Loe raamatut: «Florizel's Folly», lehekülg 11

CHAPTER XIV

Another camp at Brighton – The Prince's second marriage – His debts – Parliamentary debate thereon – Prince and Princess at Brighton – 'Moral Epistle from the Pavilion at Brighton to Carlton House' – Manners at Brighton, 1796 – Description of the town

EARLY in the summer of 1794 another encampment took place at Brighton, about a mile and a half to the west of the town, as it then was. It consisted of about 7,000 men, and did not break up until the second week in November. The Prince was at the Pavilion in May, but not much afterwards. Mrs. Fitzherbert did not go there this year.

The King, in his speech in opening the session of Parliament, on December 30, 1794, said: 'I have the greatest satisfaction in announcing to you the happy event of the conclusion of a treaty for the marriage of my son, the Prince of Wales, with the Princess Caroline, daughter of the Duke of Brunswick; the constant proofs of your affection for my person and family persuade me that you will participate in the sentiments I feel on an occasion so interesting to my domestic happiness, and that you will enable me to make provision for such an establishment, as you may think suitable to the rank and dignity of the Heir apparent to the crown of these kingdoms.'

As soon as possible afterwards the pictorial satirist has (January 24, 1795) The Lover's Dream.

 
'A thousand virtues seem to lackey her,
Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt.'
Milton.
 

The Prince is represented as asleep in bed, and dreaming of his coming bride, who is descending from heaven, accompanied by Cupids, and driving away Bacchus, Fox, the Jews, Mrs. Fitzherbert and fiends, racehorses, etc.; and by the bedside are the King and Queen, the former holding a bag labelled £15,000 per annum.

Much Florizel cared for reforming his character; he only wanted to get clear of debts, and have an increased income; and, not caring how he obtained this relief, he committed bigamy on April 8, 1795, in order to obtain the longed-for relief. His debts were, according to a schedule presented to Parliament, up to April 5, as follows:

On April 27 the King sent a message to his faithful Commons respecting an establishment for the Prince and Princess of Wales, and in the last paragraph he says: 'Anxious as his Majesty must necessarily be, particularly under the present circumstances, to relieve the Prince of Wales from these difficulties, his Majesty entertains no idea of proposing to his Parliament to make any provision for this object, otherwise than by the application of a part of the income which may be settled on the Prince; but he earnestly recommends it to the House, to consider of the propriety of thus providing for the gradual discharge of these incumbrances, by appropriating and securing, for a given term, the revenues arising from the Duchy of Cornwall, together with a proportion of the Prince's other annual income; and his Majesty will be ready and desirous to concur in any provisions which the wisdom of Parliament may suggest for the purpose of establishing a regular and punctual order of payment in the Prince's future expenditure, and of guarding against the possibility of the Prince being again involved in so painful and embarrassing a situation.'

On May 14 the House went into Committee on the subject. Pitt pointed out that fifty years previously the Prince's grandfather, as Prince of Wales, had an annual income of £100,000. 'He, therefore, now proposed, that the income of his Royal Highness should be £125,000, exclusive of the Duchy of Cornwall, which was only £25,000 a year more than was enjoyed 50 years ago. This being the only vote he had to propose, he should merely state, in the nature of a notice, those regulations which were intended to be made hereafter. The preparations for the marriage would be stated at £27,000 for jewels and plate; and £25,000 for finishing Carlton House. The jointure of the Princess of Wales, he proposed to be £50,000 a year, being no more than had been granted on a similar occasion.'

The addition to the Prince's income was carried by 241 to 100.

In the course of the debate Pitt proposed that the revenues of the Duchy of Cornwall and part of the income of £125,000 should be applied to the payment of the interest of the debts, and to the gradual discharge of the principal; that the sum so taken should be vested in the hands of Commissioners. From the income of £125,000 a year he should propose that £25,000 should be deducted annually for the payment of the debts at 4 per cent., and that the revenues of the Duchy of Cornwall should be appropriated as a sinking fund, at compound interest, to discharge the principal of the debts, which they would do in twenty-seven years.

