He would follow dear Molly Lepell.
And there rattled that other Mary—Mary Bellenden, laughing at all her lovers, the little, faithless Prince himself at the head of them. She would mock him and them with wit of the most audacious sort, and tell stories to the Princess, at which that august lady would laugh behind her fan, while the wildest, and not the least beautiful of the maids would throw back her handsome head, burst into uncontrollable laughter, and then run across to shock prim Miss Meadows, ‘the prude,’ with the same galliard story. Perhaps the most frolicksome nights at Leicester House were when the Princess of Wales was in the card-room, where a dozen tables were occupied by players, while the Prince, in another room, gave topazes and amethysts to be raffled for by the maids of honour, amid fun and laughter, and little astonishment when the prizes were found to be more or less damaged.
It was a sight for a painter to see these, with other beauties, leaving Leicester Fields of a morning to hunt with the Prince near Hampton. Crowds waited to see them return in the evening; and, when they were fairly housed again and dressed for the evening, lovers flocked around the young huntresses. Then Mary Bellenden snubbed her Prince and master, and walked, whispering, with handsome Jack Campbell; and Molly Lepell blushed and laughed encouragingly at the pleasant phrases poured into her ear by John, Lord Hervey. There Sophy Bellenden telegraphed with her fan to Nanty Lowther; and of their love-making came mischief, sorrow, despair, and death. And there were dark-looking Lord Lumley and his Orestes, Philip Dormer Stanhope; and dark Lumley is not stirred to laugh—as the maids of honour do, silently—as Stanhope follows the Princess to the card-room, imitating her walk and even her voice. This was the ‘Chesterfield’ who thought himself a ‘gentleman.’ The Princess leans on Lady Cowper’s shoulder and affects to admire what she really scorns—the rich dress of the beautiful Mary Wortley Montague. On one of the gay nights in Leicester House, when the Princess appeared in a dress of Irish silk—a present from ‘the Irish parson, Swift’—the Prince spoke in such terms of the giver as to induce Lord Peterborough to remark, ‘Swift has now only to chalk his pumps and learn to dance on the tightrope, to be yet a bishop.’
The above are a few samples of life in the royal household in Leicester Square. There, were born, in 1721, the Duke of Cumberland, who was so unjustly called ‘Butcher’; in 1723, Mary, who married the ‘brute’ Prince of Hesse-Cassel; and in 1724, Louisa, who died—one of the unhappy English Queens of Denmark.
After the father of these children had become George II., his eldest son, Frederick, Prince of Wales, established enmity with his sire, and an opposition court at Leicester House, at Carlton House (which he occupied at the same time), and at Kew.
Frederick, Prince of Wales, has been the object of heavy censure, and some of it, no doubt, was well-deserved. But he had good impulses and good tastes. He loved music, and was no mean instrumentalist. He manifested his respect for Shakespeare by proposing that the managers of the two theatres should produce all the great poet’s plays in chronological order, each play to run for a week. The Prince had some feeling for art, and was willing to have his judgment regulated by those competent to subject it to rule.
In June 1749, some tapestry that had belonged to Charles I. was offered to the Prince for sale. He was then at Carlton House, and he forthwith sent for Vertue. The engraver obeyed the summons, and on being ushered into the presence he found a group that might serve for a picture of genre at any time. The Prince and Princess were at table waiting for dessert. Their two eldest sons, George and Edward, then handsome children, stood in waiting, or feigned the service, each with a napkin on his arm. After they had stood awhile in silence, the Prince said to them, ‘This is Mr. Vertue. I have many curious works of his, which you shall see after dinner.’ Carlton House was a store of art treasures. The Prince, with Luke Schaub in attendance and Vertue accompanying, went through them all. He spoke much and listened readily, and parted only to have another art-conference in the following month.
The illustrious couple were then seated in a pavilion, in Carlton House garden. The Prince showed both knowledge and curiosity with respect to art; and the party adjourned to Leicester House (Leicester Square), where Mr. Vertue was shown all the masterpieces, with great affability on the part of Frederick and his consort. The royal couple soon after exhibited themselves to the admiring people, through whom they were carried in two chairs over Leicester Fields back to Carlton House. Thence the party repaired to Kew, and the engraver, after examining the pictures, dined at the palace, ‘though,’ he says, ‘being entertained there at dinner was not customary to any person that came from London.’
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!