Longstreet and two or three of us tried the tunic, but it was not popular.
Confederate uniforms were in great number at the flag presentations a little later, of which I have already spoken. We were then bravely dressed in the bright and handsome Confederate gray.
But now "place aux dames." A splendid Maryland regiment of Elzey's brigade was at Fairfax Station near by, and two lovely women, descendants of a distinguished Virginia family, were then visiting their numerous friends serving with it. They were the beautiful Carys, Hetty and her cousin Constance. The three generals, gallantly inclined, decided they must call on the ladies, and this they did, shutting out their staffs for the time. Then evening coming on dress parade was in order and Colonel George Stewart soon had his fine Marylanders in line. He insisted on the two ladies taking position by him, and when time for the manual came, handed his sword to Hetty, and stepping aside prompted her with the orders, and thus the regiment, amid much enthusiasm, was put through its manual by the prettiest woman in Virginia. They soon returned to Richmond and occupied themselves in the good work of the Southern women. Hetty, a really glorious beauty, married Brig.-Gen. John Pegram in January, 1865. Three weeks after he fell at Hatcher's Run, at the same time that I received what was thought a fatal wound. The New York Herald a few days later published both our obituaries. (See Appendix.)
Constance married, after the peace, my friend Burton N. Harrison, President Davis's accomplished private secretary. He began his law practice in New York, succeeding well, and his wife soon became established and admired as a woman of taste and uncommon social and literary attainments. Her books have gained deserved popularity and wide circulation.
Longstreet being now a major-general, with three brigades, the new brigadiers are to be introduced. R. S. Ewell took our old brigade. He was a distant relative of mine and one of the strangest of warriors; had served with distinction in Mexico, and all his life against Indians. He was without a superior as a cavalry captain and of the most extraordinary appearance. Bald as an eagle, he looked like one; had a piercing eye and a lisping speech. A perfect horseman and lover of horses (racers), he never tired of talking of his horse "Tangent," in Texas, who appears to have never won a race and always to have lost his owner's money. But the latter's confidence never weakened and he always believed in "Tangent." General Ewell became a very distinguished soldier, and justly so. To uncommon courage and activity he added a fine military instinct, which could make him a good second in command in any army. He was not long with us. His fortunes were with Stonewall Jackson in the Valley operations, and he rose to be major-general and lieutenant-general. In the latter rank he commanded the Second Corps at Gettysburg, having previously lost a leg in the second Manassas campaign. His command suffered great loss in the slaughter of Malvern Hill. The morning after, I found him doubled up on the floor of a little shanty, his head covered up; the ground was covered with our slain. Raising himself he instantly recognized me, and lisped out, "Mather Thorrel, can you tell me why we had five hundred men killed dead on this field yesterday?" That was all; the soul of the brave General was fit to burst for the awful and useless sacrifice. It was a fearful blunder somewhere and has not yet been boldly and clearly lighted up. Kemper, a fine Virginian colonel, succeeded Ewell in the command of the Fourth Brigade, and served well until he was left for dead in front of his men in Pickett's charge at Gettysburg.
Our Second Brigade was also Virginian. One evening at dark I was in my narrow office when an officer was announced. I turned and had quite a start at my visitor's appearance. It was George Pickett, just made brigadier-general, and reporting for command. A singular figure indeed! A medium-sized, well-built man, straight, erect, and in well-fitting uniform, an elegant riding-whip in hand, his appearance was distinguished and striking. But the head, the hair were extraordinary. Long ringlets flowed loosely over his shoulders, trimmed and highly perfumed; his beard likewise was curling and giving out the scents of Araby. He was soon made at home, and having already received Longstreet's instructions, was assigned to his brigade.
Pickett became very friendly, was a good fellow, a good brigadier. He had been in Longstreet's old Army regiment, and the latter was exceedingly fond of him. Taking Longstreet's orders in emergencies, I could always see how he looked after Pickett, and made us give him things very fully; indeed, sometimes stay with him to make sure he did not get astray.
Such was the man whose name calls up the most famous and heroic charge, possibly, in the annals of war. Pickett's charge at Gettysburg stirs every heart that beats for great deeds, and will forever live in song and story.
Afterwards his division was relieved to rest and recruit, and grew strong and fit. It was, however, badly mauled at Five Forks by Sheridan, although its commander is said to have made excellent disposition of his troops and fought them gallantly.