Two furlongs east of Sheldon-hall, and one mile south of Castle
Bromwich, is _Kings-hurst_; which, though now a dwelling in tenancy,
was once the capital of a large track of land, consisting of its own
manor, Coleshill, and Sheldon; the demesne of the crown, under the Saxon
kings, from whom we trace the name.
The Conqueror, or his son William, granted it; but whether for money,
service, caprice, or favour, is uncertain; for he who wears a crown acts
as whimsically as he who does not.
Mountfort came over with William, as a knight, and an officer of rank;
but, perhaps, did not immediately receive the grant, for the king would
act again much like other people, _give away their property, before he
would give away his own_.
If this unfortunate family were not the first grantees, they were lords,
and probably residents of King's-hurst, long before their possession of
Coleshill, in 1332, and by a younger branch, long after the unhappy
attainder of Sir Simon, in 1497.
Sir William Mountfort, in 1390, augmented the buildings, erected a
chapel, and inclosed the manor. His grandson, Sir Edmund, in 1447, paled
in some of the land, and dignified it with the fashionable name
of _park_.
This prevailing humour of imparking was unknown to the Saxons, it crept
in with the Norman: some of the first we meet with are those of
Nottingham, Wedgnock, and Woodstock--Nottingham, by William Peveral,
illegitimate son of the Conqueror; Wedgnock, by Newburg, the first
Norman Earl of Warwick; and Woodstock, by Henry the First. So that the
Duke of Marlborough perhaps may congratulate himself with possessing the
oldest park in use.
The modern park is worth attention; some are delightful in the extreme:
they are the beauties of creation, terrestrial paradises; they are just
what they ought to be, nature cautiously assisted by invisible art. We
envy the little being who presides over one--but why mould we envy him?
the pleasure consists in _seeing_, and one man may _see_ as well as
another: nay, the stranger holds a privilege beyond him; for the
proprietor, by often seeing, sees away the beauties, while he who looks
but seldom, sees with full effect. Besides, one is liable to be fretted
by the mischievous hand of injury, which the stranger seldom sees; he
looks for excellence, the owner for defect, and they both find.
These proud inclosures, guarded by the growth within, first appeared
under the dimension of one or two hundred acres; but fashion, emulation,
and the park, grew up together, till the last swelled into one or
two thousand.
If religions rise from the lowest ranks, the fashions generally descend
from the higher, who are at once blamed, and imitated by their
inferiors.
The highest orders of men lead up a fashion, the next class tread upon
their heels, the third quickly follow, then the fourth, fifth, &c.
immediately figure after them. But as a man who had an inclination for a
park, could not always spare a thousand acres, he must submit to less,
for a park must be had: thus Bond, of Ward-end, set up with thirty; some
with one half, till the very word became a burlesque upon the idea. The
design was a display of lawns, hills, water, clumps, &c. as if ordered
by the voice of nature; and furnished with herds of deer. But some of
our modern parks contain none of these beauties, nor scarcely land
enough to support a rabbit.
I am possessed of one of these jokes of a park, something less than an
acre:--he that has none, might think it a _good_ joke, and wish it his
own; he that has more would despise it: that it never was larger,
appears from its being surrounded by Sutton Coldfield; and that it has
retained the name for ages, appears from the old timber upon it.
The manor of King's-hurst was disposed of by the Mountforts, about two
hundred years ago, to the Digbys, where it remains.