THE Regent was always being satirized by the publication of some of his own puerilities, or those of his suite, who, of course, took their tone from him. The Brighton Herald is responsible for the following anecdote:

'A gallant Admiral (Nagle) residing at the Pavilion, was, a few days since, presented by a certain Great Personage, with a beautiful milk white mare, which, it was stated, had just arrived from Hanover. Nothing was talked of but this fine creature; and every one seemed anxious to have her merits put to the test. The Admiral mounted, tried her in all her paces, and, though he could but approve, yet he pronounced her to be greatly inferior to a favourite black mare of his own. The present, however, coming from so high a quarter, was, of course, received with every expression of duty and thankfulness. The long switching tail of the animal not exactly suiting the Admiral's taste, he sent her to a farrier to have it cropped—when, lo! he speedily received intelligence that it was a false tail, and that, beneath it appeared a short black one. This curious fact led to a minute inspection, when it was discovered that this beautiful white Hanoverian horse was no other than the good humoured Admiral's own black mare, which had been painted in a manner to elude his detection.'

This anecdote is probably true, as Captain Gronow ('Reminiscences,' second series, p. 212) tells a similar story, only he changes the venue from Brighton to Carlton House:

'Admiral Nagle was a great favourite of George the Fourth, and passed much of his time with his Majesty. He was a bold, weather beaten tar, but, nevertheless, a perfect gentleman, with exceedingly pleasing manners, and possessed of much good nature and agreeability.

'The late Duke of Cambridge, on one occasion, sent his brother a cream coloured horse from the Royal stud at Hanover, and the King gave the animal to Colonel Peters, the riding master. Admiral Nagle ventured to express a hope that, if his Majesty received a similar present from Hanover, he would graciously make him a present of it; upon which the King replied, "Certainly, Nagle, you shall have one."

'The Admiral was, shortly afterwards, sent to Portsmouth, to superintend the building of the Royal Yacht, during which time Strohling, the fashionable painter of the day, was summoned, and ordered to paint the Admiral's favourite hack, to make it appear like one of the Hanoverian breed. The horse was, accordingly, placed in the riding school, and, in an incredibly short period, the metamorphosis was successfully completed. In due time the Admiral returned from Portsmouth, and, as usual, went to the Royal Stables, and was charmed to see that his Majesty had fulfilled his promise. He lost no time in going to Carlton House to return thanks, when the King said, "Well, Nagle, how do you like the horse I sent you?" "Very much," was the reply, "but I should like to try his paces before I can give your Majesty a decided opinion about him." "Well, then, let him be saddled, though it does rain, and gallop him round the park and return here, and let me know what you think of him." It rained cats and dogs; the paint was gradually washed off the horse, to the Admiral's great astonishment, and he returned to Carlton House, where the King and his friends had watched his departure and arrival with the greatest delight. The Admiral was welcomed with roars of laughter, which he took with very great good humour; and, about a month afterwards, the King presented him with a real Hanoverian horse of great value.'

These Christmas festivities probably produced a fit of gout, which brought the Queen and Princesses, together with the Princess Charlotte, to the Pavilion, on a visit, from January 6, 1816, to January 20—a visit which covered the birthdays of the Princess Charlotte and Her Majesty, both of which were nobly celebrated.

This seems to have been a quiet time at the Pavilion, if we may credit a letter from the Dowager Countess of Ilchester to Lady Harriet Frampton, dated from Cranborne Lodge, February 2, 1816:[93]

'... I must tell you that the fortnight at Brighton has had a very happy effect on Princess Charlotte's health and spirits.... You have no idea how her manners are daily softened by witnessing the address of the Queen and Princesses, with whom she went regularly round the circle, paying individual attention to the company, and she looked, really, very handsome, being always elegantly dressed, and every one seemed delighted to have her under her father's roof.

