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America Aflame: How the Civil War Created a Nation
America Aflame: How the Civil War Created a Nation
David Goldfield
Bloomsbury Press, 2011
640 pp., 34.08

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Collin Hansen


America Aflame

Blaming evangelicals for "America's greatest failure."

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Foolish, self-righteous northerners—that is to say, evangelicals—led America into a needless civil war and destroyed the credibility of their faith in the process. So argues historian David Goldfield in his new book, America Aflame: How the Civil War Created a Nation. Goldfield, the Robert Lee Bailey professor of history at the University of North Carolina, Charlotte, adds to an already towering mountain of material published about the Civil War on the 150th anniversary of its start. But his extensive work stands out for a provocative, disturbing thesis supported sporadically over more than 600 pages that recount the war's causes, progress, and aftermath.

From the first page we can see exactly where Goldfield is headed. Calling the war "America's greatest failure," he faults northern evangelicals for injecting their dangerous moral certitude into the debate over slavery, overheating a political process that could have resolved the conflict peaceably. Infiltrating the Republican Party, northern evangelicals—blinded by self-righteousness, lacking humility, and condemning opponents as mortal sinners—elevated "political issues into moral causes" and "poisoned the democratic process," Goldfield writes. Abolition, while a worthy goal, did not require war, he argues.

"Evangelical religion had not prevented America from going to war; to the contrary, it fueled the passions for a dramatic solution to the transcendent moral questions," Goldfield contends. "Evangelical religion did not prepare either side for the carnage, and its explanations seemed less relevant as the war continued. The Civil War destroyed the Old South civilization resting on slavery; it also discredited evangelical Protestantism as the ultimate arbiter of public policy."

Goldfield's claims might understandably disturb many evangelical readers accustomed to honoring abolitionists as heroes. But he raises important questions for all Americans who recall the death of more than 600,000 countrymen with romantic delusions of glory. Why did America go to war—and such a brutally modern one at that—when every other nation ridded itself of slavery peacefully? And for evangelicals in particular, why did Christianity in the northern United States thrive in the century leading up to the war but shrink in the face of encroaching skepticism for much of the century afterward? Such eminent historians as Mark Noll (The Civil War as a Theological Crisis) and Harry Stout (Upon the Altar of the Nation) have recently addressed these troubling questions and many others in two essential books on religion in the 19th century and the war that defined it.

Unfortunately, Goldfield apparently did not consult these indispensable contributions even while covering the same academic terrain. They might have saved Goldfield from treating his evangelical subjects with a hostility that lacks nuance and even consistency.

Heroes and Villains

Goldfield tells a story of heroes and villains. Daniel Webster appears as the consummate statesman who might have been able to pull the nation back from the brink of war. Walt Whitman's poetry seasons the narrative with a sweet patriotic flair at the war's outbreak but sours over the years when the stench of gangrene from military hospitals fills his nostrils. We hear from many colorful, familiar diarists who also graced Ken Burns's Civil War documentary, including George Templeton Strong, Mary Chestnut, and poor Sullivan Ballou.

The Beecher clan and their "apocalyptic" rhetoric don't fare so well in Goldfield's telling. Harriet Beecher Stowe, spurred to action by the Fugitive Slave Law, stirred up trouble with her book Uncle Tom's Cabin, which gave credibility and momentum to the abolitionist cause. Her "disingenuous" father, outspoken pastor Lyman Beecher, stoked nativist fears with his "violent" sermons motivated by fear of the growing Roman Catholic masses.

Even Dwight L. Moody, whose fame did not peak until after the war ended, suffers in this account. Goldfield implicates Moody for not doing more to protest against whites who massacred thousands of blacks in the South during Reconstruction. But such scolding makes little sense for Goldfield, who faults evangelicals for injecting their moralizing religion into politics. In fact, Southern "redemption," when whites reclaimed their positions of political authority in Reconstruction, seems to be just the sort of amoral, politically savvy compromise between northern Republicans and southern Democrats that Goldfield advocates as a solution to avoiding civil war in the first place.

Sweeping Theological Conclusions

Other contradictions undermine Goldfield's argument that northern evangelicals should be faulted for the war. He observes that the national revival of 1857-58 invested all events with a heightened sense of dramatic meaning. He notes that the prayer meetings in New York City, much like similar gatherings around the country, strictly prohibited anyone from speaking about politics and other contentious topics. For this reason some scholars have faulted Main Street evangelicals for ignoring the great moral issue of the day, slavery. It's not apparent how northern evangelicals could both seek to elevate supposedly personal, spiritual issues over the suffering of Southern slaves while at the same time manipulate the political process to launch a needless war for their liberation.

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