East Sussex (6) Brighton and the Royal Pavilion

This is a new post, though it covers the events of the 25th of February 2025
It will be moved to its appropriate chronological position soon

The Brighton Royal Pavilion - the Extravagence of a Man with More Money than Sense?

Visits in Days Gone By

East Sussex

Brighton & Hove

During our stays with my sister Erica and her husband Peter in East Sussex, they have driven us all over the county in search of wondrous sights, but we have yet to properly visit the City of Brighton and Hove, home to some 280,000 people - over half the county’s population. Last year we went to Rottingdean (it is much nicer than it sounds!) politically within the city boundary, but in fact an outlying village. This seemed a good year to take on the urban centre, and its main attraction, the Brighton Royal Pavilion.

The County of East Sussex
Brighton and Hove are shown as dots, but in reality the City of Brighton and Hove occupies the whole south west corner of the county, encompassing Portslade, Patcham and Rottingdean

I had visited Brighton once before, in 1962. I was an 11-year-old Boy Scout, enjoying our troop’s annual summer camp at Small Dole, a village in the South Downs - the rolling hills north of Brighton, now a National Park. On one day our troop was transported into the city and let loose in groups of four or five with the strict instruction that each group must stick together. It was a little scary, but probably good for us to be left alone in a strange city with enough money in our pockets to buy lunch and fritter away the rest, as boys do, but not enough to do anything silly. We could not afford to visit the Royal Pavilion, but I doubt anyone cared, few if any of us had heard of it, we wanted to go to the pier and its amusement arcades.

Brighton Pier

I am sure we had a full day, but my memories are limited to eating sausages and baked beans for lunch and visiting the rifle range under the pier. Despite carefully aligning the rifle’s front sight with the bull’s eye, I not only missed the bull, but my five shots left no discernible mark anywhere on the target. Others were more successful, obviously there was something wrong with my rifle. I had another go, choosing a different weapon – and it happened again.

A couple of years later I discovered a rifle also has a rear sight which must be aligned with the front sight and target. It was blindingly obvious to the mature and intelligent 13-year-old I mistook myself for, but completely beyond the idiotic 11-year-old I had so recently been.

Getting to the Royal Pavilion

The obvious way to complete the 24-mile journey from Peter and Erica’s home in Heathfield is to drive, but then you must find a parking space. Even in February, it is easier to drive to Lewes, use the ample parking at Lewes station and take the train into Brighton.

The service is frequent, the train takes about 15 minutes and ours was on time as the sign pictured below suggests.

Lewes station

Once at Brighton it is a ten-minute walk to the Royal Pavilion....

From Brighton station to the Royal Pavilion

...but before we enter, here is a brief History of Brighton, which explains why the pavilion is there.

Brighton 1086-1823

Brighton features in the Domesday Book as Brighthelmstone. In 1086 it was a small fishing village dependent on fishing and farming, and so it remained for almost 700 years.

In the mid-1700s Dr Richard Russell, a Lewes based physician and medical writer started advocating sea water for bathing in and for drinking. It would, he believed, purify the blood, improve skin conditions and alleviate ‘glandular obstructions.’ His major work, a ‘Dissertation on the Use of Sea Water in the Diseases of the Gland’ (published in 1750) caused a stir. He moved his practice to Brighton and soon wealthy people were making the journey from London to ‘take the cure.’

Brighton’s rise as a fashionable seaside resort was boosted by a visit of the Prince of Wales (later the Prince Regent, later still King George IV) in 1783. In 1786 he leased a farmhouse here and transformed it into a neo-classical villa. After becoming Prince Regent for his debilitated father in 1811, he commissioned John Nash to redesign the building in an elaborate Indo-Saracenic style. Built 1815-23, it is the Royal Pavilion we see today.

Royal Pavilion, Brighton

Inside the Royal Pavilion

The first surprise was that it was so small, but then it is a pavilion, not a palace – and it is considerably bigger than my house.

