But it was not this practical-joking Prince who first discovered Brighton. It would never have attained its great vogue without him, but it would have been the health resort of a certain circle of fashion--an inferior Bath, in fact. To Dr. Richard Russell--the name sometimes spelt with one "l"--who visited the little village of Brighthelmstone in 1750, belongs the credit of discovering the place to an ailing fashionable world. He died in 1759, long ere the sun of royal splendour first rose upon the fishing-village; but even before the Prince of Wales first visited Brighthelmstone in 1782, it had attained a certain popularity, as the "Brighthelmstone Guide" of July, 1777, attests, in these halting verses: This town or village of renown, Like London Bridge, half broken down, Few years ago was worse than Wapping, Not fit for a human soul to stop in; But now, like to a worn-out shoe, By patching well, the place will do. You'd wonder much, I'm sure, to see How it's becramm'd with quality. And so on. [Illustration: THE CLIFFS, BRIGHTHELMSTONE, 1789. _From an aquatint after Rowlandson._] [Illustration: DR. RICHARD RUSSELL. _From the portrait by Zoffany._] [Sidenote: GUIDES TO BRIGHTON] Brighthelmstone, indeed, has had more Guides written upon it than even Bath has had, and very curious some of them are become in these days. They range from lively to severe, from grave to gay, from the serious screeds of Russell and Dr. Relhan, his successor, to the light and airy, and not too admirable puffs of to-day. But, however these guides may vary, they all agree in harking back to that shadowy Brighthelm who is supposed to have given his peculiar name to the ancient fisher-village here established time out of mind. In the days when "County Histories" were first let loose, in folio volumes, upon an unoffending land, historians, archæologists, and other interested parties seemed at a loss for the derivation of the place-name, and, rather than confess themselves ignorant of its meaning, they conspired together to invent a Saxon archbishop, who, dying in the odour of sanctity and the ninth century, bequeathed his appellation to what is now known, in a contracted form, as Brighton. But the man is not known who has unassailable proofs to show of this Brighthelm's having so honoured the fisher-folk's hovels with his name. Thackeray, greatly daring, considering that the Fourth George is the real patron--saint, we can hardly say; let us make it king--of the town, elected to deliver his lectures upon the "Four Georges" at Brighton, among other places, and to that end made, with monumental assurance, a personal application at the Town Hall for the hire of the banqueting-room in the Royal Pavilion.