The Evening Book, by Mrs. Kirkland (Charles Scribner), is a very tasteful volume, consisting of some of the cleverest compositions of one of our very cleverest literary women, well known as Mrs. Mary Clavers, the prose poetess, and pen-painter of Western life. From our first acquaintance with Mary Clavers, in the world of print, we have admired, almost equally, her frank independence of word and thought, her free and fearless love of truth, her facility in vivid and life-like portraiture, and her natural strain of good-natured humor. But most of all we have admired her, for that she is "an 'author,' yet a woman too!" a consummation indeed devoutly to be wished; inasmuch as it seems to us, that we are fast falling upon days which will induce the grave spectator, looking upon the ladies and gentlemen of Young New-York, the former in the rostrum, the latter in the ball-room, to exclaim with the Persian King at Salamis, "All our men have become women, and our women men." This, however, can never be predicated of our friend of "the New Home;" and yet, shall we confess it, we like her better far in the broad west than on the Broad pavé; better in the solitude of the great woods than on the society of great cities; better in the log school-house, than in the tumultuous streets—in a word, better as the chronicler of the doings of the west, than as the critic of the goings-on in the east! So long as she adheres to the former, she is ever entertaining, ever instructive, ever humorous, ever lively, ever true; but when she comes to deal with the problems of society, when she dives into the mysteries of caste, and tempts the difficulties which lie in the way of those who would reconcile political equality with social intercourse, we fear that she will not only be found herself going astray, but—what is far worse—becoming a blind guide to others. We are led to these remarks especially by a certain article on "Streets and Servants, at home and abroad," the tendency of which we fully believe—though we are sure it was honestly written, and beneficently intended—to be positively dangerous and injurious to the very class for whose advantage it is intended.
Herein we find our fair friend discoursing thus of the female servants of America:
"Perhaps, if we could make up our minds to treat our servants as fellow-citizens now, the time when they would be disposed to shake off our service might be deferred."
And again—
"Would it be dangerous to recognize the soul of a chambermaid? Would it not be apt to make her a better one, and longer content with the broom and duster, if we consulted her feelings, expressed an interest in her welfare, and saved her pride as much as possible? At present, it seems to be supposed that in the agreement as to wages, a certain amount of contumely is bargained for," &c., &c.
Now this is quite unworthy of Mrs. Kirkland's good sense; it is very objectionable and injurious at this moment—when tens of thousands of American girls are daily all but starving on the wretched pittance which they can earn at the literally starving prices of the shops; daily falling into vice and infamy in order to avoid actual starvation; who might be comfortably lodged, comfortably clad, comfortably fed, and well paid, in as many kindly and Christian families, if they could but condescend from their ruinous false pride, and brook to become servants. Worst of all, it is not true. In no country on earth are servants so well looked to, not only as to wants but as to comforts, as in this. In no other are their labors so light, their liberties so large, their remuneration so liberal, their feelings so freely consulted—nay, in many cases, their whims so foolishly indulged. To no contumely, that we can perceive, are they subjected; but we suppose that Mrs. Kirkland regards their non-admission to our tables, our conversational reunions, or our ballrooms, as the crowning contumely—quite forgetful that the restraint of what to refined, educated, and highly-bred persons are habits, would be to the servant-girl bonds and fetters of intolerable restraint—that her inability to mix in our conversation, to see with our eyes, taste with our tastes, and understand with our cultivated intellects, would render our society far more insufferable and annoying to her than her presence could be to us; in a word, that, but for the false pride of being one of the company, our drawing-room would be far more a place of punishment to her, than her kitchen to us.
For the rest, in these United States, all this talk about independence and servitude is absurd. No man on earth is, or ever will be, independent of some other man. Every man is, in some sort or other, the servant of some other man. The rich man is dependent on his colored barber, or his colored boots, for his comfort, as the barber or the boots is on him for his wages; and perhaps the rich man would be worse put to it by the absence of the boots, than the boots by the absence of the rich man. Generally, we believe, the higher we are in position, the more masters we have to serve, and the less considerate; and we have little doubt that even our brilliant and gentle authoress herself has more and less amiable behests to obey, than ever fell to the lot of the independent help, who "thought she heard her yell."
We have dwelt longer on this point than its weight or merit, as regards the volume, of which it occupies but a page, would seem to justify; and we have done so not ill-naturedly, to pick out the one tare from the load of wheat, but merely to controvert what we consider a dangerous social fallacy, which is growing and gaining virulence and vigor under false treatment, and producing serious detriment to a large class of our population. The volume itself is, as we have observed, an entertaining, an instructive, emphatically a good one; and its getting up and embellishment reflect as much credit on the publishers, as its contents on the author. It is one of the most beautiful, and deserves to be one of the most popular, gift-books of the season.
Among the most agreeable republications of the season we may cite Mrs. Lee's Luther and his Times, the Life and Times of Cranmer, and the Historical Sketches of the Old Painters, recently issued in the Family Library of Willis Hazard, of Philadelphia. Luther and his Times appears at an appropriate period, considering the great number of works relating to the Reformer which have been written in England and on the continent: scarce any of which, however, are superior to this, either in accuracy or general interest. As an appropriate companion to it we have Cranmer—a plain, straightforward, and withal extremely attractive account of the Reformation in England. With regard to the relative excellence of these, we incline to the Luther. The simplicity and singleness of style which characterize Mrs. Lee's biography of Cranmer, would render it peculiarly the property of the young, were it not that the great amount of valuable historical information which it contains, as well as the fact that so little is generally known relative to the early history of the English Reformation, commend it equally to the perusal of older and graver students. But in the Luther, we have, in the best sense, a literary work, one in which ease of style, an almost romantic interest and accurate research, combine to invest it with that variety of excellence which the public taste at the present day requires of the historian and biographer. The works are neatly got up, with fair illustrations. In the same series we also find an illustrated edition of The Vicar of Wakefield. A curious proof of the exquisite simplicity and beauty of style which characterize this work, may be found in the fact, that throughout Germany, Scandinavia, and Italy, no English work is so well known or so extensively used in the study of our language.