GENTLEMEN'S SEATS.

This neighbourhood may justly be deemed the seat of the arts, but not

the seat of the gentry.

None of the nobility are near us, except William Legge, Earl of

Dartmouth, at Sandwell, four miles from Birmingham. The principal houses

in our environs, are those of Sir Charles Holte, late member for the

county, at Aston; Sir Henry Gough, member for Bamber, at Edgbaston;

George Birch, Esq; at Handsworth; John Gough, Esq; at Perry; and John

Taylor, Esq; at Bordesley and at Moseley; all joining to the manor of

Birmingham. Exclusive of these, are many elegant retreats of our first

inhabitants, acquired by commercial success.

Full fed with vanity is an author, when two readers strive to catch up

his work, for the pleasure of perusing it:--but, perchance, if two

readers dip into this chapter, they may strive to lay it down.

I have hitherto written to the _world_, but now to a small part, _the

antiquarians_; nay, a small part of the sensible part; for a fool and an

antiquary is a contradiction: they are, to a man, people of letters and

penetration. If their judgment is sometimes erroneous, we may consider,

man was never designed for perfection; there is also less light to guide

them in this, than in other researches. If the traveller slips upon

common ground, how will he fare if he treads upon ice?--Besides, in dark

questions, as in intricate journies, there are many erroneous ways for

one right.

If, like the mathematician, he can establish one point, it ascertains

another. We may deem his pursuit one of the most arduous, and attended

with the least profit: his emoluments consist in the returns of pleasure

to his own mind.

The historian only collects the matter of the day, and hands it to

posterity; but the antiquarian brings his treasures from remote ages,

and presents them to this: he examines forgotten repositories, calls

things back into existence, which are past; counter-acts the efforts of

time, and of death; possesses something like a re-creative power;

collects the dust of departed matter, moulds it into its prestine state,

exhibits the figure to view, and stamps it with a kind of immortality.

Every thing has its day, whether it be a nation, a city, a castle, a

man, or an insect; the difference is, one is a winter's day, the other

may be extended to the length of a summer's--an _end_ waits upon all.

But we cannot contemplate the end of grandeur, without gloomy ideas.

Birmingham is surrounded with the melancholy remains of extinguished

greatness; the decayed habitations of decayed gentry, fill the mind with

sorrowful reflections. Here the feet of those marked the ground, whose

actions marked the page of history. Their arms glistened in the field;

their eloquence moved the senate. Born to command, their influence was

extensive; but who now rest in peace among the paupers, fed with the

crumbs of their table. The very land which, for ages, was witness to the

hospitality of its master, is itself doomed to stirility. The spot

which drew the adjacent country, is neglected by all; is often in a

wretched state of cultivation, sets for a trifle; the glory is departed;

it demands a tear from the traveller, and the winds teem, to sigh

over it.

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