Dear Mother,
Alas! poor Rebecca fell and tore her dress. She was inconsolable, and I understood the depths of her misery. I comforted her by telling her I would intercede in her favour, and that, to make forgiveness more sure, I would present her with my silk dress. She smiled; she is saved. Good-bye.
In 1842, during her triumphant visit to England, she sent Rebecca a most homely present, but one proving that in the midst of her brilliant triumphs she had a tender thought for those she loved at home.
I send you, by the messenger, a dozen pairs of English stockings; I have marked them with my own white hand. As to the petticoats, they are better, they tell me, in Saxony; I will send you some from Dresden. I hope you and the family are well: we are enjoying robust health. These are the news of the day.
A thousand kisses.
Rachel made the child work under her own superintendence when preparing for her approaching appearance in public, urging her to study both classic and romantic rôles; amongst other things, teaching her to spell—this great tragedian who spelt so badly herself!
My dear little Duke of York,
Learn your part properly or take care! On my return, if you do not repeat it correctly, I will be a Gloucester or a Tyrrel for you; but if the Duke of York is good, I will be his brother Edward, with something in my pocket for him.
I am pleased with your writing; it is like mine—when I take pains, of course.
I hope, dear Duke, that you have not two hearts, that would be very wrong. The s that I find at the end of a word, written by your own little pen, made me for a moment afraid of this. Reassure me on this point, for I prefer one good heart to two passable ones.
I embrace your Royal Highness on both cheeks, with the respect due to you, dear Duke.