The Pavilion is often described as ‘Indo-Saracenic,’ but the architect John Nash died in 1835, while the Indo-Saracenic blend of Western and Indian styles dates from the mid-19th. It remained popular with both the colonial rulers, and their local surrogates well into the 20th century.

The early 19th century was a period of fascination with the east, mainly among people, like the Prince Regent, who had never been there. Neither had John Nash but he was one of the foremost architects of his age, so with a little research he was quite capable of knocking up a fake Moghul Palace more than good enough to fool George.

For genuine Indo-Saracenic buildings see my 2016 posts Thiruvananthapuram (Formerly Trivandrum) for traditional Indian (in this case Keralan) architecture and Robert Chisholm’s Indo-Saracenic Napier Museum (1880) and Bangalore to Mysore for the Maharajah of Mysore’s enormous Henry Irwin designed palace (1912).

Entrance Hall

The interior design was mostly by Frederick Crace, and he filled the entrance hall with chinoiserie. Well, it is all Eastern so why not?

Chinoiserie in the Entrance Hall, Royal Pavilion, Brighton

In the 19th century, even royalty expected to be cold in winter, a fireplace could never warm their large high-ceilinged rooms, so they dressed accordingly. We do not, and the result is electric radiators compromising the design work.

There is something odd emerging from behind the clock, Brighton Royal Pavilion

The Banqueting Room

Beyond the Long Gallery we entered the Banqueting Room. The table settings are lavish; the walls are hung with red silk..

Banqueting Room, Brighton Royal Pavilion

…and covered in hand painted Chinese wallpaper.

Banqueting Room, Brighton Royal Pavilion

Above it all a colossal chandelier with a gilded dragon hangs below a domed ceiling.

Gilded dragon chandelier, Banqueting Room, Brighton Royal Pavilion

And if you cannot quite make out the dragon, take a closer look.

The Gilded Dragon

The Kitchen

Down a corridor that only the servants ever saw….

Servants corridor

…is a state-of-the-art Georgian kitchen with mechanical roasting spits,….

Kitchen, with mechanical roasting spits

… high ceilings for ventilation, and cleverly hidden skylights.

More of the kitchen

In here they produced 36 course dinners – and to think I struggle with a five-course tasting menu.

Menu for the visit of Grand Duke Nicholas of Russia 18/01/1817
Chef Antonin Carême

No one is expected to eat, or even taste, every course. The menu above starts with eight soups, but I have no idea how this sort of dining was managed. Perhaps diners opted for a particular soup in advance, or eight tureens were wheeled round on a big trolley and the choices were made as it passed, or maybe a footman stood at the end of the room and shout ‘Hands up for the curried chicken soup.’ None of these sound likely, and after the soup there are ‘eight Removes of fish’ and then ’40 Entrées around the fish’ and then and then and then….. Interesting to note, that although fascination with the east aligned more with a mythical than real east, very real chicken curry had already made its way west.

Music Room

With nine lotus-shaped chandeliers and the upper windows back-lit, the music room was designed to be seen at night.

Chandeliers and back-lit windows

It was a space for performance, Frederick Crace had thought about the acoustics as well as the light,…

A space for performance

… and for dancing.

A ball in the 1820s

The pillars were exotic…

This pillar is exotic

… sometimes bordering on ’strange…

And this one is weird

… and the walls were lined with chinoiserie. In its time the room was the height of elegance and opulence. But that was then, now they even let the peasants in.

The peasants, L to R:  Me, Lynne, Erica, Peter

Royal Bedrooms

Upstairs are the royal bedrooms, which are, perhaps, less idiosyncratic in design..

A royal bed

… and include some fine furniture. The inlays are, presumably, ivory, which we would frown at now, but this is of its time. Is it Chinese or Japanese?

I find this sort of inlaid furniture strangely pleasing

There is also this strange portrait of the prince.

A strange portrait of George IV

There is nothing obviously odd about this portrait, except that it is not a painting, it is a mosaic. Weighing close to half a tonne, it consists of half a million pieces of opaque coloured glass. As the sign underneath says it is a highly skilled example of the use of a glass mosaic to imitate paint. It is, indeed, but to what purpose?