'It certainly was a great satisfaction to the Prince to find it gave so much pleasure to the Princess, for he had been led to suspect she did not like to come—a complete mistake, of which he is now convinced.... The Chinese room is gay beyond description, and I am sure you would admire it, as well as the rest of the Pavilion, though the extreme warmth does not suit every one.

'In the morning, all the guests were free from Court restraint, and met only at six o'clock, punctually, for dinner, to the number of between thirty and forty daily; in the evening, about as many more were invited. A delightful band played till half past eleven, when the Royal family retired, and the rest of the company dispersed, after partaking of sandwiches: the evenings were not in the least formal. As soon as the Queen sat down to cards, every one moved about as they pleased, and made their own backgammon, chess, or card party, but lounging up and down the gallery was most favoured. All the rooms open into the beautiful gallery, which is terminated at both extremities by the lightest and prettiest Chinese staircases you can imagine, and illuminated by the gayest lanterns. There are mandarins and pagodas in abundance, and plenty of Japanese and Chinese sofas. In the centre of the gallery is a skylight. Each staircase opens into a large room, one of these communicating with the Queen's suite of rooms, and the other with that of the Princess and mine. The effect of the central room is very good. There was a bright fire, and it is supplied with books and newspapers, and from one set of rooms to the other is a private communication.'

Prince Leopold also stopped at the Pavilion for some time previous to his marriage with the Princess Charlotte, which took place May 2, 1816.

In spite of the enormous taxation, the dearness of bread, etc., the extravagances of Florizel knew no bounds. What cared he, so long as every whim and wish of his was gratified, who found the money for it? In three years he had spent £160,000 on furniture for Carlton House; the previous year china cost £12,000, ormolu nearly £3,000, and during three years he owed his silversmith £130,000. He had £100,000 allotted him for an outfit when he came to the Regency; that had to go to pay some of his debts, and Lord Castlereagh was obliged to admit that the Prince's debts amounted to £339,000!

Yet, forsooth, the great baby must have another toy at the expense of the nation—a yacht, all over gilding. William Hone published a single-sheet broadside (August 26, 1816) with a picture and description of this rococo vessel. Here is his 'Description of the Regent's New Gilt Yacht:

'This superb yacht, the Royal Sovereign, was launched from Deptford Yard on Thursday, the 8th of August, 1816, having been newly copper bottomed, and entirely new gilt, and fitted up throughout.—She is between three and four hundred tons burthen, has three masts, is ship rigged, and is the most splendid vessel, beyond all comparison, ever launched in England.—The bust of his Majesty forms the head, richly gilt; surmounted by a canopy, painted crimson, with fringe and tassels in gold.—The head rails have carved figures of Peace and Plenty(!) which support the bust, with a frieze of devices to the bows, carved and gilt.—Above the channels is a frieze—boys supporting the Cardinal Virtues, united by festoons of laurel, all gilt. The quarter badge, representing the Star and Garter, supported by the Lion and Unicorn, is a complete blaze of gilding. The stern is most superbly gilt—in the centre of the taffrel is a King's Coat of Arms, supported by Prudence and Fame, carved and gilt. Fortitude and Truth are carved at the sides of the stern, richly gilt. The lower counter is an emblematical painting, gilt. On the right of the rudder is Neptune, drawn by four Sea Horses, a painting, gilt. On the left of the rudder is Britannia, pointing to the Arts, a painting, gilt. Above the rudder is a Star, presumed to be the Star of Brunswick, as if presiding,—gilt. The upper counter is Cupids with laurel, painted and gilt. Over the poop are three magnificent lanterns, in blue and gold, with stars on the top, gilt. The quarter deck is separated from the main deck by a rich carved breast rail, gilt. The sides of the quarter deck are devices painted in compartments, gilt.

