In 1913, Pickett's widow published a number of letters written by her late husband which reveal his thoughts and give a peek into the thoughts of this great military leader. On this day, the 141st anniversary of his passing, I'll share some of them with you, the reader, and together we will hopefully learn a little something about the man behind the legend.
Prior to secession and the war, Pickett was opposed to the Southern states leaving the Union. On Sept. 17, 1861, Pickett spoke of his decision to fight for Virginia and the South, recalling from his childhood that, "those cross-stitched mottoes on the cardboard samplers which used to hang on my nursery wall, such as, 'He who provides not for his own household is worse than an infidel' and 'Charity begins at home,' made a lasting impression upon me; and while I love my neighbor, i.e., my country, I love my household, i. e., my state, more, and I could not be an infidel and lift my sword against my own kith and kin...," and said in a May 1862 letter that, "all that we ask is a separation from people of contending interests, who love us as a nation as little as we love them, the dissolution of a union which has lost it's holiness, to be let alone and permitted to sit under our own vine and fig tree and eat our figs peeled and dried or fresh or pickled, just as we choose. The enemy is our enemy because he neither knows nor understands us, and yet will not let us part in peace and be neighbors, but insists on fighting us to make us one with him, forgetting that both slavery and secession were his own institutions. The North is fighting for the Union, and we—for home and fireside."
The War Between the States found many old friends against one another on opposites sides of the battlefield; many who'd attended military academy together, or served side-by-side in the Mexican War just a few short years earlier, would be pitted directly against one another in some of the most grizzly military combat ever experienced by men. Despite being on opposing sides, Pickett still thought very highly & lovingly of some on the other side, such as the earlier mentioned George B. McClellan. One day after the Battle of Seven Pines, on June 2, 1862, Pickett wrote of the Commander of the Army of the Potomac, "I have heard that my dear old friend, McClellan, is lying ill about ten miles from here. May some loving, soothing hand minister to him. He was, he is and he will always be, even were his pistol pointed at my heart, my dear, loved friend. May God bless him and spare his life."
Heading into the campaign of which Gettysburg was a part of, Pickett sensed the danger of the coming days and weeks. In mid-June of 1863, he writes, "To-day, under orders from Marse Robert, we cross the Potomac. McLaws' and Hood's Divisions and the three brigades of my division follow on after Hill. May our Heavenly Father bless us with an early and a victorious return. But even then, the price of it—the price of it, my little one—the blood of our countrymen! God in His mercy temper the wind to us! As I returned the salute of my men, many of them beardless boys, the terrible responsibility as their Commander almost overwhelmed me, and my heart was rent in prayer for guidance and help. Oh, the desolate homes—the widows and orphans and heartbroken mothers that this campaign will make! How many of them, so full of hope and cheer now, will cross that other river which lands them at the Eternal Home."
On the way through Pennsylvania, just a week away from Gettysburg, Pickett wrote of quite an amusing event he & his men experienced that day...
"As [the] band, playing 'Dixie, was passing a vine-bowered home, a young girl rushed out on the porch and waved a United States flag. Then, either fearing that it might be taken from her or finding it too large and unwieldy, she fastened it around her as an apron, and taking hold of it on each side and waving it in defiance, called out with all the strength of her girlish voice and all the courage of her brave young heart: 'Traitors—traitors—traitors, come and take this flag, the man of you who dares!' Knowing that many of my men were from a section of the country which had been within the enemy's lines, and fearing lest some might forget their manhood, I took off my hat and bowed to her, saluted her flag and then turned, facing the men who felt and saw my unspoken order. And don't you know that they were all Virginians and didn't forget it, and that almost every man lifted his cap and cheered the little maiden who, though she kept on waving her flag, ceased calling us traitors, till letting it drop in front of her she cried out: 'Oh, I wish I wish I had a rebel flag; I'd wave that, too.'"
 |
| Sash worn by Gen. Pickett on display at the Museum of the Confederacy. |
[July 4, 1863 - The Day After]
"My brave boys were full of hope and confident of victory as I led them forth, forming them in column of attack, and though officers and men alike knew what was before them,—knew the odds against them,—they eagerly offered up their lives on the altar of duty, having absolute faith in their ultimate success.
"Over on Cemetery Ridge the Federals beheld a scene never before witnessed on this continent,—a scene which has never previously been enacted and can never take place again—an army forming in line of battle in full view, under their very eyes—charging across a space nearly a mile in length over fields of waving grain and anon of stubble and then a smooth expanse—moving with the steadiness of a dress parade, the pride and glory soon to be crushed by an overwhelming heartbreak.
"Well, it is all over now. The battle is lost, and many of us are prisoners, many are dead, many wounded, bleeding and dying. Your Soldier lives and mourns and, but for you, my darling, he would rather, a million times rather, be back there with his dead, to sleep for all time in an unknown grave."
