It might be difficult to trace the origins of George IV's fascination with Chinese styles, but some accounts have it that when the new-born prince was first put on public display in 1762, he was separated from onlookers by a Chinese-style screen. Whether or not such an experience could form a lasting impression, the young prince would later play by the Pagoda in Kew Gardens and become thoroughly familiar with his mother's favourite Mandarin figurines, fine porcelain and silk embroidery.
George first visited Brighton in 1783. His vision of a dreamland by the sea was to drastically change the fortunes of the small fishing village as the jovial and good-natured young man became a magnet for the fashionable and famous. During the period when the French Revolution was to shake Europe, he had found a convenient bolt-hole in the pleasant atmosphere of the warm sea breezes and far from the disapproving eye of his father, George Ⅲ.
He soon fell in love with a Catholic widow, Maria Fitzherbert. After they secretly married, in 1785, their separate homes became centres of social life for ladies and gentlemen of the day. In 1788, in conformity with the contemporary fashion for a return to the rural life-style, a farmhouse was rented so that the prince could get a taste of the pastoral life.
Unable to appreciate the pleasures of nature, the prince soon found the austere building was inappropriate for the entertainment of court life. After all, he had earned the moniker "first gentleman of Europe" not only in the eyes of his many female admirers, but also from towering figures such as Byron and Wellington, who appreciated his conversational ability and wide connoisseurship.
To make the farmhouse more suitable for such a life style he employed a number of architects to develop what was to become his wonderland through various stages spanning his life. In 1823, the year after George's ascension, the whole project was near to completion, leading the king to confess that he had "cried for joy." So what kind of a place is it?
The fascinating tour of the Pavilion starts in the Octagon Hall. A few Chinese-style chairs give us a gentle hint of the chinoiserie to come. The Corridor is fantastic, and would have been lit by skylights in the day and flickering oil lamps at night. It is a world of bamboo arranged as a 162-foot gallery; wallpaper, chairs, side-tables and mirrors--all are bamboo. Visitors were invited to sit here and chat and the royal host might approach one at any time. Then, at 6.30, he would accompany the ladies of the highest rank to dinner.
Leaving the narrow and dark corridor to enter the 45-foot high Banqueting Room, the first thing to catch one's eye is the chandelier: decorated with dragons, lotus and precious stones, it weighs one ton. Underneath, 36 places laid at the table with splendid cutlery and candelabra awaited the guests. We can see from an old menu that up to 112 dishes could be enjoyed.
A series of murals on the surrounding walls depicted "Chinese" customs--obviously by a Western hand. One "Chinese bride" among them is said to be after the likeness of Lady Conyngham, one of George's many mistresses. A large golden phoenix looks down from each corner, and the more perceptive guests would have realized that an astounding variety of serpents, dragons and fabulous birds occupy every nook and cranny.
After dinner, the guests retired to the North and South Drawing Rooms and the Saloon to play games, converse and drink liqueurs. This was the ideal opportunity to appreciate the furniture, porcelain and other ornaments. Under the blue dome of the Saloon, its clouds and faint stars giving the impression of a calm dusk, the tipsy guests would be treated to George's great wit as music drifted in from the adjacent chamber.
Passing through an ornate door they would enter the Music Room. The magical atmosphere would have been enhanced by candlelight and gasoliers hung on chains from the high ceiling. Painted with figures from the Peking Opera, these gasoliers complement the main themse of the lotus and pagoda in this room. In addition, George is said to have personally selected six tall porcelain pagodas to stand on the floor. One wonders whether they were there to suppress the huge snakes and flying dragons.
In the wee hours, the guests having departed, George would totter to the King's Bedroom, another world of bamboo and chinoiserie. Opposite the lacquered bed, the small draws of a similarly ornamented dressing table contained his various types of make up which he would use to brighten up his face for the next engagement.
Unfortunately, after George became king in 1822, his physical deterioration became ever more marked. This led to a reluctance on his behalf to appear in public or go to Brighton to enjoy his wonderland. He last visited the Pavilion for three months in 1827, three years before his death at Windsor Castle.
During his lifetime, George had been mercilessly pilloried by cartoonists and satirists. In Cruickshank's The Court at Brighton a la Chinese!!! (1816), he is caricatured as a grotesque obesity wearing a Chinese hat as he reclines on an Indian carpet. Surrounded by mistresses he orders his ambassador to "get fresh patterns of Chinese deformities to finish the decorations of ye Pavilion."
The Prince's agents were indeed busy "bribing the Hoppos and their underlings in China for conniving at the bringing out of their country sundry prohibited articles..." Countless sums were spent in this way; the bill for the Music Room alone was ￡45,125.10 (GNP was only ￡74,796,196.4s.3d in 1822). Against the background of increasing social turmoil and hardship that was being brought about by the Industrial Revolution, the criticism is hardly surprising.
One puzzle about the Pavilion is why George should have been so taken by chinoiserie when it had become a rather hackneyed style by the late eighteenth century. It has been said that reports of the court of the Ch'ien Lung Emperor that had returned with the 1794 embassy of Lord Macartney to Peking, along with the pictorial records brought back by William Alexander, must have impressed George greatly. Another theory is that "Chinese" styles reminded George of his gay youth and gave him a nostalgic escape from his disastrous second marriage and the frustrations of the elusive throne as he grew into middle age.