'The gallery is fitted up for a kitchen, with steam boilers and other cooking apparatus. Adjoining it is the Lord's room, in white, with panel mouldings gilt—the roof supported by fluted pilasters, with Ionic caps, all gilt. The passages are white and gold. The roof of the King's room is panelled mahogany and gold; the sides crimson damask panels, the framings gold; twenty carved emblematical figures, the four Elements, etc., are on pedestals with Ionic caps of mahogany and gold. Round the rudder case are three beautiful plates of looking glass, entirely concealing the wood, in frames to correspond, gilt. The Queen's room is fitted up, in every respect, with the same grandeur as to materials and gilding. The descent to the State rooms is by a superb mahogany winding staircase, the balustrades richly carved and gilt; the sides panelled with mahogany and gold. The ceilings and doors to the State rooms are of the finest mahogany, in panels, with carved borders, richly gilt. The doors in the centre cabin are covered with mirrors. The chairs and sofas are of crimson damask, in mahogany frames, gilt. The windows are of plate glass, and draw up and down, like those of a coach, the sides painted a deep vermilion, the edges gilt. To suspend the tables, that they may swing with the vessel, chains descend from the ceilings, as if for lamps, elegantly gilt. The side windows, one on each side the stern, are two immense concaves of plate glass, like mirrors; from each of which, on the outside the vessel, rays diverge, to form a splendid star, superbly gilt. The predominant feature of the decorations is costly gilding; even the blocks carrying the ladders and the rigging, are fully gilt. The vessel has been put in its present state, for the Prince Regent, at an estimated expence of Sixty Thousand Pounds; the gilding, alone, is supposed to have cost nearly Thirteen Thousand, Five Hundred Pounds! She now lies off the Dockyard at Deptford, with the workmen on board; and, when completed, will, with the Divine permission, sail to Brighton, for his Royal Highness's use. Her apparatus for roasting, baking, boiling, frying, stewing, broiling, etc., is complete. And it is remarkable that the Cardinal Virtues are amongst the most prominent decorations outside.'

This new plaything was at Brighton in the summer of 1817, and we read in a newspaper cutting that:

'On the 10th September, for the Regent's especial delectation, a sham fight took place at sea, immediately off the town, the vessels taking part in it being the Inconstant and Tigris frigates, the Grecian armed schooner, and the Rosario brig. The Channel was thickly dotted with packets and pleasure boats, and every species of floating craft, each and all crowded with spectators, anxious to witness the coming conflict; the cliffs from one end of the town to the other were also thronged. The Prince Regent embarked at 10 a.m., and, as soon as the Royal barge was afloat, simultaneous salutes were fired from the ships of war, and were repeated as soon as his Royal Highness was on board his yacht was announced, by the Royal standard being hoisted at the main.

'The order of battle was, that the Inconstant and the Grecian were to defend the yacht against the designs of the supposed enemy, in the Tigris and the Rosario. The vessels, respectively, were most skilfully manoeuvred, and broadside after broadside sent their rattling reports to land. At length, the escape of the yacht was effected; but the enemy still stood to their guns. In fact, the conflict between the frigates became still more severe, during which, within pistol shot of each other, many discharges of musketry marked the apparently determined progress of the action. The spectacle was grand, and wrought the feelings of the spectators to the highest pitch. The battle over, which ended in the retreat of the enemy, the Royal George stood in, and the whole returned to the roadstead about 2 p.m. In the evening a boat was sent ashore, to announce the Regent's intention of remaining on board all night.'

Apropos of this naval engagement, a humorous print was published in October, 1817, entitled, 'Fun at Sea—the sham fight off Brighton, and the capture of the Knight of the Larder, Privateer, or, the Alderman in Chains.' Alderman Sir William Curtis is brought on board the Regent's yacht a prisoner, bound in chains of sausages,[94] accompanied by sailors bearing turtles, fowls, soup, etc., whilst an officer exhibits a scroll of Ammunition Stores taken in the Larder Sloop. Ammunition—500 Forced meat balls, 5 Barrels Curry Powder, 2 casks whole Pepper, 200 Bottles Sauce piquant.—Stores—1 whole Calf, 25 Sheep, 12 dozen Capons, 50 Haunches of Venison,—Westphalia Hams, 2 cwt. of Sausages, 100 Rounds of Beef, 100 Sir Loins, 150 doz. of Pigeons, 50 Sucking pigs.' Sir William Curtis is kneeling, and, offering the Regent a carving knife and ladle, he says:

The Regent, looking at him, says, 'What! we have caught you, have we? and in arms against your Sovereign! We'll just drench you with grog, and keelhaul you—and then release you, my old buck. You love fun!'