Some Thoughts

We are nearly at the end of this tour, so it is time for a little reflection.

The Royal Pavilion is an extremely odd place. The Prince Regent, as he was then, asked for a building in Indian style on the outside, but he filled the inside with much chinoiserie, much else to suit the standard taste of aristocratic Europeans of the day, and some oddities like the palm tree pillar. The only hint of India inside is a reference to chicken Curry soup on a menu. George was a dilettante, a man who snatched at fashionable ideas, like, China, India and The East, but had little idea or interest in what they really meant. Could he really be as lightweight and spendthrift as Hugh Laurie’s portrayal of him in Blackadder?

Throwing vast sums of money at a building he never really understood, is evidence that he was. On the other hand, he was wise enough to employ the best people, like John Nash and Frederick Crace. He managed the project and got it done, and it was done with such panache it is hard not to admire it. He was extravagant, but much of the money was spent employing Brighton’s artisans and labourers.

The Royal Pavilion is beautiful, dire and quirky all at the same time. It might be a curate’s egg of a building, but it is a Fabergé Curate’s Egg.

The Royal Pavilion after George IV

George did not have long to enjoy his creation as he died in 1830, aged 68. He was succeeded by his brother, William IV, who also used the Pavilion, but with less enthusiasm, He died in 1837.

Queen Victoria found it cramped, and its location meant a lack of privacy. She commissioned the building of Osbourne House on the Isle of Wight as her seaside retreat. In 1850 she sold the Royal Pavilion to the town of Brighton.

The tour finishes in the Salon. In 1914 the Salon became a hospital for wounded Indian soldiers. 140,000 men of the British Indian Army were deployed on the Western Front. Relatively few of the many thousands of wounded were fortunate enough to be treated here. It may be an Indian building externally, but this was the only time the interior saw a major Indian presence.

The Salon as a military hospital in WW1

The building now belongs to the City of Brighton and Hove; it has been returned to its regency glory and is one of the most visited attractions on the south coast.

Our Visit Grinds to a Stop

We left the Pavilion, had a light lunch, photographed the pier (see the start of this post) and walked through some of Brighton's more interesting streets. Then we headed for the Museum.

Is this one of Brighton's more interesting streets?

It is sadly true that we are older than we used to be. It is an excellent museum with a varied collection of artefacts and an art gallery, but the history section was still greeting the arrival of the Romans when we admitted we had run out of steam. We walked wearily to the station and went back to Heathfield.

But to complete the post:

History of Brighton after George IV

Queen Victoria may have forsaken Brighton for the Isle of Wight, but Brighton’s growth continued unabated. The arrival of the railway in 1841 gave a direct link to London. Once the reserve of the upper classes, Brighton welcomed increasing numbers of ordinary Londoners while retaining its wealthy clientele. By 1900, with two piers and a variety of entertainment venues, Brighton catered for visitors of all classes.

Brighton continued evolving throughout the 20th century, though how it has remained a leading seaside resort since 1850 despite the handicap of a pebble beach is a mystery. Brighton was the destination of choice for the ‘dirty weekend’ and the place men resorted to when divorce laws required proof of adultery.  

More recently, while most south coast resorts have attracted ever more elderly residents, (Eastbourne is not the only one to be referred to as ‘God’s Waiting Room,’) Brighton has welcomed language students by the thousand, attracted the highest proportion of LGBT+ residents in the UK (2021 census) and developed a vibrant cultural hub. In 2010 the Brighton Pavilion Parliamentary Constituency elected the first (and until 2024, only) Green Party MP in the UK Parliament.

East Sussex

Part 1:Bodiam and Rye (2020)
Part 2:Bateman's, Firle Beacon and the Long Man of Wilmington (2021)
Part 3: Battle and Hastings (2021)
Part 4: Rottingdean and The Devil's Dyke (2024)
Part 5: Lewes and Charleston (2024) (coming soon)
Part 6: Brighton and the Royal Pavilion (2025)
Part 7: Winnie-The-Pooh and Standen (2025)

East Sussex (7) Winnie-The-Pooh and Standen

This is a new post, though it covers the events of the 26th of February 2025
It will be moved to its appropriate chronological position soon

Ashdown Forest, Home of the Great Bear, and a 19th Century Country House

A Brief Orientation

East Sussex

After yesterday’s visit to Brighton, our stay with my sister Erica and husband Peter, who live in Heathfield in East Sussex, continued with a visit to the Ashdown Forest. The forest, 8 km north-west of Crowborough, was the home of Winnie-The-Pooh. From there we went to Standen, a National Trust property west of Forest Row and just within the boundary of East Sussex.

The County of East Sussex
Ashdown is 5km NW of Crowborough (a third of the way to East Grinstead). Standen is west of Forest Row, just inside the county boundary

Ashdown Forest

AA Milne, Winnie-The-Pooh and Christopher Robin

AA Milne in 1922
Photo:Emil Otto Hoppé (Pub Dom)

In 1925, AA Milne was a well-established playwright and author of humorous articles when he bought Cotchford Farm in East Sussex. It was intended as a weekend and holiday cottage for Milne, his wife and their only child, five-year-old Christopher Robin. What he originally planned to write in these rural surroundings is unknown, but the birth of his son had already inspired When we were Very Young, a book of poems for children. In 1926 he published Winnie-The-Pooh, ten stories about his son, his son’s bear and their friends. The tales were set near Cotchford in the 500 Acre Wood, part of the Ashdown Forest, renamed the Hundred Aker Wood in the book. Another book of poems, Now we are Six, marked Christopher Robin reaching that landmark age and finally, in 1928, there were ten more stories collected as The House at Pooh Corner. The final story ends poignantly with Christopher Robin saying 'goodbye' before leaving the wood.

The Hundred Aker Wood

In reality he put away his soft toys and went to boarding school. Sending nine-year-old children away to school is cruel and is far less common now that it was in Milne’s day, but the Milne family, like most of their class, had been doing this for generations. His father's books were well known by his schoolmates, making Milne a target for relentless bullying. He came to resent Christopher Robin and, by extension, his father. They were later reconciled, and he found his place in life as Chris Milne, Dartmouth bookseller.

The Pooh books and the two books of poems rather swallowed AA Milne's career. They were extraordinarily successful and today are his only works still in print – which is, I suppose, four more than most writers of his generation.

I knew nothing of this darker side when the Pooh books were bought for me in 1955. They are first editions - though from the 46th and 35th reprints of the two books, so hardly valuable (at least in a monetary sense.) They are tatty, because they were much loved and they were frequently read to me and then by me and then to and by my sister. They started my relationship with The Great Bear (as I like to think of him) which has lasted 70 years.

Towards an Enchanted Place

Peter drove us to the Ashdown Forest and stopped in the Pooh Car Park. From there an unlikely looking group of volunteers for enchantment made their way down the path.

Up for enchantment? L to R Me, my sister Erica, her husband Peter

The grey February day with passing showers, was not promising but then somebody spotted Piglet’s House.

Piglet's House

Is this, though the real Piglet’s House? The only information we have comes from the illustrations (he called them decorations) of EH Shephard, who was there at the time – unlike the outrageous fakers of the Disney Corporation. He includes a broken sign saying ‘Trespassers Will’, because Piglet’s grandfather had been called Trespassers William, but here the sign has been mended, changed shape and hung above the door. I have my doubts.

Piglet's House

Here is another photo of Piglet’s House with my sister for scale. She makes it look ‘deceptively spacious’, to quote every estate agent who has ever lived.

Erica visits piglet

A little further on is Owl’s House…

Owl's House

… which you might like to compare with the original.

Owl's Real House - rather more accessible

I had my doubts, but when you see random pots of Hunny in the trees and know the Great Bear would never be so careless, these doubts begin to crystallise (just like Hunny).

