“My Lord Duke:—The photographs your Grace did me the honor of sending arrived safely; and I can assure your Royal Highness that I am very glad to have them, and like them very much, particularly the large head of your late Royal Uncle’s little, little son. I do not wonder that your excellent Uncle Richard should say ‘off with his head’ as a hint to the photographer to print it off. Would your Highness like me to go on calling you the Duke of York, or shall I say ‘my own darling Isa’? Which do you like best?
“Now, I’m gong to find fault with my pet about her acting. What’s the good of an old Uncle like me except to find fault?”
Then follows some excellent criticism on the proper emphasis of words, explained so that the smallest child could understand; he also notes some mispronounced words, and then he adds:
“One thing more. (What an impertinent uncle! Always finding fault!) You’re not as natural when acting the Duke as you were when you acted Alice. You seemed to me not to forget yourself enough. It was not so much a real prince talking to his brother and uncle; it was Isa Bowman talking to people she didn’t care much about, for an audience to listen to. I don’t mean it was that all through, but sometimes you were artificial. Now, don’t be jealous of Miss Hatton when I say she was sweetly natural. She looked and spoke like a real Prince of Wales. And she didn’t seem to know there was any audience. If you ever get to be a good actress (as I hope you will) you must learn to forget ‘Isa’ altogether, and be the character you are playing. Try to think ‘This is really the Prince of Wales. I’m his little brother and I’m very glad to meet him, and I love him very much, and this is really my uncle; he is very kind and lets me say saucy things to him,’ and do forget that there’s anybody else listening!
“My sweet pet, I hope you won’t be offended with me for saying what I fancy might make your acting better.
“Your loving old Uncle,
“Charles.
“X for Nellie.
“X for Maggie. “X for Isa.”
“X for Emsie.
The crosses were unmistakably kisses. He was certainly a most affectionate “Uncle.” He rarely signed his name “Charles.” It was only on special occasions and to very “special” people.
Here is another letter written to Isa’s sister Nellie, thanking her for a “tidy” she made him. (He called it an Antimacassar.) “The only ordinary thing about it,” Isa tells us, “is the date.” The letter reads backward. One has to begin at the very bottom and read up, instead of reading from the top downward: