During the tenancy of Frederick, Prince of Wales, Leicester House was the scene of political intrigues and of ordinary private life occurrences: Carlton House was more for state and entertainment. Leicester House and Savile House, which had been added to the former, had their joyous scenes also. The story of the private theatricals carried on in either mansion has been often told. The actors were, for the most part, the Prince’s children. He who was afterwards George III. was among the best of the players, but he had a good master. After his first public address as king, Quin, proud of his pupil, exclaimed, ‘I taught the boy to speak.’ Some contemporary letter-writers could scarcely find lofty phrases enough wherewith to praise these little amateurs. Bubb Doddington, who served the Prince of Wales and lost his money at play to him (‘I’ve nicked Bubb!’ was the cry of the royal gambler, when he rose from the Leicester House card-tables with Bubb’s money in his pocket), Bubb, I say, was not so impressed by the acting of these boys and girls. He rather endured than enjoyed it. On January 11, 1750, all that he records in his diary is, ‘Went to Leicester House to see “Jane Grey” acted by the Prince’s children.’ In the following May, Prince Frederick William was born in Leicester House, ‘the midwife on the bed with the Princess, and Dr. Wilmot standing by,’ and a group of ladies at a short distance. The time was half an hour after midnight. ‘Then the Prince, the ladies, and some of us,’ says Doddington, ‘sat down to breakfast in the next room--then went to prayers, downstairs.’ In June the christening took place, in Leicester House, the Bishop of Oxford officiating. ‘Nobody of either sex was admitted into the room but the actual servants’ (that is, the ladies and gentlemen of the household) ‘except Chief Justice Willes and Sir Luke Schaub.’ Very curious were some of the holiday rejoicings on this occasion. For example, here is a ‘setting out’ from Leicester House to make a day of it, on June 28: ‘Lady Middlesex’ (the Prince’s favourite), ‘Lord Bathurst, Mr. Breton, and I’ (writes Bubb) ‘waited on their Royal Highnesses to Spitalfields, to see the manufactory of silk, and to Mr. Carr’s shop, in the morning. In the afternoon the same company, with Lady Torrington in waiting, went in private coaches to Norwood Forest, to see a settlement of Gipsies. We returned and went to Bettesworth, the conjurer, in hackney coaches.... Not finding him we went in search of the little Dutchman, but were disappointed; and concluded the particularities of this day by supping with Mrs. Cannon, the Princess’s midwife.’ Such was the condescension of royalty and royalty’s servants in the last century!