Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 11.
Reverend J. William Jones, Ed.

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[536] Europe, as well as in the North itself, in regard to our war. A spirit of justice and fairness is replacing the old one of passion and hate. It is possible to find now many fair accounts of leading events in the war and of the characters of leading Southern men in Northern books. The work of this Society has had much to do in bringing about this salutary change. It has contributed much to true history by its own publications; it has furnished much valuable material to the archives of the war, now being published by the Government; it has been the means of collecting and preserving a large amount of data of the greatest importance that would otherwise have remained scattered, and for the most part have been gradually lost.

But its work is not yet done. It has really only been begun. However gratifying the change which has been brought about in Northern sentiment in regard to the events of the war, we must not, we should not, allow the history of our side of this great struggle to be written by those who fought against us. Future generations should not learn of the motives, the sacrifices, the aims, the deeds of our Southern people, nor of the characters of their illustrious leaders only through the pens of their adversaries. What have not Carthage and Hannibal lost in the portraits—the only ones that remain to us—drawn by Roman historians? An example will illustrate what I mean. The other day I went over the field which will be ever memorable for the two great battles of Manassas, two of the most illustrious of Confederate victories. The quiet of twenty years of peace had settled upon that field. Few signs remained of the grand strifes in which the South drove back the invaders. I found upon that field two monuments, and but two. One of them, placed just in rear of the Henry house, has been erected in honor of the Federal soldiers who fell there. The other, over the knoll where Fitz John Porter charged, commemorates the brave men of his corps who there died in the vain attempt to drive Jackson from the old railroad cut. At the Henry house I looked about for other memorials. Nothing is to be seen. The little shaft placed to mark the spot where Barton fell has been chipped away entirely by curiosity vandals. A little cedar bush alone enables the guide to point out the place where Bee poured out his blood, from which he baptized Jackson with his name of ‘Stonewall.’ Nothing marks where Jackson and his men stood ‘like a stone wall;’ and yet in all the ages to come the last memory of that first battle of Manassas to fade out of the knowledge and admiration of mankind will be that ‘Stonewall!’ Understand me, comrades. Not one word have I to say