Hunny left in trees

Then, with the rain spattering down, we reached the stream at the bottom of the hill, turned right, and there was the Pooh Sticks bridge.

Pooh Sticks Bridge

I was, of course, being disingenuous earlier, EH Shepard’s illustrations/decorations do not inform us about Piglet’s house, they define the dwellings of Piglet, Owl and the others. When the reality we see in the trees differs from the art, then it is the reality that is wrong – but they were constructed by people who cared enough to do it, and not for financial gain. They should be applauded.

But the Pooh Sticks bridge introduces another form of reality. The bridge we see today is the same bridge that stood here 100 years ago – give or take the repairs and renovations required to keep a wooden bridge over a muddy stream in good condition for a century. Shepard did not need to imagine the bridge, but did have to imagine a bear, a piglet, a baby kangaroo and a rabbit who have just dropped sticks into the stream.

Pooh and Rabbit play Pooh Sticks

Getting a couple of pensioners to imitate them is easy. Shepard, I notice, gave more interesting expressions to Pooh and Rabbit with a few strokes of a pen, than we managed with our actual faces.

Less adept players of the game

During Pooh and Rabbit’s game, Looking very calm very dignified, with his legs in the air, came Eeyore from beneath the bridge.

Eeyore emerges from under the Pooh Sticks bridge

“It's Eeyore!” cried Roo, terribly excited.

“Is that so?” said Eeyore, getting caught up by a little eddy and turning slowly round three times. “I wondered.”

I include that snippet of Eeyore being delightfully Eeyore-ish, because when it was read to me in nineteen fiftysomething I learned a new word. Eddy was, I thought, a grand and exciting word and I treasured it. It also allowed me to show my favourite illustration of Eeyore.

While we were at the bridge two young people, a man and a woman in their early 20s, came down the path towards us and politely inquired the way to Pooh’s house. We pointed them in the right direction. It is ridiculous to imagine you know anything about people you have met for no more than a minute, but… they gave the impression of being foreign students cast up on this dank and misty island (not everyday, but certainly this day) in a quest for knowledge. They spoke good English, but it was not their first language. Indeed, they probably did not share a first language, but they had come together to this place to search out the origins of Winnie-The-Pooh. The Great Bear embraces the world.

Pooh’s house is over the bridge and further down the path. We passed the students (or not-students) making the return journey.

Pooh's House

I will forgive the muddiness of the scene; this is February while the Hundred Aker wood enjoyed the sunshine of perpetual summer. I could be picky about some positionings and spellings, but EH Shepard has drawn Pooh sitting outside on a comfy log, implying the door opens inwards, which is somewhat impractical if you live in a tree trunk.

Pooh's House

The Wonder that is Pooh

As the final story in Winnie-The-Pooh (the first of the two books) comes to its end

Pooh and Piglet walked home thoughtfully together in the golden evening, and for a long time they were silent.

“When you wake up in the morning, Pooh,” said Piglet at last, “What's the first thing you say to yourself?”

“What's for breakfast?” said Pooh. “What do you say, Piglet?”

“I say, I wonder what's going to happen exciting today?” said Piglet.

Pooh is my sort of bear. Excitement and adventures are all well and good, but first things first.

Milne’s writing is crisp and simple, the words jogging along, one after another. There is plenty of humour directed at children, Pooh attacked by bees while dangling from a balloon, or trapped in rabbits burrow by his ever-increasing girth, but even the slapstick is elegantly restrained. The characters are fully formed and three-dimensional. When Pooh and Piglet plan their heffalump trap they argue about the best bait for catching heffalumps. Pooh, naturally, says honey, Piglet acorns. As they argue Piglet realises that if he wins, he will have to provide the acorns, and if Pooh wins, he must provide the honey. Piglet quickly switches sides. As he does so Pooh realises the same thing, but too late, he has been caught out. He takes it on the chin, as a gentleman should. The characters have frailties, Piglet’s occasional selfishness, Owl’s permanent self-importance, Eeyore’s moroseness, but malice is unknown in the Hundred Aker Wood.