Finally, by an Act which received the royal assent on June 27, 1795 (35 Geo. III., c. 129), £60,000 per annum was to be set apart and vested with Commissioners from the Prince's income, as well as £13,000 per annum from the Duchy of Cornwall, to pay the Prince's debts, a proceeding which found small favour in Florizel's sight.

Of the wretched marriage nothing need be said. Public appearances were kept up until the birth of the Princess Charlotte, and the Prince and his consort visited Brighton together, as we see from the following extracts from the Sussex Weekly Advertiser:

June 22, 1795. – 'Their Royal Highnesses the Prince and Princess of Wales arrived at Brighton between one and two o'clock on Thursday morning last. They alighted at the house of Mr. Hamilton, on the Steine, which is to be made the Royal residence, till the alterations that are going forward at the Pavilion, can be completed.

'In the evening the whole town was illuminated, in honour of their Royal Highnesses' arrival; but the effect of the illumination was greatly lessened by the wetness of the night, as it prevented the lamps with which the Castle, the Libraries, and other houses were decorated, from burning.

'The Prince, we are informed, perambulated the town, in his great coat, to view the different devices.

'Though the untowardness of the weather has, hitherto, obscured the beauties of Brighton from the Princess of Wales, it has had no effect whatever on her Royal Highness's spirits; on the contrary, her cheerfulness and pleasantry strongly bespeak her approbation of the place.

'The Prince, about noon yesterday, set off for town, but we understand his Royal Highness signified his intention of returning to Brighton some time in the course of this day.

'On Wednesday morning, should the weather prove favourable, the Prince and Princess of Wales intend visiting the Camp, when the whole line will be drawn up, and fire a Royal salute, on the occasion. After which, there will be a grand field day.'

June 29. – 'The Prince and Princess of Wales did not visit the Camp, last Wednesday, as was expected, owing to the absence of his Royal Highness, who, on that day, went to town, in order to attend the Privy Council. The whole line was, nevertheless, out, and had a field day.

'On Saturday morning, however, their Royal Highnesses honoured the Camp with their promised visit, when the whole line was drawn up in readiness to receive them; after which, the troops marched to Goldstone Bottom, where they had a very grand field day, and fired a Royal salute, on the occasion.

'We are glad to hear, from the best authority, that the air of Brighton proves extremely agreeable to the above illustrious Princess. Since her arrival at that place, her Royal Highness has enjoyed an excellent flow of spirits, and has frequently been heard to declare she had never before experienced so good an appetite. Her Royal Highness has signified her intention of continuing at Brighton, the whole of the summer.'

July 6. – 'The Prince and Princess of Wales removed from Mr. Hamilton's house, on the Steine, to the Royal Pavilion, on Thursday last.'

They stopped at Brighton till November, and Queen Caroline never again revisited it, as, after the birth of the Princess Charlotte (January 7, 1796), the royal couple separated for good.

The Prince went to Brighton for the season on July 28, 1796, and the Pavilion, as it then was, is thus described in a contemporary pamphlet:⁷⁴

'The Pavilion is built principally of wood; it is a nondescript monster in building, and appears like a mad house, or a house run mad, as it has neither beginning, middle, nor end; yet, to acquire this design, a miserable bricklayer was despatched to Italy, to gather something equal to the required magnificence, and actually charged two thousand guineas for his expenses. – There are four pillars in scagliola, in a sort of oven, where the Prince dines; and, when the fire is lighted, the room is so hot, that the parties are nearly baked and incrusted: the ground on which it is erected was given to the Prince by the town, for which he allows them fifty pounds yearly, to purchase grog and tobacco; and has so far mended their ways, as to make a common sewer to hold the current filth of the parish.'

