Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature and Science, Vol. 20, August 1877

In Short

This volume serves as a time capsule, preserving the literary and cultural pulse of 1877. It functions as a hybrid collection, featuring travel writing that spans from the Rhine to Italy, alongside short stories, character sketches, and pointed essays on contemporary politics and history. By cataloging everything from the architectural nuances of European cathedrals to the social tensions of post-war France and the American frontier, the work captures the wide-ranging curiosities of its original audience. Its enduring value lies in this broad, unvarnished portrait of a world in transition.

The Story

The narrative arc of the volume is not a single linear tale, but a mosaic of human experience. It opens with a reflective journey down the Rhine, where the author moves between the historic military weight of Coblenz and the bustling, commercial modernism of Cologne. This establishes a recurring theme: the constant friction between the "olden time" and the encroaching demands of progress. The focus then shifts to Italy, specifically Verona, where the past is physically present in the form of ancient tombs and romantic legends. Here, the text probes the gap between genuine historical resonance and the hollow, performative sentimentality of tourism, as seen in the treatment of Juliet’s supposed grave.

From the continent, the narrative leaps to the intimate, domestic struggles of life in America. In a series of character-driven vignettes, we see the quiet, often strained relationships of people like Captain Swendon and his daughter Jane, whose daily lives are defined by economic precarity and the intrusion of the past—embodied by old acquaintances like the editor Neckart. These stories ground the reader in the struggle for dignity amidst limited means. The scope then widens to encompass historical and social analysis. One section explores the fierce, often violent customs of the Irish landed gentry and legal class, illustrating a society governed by duels and rigid class pride. Another segment documents the recovery of post-war France, tracing the lives of expatriate artists and the noble, soldierly history of the Courance family.

Finally, the collection ventures into the spiritual and the far-reaching. Through the character of Malcolm, a fisherman, the text engages in profound philosophical inquiries regarding faith, suffering, and the nature of the "kingdom of heaven," juxtaposing his rugged, sincere perspective against the superficiality of London society. The volume concludes with a sharp, contemporary look at the legal and social standing of Chinese immigrants in California, using the lens of justice and cross-cultural misunderstanding to critique the era’s shifting morality. By the end, the reader has traversed from the romanticized ruins of Europe to the gritty, evolving social landscapes of the New World, leaving behind the singular image of a civilization attempting to reconcile its ancient foundations with an unpredictable, globalized future.

How It Unfolds

The Rhine journey begins. The author traverses the river, contrasting the romantic "castled" ruins of German songs with the reality of military fortresses and modern commercial quays.

History meets the tourist. In Verona, the text examines the city's obsession with its own past, particularly the irony of tourists flocking to a "pseudo-relic" of Juliet while overlooking the genuine beauty of medieval stonework.

Domestic friction emerges. The setting shifts to a quiet, somewhat stifling American household where financial hardship and the presence of unwanted visitors force characters to mask their true feelings behind a veil of social courtesy.

Cultural contrasts appear. The narrative transitions into historical anecdotes about the Irish gentry’s penchant for dueling and the resilience of French artists navigating the ruins and memories of the Franco-Prussian War.

Spiritual inquiry takes hold. A dialogue between a humble Scottish fisherman and a high-born lady moves from the physical beauty of the coast to deep questions about the nature of belief and moral superiority.

Reflections on justice close the collection. The final segments analyze the treatment of immigrants in the American West and provide a list of contemporary publications, signaling the era’s active, restless intellectual output.

The People

The figures populating these pages are defined by their environments and their internal moral codes. Captain Swendon is a man of "slow, easy-going" temperament, whose faded glory and lack of money stand in the way of his former standing; his daughter Jane, through her "grave, childish simplicity," acts as his protector, attempting to shield their fragile home life from external judgement.

Neckart, an editor, serves as a sharp foil to these figures. He is a "sombre, heavy man" whose skepticism toward the sentimentality of others reveals his own cynicism and desire to categorize human behavior. In the European travel sections, the figures are often archetypes—the "pilgrims of Art and Nature" or the stiff-collared courtiers—who contrast with the more visceral, rugged honesty of Malcolm. Malcolm, the fisherman, is the most spiritually grounded; he is a man who finds kinship with the creatures of the sea and maintains a quiet, immovable faith, even when challenged by the aristocratic Lady Clementina. Clementina herself is a woman in transition, moving from a position of detached curiosity about the "poor" to a genuine, albeit fearful, search for authentic religious meaning. Each character, whether a dueling Irish barrister or a painter in Fontainebleau, is trapped between their inherited social roles and their individual search for a life of purpose.

In Its Own Voice

"The old town has, however, many beauties, though its military character looks out through most of them, and reminds us that the Mosel city... though a point of union in Nature, has been for ages, so far as mankind was concerned, a point of defence and watching."

The author reflects on the dual identity of Coblenz as both a scenic landmark and a historical bastion of war.

"If the balcony which remains was Juliet's, Romeo must have had a long ladder and a cooler head than he showed under other circumstances."

The narrator dryly evaluates the physical reality of the site in Verona purported to be the scene of the famous Shakespearean romance.

What It's Really About

At its core, this volume explores the tension between romantic idealism and harsh, material reality. It asks whether historical sites, like cathedrals or tombs, retain their sanctity when turned into commercial spectacles for tourists. It also interrogates the nature of "civilization," contrasting the refined, ritualized violence of the Irish gentry and the bureaucratic cruelty of colonial powers against the simple, direct virtues of those living closer to the land. Through these disparate accounts, the work argues that true value—whether in religion, art, or human relationships—is found not in the outward appearance of things, but in the sincerity of the individual's inner life.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the slow, deliberate pace of Victorian prose will find much to admire here. It is an immersive experience, rewarding those who take pleasure in the descriptive layering of 19th-century travelogues and the philosophical earnestness of its fiction. It feels like stepping into a crowded, well-appointed parlor of the 1870s; one can hear the sharp-tongued debates about politics, the quiet sighs of the impoverished, and the intellectual musings of the era’s middle class.

The book is not without its difficulties. The prose is dense, occasionally favoring a lengthy, formal structure that may feel taxing to the modern reader accustomed to brevity. Furthermore, the attitudes expressed—particularly regarding race and cultural superiority—are starkly representative of their time and can be jarring to a contemporary audience. However, these elements are exactly why the work remains valuable. It does not soften the period’s prejudices or its rigid class distinctions; instead, it presents them as part of the cultural fabric. If you approach this volume as a primary source of the human condition in the late 19th century, you will find it an indispensable and honest companion that captures the precise, flickering light of a century nearing its close.