EH Shepard in 1932
Howard Coster (Fair Use)

Milne’s voice contains a smile that is sardonic, yet very gentle; a knowing nod to the adults over the heads of the children. The writing is very British, understated and still feels surprisingly modern, Nothing in the two books seems dated – except the way Christopher Robin dresses, and that looked odd in 1956. In the final story, when Christopher Robin leaves the wood, the animals gather to say goodbye and send him off with ‘a rissolution.’ They all want to express their feelings, as does Christopher Robin but they cannot trust their emotions. One after another, they clear their throats to speak but say nothing, and one by one all, except Pooh, drift away. And I shall drift away too (without deigning to deal with the blasphemies of the Disney Corporation) but I must make a final mention of illustrator Ernest Howard Shepard who unfailingly places the cherry in just the right spot on Milne's artfully baked cake.

Standen House

Leaving Ashdown Forest we headed for Standen House, a National Trust property some 20 minutes to the west, and like the Forest, situated in the High Weald Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty. Lunchtime had arrived so we visited the café in search of a little smackerel, as Pooh would have said.

Philip Webb 1873
Charles Fairfax Murray (Pub Dom)

In 1890, wealthy solicitor James Beale and his wife Margaret bought a 12-acre estate, consisting of three farms. One of them, Standen farm, gave its name to their new country house. Standen was a weekend retreat for themselves and for (or from?) their seven children. Later it became their retirement home.

The house was designed by Philip Webb, a founder of the Arts and Crafts movement, and built between 1891 and 1893. He integrated the medieval farm building into the vernacular design using local sandstone, local bricks, tile-hanging, pebble-dash and timber all chosen to harmonize with the landscape. My photo shows only one wing - there is more piled on top to the left. Perhaps it is just me, but I am unconvinced the building harmonises with itself, never mind the landscape.

Standen

Margaret Beale took charge of the interior. She commissioned wallpapers, carpets, textiles and furniture mostly from William Morris & Co, all reflecting the ideals of the Arts and Crafts movement.

Original William Morris wallpaper, Standen

Philip Webb built in modern comforts, like central heating and off-grid electricity provided by a Donkey Engine. The house certainly looks more comfortable than most older National Trust properties. Visitors see the house dressed for a weekend stay in 1925 and the parlour looks comfortable enough, in an early 20th century way,

The parlour, Standen

The conservatory looks a little cluttered…

The conservatory, Standen

…but I would like a billiards room like this.

Billiards Room, Standen

The Larkspur bedroom was re-papered in 1937 with William Morris Larkspur wallpaper. It also featured a built-in wardrobe, uncommon for the time, with an external mirror, designed for the Beales’ eldest daughter Amy.

The Larkspur Room

James Beale used to sometimes see clients at Standen. He had an office with a door into the house for himself and another for clients with access only to the outside. He is still there, but only as a sketch by one of his daughters.

James Beale's Office, Standen (and a National Trust Volunteer)

The hillside garden behind the house is, I read, spectacular. William Morris said a ‘house should be clothed by its garden,’ but gardens are not at their best in February, and certainly not on a miserable day like today. We chose not to wander round it in the rain.

Are we having fun yet?

James Beale died in 1912. Margaret remained here until 1936, followed by her daughter Margaret (“Maggie”) and youngest daughter Helen. The house remained largely unaltered over decades and Helen Beale, who had been involved in nursing during WWI and later the WRNS, bequeathed Standen to the National Trust in 1972

East Sussex

Part 1:Bodiam and Rye (2020)
Part 2:Bateman's, Firle Beacon and the Long Man of Wilmington (2021)
Part 3: Battle and Hastings (2021)
Part 4: Rottingdean and The Devil's Dyke (2024)
Part 5: Lewes and Charleston (2024) (coming soon)
Part 6: Brighton and the Royal Pavilion (2025)
Part 7: Winnie-The-Pooh and Standen (2025)