The same pamphlet contains 'A Moral Epistle from the Pavilion at Brighton to Carlton House, London,' which gives an account of the style of company kept there:

 
'When he first nestled here, he was handsome and thin,
No razor had then mown his stubbleless chin:
He was sportive and careless, bland, upright and young,
And I smiled on his feats when he said, or he sung:
Then youth bore its own pardon, while stumbling o'er ill,
As the passions o'erthrew what was meant by the will.
 

*****

 
I have seen him inwove with a pestilent crew,
Who, nine tenths came undone, and the rest to undo!
When those caitiffs came thund'ring in impudent state,
And drew up their tandems and gigs at my gate,
Full of wrath at their daring, I rav'd and I swore,
Then I let in an Eddy that slamm'd to the door:
But, alas! it avail'd not – 'twas open'd again,
And the P – rose, and welcom'd the toad eating train!
He, urbane, smil'd on all, where 'twas sin to look sad,
As God's light aids, in common, the good and the bad.
I tore off Folly's cloak, to exhibit the wrong;
How I toil'd to advise, but was stunn'd with a song:
I made signs on my plaster to rally them all,
But no Daniel was there to decipher the wall. —
Ah! I know his large heart, and beneficent plan;
Though he's run from the course, yet HE FEELS LIKE A MAN:
Though he dissipates seeds of an undeserv'd sorrow,
And, gaily, puts off half his ills till the morrow,
His radical nobleness knows no decay;
He will act, but not cant; – he'll relieve ere he'll pray:
As Charity's retinue own, while embrac'd,
In his gift he gives twice, 'tis a deed so well grac'd.
When their mirth grew to madness, and jests met the ear,
Which Philosophy scorns, and no maiden should hear,
Convuls'd with disdain, I soon alter'd their note,
For I shut up the principal valve of my throat;
Till the smoke, in vast volumes, pour'd into the room,
And enwrapp'd the loud mob in a horrible gloom,
More fœtid than Vulcan inhal'd with his breath;
More thick than e'er pass'd o'er the threshold of Death;
More choking than Cyclops drank in at their forge;
More rank than the reptile of Thebes could disgorge:
As they gasp'd, it rush'd down their intestines, and clogg'd 'em,
And from pharynx to rectum begrim'd and befogg'd 'em:
While, hoarsely, they growl'd at the house, and the smother,
Though, by knowing the cause, they had curs'd one another.
'Mid their baneful carousals, I've fum'd and I've fretted,
Till from kitchen to garret, I've croak'd, and I've sweated;
By pressure, I made my joints crack – I can't bawl —
And drops, drawn from my heart, ran from every wall:
But, his H – s, not knowing my woes, or displeasure,
Renew'd the broad catch, and refill'd every measure;
While the rascals around him, revil'd the damp mansion,
And my marrow, scorch'd up by the fire's expansion:
Which so heated my fibres and bones – I mean wood —
That a putrescent fever polluted my blood;
Which settled behind the bed's head of the P – e,
And I've not had my health, or my ease, ever since;
Yet I'm sure he would grieve, his politeness is such,
Had he known that a lady had suffered so much.
Thus they swill'd and re-swill'd, and repeated their boozings,
Till their shirts became dy'd with purpureal oozings.
When the taster sought wine of a primary sort,
I have cough'd 'neath the bin, and shook all the old port,
Till 'twas muddy as Will B – ck's brains – yet each varlet
Said 'twas as bright as a ruby, and toasting some harlot,
Would then smack his lips, in despite of my labour!
Oh, ye Gods! how I wish'd for a fist and a sabre,
To cut down the hiccupping roist'rers with glee,
That is, if their heads could be injur'd by me.
When Weltje has cook'd for the half famish'd group,
How oft have I belch'd pecks of soot in his soup:
Yet e'en that could not drive them from board, or from bed,
Though 'twas render'd as black as an Ethiop's head:
When I've made it as foul as a Scot's ragged tartan,
The rogues gulp'd it down, and all swore it was Spartan.
When they've sat near the fire, in knee squeezing rows,
I have spit out a coal, and demolished their hose:
All my grates have breath'd sulphur to stifle their powers;
I'd a watch at my side to beat minutes and hours:
When I've seen a Blight glide 'twixt the earth and the skies,
I've coax'd in the demon, and ruin'd their eyes:
I've edg'd down a poker on legs swell'd with gout,
Till the miscreant has roar'd like swine stuck in the snout;
When Lord – from my windows was making a beck,
I have hurl'd down my sashes, and wounded his neck;
Though my rage could but bruise him black, yellow and blue,
'Twas a hint that might show what the nation should do:
But each knave all the arts of my anger withstood,
For the leeches will suck while the body has blood.
I'd have prophecied much, had I Cerberus' three tongues;
I would fulminate oaths, but, alas! I've no lungs.
When they thought 'twas an earthquake that palsied my walls,
It was I who was shudd'ring to witness their brawls.
There's no office so dirty but they would fulfil;
There's no sense of debasement could alter their will:
When the munching of immature codlings might gripe him,
They would tear out the leaves of the Psalter to wipe him.
Yet these summer fed vermin will fly him, if e'er
His wintery fortunes should leave his trunk bare;
Then he'll know that but virtue can keep the soul great,
As they'd make their past meanness the cause of their hate!
I have dropp'd lumps of lime in their glasses while drinking;
I've made thieves in the candle to move him to thinking;
I have clatter'd my casements and chairs to confound 'em;
I have let in the dews and the blast all around 'em;
I have elbow'd my timbers 'gainst many a head;
I have stirr'd up the sewers to stink 'em to bed:
Yet this mass of antipathy marr'd my own liver,
And my tears fill'd the gutter like Egypt's deep river.
– My eyes, my dear Coz, are exhausted with crying;
So I'll give o'er at present – I'm yours till I'm dying.
 

