The King being ordered to Weymouth, the Prince left, early in July, for Brighton. We do not hear much of him there, and more of what we read is pleasant. Fitzgerald[53] says: 'On one of the evenings at the Pavilion (one of Sir P. Francis's daughters reports) his Royal Highness, after dinner, having proposed music, and being actively engaged in performing, with Mr. Francis and some other person, the pretty hunting trio of "Azioli," of which the burden is Ritorneremo a Clori. But the story is amusing, and bears such a favourable testimony to the Prince's good humour, that the lady must be allowed to tell it herself.
'"It is well known that, to an excessive love of music, he added much real taste as an amateur, and some power as a performer; but his execution was not particularly good, and Mr. Francis, Sir Philip's son, with whom he frequently sang, was, sometimes, comically struck by the loudness of his voice, and his peculiar manner. On one of the above-mentioned evenings at the Pavilion, his Royal Highness, after dinner, having proposed music, and being actually engaged in performing with Mr. Francis and some other person the pretty hunting trio of 'Azioli,' of which the burden is Ritorneremo a Clori al tramontar del di, Mr. Francis suddenly found the full face of the Prince, somewhat heated by the eagerness of his performance, in immediate contact with his own; and this circumstance, combined with that of the loud bass tones in which his Royal Highness was singing the words Ritorneremo a Clori, striking him in some ludicrous point of view, he became absolutely unable to resist the effect on his nerves, and burst out laughing. The Prince evidently perceived that his own singing had produced the unseasonable laughter; but, instead of showing a displeasure at a rudeness which, however involuntary, would have been resented by many far less illustrious persons, he only called the offender to order with the words 'Come, come, Philip!' his countenance betraying, at the same time, a strong inclination to join in the laugh himself; and the trio proceeded to a conclusion. Sir Philip (adds his daughter) by his original humour, and great powers of conversation, was, often, the life of the Pavilion; though his temperate habits made the excesses occasionally committed at the Prince's table distasteful to him; and his royal host, perceiving him ready to drop asleep when the revels were long protracted, would say, 'We must carry grandpapa away to bed.'"'
The same ready good humour is shown in a pleasant scene which took place at the Pavilion. Cricket was often played on the lawn, and the dinner which followed was served in a marquee. On one of these occasions the Duke of York and Sheridan fell into dispute on some point of the game. Sheridan at length angrily told the Duke 'that he was not to be talked out of his opinion there, or anywhere else; and that, at play, all men were on a par.' The Duke was evidently about to make some peculiarly indignant reply, when the Prince stood up and addressed them both.
Dr. Croly, in his 'Life of George IV.,' tells the remainder of the story: 'The narrator of the circumstance, a person of rank, who was present, himself one of the most attractive public speakers of the day, has often declared that he never, on any occasion, saw any individual, under the circumstances, acquit himself with more ability. The speech was of some length—ten or fifteen minutes; it was alternately playful and grave, expressed with perfect self-possession, and touching on the occurrence of the game, the characters of both disputants, and the conversation at the table, with the happiest delicacy and dexterity. Among other points, the Prince made a laughing apology for Sheridan's use of the phrase "on a par," by bidding his brother remember that the impressions of school were not easily effaced; that Dr. Parr had inflicted learning upon Sheridan; and that, like the lover in The Wonder,[54] who mixes his mistress's name with everything, and calls to his valet, "Roast me these Violantes," the name of Parr was uppermost in Sheridan's sleep: he then ran into a succession of sportive quotations of the word par, in the style of Ludere par impar, equitare in arundina longâ, until the speech was concluded in general gaiety, and the dispute was thought of no more.'
The rupture between the Prince and his father was complete, the Prince refusing to visit him while he was stopping at Weymouth, but sending the Duke of York instead; he pursued his course of folly at Brighton, where Fox visited him, and they went to Lewes Races, where the Prince was received by the High Sheriff of the county, attended by a host of javelin men. Three ladies were conspicuous at these races for their equipages, each drawn by four gray ponies—Mrs. Fitzherbert, the Duchess of Rutland, and Lady Lade.
This latter was no fit companion for any decent woman. The first heard of her was in St. Giles's, where she was said to be the mistress of Jack Rann, commonly known as Sixteen String Jack, a highwayman, who was executed in 1774. She married Sir John Lade, a boon companion of the Prince, and his tutor in the art of driving. She was famous for her bad language and skill in riding and driving. Of her the following lines were written:
'More than one steed Letitia's empire feels,
Who sits triumphant o'er the flying wheels;
And, as she guides them through th' admiring throng,