Royal Pavilion

Stand still for a moment on the lawn and listen. Gulls call overhead, the sea is only a few streets away, and in front of you rises something that seems to have drifted here from another continent. Pale onion domes swell against the English sky. Slender minarets point upward like candles. The stone looks soft and creamy in the coastal light. This is the Royal Pavilion, and nothing about it belongs to a seaside town... which is exactly the point.

The story begins with a young prince who wanted to escape. George, Prince of Wales, the eldest son of King George the Third, first came to Brighton in the 1780s. Doctors of the day praised sea air and sea bathing for health. But George was drawn by something else as well. Brighton was far enough from London to feel free, yet close enough to reach by fast coach. Here he could entertain, gamble, and live away from his father's disapproving eye.

At first, there was no palace at all. George rented a modest farmhouse near the seafront. Soon he asked the architect Henry Holland to enlarge it. Holland gave it a neat classical look, with a central dome and columns, and it became known as the Marine Pavilion. It was elegant and fashionable. But it was still, by royal standards, a fairly restrained building. George's tastes, and his debts, would grow far larger in the years to come.

The building you see now is mostly the work of John Nash, the architect who also shaped much of Regency London. Between roughly 1815 and the early 1820s, Nash wrapped the older house in an entirely new skin. He drew on the style of Mughal India — the empire that built palaces and tombs across northern India in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. A country house in Gloucestershire called Sezincote, built in a similar Indian style, is often named as an influence.

Here is the first surprise. Look closely at those domes and pinnacles, and remember when they were built. Beneath the exotic surface, Nash used modern engineering for his time, including cast iron, a material of the new industrial age. So this building looks back to the courts of Mughal emperors, but it stands on the technology of factories and foundries. It was a fantasy, made possible by very practical British invention.

Step inside, and the world changes again. The outside points to India, but the interiors turn to China — or rather, to a European dream of China. This style is called chinoiserie, meaning Western decoration that imitates Chinese art. Painted dragons, bamboo patterns, lanterns, and lacquer-red walls fill the rooms. Very few of the designers had ever travelled to China. They worked from prints, porcelain, and imagination, creating a China that never quite existed anywhere.

The Banqueting Room is where many visitors stop and look up. A huge chandelier hangs from the claws of a carved, silvered dragon on the ceiling. Smaller dragons curl around the lower lights. Imagine the room lit by candles and flames, with long tables of silver and glass, and dish after dish carried in from the kitchens. George loved to impress his guests, and this room was designed to leave them speechless.

And those kitchens hold the second surprise. The Great Kitchen was, for its time, remarkably advanced, with modern equipment for cooking on a grand scale. But even here, George could not resist decoration. Slim iron columns support the ceiling, and at their tops they open into copper palm leaves. A working kitchen, full of heat and noise and servants, was dressed up as a tropical grove. Practical and playful, side by side.

In the Music Room, the mood grows deeper and richer. Here you will find lotus-shaped chandeliers, gold, and deep red walls painted with Chinese-style landscapes. This room has also lived through real damage. In the 1970s, a fire started by an arsonist harmed it badly. Then, during the great storm of 1987, a heavy stone ball fell from one of the minarets and crashed through the ceiling. Years of careful restoration brought the room back.

By the time the Pavilion was complete, George had become King George the Fourth. Yet as he aged, he visited less. His niece, Queen Victoria, came in her turn, but she did not like it. The building offered little privacy, and crowds gathered to watch the royal family. She chose other homes instead. Much of the furniture was removed, and in 1850 the town of Brighton bought the building. A royal pleasure palace became public property.

One of the most moving chapters came during the First World War. From 1914, the Pavilion and the nearby Dome served as a military hospital for wounded soldiers from the Indian Army, who had fought in France and Flanders. Care was taken over their different faiths and diets. Later, at the south entrance, a gateway was given as a gift from India in thanks. On the Downs above the city, a memorial called the Chattri marks where Hindu and Sikh soldiers were cremated.

Over the twentieth century, the Pavilion slowly recovered its lost treasures. Many original pieces of furniture and decoration, once taken to royal homes in London, were returned. Curators studied old paintings and records to bring back the colours and patterns of the Regency years. Even the gardens around you were replanted in the spirit of that period, with winding paths and informal planting. What you see is a building that has been patiently pieced back together.

As you walk around the outside, notice how the Pavilion fits into the city today. To one side is the Brighton Dome, built originally as the royal stables and riding house, and now a concert and arts venue. Around you, people cut across the lawns, sit on the grass with coffee, or simply pass by on their way into the narrow lanes nearby. The palace is not sealed away. It is part of daily life.

Before you leave, look up once more at the domes. Watch how the light moves across the pale stone as clouds pass in from the sea. Two centuries ago, a prince imagined India and China here, on the edge of the English Channel. He never fully saw either place. But he left Brighton this strange and generous building... and as you walk on toward the sea, you may hear the gulls again, just as he did.