'Pavilion.'

We learn what the society at Brighton was like at this time by the following excerpt from the Times of July 13, 1796:

'Brighton. – The Prince and Princess of Wales's arrival has been talked of much in London; but, as yet, we have no signs of it here. The Duke and Duchess of Marlborough pass their time in a very retired manner indeed. His Grace walked for some time yesterday evening upon the Steyne; the company consisted chiefly of opulent Jews, needy fortune hunters, broken down Cyprians, fishermen's daughters, and several fat city dowdies, from the environs of Norton Folgate. Her Grace commands the play on Friday evening, which will be her first appearance in public, here, for this season. The Officers of the Blues are the great dashers of the place; they associate with no one but their own Corps. The most of them keep their blood horses, their curricles, and their girls. At one o'clock they appear on the parade, to hear the word of command given to the Subaltern Guard: afterwards, they toss off their goes of brandy, dine about five, and come about eight to the Theatre. Vivent L'Amour et Bacchus.'

The latter part of this quotation seems to be borne out by the first of 'Twelve Golden Rules for young Gentlemen of Distinction, to be observed at Brighton for the year 1796':

'Young and inexperienced officers must confederate with several of their mess, as young as themselves, and reel into the theatre, during the performance, in a state of assumed intoxication, and be sure to disturb the audience in the most important part of the drama, by taking liberties with any of those Cyprian nymphs who harbour in the green boxes, and are, unhappily, devoted to insult: by this manœuvre, if dexterously managed, they will gain three enormous points; – the first is, the credit of having consumed more wine than their income will allow; the second is, a disposition for unlimited intrigue; and the third is, an opportunity of displaying their contempt for good manners, without any hazard of personal danger. – This behaviour will be totally out of character if any of the parties have seen service, or arrived at the years of discretion.

'N.B. – All descendants, or members of the tribes of Israel, must neither mention lottery tickets, omnium, bonus, scrip, navy, nor exchequer bills; they must pay their tradesmen on Saturdays, laugh at the paschal, eat swine, and shave every day.'