Sir William was fond of the sea, and the Whig and Radical wits were never tired of laughing at the sumptuous fittings of his yacht, in which the Regent often accompanied him in his cruises. He was very badly educated, and is said to have been the author of the famous 'Three R's: Reading, Riting and Rithmetic.'

According to the Gentleman's Magazine for 1817, the Regent had quite a cruise in his new toy:

'Monday, Sept. 15.—The Prince Regent arrived last night at Carlton House from Brighton, having, during the week, been four days, and three nights at sea! The Prince commenced his aquatic excursions on Monday, when His R.H. remained at sea ten hours; and, on Wednesday, accompanied by Admirals Sir George Campbell, and Sir Edmund Nagle, Lord William Gordon, Sir William Keppel, the Hon. Capt. Paget, and Capt. Horace Seymour, His R.H. embarked in the Royal George yacht on a second voyage, under salutes from the Tigris, Inconstant, Rosario, Grecian, Viper and Hound: and, at half past one, the ships of war went through all the manoeuvres of an engagement. At night, the vessels proceeded to sea; and, the next day, they stood over to the coast of France, and were off Dieppe, close in with the land, early on Friday morning; where, communication being had, the yacht and squadron cruised across the Channel again, and reached Brighton at one o'clock on Saturday, when the Prince landed, regretting that his presence being required in town, he was obliged to disembark.

'His Royal Highness was gratified beyond description, and enjoyed the highest state of health and spirits during the excursion. On disembarking, the Prince presented the Hon. Capt. Paget with a most elegant snuff box, in testimony of his high gratification and esteem; and so ardent and perfect was the pleasure that His R.H. felt, that, among other gracious intimations of his attachment to the Naval service, he said that, if he should land at any other place besides Brighton, it was his intention to wear the full dress uniform of an Admiral, and which he should continue to wear, at his levÉes, alternately with the dress of the army.'

On January 15, 1817, the Grand-Duke Nicholas (afterwards Emperor) of Russia visited the Prince at the Pavilion, and stayed four days.

Directly after the funeral of the Princess Charlotte, who died on November 5, the Prince went to Brighton, and stayed there eleven weeks.

In September, 1818, the Grand-Duke Michael of Russia paid a visit to the Pavilion, which in that month was lit by gas. 'The Brighton Ambulator,' by C. Wright (London and Brighton, 1818) gives a very good description of the Pavilion, and mentions that 'a statue of the Prince of Wales, by Rossi, 7 feet high, on a pedestal 11 feet high, was, in the year 1802, placed in front of the Royal Crescent. The Prince is represented as dressed in his regimental uniform, with his arm extended towards the sea. This statue cost upwards of £300. The likeness is not considered very striking, and, since it has been injured by the loss of one of the arms, it is not even deemed a pleasing ornament.'

In 1821 it was proposed to erect, on some conspicuous spot in the town, a large bronze statue of George IV., and £3,000 was very quickly subscribed for it. For this sum Chantrey agreed to produce it, and pay for the casting; but he made a bad bargain, as it cost nearly double the sum. It was unveiled on October 11, 1828.

The alterations to the Pavilion were not altogether finished; yet the Prince made shift somehow, as he was most certainly there in March, 1819, for we read in the Times of March 15:

'Royal Condescension.—We are assured that, a few nights ago, the Prince Regent, in a merry mood, determined to sup in the kitchen of the Pavilion. A scarlet cloth was thrown over the pavement, a splendid repast was provided, and the good humoured Prince sat down, with a select party of his friends, and spent a joyous hour. The whole of the servants, particularly the female part, were, of course, delighted with this mark of condescension (Brighton Herald).'