[July 6, 1863]
"The sacrifice of life on that blood-soaked field on the fatal third was too awful for the heralding of victory, even for our victorious foe, who I think, believe as we do, that it decided the fate of our cause. No words can picture the anguish of that roll-call — the breathless waits between the responses. The "Here" of those who, by God's mercy, had miraculously escaped the awful rain of shot and shell was a sob, a gasp, a knell for the unanswered name of his comrade. There was no tone of thankfulness for having been spared to answer to their names, but rather a toll, and an unvoiced wish that they, too, had been among the missing.
"Even now I can hear them cheering as I gave the order, "Forward!" I can feel the thrill of their joyous voices as they called out all along the line, "We'll follow you, Marse George. We'll follow you—we'll follow you." Oh, how faithfully they kept their word—following me on—on—to their death, and I, believing in the promised support, led them on—on—on—Oh, God!"
"The moans of my wounded boys, the sight of the dead, upturned faces, flood my soul with grief—and here am I whom they trusted, whom they followed, leaving them on that field of carnage—and guarding four thousand prisoners across the river back to Winchester. Such a duty for men who a few hours ago covered themselves with glory eternal!"
[July 12, 1863]
"I can't think of anything but the desolate homes in Virginia and the unknown dead in Pennsylvania. ... Poor old Dick Garnett did not dismount, as did the others of us, and he was killed instantly, falling from his horse. Kemper, desperately wounded, was brought from the field and subsequently, taken prisoner. Dear old Lewis Armistead, God bless him, was mortally wounded at the head of his command after planting the flag of Virginia within the enemy's lines. Seven of my colonels were killed, and one was mortally wounded. Nine of my lieutenant colonels were wounded, and three lieutenant colonels were killed. Only one field officer of my whole command, Colonel Cabell, was unhurt, and the loss of my company officers was in proportion.
"I wonder, my dear, if in the light of the Great Eternity we shall any of us feel this was for the best and shall have learned to say, 'Thy will be done.'"
Nearly another two years of war with the Union & writing letters to his beloved would pass before it was all finally over, and Pickett would go on serving in Lee's Army right up to the very end. Just hours before The Army of Northern Virginia was to be surrendered, Pickett wrote, "Lee's surrender is imminent. It is finished. Through the suggestion of their commanding officers, as many of the men as desire are permitted to cut through and join Johnston's army. The cloud of despair settled over all ... when the tidings came to us of the evacuation of Richmond and its partial loss by fire. The homes and families of many of my men were there, and all knew too well that with the fall of our Capital the last hope of success was over." He continues, saying, "It is finished! Ah, my beloved division! Thousands of them have gone to their eternal home, having given up their lives for the cause they knew to be just. The others, alas, heartbroken, crushed in spirit, are left to mourn its loss. Well, it is practically all over now. We have poured out our blood and suffered untold hardships and privations all in vain. ... It is finished—the suffering, the horrors, the anguish of these last hours of struggle."
After the war, Pickett's devotion to the men who gave their 'last full measure' at his command in Gettysburg never wavered. As the mortal remains of those who fell in that fateful charge were brought to Richmond for interment in Hollywood Cemetery, Pickett would meet them upon arrival and lead them again in grand processions, this time to their final resting place. "You cannot conceive of it," said Pickett in a letter to his wife. "From the old Market to the Cemetery of Hollywood the streets, sidewalks, windows and housetops were crowded. There must have been twelve thousand people at Hollywood. Such a demonstration of devotion and sympathy was, I think, never before witnessed on earth. ... So penetrating, so universal a oneness of love and respect and reverence existed that there was a stillness, an awesomeness, save for those necessary sounds—the clanking of swords, the tramp of horses and the martial tread of men keeping time with funeral marches—the solemn requiem. No cheers, no applause, only loving greetings from tear-stained faces, heads bent in reverence, clasped hands held out to us as we passed along. As I saw once more the courage-lit faces of my brave Virginians, again I heard their cry—"We'll follow you, Marse George!" From their eternal silence, those who marched heroically to death looked down upon us yesterday and were sad."
He continued in this duty to his "boys" (as he called the men who served under him), which even called him away from home as his own child lay deathly ill. His wife told him, "Even if I knew our child would die while you were gone, I would not have you neglect this call to honor your boys whom you led to their death."
George Edward Pickett died on July 30, 1875 in Norfolk, VA. The location of his burial at Hollywood Cemetery is at the top of what is called "Gettysburg Hill," the section of the cemetery where so many of Pickett's brave boys' remains had been placed, and from here Gen. Pickett still leads his men, now in eternal rest. Even the monument at the General's gravesite memorializes the men who followed him more than it does Pickett himself, and I believe that's exactly how he would have wanted it.
 |
| Grave of Gen. Pickett, Hollywood Cemetery; July 2016 |
DEO VINDICE!
- Jonathan McCleese
Sergeant-at-Arms, Admiral Raphael Semmes Camp #1321
Army of Tennessee, Sons of Confederate Veterans
