The American Missionary

In Short

This volume serves as a monthly record of the American Missionary Association, an organization dedicated to the education and moral development of freedmen, Chinese immigrants, and other marginalized groups in the late 19th century. By blending financial reports, obituaries, and fervent sermons with accounts of grassroots mission work, the book provides a transparent window into the post-Civil War era. It remains a vital primary source, capturing the period’s unique mix of paternalistic social idealism, institutional expansion, and the struggle to align national policy with the rhetoric of liberty.

The Story

The narrative begins with a call to action: the upcoming thirty-ninth annual meeting in Madison, Wisconsin. The editors frame this gathering not merely as a business affair, but as a spiritual necessity, urging readers to attend in person to absorb the "unreportable power" of collective commitment. From this administrative opening, the book fans out into a wide-ranging examination of the "New South" and the West. It details the urgent mission to build schools and churches, asserting that the government’s legal emancipation of enslaved people was merely the first step; true progress, the contributors argue, requires the patient, painstaking work of moral and intellectual elevation.

The arc follows the Association’s efforts to reconcile the nation’s war-shattered past with a peace-unfolding future. The text recounts the symbolic transformation of Civil War lead bullets—found in the soil of Atlanta—into funding for a kindergarten, illustrating the central theme of turning instruments of force into tools of love. It moves from these high-minded ideals to the practical grit of the field, highlighting the expansion of industrial education in schools for freedmen. The middle sections grapple with the complexities of identity and race, presenting the perspectives of Chinese immigrants who look at the Statue of Liberty with both hope and a weary skepticism regarding who is actually allowed to be "free."

As the text nears its conclusion, the focus shifts to the individual, profiling local leaders like Deacon Jeremiah Edwards, whose personal history of self-made success and service stands as a testament to the potential for human dignity regardless of past bondage. The narrative closes with a ledger of receipts, a meticulous catalog of the "widow’s mites" and large bequests alike, documenting the financial pulse of an organization that sees itself as the "hands" of a national conscience. The ending is not a finality but a continuation, leaving the reader with the sense of a vast, interconnected effort that is still, in the language of the time, "crutching along" toward a more enlightened, if distant, future.

How It Unfolds

The Call to Gathering The book opens by summoning the faithful to a national anniversary meeting, emphasizing that the physical presence of members is required to generate the spiritual momentum necessary for missionary work. It sets a tone of urgent, communal purpose, framing the organization as a vital pillar of national health.

The War’s Aftermath The narrative pivots to the South, where the focus lies on the material and moral reconstruction of society. Through stories of repurposing battlefield relics, the text argues that the "gospel of force" that defined the war must be replaced by the "gospel of love" through education.

The Struggle for Self-Reliance The middle beats document the rise of industrial and academic training for freedmen and Chinese laborers. The text addresses the paradox of advocating for liberty while the law simultaneously denies citizenship to those who most need its protection.

The Human Example The final movement centers on personal vignettes that validate the Association's mission. By highlighting individual figures who display resilience and character, the book attempts to show that its abstract goals are, in fact, producing tangible, upright citizens.

The People

Jeremiah Edwards emerges as the book’s most compelling figure. A former enslaved man who became a skilled carpenter, he embodies the Association’s ideals of industry and moral rectitude. He wants to serve his community through his trade and his faith, standing against the temptation to leave the South, insisting instead on building a life where he stands.

Rev. E. S. Atwood acts as the intellectual voice of the movement, providing the sophisticated, rhetorical justification for the Association’s existence. He wants to convince a skeptical New England public that their support is a moral imperative, not a charity. He bridges the gap between high-minded theology and the gritty, practical needs of the mission field.

Saum Song Bo provides a critical counter-perspective. As a Chinese resident in America, he wants to reconcile his love for the ideals of liberty with the harsh reality of the Chinese Exclusion Act. He stands as a check against the self-congratulation of the era, forcing the reader to confront the hypocrisy of a country that builds monuments to freedom while denying it to others.

The "New York Teacher" serves as an anonymous, representative voice for the many women who traveled South. Driven by a desire to save "the little lambs," this figure represents the personal, often precarious nature of the work, moving through dark alleys and poverty to provide the education that the Association claims is the ultimate salvation of the nation.

In Its Own Voice

"When first used they represented the gospel of force; as now used they represent the gospel of love."

The editors describe how the sale of Civil War bullets found in Atlanta soil funded a new kindergarten, symbolizing the transformation of conflict into education.

"Liberty, we Chinese do love and adore thee; but let not those who deny thee to us, make of thee a graven image and invite us to bow down to it."

In a letter to the New York Sun, Saum Song Bo challenges the hypocrisy of the American attitude toward Chinese immigrants while the Statue of Liberty is being erected.

"The 'boy' to whom he gave two trades, although by no means rich, is in better circumstances than any of the sons whose education was paid for by the sweat of dusky brows."

The text contrasts the life of Deacon Jeremiah Edwards with the lives of his former master's children, pointing out the irony of who actually thrived.

What It's Really About

The central argument of the book is that the United States cannot achieve true unity through legislation or political maneuverings alone. It posits that the "Fourteenth Amendment fourteen times amended" would remain an empty promise without the underlying work of moral and character development. The text explores the tension between the "old bottles" of traditional attitudes and the "new wine" of post-emancipation equality. It asks a probing, unsettling question: can a nation founded on a rhetoric of freedom ever truly reconcile its deep-seated racial prejudices? The Association answers that only through unselfish, impartial education—the deliberate cultivation of spiritual and intellectual capacity—can the "kingdom of God" be built, rendering the old, divisive, and violent ways of the past obsolete.

Why Read It Today

Readers interested in the history of the Reconstruction era, the evolution of American religious culture, or the mechanics of 19th-century social activism will find this volume invaluable. It is a dense, evocative time capsule that captures the idealism, the blind spots, and the genuine grit of the people who believed they were reshaping the American soul.

However, the modern reader must be prepared for the period’s prevailing attitudes. The tone is often paternalistic, and the language regarding race reflects the deep-seated prejudices of the 1880s, even as the authors strive for equality. The book is not a cohesive novel; it is a compilation of reports, letters, and pleas for money, which makes for a fragmented, sometimes repetitive reading experience. You will not find modern sensibilities here, but you will encounter the raw, unfiltered moral urgency of a generation grappling with the catastrophic failures of its predecessors. What stays with you is the peculiar, desperate, and beautiful intensity of their belief that a classroom or a Sunday school lesson could mend a broken country. It is a difficult, revealing, and deeply human document that serves as a mirror to the contradictions of the American project itself.