ROYALTY - EDWARD (PRINCE OF WALES) Series of nine revealing personal letters signed (variously "ton petit David", "your vewy vewy own devoted & adoring little David", "Your D.") to his first and long-time love Freda Dudley Ward ("My very own beloved little Fredie darling" "Fredie darling darling precious one", "Darling darling sweetheart"), closely written in pencil, six written from his tour of Canada in 1919, and from Barbados and Panama en route to Australia and New Zealand in 1920, full of ardent professions of love ("...bless you always ma petite amor for all yr divine sweetness to yr devoted & adoring little David & all that you mean to him which is everything... you know how madly he loves & worships his precious lovely beloved little Fredie Wedie his goddess..."), much on his resentment of his lot in life ("...I'm still trying to carry on with this thankless & rotten job of P of W which is the only reason why I've left you now..."), on his fear of public speaking ("...I do loathe it all more & more... terror at the thought of getting up on my hind legs... I find it harder than ever to screw myself up for stunts and feel less unsuited to them than ever!!..."), on their parting ("...God I feel like howling just now..."), official engagements in Canada ("...dashing about the city dropping wreaths on statues & monuments... what a miserable rush of an existence this is..."), bored with parties ("...too pompous to be amusing..."), on his fellow guests ("...a proper beta & we all loathe her... Miss Cook on the contrary is a nice little bit..."), official duties (or "stunts") in Barbados ("...a proper bum island... It is a unique sort of scenery very ugly... the white population is very small & they are not much of a crop to look at & all too deadly dull... shown over a sugar plant... which was quite interesting..."), sailing through the Panama Canal ("...there are 20,000 British coloured people working on the canal & they gave me a good welcome..."), thoughts on Panama itself ("...a deadly spot the end of the world almost... very queer people... very pompous & dirty..."), and San Diego ("...This is a bum place..."), on reading the novel Susan Lennox ("...a story for men only & I really mean that angel...instructive book for me... unadulterated filth for a woman!!..."), the monotony of a long sea journey and coping with the heat only relieved by games of squash ("...deadly dull... sleeping on deck is divine..."), throughout desperately missing her ("...life is absolute hell & torture for your little David without you & I'm oh! so so miserable!!..."); all but one with autograph envelopes, the majority closed with black wax bearing his thumb print, latterly with a spider seal (a gift from Freda); with typed itinerary annotated by him; and 8 photographs annotated on the reverse (one of the Prince by a Canadian train, four of the Renown negotiating the Panama Canal, three speaking at San Diego and with Californian dignitaries), 74 pages, light dust-staining, light marks, creased at folds, 8vo and 4to, Princeton, Hove, HMS Renown at Portsmouth, Quebec, Ottawa, "At Sea", Barbados, Panama, San Diego, 12 June 1919 to 8 April 1920 (collection) 'I'M STILL TRYING TO CARRY ON WITH THIS THANKLESS & ROTTEN JOB OF P OF W': REVEALING LOVE LETTERS FROM THE PRINCE TO HIS MARRIED LOVER. Edward, Prince of Wales, met married socialite Freda Dudley Ward during an air raid in early 1918 and their affair, an open-secret in aristocratic circles, lasted for some sixteen years until Wallis Simpson took over his affections in 1934, and Freda was unceremoniously cut adrift. They took no pains to hide their relationship, and Winston Churchill observed in 1927 that 'It is quite pathetic to see the Prince and Freda. His love is so obvious and undisguisable'. Whilst at first glance they read as rather saccharine love letters, with their baby language ("...my darling precious little Fredie Wedie...") and protestations of love, our letters reveal a complex personality and show the Prince at his most vulnerable. Freda is the one with whom he can share his true feelings ("...Pleath oh! Pleath don't go to Ld Ribblesdales' party... your little boy does want you so much... you loathe them like me..."). He worships her as a "...goddess...", is reliant on her for his happiness ("...nothing else or any one else exists for me except YOU..."), and is devastated when letters from her do not arrive ("...the only only thing in the whole world that I want except YOU..."). The pain of their separation, he says, "...makes me loathe the sight of everybody near me!!...", and at this stage in their relationship he dreams of a future together ("...I've got the feeling that some day we shall belong to each other officially beloved sweetheart..."). Intensely bored and self-pitying, he vehemently resents his official duties (or "stunts" as he calls them), and being surrounded by "...old courtiers...". His only relief is his companion, Lord Louis ("Dickie") Mountbatten, who was charged with procuring dance partners for him, with varying degrees of success. Angry and frustrated at the stifling heat in the tropics, the Prince has nothing good to say about the countries he visits or their people. He appears vain (remarking several times on his fitness and thin legs), petulant and somewhat callous, reserving his most cutting remarks for the girls lined up for him to dance with. Even when a sailor is lost overboard he writes "...one man's death means nothing sweetheart only it's a depressing event in a ship on the 9th day at sea...". Contrary to his confident easy-going public image, here he reveals his painful insecurities, frankly admitting his fear of public speaking and also gives a rare insight into his relationship with his father, George V. Being on tour, he believes, has made him "...a little more self confident than I was & less frightened of other people particularly of my father!!...", and he writes warmly of his brother Bertie, the future George VI: "...I love to think that you & he are friends... I'm vewy fond of him & he is a good friend to us...". The majority of the letters are published, or quoted from, in Rupert Godfrey (ed.), Letters from a Prince, 1998. Two letters, those from 12 June 1919 and 7 October 1919 at 2am, are seemingly unpublished.