Let us look at Brighton as shown us by a contemporary publication⁷⁵:

'There are two taverns, namely, the Castle, and the Old Ship, where the richer visitors resort; and, at each of these houses, a weekly assembly is held, where a master of the ceremonies attends, to arrange the parties, not according to the scale of morality, but that of aristocracy. There is a ball every Monday at the Castle, and, on Thursdays, at the Old Ship; every subscriber pays three shillings and sixpence, and every non-subscriber, five shillings; for which they are entitled to a beverage which they call tea and coffee. – The masters of the respective inns receive the profits, except on those nights appointed for the benefit of the Master of the Ceremonies; to whom, all who wish to be arranged as people of distinction, subscribe one guinea – and who would not purchase distinction at so cheap a rate! – Independently of this vain douceur, they must pay most liberally for their tickets! The card assemblies are on Wednesdays and Fridays. – There is a hotel, which was intended for a country Hummums, or grand dormitory; but, in my weak opinion, the establishment is somewhat inefficient, unless it can be supposed that the tumultuous equipment of stage coaches, at the dawn of day, is contributory to the purposes of rest. – There is a theatre, commodious, and, generally, well directed; the nights of performance are Tuesdays and Wednesdays, Fridays and Saturdays. – At the lower end of North Street is a sort of Birmingham Vauxhall, called the Promenade Grove; it is a small inclosure of a paddock, tormented from its native simplicity, befringed with a few gawky poplars, and decorated with flowers, bowers, zigzag alleys, a ditch, and a wooden box for the minstrels. – The coast is like the greater part of its visitors, bold, saucy, intrusive, and dangerous. – The bathing machines, even for the ladies, have no awning, or covering, as at Weymouth, Margate, and Scarborough; consequently, they are all severely inspected by the aid of telescopes, not only as they confusedly ascend from the sea, but as they kick and sprawl and flounder about its muddy margin, like so many mad Naiads in flannel smocks; – the shore is so disastrously imperfect, that those beginners who paddle in, are injured by the shocking repulsion of the juices to the brain; and, of those who are enabled to plunge in, and swim beyond the surge, it is somewhat less than an even bet, that many never return – in truth, the loss of lives here, every season, would make any society miserable, who were not congregating in the mart of noisy folly. – There is a Subscription House, or Temple of Fortune, on the Steyne, where the minor part of our blessed nobility are accustomed to reduce their characters and their estates in the same period; – the signal for admission is habeo, – for rejection, debeo. – There are lodgings of all descriptions and fitness, from twenty pounds per week, on the Cliffs, to half a crown per night in a stable – the keepers of the lodging houses, like the keepers of madhouses, having but one common point in view – to bleed the parties sufficiently. – There are carriages and caravans of all shapes and dimensions, from a waggon to a fish cart; in which you may move like a king, a criminal, or a crab, that is, forwards, backwards, or laterally. – There are two libraries on the Steyne, replete with every flimsy species of novels, involving the prodigious intrigues of an imaginary society; this kind of recreation is termed light reading; perhaps, from the certain effect it has upon the brains of my young country women, of making them light headed! – There is a parish church, where the canaille go to pray; but, as this is on a hill, and the gentry found their Sabbath visit to the Almighty very troublesome, the amiable and accommodating master priest has consigned the care of his common parish mutton to his journeyman, the curate, and has kindly raised a Chapel Royal for the lambs of fashion, where a certain sum is paid for every seat; and this, it must be admitted, is as it should be; as a well bred Deity will, assuredly, be more attentive to a reclining Duchess, parrying the assaults of the devil, behind her fan, than the vulgar piety of a plebeian on his knees. – There were books open in the circulating libraries, where you were requested to contribute your mite of charity to the support of the rector, as his income is somewhat less than seven hundred pounds a year; the last incumbent died worth thirty thousand pounds.'