The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 13, No. 78, April, 1864: A Magazine of Literature, Art, and Politics

In Short

This collection represents a singular issue of a premier American literary and political periodical from April 1864. It functions as a sprawling mosaic of the era’s concerns, blending historical military analysis with personal memoirs, social critiques, and scientific exposition. By preserving both the immediate political anxieties of the American Civil War and the broader scholarly curiosities of its contributors, the volume offers a vivid, unvarnished look at how nineteenth-century thinkers processed their world, cementing its value as a primary source for the cultural history of the period.

The Story

The narrative arc of this magazine is not a singular plot but a calculated progression of essays intended to educate, provoke, and reassure a citizenry in crisis. It opens with a provocative meditation on the generational divide, challenging the "fogies" of the age to reconsider their rigid, patriarchal treatment of the youth. By analyzing the historical rise of young military leaders and the eventual downfall of aging generals, the authors craft an argument for the vitality of the new over the inertia of the old. This theme of transition—from the authority of the past to the necessity of the present—serves as the volume’s spine.

As the magazine moves toward its middle chapters, the tone shifts from abstract social philosophy to intimate, domestic narratives. The reader is invited into the private reflections of an individual adjusting to the modest realities of post-education life, including the quiet, transformative experience of meeting a future spouse and the emotional complexities of family dynamics. These personal vignettes contrast sharply with the subsequent historical profile of Nicolas Fouquet. The account of the French Surintendant is presented as a cautionary tale of "magnificent" ruin; his rise to power under Louis XIV and his subsequent, brutal downfall into a dungeon serve as a stark reminder of the volatility of absolute power and human fortune.

The focus then widens to the American frontier, specifically the Mormon settlements in Utah. Here, the narrative examines the triumph of industry over desolation, detailing how settlers transformed the arid desert into a productive landscape. This observation of "the desert blossoming like the rose" leads naturally into a more critical, geopolitical assessment of the relationship between the United States and England. The editors argue that while the British government has technically maintained neutrality during the American Civil War, their underlying hostility and condescension toward American culture have left a permanent mark on the national psyche.

The volume concludes by grounding these grand historical and political grievances in the tangible progress of science and the preservation of memory. A discussion on the "mechanical equivalent of heat" offers a glimpse into the emerging industrial consciousness of the century, while the critique of literary history—specifically the treatment of William Blake—underscores the magazine’s mission: to defend the integrity of the individual against the "coarse perception" of established authorities. The arc finishes not with a resolution, but with an invitation to keep examining the past, as seen in the final footnotes detailing the youthful exploits of English monarchs.

How It Unfolds

The generational challenge The issue begins by dismantling the traditional, often cruel, paternalism of the past. It argues that the youth of the day are rightly wary of history, as history has historically offered them little but servitude.

The anatomy of command A detailed historical study surveys the careers of military leaders, noting that age is no guarantee of success. It highlights the energy of "vicious" but capable men like Blücher as the true engine of victory.

Intimate domesticity The focus turns to a quiet, personal memoir that centers on teaching, the struggles of early adulthood, and the sanctity of a budding romance. This provides a soft, humanistic counterpoint to the earlier military and political theorizing.

The fall of the magnificent The story of Nicolas Fouquet is presented to explore the themes of greed, splendor, and the cold indifference of monarchical power. It serves as an object lesson in how quickly the public and the state can turn against their former icons.

Frontier observations The reader is transported to the Utah territory, where the author admires the ingenuity of the Mormons while remaining skeptical of their "delusions." It provides a vivid description of the physical labor required to tame the American West.

Geopolitical reckoning The magazine addresses the strained relationship with England, lamenting the lack of moral support from the mother country during the Civil War. It frames this as a necessary, if painful, severance of the final colonial ties.

Scientific and literary reflection The concluding pages pivot to the laws of thermodynamics and the historical misunderstanding of artists like William Blake. It suggests that truth, whether in science or art, is often obscured by the prejudices of the era.

The People

The volume features a blend of historical titans and everyday, unnamed observers. Nicolas Fouquet stands as the most dramatic figure; he is the "magnificent" Surintendant whose ambition and taste for luxury lead to his catastrophic imprisonment under Louis XIV. His foil is the minister Colbert, whose calculated animosity reflects the ruthless nature of the French court.

In the domestic sphere, the unnamed narrator provides a grounded perspective, evolving from an anxious, job-seeking teacher into a reflective man of the household. His sister Fanny acts as his confidante, possessing a "gypsy" intuition that helps him navigate his feelings for the reserved, black-clad Rachel. Together, they represent the gentle, domestic virtues that the magazine posits as the true heartbeat of the nation.

Finally, there is Brigham Young, whom the author encounters in the desert. He is portrayed with a mix of bemusement and respect, characterized by his pride in the "indigenous" craftsmanship of his people and his ability to construct an opera house chandelier out of a wagon wheel and sheet-tin. He embodies the strange, industrious independence that the author finds both fascinating and fundamentally foreign.

In Its Own Voice

"If they care little for the past, then it is certain that it is in debt to them,--as for them the past cared nothing."

This observation, made in the opening essay on the treatment of children, captures the magazine's irreverent stance toward tradition.

"He had energy, which is the most valuable of all qualities in a military leader; and he hated Napoleon as heartily as he hated Satan, and a great deal more heartily than he hated sin."

The author uses this blunt assessment of the Prussian General Blücher to characterize the visceral nature of military conflict.

"The superficial student of rewards and punishments might well believe that none but God's chosen people could cause this horrible desert, after such triumphant fashion, to blossom like the rose."

This quote encapsulates the author’s complicated reaction to the industriousness of the Mormon settlers in Utah.

What It's Really About

At its core, this volume explores the tension between inherited authority and the necessity of individual agency. Whether discussing the "paterfamilias" of Rome, the absolute power of the French crown, or the condescending criticism of British intellectuals, the contributors are preoccupied with the question of how a society matures. They seek to define an American identity that is free from the stifling expectations of European tradition. The overarching argument is that progress—be it scientific, social, or political—requires a break from the "fossilized" habits of the past, even when that break is accompanied by the tragedy of war or the anxiety of rapid change.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the slow, deliberate prose of the nineteenth century will find this volume deeply satisfying. It provides a rare, unmediated experience of what it felt like to live through the uncertainty of 1864—a time when the future of the American experiment was still very much in doubt. The tone is by turns opinionated, observant, and occasionally quite sharp, offering a window into a mindset that was simultaneously burdened by the weight of history and hungry for modern innovation.

However, modern readers should be prepared for the dense, Victorian-era syntax and a penchant for long, digressive sentences that prioritize scholarly breadth over brevity. The period’s attitudes, particularly regarding class, gender, and the "heathen" nature of certain groups, are woven into the text without the filtering of a modern sensibility. You will encounter unabashedly Eurocentric views and a certain moralizing tone that was standard for the era’s intellectuals. Yet, for those interested in the history of ideas, the experience of reading this magazine is uniquely rewarding. It leaves you with a heightened awareness of how the urgent political crises of one generation can become the "curious fossilized specimens" of the next, reminding us that we are all, in our turn, contributing to the history that the future will eventually judge.