The Continental Monthly, Vol. 3 No 2, February 1863: Devoted To Literature And National Policy

In Short

This volume is a bound edition of a monthly magazine published in 1863, capturing the raw, anxious pulse of the American Civil War. It functions as a hybrid space, alternating between high-stakes essays on national bankruptcy and the morality of slavery, and creative contributions including poetry, serial fiction, and cultural commentary. It has endured as a primary historical artifact, documenting how a fractured nation processed its own survival, economic peril, and moral evolution in real-time, offering readers a window into the intellectual fervor of the Union during its most testing hour.

The Story

The narrative arc of the volume is defined by the relentless pressure of the ongoing conflict. It opens with an urgent alarm regarding the national debt, which stands at hundreds of millions of dollars—a figure the authors view as a precursor to "fatal catastrophe." From this economic terror, the collection moves into a series of reports from the front lines and border regions. One account describes a journey toward Harper’s Ferry, where the author observes a motley, crowded train of soldiers, sutlers, and civilians, all reflecting the strange, makeshift nature of life in a country at war.

The story of the nation’s internal struggle is further explored through the lens of slavery and the "humane" management of plantations. Through serial fiction excerpts, we encounter characters like Preston, a planter attempting to run his estate on "human principles," only to realize the inherent contradiction of his position. The narrative captures the voices of those trapped in this system, including Joe, a man who recounts a visionary dream of a celestial city where the marginalized and oppressed are welcomed by the Savior himself. This spiritual hope stands in stark contrast to the grim reality of the Sioux uprising in Minnesota, which is framed as a "treacherous" and "bloody" outbreak occurring amidst the larger national storm.

Interspersed with these heavy realities are arguments regarding the constitutional legitimacy of secession and the necessity of reform. The text revisits the political history of the 1830s to frame the current rebellion as a continuation of old, unresolved battles. As the volume progresses, it leans into the "actual" and the "present," urging writers and thinkers to abandon romanticism in favor of the "roaring, toiling" world of the nineteenth century. The volume concludes not with a resolution of the war—which remained deeply uncertain—but with a series of literary notices and lighthearted anecdotes, such as the story of Barney Mullen, an Irishman who attempts to claim exemption from the draft by declaring himself "conscientious" but refuses to accept a philosophy that would allow his wife to be harmed. This final balance—between the grand tragedy of the Union and the stubborn, often humorous persistence of individual human nature—is the overarching experience of the work.

How It Unfolds

The financial precipice The collection begins with a stark, data-driven analysis of the mounting national debt and the alarming depreciation of currency. The authors argue that the Union’s true peril is not merely the battlefield, but the impending bankruptcy that threatens to render the government insolvent.

Life in the borderlands The perspective shifts to the physical reality of the war, detailing the sights of Baltimore and the crowded, chaotic trains leading to the front. We see the camp life of soldiers, the use of signal lanterns at night, and the persistent presence of the stars and stripes in contested territory.

The moral and social struggle The narrative examines the institution of slavery, contrasting the economic failures of "humane" plantations with the deep, visionary longings of the enslaved. A parallel thread tracks the violence of the Sioux War, illustrating that the nation faces threats on multiple fronts simultaneously.

The call for realism A shift in tone occurs as the contributors turn their focus toward literature and philosophy, demanding a new, vigorous American voice. They urge writers to abandon the "worn-out romantic" and engage directly with the "foul smoke and smell" of industrial progress.

The final human tally The volume closes by grounding its lofty political arguments in the everyday lives of citizens, from the legal debates over secession to the absurdity of draft-dodging attempts. It leaves the reader with a sense of a country in a desperate, grinding process of reinvention.

The People

The figures in these pages are often archetypal, representing the various poles of the American psyche during the war. Hiram, a character from a serial segment, is presented as a man of calculated motives who hides his true intentions behind a thin veneer of moral concern. He is contrasted with Hill, a rougher, swearing companion whom Hiram uses for his own purposes, embodying the hidden, unglamorous layers of social interaction.

Preston is a complex figure, a plantation owner attempting to reconcile the brutality of slavery with his own sense of "humanity." He is joined by Joe, an enslaved man on his plantation, whose profound, visionary eloquence provides the emotional center of the book’s critique of the South. Joe’s capacity to see beyond his immediate agony to a heaven where the slave is honored by the divine serves as a silent, powerful indictment of his masters.

The volume also features historical, idealized figures like Andrew Jackson, invoked as a stalwart guardian of the Union against the "treason" of nullification. These leaders are set against the "everyman" figures like Barney Mullen, whose stubborn, illogical, and earthy resistance to the draft highlights the friction between the state’s absolute demands and the average individual’s sense of personal loyalty. Each person, whether real, fictional, or political, is used to test the strength of the Union’s ideals against the harsh realities of the mid-nineteenth century.

In Its Own Voice

"It is not the rebel armies that can ever overthrow the Union. It is the alarming increase of the public debt and expenditures, and the still more appalling depreciation of the national currency, that most imperil the great Republic."

This assessment captures the intense anxiety regarding the economic viability of the North during the Civil War.

"He or she is best and bravest among you who gives us the freshest draughts of reality and of Nature."

This serves as a manifesto for the magazine’s literary contributors, urging them to capture the "growing Actual" of American life.

"I hard its music--de neber endin' song which its countless people send up to de throne ob de Great Father; an' I say to de angel: 'Do brack folks lib yere? Kin dey come to dis beautiful country?'"

This moment, spoken by an enslaved man, provides a spiritual counterpoint to the political and military discourse of the era.

What It's Really About

The central argument of the volume is that the American Union is a fragile, developing experiment that requires constant, muscular defense—both on the battlefield and in the coffers. It posits that the "division of labor" and the growth of governmental functions are necessary evolutionary steps toward civilization. However, beneath the political analysis lies a deeper, more existential question: can a nation survive when its moral, financial, and social foundations are simultaneously under siege? The book argues that survival depends on the ability of the people to reconcile their "earnest" internal contradictions and commit to a "growing Actual" reality, rather than clinging to the hollowed-out traditions or "worn-out romantic" myths of the past.

Why Read It Today

Readers today will find this collection a startlingly immediate document of a nation in a state of high-alert. It is not a polished, retrospective history but a live, messy, and often contradictory artifact. Those who enjoy the "grit" of history—the feel of the period’s specific anxieties, its clanking machinery, its religious fervor, and its evolving racial and political consciousness—will find this volume invaluable.

The reading experience is intense and varied. You will encounter dense, technical discussions of banking reforms sitting right beside lyrical, sometimes flowery poetry, and gritty reports from the frontier. Its difficulties are undeniable; the prose is deeply tied to the rhetorical styles of 1863, and the reader must be prepared for the period-specific attitudes toward race, social hierarchy, and the "savagery" of the frontier. However, for those willing to navigate these challenges, the book offers a visceral, unvarnished sense of what it felt like to be alive when the future of the United States was entirely an open question. What stays with you is the sheer, desperate optimism embedded in the writing—the insistence that even in the face of "death" and "syncope," the Republic can still be saved if only the people are bold enough to seize the moment.