The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 20, No. 119, September, 1867: A Magazine of Literature, Science, Art, and Politics

In Short

This volume is a quintessential example of the nineteenth-century "miscellany" magazine. It functions as a curated intellectual marketplace, blending serialized fiction, historical analysis, travelogues, and rigorous literary criticism. By capturing the urgent debates of the Reconstruction era alongside the refined sensibilities of the literary elite, the collection offers a vivid window into a nation reconciling its fractured past with a rapidly expanding future. It remains an essential artifact for understanding the Victorian-era American mind, balancing high-minded political prophecy with the era’s taste for sentimental prose.

The Story

The narrative arc of this magazine is not a single linear plot, but rather a symphonic progression of the American experience. It opens by thrusting the reader into the domestic and social drama of The Guardian Angel, where the spirited, "demonish" Myrtle Hazard navigates the rigid expectations of fashionable society. Her story is one of emerging female agency, set against a backdrop of schoolroom rivalries and the subtle, often stifling, influence of elite social circles. This domestic tension is mirrored in the magazine’s broader movement toward the public sphere, where historical and political pieces take center stage.

As the volume progresses, the tone shifts from the intimate to the monumental. The text transitions into a dense exploration of American destiny, tracing the nation's path from a "grain of mustard-seed" to a continental power. This section reads like a collective biography of the Founding Fathers and their philosophical successors, debating the implications of independence and the risks of imperial expansion. The narrative is haunted by the shadow of the Civil War; the discussion of revolutionary history eventually yields to the somber realities of the recent conflict. The reader is presented with the stark, harrowing imagery of hospital tents filled with the wounded from Petersburg, juxtaposed against the collective desire for national healing.

The descent from these lofty historical heights leads into the "Minor Italian Travels," a series of sketches that capture the whimsy and frustration of the American abroad. These travelogues reveal the narrator’s fascination with the "rascal race" of porters and guides, shifting the focus to the individual’s interaction with the Old World. The volume then pivots to the labyrinthine intrigues of M. de Montalvan, a cynical, scarred soldier of fortune whose adventures serve as a sharp, ironic contrast to the earnest moralizing found elsewhere.

Finally, the magazine reaches its conclusion in a mood of reflective reconciliation. The inclusion of poetry honoring the fallen on both sides of the American conflict—the Blue and the Gray—serves as a poetic resolution to the earlier reports of war’s carnage. By the time the reader reaches the final critiques of contemporary poetry and social essays, the arc is complete: the volume has traveled from the personal growth of a young girl to the philosophical maturation of a nation, ending on a note of quiet, egalitarian remembrance.

How It Unfolds

The domestic introduction Myrtle Hazard is introduced as a defiant, charismatic student whose presence disrupts the polite, empty rituals of high society. The narrative establishes her as an unconventional figure capable of drawing both the admiration of peers and the scrutiny of the wealthy.

The literary apprenticeship A young, naive poet named Hopkins seeks validation from a publisher, only to be confronted by the brutal reality of the "Butcher" who discards manuscripts. This sequence exposes the harsh, mechanical side of the literary industry that fueled the period's output.

The political prophecy The text shifts to an analysis of the "American Idea," using correspondence from the Adams era to chart a course for the nation. It argues that the growth of the Republic was not accidental but part of a grand, historically inevitable design.

The geography of conflict Reports from the front lines of the Civil War provide a jarring, necessary confrontation with death and systemic loss. These sections anchor the lofty political theories in the visceral, tragic reality of human suffering and the labor of nursing.

The international perspective Travel sketches from Italy and the Mediterranean contrast the American experience with European decay. These segments offer a lighter, more observational tone, capturing the humor of the "modern railway traveller" navigating foreign customs.

The final reconciliation The magazine concludes with a series of elegiac poems and critical reviews that attempt to synthesize the war's trauma. It leaves the reader with a vision of a unified, if scarred, landscape where the past is honored through shared memory.

The People

Myrtle Hazard stands as the volume’s most compelling human presence, representing the tension between innate, wild energy and the social constraints of the nineteenth century. She is a girl of "splendid style" who refuses to be a mere ornament. Opposite her, the various "social philosophers" and publishers—like the cynical critic known as The Butcher—represent the rigid, often unfeeling gatekeepers of the age.

William Murray Bradshaw, a suitor who attempts to win Myrtle with tact and ambition, embodies the calculated, rationalized approach to love and life that the text often treats with skepticism. By contrast, the figure of the soldier M. de Montalvan serves as a counterweight; he is a man of "bizarre" manners and "cynical" language, acting as a bridge between the old world of aristocratic military honor and the emerging modern, skeptical sensibility.

Clement Lindsay appears as a more refined, perhaps more acceptable suitor, acting as a foil to Bradshaw and signaling the shifting social tides around Myrtle. Finally, the collective presence of historical figures—John Adams, Lincoln, and the various prophets of American destiny—serve as the intellectual ghosts of the volume. They are not characters in a plot but archetypes of the "statesman-philosopher," whose foresight and sacrifice provide the structural integrity for the contemporary lives described in the fiction and travelogues.

In Its Own Voice

"The poems he drops into the basket are those rejected as of no account."

A publisher explains the grim efficiency of the literary world to a hopeful young poet.

"No pent-up Utica contracts your powers, But the whole boundless continent is yours."

The magazine quotes a popular sentiment to illustrate the expansive, imperial ambition of the young American Republic.

"Under the blossoms, the Blue, Under the garlands, the Gray."

The text offers a final, haunting image of reconciliation, acknowledging the shared sacrifice of the divided nation.

What It's Really About

At its core, this volume grapples with the tension between individual liberty and the weight of historical legacy. It asks whether a nation can truly outgrow its "awkward youth" to become a "Plural Unit" of democratic strength. It questions the cost of that growth—both in terms of the "horrid machine" of industry that discards human effort and the literal machine of war that consumes a generation. The text is deeply concerned with the concept of "Duty," contrasting the idle, "fop-filled" life of the privileged with the heroic potential that emerges when a person is forced to choose between comfort and principle. It is a meditation on the fragility of institutions and the enduring power of memory.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the slow, deliberate pace of nineteenth-century prose will find this volume deeply rewarding. It provides the rare experience of reading a publication exactly as it was consumed by its original audience—blending serious political discourse with the light gossip of travel and serialized melodrama. You will find it feels like sitting in a quiet, lamp-lit library; the language is ornate, precise, and often intellectually demanding, reflecting an era that valued both rhetoric and rigorous observation.

The difficulties are present: the text does not shy away from the period’s sometimes arrogant attitudes toward the "uncivilized" world, and the sentimentality of the poetry may strike modern readers as excessive. However, the vividness of the reportage—particularly the accounts of the hospital wards—remains startlingly immediate, stripping away the romanticism often associated with the Victorian era. It is a demanding read, but one that rewards the patient observer with a profound sense of how the American character was forged. You will be left with the image of a nation standing on a precipice, looking back at the "fracture" of its past while nervously calculating the magnitude of its future. It is a document of a country in the act of becoming.