To Young Mrs. Duncan
Regarding Mothers-in-Law
And so the serpent has appeared in your Eden, attired in widow's weeds, and talking the usual jargon of "devoted mother love." I do not like to say I told you so, but you must remember our rather spirited discussion of this very serpent, when you announced your engagement and said Mr. Duncan's mother was to make her home with you after your return from abroad.
I had met Mrs. Duncan, and I knew her type all too well. Alfred is her only child, and she adores him, naturally, but it is adoration so mingled with selfishness and tyranny that it is incapable of considering the welfare of its object.
Mrs. Duncan was always jealous of any happiness which came to her son through another source than herself. That type of mother love is to be encountered every day, and that type of mother believes herself to be the most devoted creature on earth; while the fact is, she sits for ever in the boudoir of her mentality, gazing at her own reflection. She loves her children because they also reflect herself, and is incapable of unselfish pleasure in their happiness apart from her.
You will remember I urged you to wait until you could have a home, however humble, alone with your husband, and even at the cost of that most undesirable condition, a long engagement.
But you assured me with much spirit that you had every confidence in your power to win Mrs. Duncan's heart, and to crown her declining years with peace and happiness.
As well talk of decking a porcupine with wreaths of flowers, and making it a household pet, to coddle and caress.
When I congratulated Mrs. Duncan on her son's engagement to such a sweet, bright girl as my cousin, she assumed a martyr expression and said, "She hoped he would be happy, even if her own heart must suffer the pain of losing an only son."
"But," I urged, "he really adds to your life by bringing you the companionship of a lovely daughter. My cousin will, I am sure, prove such to you."