An engraving in “The Antiquities of England and Wales,” published in 1775, [218] showing the ruins of the Blockhouse at that period, gives a representation of the houses on the Cliff at the spot whereon now stand the Old Ship Hotel and the premises adjacent. The south end of Black-lion Street is very conspicuous, the corner houses consisting only of dwellings one story in height, of a cottage or hovel-like appearance, very singular in architectural design when compared with the present noble block of buildings of Messrs. Hedges and Butler, the wine merchants, on the east side.

The author of a “Tour through Great Britain,” date, 1724, says:—“Bright Helmston, commonly called Bredhemston, is a poor fishing town, old built, and on the very edge of the sea. The fishermen have large barks, in which they go away to Yarmouth, on the coast of Norfolk, to the fishing fair there, and hire themselves for the season to catch herrings for the merchants; and they tell us that these make a very good business of it. The sea is very unkind to this town, and has, by its continued encroachments, so gained upon it that in a little time more they might reasonably expect it would eat up the whole town, above one hundred houses having been devoured by the water in a few years past; and they are now obliged to get a brief granted them to beg money all over England, to raise banks against the water; the expense of which, the brief expressly says, will be eight thousand pounds; which, if one were to look on the town, would seem to be more than all the houses in it are worth.”

The Rev. William Clarke, Rector of Buxted, and grandfather of the celebrated traveller, thus writes to his friend:—

Brighthelmston, July 22, 1736.

Dear Bowyer,

We are now sunning ourselves upon the beach at Brighthelmston, and observing what a tempting figure this Island made formerly in the eyes of those gentlemen who were pleased to civilize and subdue it. Such a tract of sea; such regions of corn; and such an extent of fine carpet, that gives your eye the command of it all. But then the mischief is, that we have little conversation besides the clamor nauticus, which is here a sort of treble to the plashing of the waves against the cliffs. My morning business is bathing in the sea, and then buying fish; the evening is riding out for air, viewing the remains of old Saxon camps, and counting the ships in the road, and the boats that are trawling. Sometimes we give the imagination leave to expatiate a little;—fancy that you are coming down, and that we intend next week to dine one day in Dieppe, in Normandy; the price is already fixed, and the wine and lodgings there tolerably good. But though we build these castles in the air, I assure you that we live here almost underground. I fancy the architects here usually take the altitude of the inhabitants, and lose not an inch between the head and the ceiling, and then dropping a step or two below the surface, the second story is finished something under 12 feet. I suppose this was a necessary precaution against storms, that a man should not be blown out of his bed into New England, Barbary, or God knows where. But as the lodgings are low they are cheap; we have two parlours, two bed chambers, pantry, &c., for 5s per week; and if you will really come down you need not fear a bed of the proper dimensions. And then the coast is safe; the cannons are all covered with rust and grass; the ships moored, and no enemy apprehended. Come and see.

Nec tela temeres
Gallica, nec Pictum tremeres nec littore toto
Prospiceres dubiis ventura Saxona ventis.

My wife does not forget her good wishes and compliments upon this occasion. How you would surprise all your friends in Fleet Street, to tell them you were just come from France, with a vivacity that everybody would believe to be just imported from thence!

In this year, 1736, the poor rates were eight pence in the pound on the rack rent, “which was then,” says Dunvan, “an intolerable burthen.” About this time visitors of distinction began annually, in Summer, as soon as the deep roads of Sussex became passable with any degree of convenience, to frequent the town; but lodging-houses had not then been put in requisition, the only accommodation being a few indifferent inns; and the principal diversions were hunting, occasional horse-racing, and water excursions.

About the year 1750 the medical use of sea-water in scrofulous and other glandular complaints, under the unwearied and successful attention of Dr. Richard Russell, who removed hither from his seat at Malling, near Lewes, established his fame and also that of the town all over the kingdom. He may in truth be considered the founder of Brighton’s greatness; and it is much to be regretted that the inhabitants while appreciating the laudable services and good qualities of modern Royal and Noble patrons, and perpetuating individual virtues by works of art in marble and on canvass, have hitherto omitted to mark their gratitude to the memory of the learned Doctor, there being amongst the treasures of the town no memento whatever of him. His portrait, it is true, graces the Telemachus room of the Old Ship Hotel, but it might as well be stowed away in the ex-clock tower of the Pavilion, so rarely have the public an opportunity of seeing it. This hint perhaps may induce the possessor of the portrait to make a present of it to the Corporation, who have recently received several additions by gift to their choice collection of paintings.

The erection of lodging-houses soon became a profitable speculation in Brighton, and that late obscure fishing village began to increase in population and celebrity. The wonderful success of the industry and discernment of Dr. Russell appeared by several cases of cures which he cited in his work, “A Dissertation on the use of Sea-water;” and the most eminent members of the faculty in England bore willing testimony to the great acuteness and utility of his professional investigations. The benefits which the diseased have ever since received from sea-water are, therefore, in a great measure, to be imputed to the medical labours and sagacity of this good man, in grateful commemoration of whom the proprietors of a new street,—the first that was erected, composed principally of lodging-houses for the accommodation of invalid visitors,—named it after him, Russell Street, many of the original houses of which that still remain, though now occupied by a different class of persons than those for whom they were designed, show the improvement that had then taken place in house property. The Rev. Dr. Mannington, of Jevington, in the following epigram, simply, yet elegantly estimates the philanthropical abilities of Dr. Russell:—

Clara per omne ævum Russelli fama manebit,
Dum retinet vires unda marina suas.

Thus translated:—

Admiring ages Russell’s fame shall know,
Till ocean’s healing waters cease to flow.