you nor how lonely I felt the day you left. Sissy and I were alone in the room last evening when she abruptly said to me, "Elly it seems to me that Cumpy is in this room now, sitting right there" -- pointing to a chair between us. I said to her, "Why don't you go get upon Cumpy's knee if you think he is really here." "It seems to me that I am" was her very natural reply. So short was your stay and so hurried your departure that we really imagine that you are with us yet. The fear that we would never meet again almost took possession of me, during your stay when I contemplated your departure, for that reason I dwelt not upon it. Nor did I suffer myself to scarce think of it until the moment arrived. But I will not fill this letter, at least with any such melancholy presentiments. Let us be cheerful for a while and if the gloomy cloud do not pass away from me I will soon suffer its shadow to fall upon you. You are upon your road east to-night -- and I hope with a stronger arm than when you left us. Was not your Mother delighted to see you? Tell me all about your short visit when you write. Father is to be with us to-morrow or Friday night. He was unable to get to New York in time for the trial, on account of the cars being detained by snow and ice. So poor Bub I fear will not see either of you. I am delighted that Father is to return so soon. It has been nine weeks since he left us. I received a letter from Boyle yesterday -- he writes in his usual spirits and dreams not that you are in the West. Your letter from Columbus I also received. I am glad that you saw Chas. Anderson. Write me a line from Phil. and when you get home write me a long, long letter. I will endeavor to write to you by the time you get there. Be careful that you are not drowned on your way home. I shall think of you and pray for you each day -- each hour and I trust that all my prayers will be heard and all my hopes realized. But Uncle Charley is getting sleepy and as there is no keeping him awake and he is my only messenger to the office I must close my letter now, dear Cumpy with the promise that the next shall be longer. Remember me to Mrs. Reese and beleive me Yours Sincerely,
Ellen Ewing
[EES]