Home › The Letter Writer › From the Lady after marriage, to an unmarried Cousin

From the Lady after marriage, to an unmarried Cousin

DEAR COUSIN: I have now changed my name, and instead of liberty, must subscribe wife. What an awkward expression, say some; how pleasing, say others. But let that be as it may, I have been married to my Charles these three months, and I can freely To acknowledge that I never knew happiness till now. have a real friend to whom I can communicate my secrets, and who, on all occasions, is ready to sympathise with me, is what I never before experienced. All these benefits, my dear cousin, I have met with in my beloved husband. His principal care seems to be, to do everything possible to please me; and is there not something called duty incumbent on me? Perhaps you will laugh at the word duty, and say that it imports something like slavery; but nothing is more false; for even the life of a servant is as pleasant as any other, when he obeys from motives of love instead of fear.

For my own part, my dear, I cannot say that I am unwilling to be obedient, and yet I am not commanded to be so by my husband. You have often spoken contemptuously of the marriage state, and I believe your reasons were that most of those you knew were unhappy; but that is an erroneous way of judging. It was designed by the Almighty that men and women should live together in a state of society; that they should become mutual helps to each other; and if they are blessed with children, to assist each other in giving them a virtuous education. Let me therefore beg that my dear cousin will no longer despise that state for which she was designed, and which is calculated to make her happy. But then, my dear, there are two sorts of men you must studiously avoid : I mean misers and rakes. The first will take every opportunity of abridging your necessary expenses, and the second will leave you nothing for a subsistence. The first, by his penuriousness, will cause you to suffer from imaginary wants; the second, by his prodigality, will make you a real beggar. But your own good sense will point out the propriety of what I have mentioned. Let me beg that you will come and spend a few weeks with us; and if you have any taste for rural and domestic life, I doubt not you will be pleased.

I am your affectionate cousin.