People have also wondered why, with such a passion for "Chinese" styles, he did not insist on a "Chinese" exterior for the building, too. In fact, an elegant Chinese design was submitted by the architect Porden, but was rejected in favour of Nash's Indian fantasy. A clue to the reasoning behind this can be found in the rejection of another of the rival architects, Repton, who was also bidding to change the Pavilion's clothes. Repton had himself rejected not only the Chinese style, on the grounds that it was "too light and trifling for the outside," but every other style, before he finally concluded: "No alternative remained but to combine from the Architecture of Hindustan such forms as might be rendered appliable to the purpose."
On going for an Indian style Repton should have been on safe ground. The ever-increasing contacts with the subcontinent were putting it in vogue. Yet the fashion-conscious George rejected Repton's scheme as a pedantic bore. After all, the "Chinese" styles created by the interior decorator, Frederick Crace, had little to do with China. What attracted George to them was their playful freedom. The essence of the whole enterprise was that it had become a luxurious game, essentially untrammelled by any convention.
Yet it was such playfulness that made the fate of the Pavilion controversial. George's successor William IV, preserved the Pavilion without much change, apart from removing the great chandelier after his wife dreamed it fell down on to banqueters below. When it came to the long reign of Queen Victoria, however, the fate of the Pavilion was left to Parliament. Reflecting the general disdain felt towards the palace at this time, summed up by a mocking advert in Punch magazine under the heading "Rubbish for Sale," the building was gutted and the contents taken to other Royal palaces. It was decided to sell the remaining shell and use the proceeds to improve Buckingham Palace.
In 1850, the people of Brighton, angry at this lack of respect, decided to buy the Pavilion and make alteration so that it could be used for civic functions, public entertainment and a museum. Attempts were made by the first director to restore the interior to its former splendour. He had seen what Victoria's workmen had removed and was given permission by the queen to select items from the boxes in which they lay and begin returning them to the Pavilion. Yet it was an uphill struggle and by the years of World War Ⅱ, after such a long period of public use, which included it being used as a hospital for Indian soldiers during World War Ⅰ, the once splendid building had hit a new low point.
In the wake of wartime austerity, however, George's fastasy began to hold a new appeal. Thanks to the hard work and enthusiastic policy of accurate restoration, assisted and encouraged by the generosity of the Royal Family, the Pavilion has gradually recovered her gay and eccentric character. The extravagance and riotous atmosphere of a century ago have disappeared into history, but visitors from the world over can once again experience the dream of this "Chinese" wonderland.
[Picture Caption]
A "Chinese bride" on an Indian sedan still resembles the Prince's mistress. (photo courtesy of Royal Pavilion)
The Prince Regent was "the first gentleman of Europe." (photo courtesy of Royal pavilion)
"Prinny" is mercilessly lampooned in a cartoon of 1816. (courtesy of Royal Pavilion)
The juxtaposition of the pipe organ and the bamboo tubes is a subtlety of the music room.
It is said that servants would lug lanterns on this bridge to add atmosphere to evenings of song and dance.
Lanterns behind windows high in the Music Room dome would enhance the magical atmosphere at balls.
The western artist could not always discriminate between Chinese and Indian.
Exaggerated dragon, phoenix and lotus motifs are the most popular to be found in the Pavilion chinoiserie.
The Banqueting Room is dominated by the one-ton central chandelier.
Nodding mandarin figurines were a favourite fashion of the 18th-century aristocracy. (photo courtesy of Royal Pavilion)
Auspicious designs and pagodas as wall decor are all model chinoiserie.
The "Chinese" landscape is still the most popular decoration for dinner sets today.
The wallpaper is a fine example of tasteful chinoiserie.
Critics have likened the Moslem-style domes to "onions".
A recent arson attack and storm damage did not prevent the Music Room being restored to its former glory.
"Prinny" is mercilessly lampooned in a cartoon of 1816. （courtesy of Royal Pavilion）
A "Chinese bride" on an Indian sedan still resembles the Prince's mistress. （photo courtesy of Royal Pavilion）
The juxtaposition of the pipe organ and the bamboo tubes is a subtlety of the music room.
It is said that servants would lug lanterns on this bridge to add atmosphere to evenings of song and dance.
Lanterns behind windows high in the Music Room dome would enhance the magical atmosphere at balls.
The western artist could not always discriminate between Chinese and Indian.
Exaggerated dragon, phoenix and lotus motifs are the most popular to be found in the Pavilion chinoiserie.
The Banqueting Room is dominated by the one-ton central chandelier.
Nodding mandarin figurines were a favourite fashion of the 18th-century aristocracy. （photo courtesy of Royal Pavilion）
Auspicious designs and pagodas as wall decor are all model chinoiserie.
The "Chinese" landscape is still the most popular decoration for dinner sets today.
The wallpaper is a fine example of tasteful chinoiserie.
Critics have likened the Moslem-style domes to "onions".
A recent arson attack and storm damage did not prevent the Music Room being restored to its former glory.
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