Then the pictorial satirists swooped down upon him, and curious were their different conceptions of the event. I give the one I consider best, as it is the least offensive, and the Regent is so 'royally drunk.' It is by J. R. Cruikshank, and was published on March 25. It is called 'High life below Stairs! a new Farce, as lately perform'd at the Theatre Royal, Brighton, for the edification and amusement of the Cooks, Scullions, Dishwashers, Lick trenchers, Shoe blacks, Cinder sifters, Candle snuffers, etc., etc., of that Theatre, but which was unfortunately Damn'd the first night by Common Sense!'

Others are (all in the same month), 'Royal Kitchen Stuff! or a Great Man come down to visit his most Obed^t humble Servants!!! (vide the amusements of Brighton).' The Prince has a fat cook round the neck, kissing her, and saying, 'Don't be alarmed, my dear! I only want to see how my private affairs get on below here, so show me your Kitchen Stuff.' The cook, who beats him with a ladle, says, 'La, Sir! what will the people say when they hear of your meddling so often with things beneath you? Depend upon it, you'll be call'd over the Coals, and finely roasted for this.' A maid-servant has hold of his coat-tails, and calls out, 'Baste him well! Give him Goose without Gravy!' On the floor lie two papers—one, 'Theatre Royal, Brighton, By Command of the Prince Regent, High life below Stairs, with Animal Magnetism'; the other is,

Another is, 'He stoops to Conquer, or the Royal George Sunk. This is not the Royal George that was sunk at Spithead, this was sunk at Brighton.' A third is entitled 'Beauties of Grease, or Luxuries of the Kremlin'; and a fourth is, 'Royal George in the Kitchen, or High life below Stairs.' The Prince, with a bumper in his hand, nurses a cook on his knee, to whom he remarks:

It would seem, also, that he gave a servants' ball at Christmas, 1820, at the Pavilion, for there is a satirical print, published January 24, 1821, called 'Low life above Stairs, or the Humours of the Great Baby at B...ht.n.' The King is dancing with a fat kitchenmaid, whilst Lady Conyngham looks on in rage and wonder.

In the beginning of January, 1820, the inhabitants of Brighton were allowed, for a fortnight, to visit the Pavilion and view its wonders, as far as it was then completed; on the 29th of the same month the old King died, and Florizel, then in his fifty-ninth year, succeeded him, as George IV. He came to the Pavilion at the end of February, and stayed at Brighton nearly the whole of March.

A satirical print represents him as being at the Pavilion in November of this year. It is called 'Moments of Pain.' The scene is an apartment in the Pavilion, and the surroundings are all Chinese. The King is dressed in full Chinese costume, the great 'Fum' bird being embroidered on his bosom; he is very ill, and a physician is feeling his pulse. On the floor lies a huge roll of a 'List of Addresses presented to Caroline, Queen of England,' and an attendant is trying to prevent the entrance of a messenger, who brings the news of 'The Bill turned out.' This was the Bill of pains and penalties brought into Parliament against her by Lord Liverpool on July 5, 1820; the trial began on August 19, and the Bill was abandoned on November 18.

The King spent his Christmas at Brighton, and as he was a full-fledged monarch, his ideas expanded as to his country residence, and the assembly-room of the Castle Tavern was absorbed into the building, and converted into a chapel. Then also was arranged the alterations which have made the Pavilion the extraordinary conglomeration of buildings it now is. The chapel was consecrated on January 1, 1822.

He left Brighton in April, went to Scotland in August, and returned to Brighton in October. In January, 1823, he had a terrible attack of gout, and he did not leave the Pavilion till April. Naturally, now that he was King, he had to spend much of his time in London; but he spent the Christmas of 1824 at Brighton, and stayed there till the following February. He never made but one more visit to Brighton—from January 23, 1827, to March 7—and Florizel's stupendous Folly knew him no more.