Every man upon earth seems fond of two things, riches and power: this
fondness necessarily springs from the heart, otherwise order would
cease. Without the desire of riches, a man would not preserve what he
has, nor provide for the future. "My thoughts," says a worthy christian,
"are not of this world; I desire but one guinea to carry me through it."
Supply him with that guinea, and he wishes another, lest the first
should be defective.
If it is necessary a man mould possess property, it is just as necessary
he should possess a power to protect it, or the world would quickly
bully him out of it: this power is founded on the laws of his country,
to which he adds, by way of supplement, bye-laws, founded upon his own
prudence. Those who possess riches, well know they are furnished with
wings, and can scarcely be kept from flying.
The man who has power to secure his wealth, seldom stops there; he, in
turn, is apt to triumph over him who has less. Riches and power are
often seen to go hand in hand.
Industry produces property; which, when a little matured, looks out for
command; thus the inhabitants of Birmingham, who have generally
something upon the anvil besides iron, near seventy years ago having
derived wealth from diligence, wished to derive power from charter;
therefore, petitioned the crown that Birmingham might be erected into a
corporation. Tickled with the title of alderman, dazzled with the
splendour of a silver mace, a furred gown, and a magisterial chair, they
could not see the interest of the place: had they succeeded, that
amazing growth would have been crippled, which has since astonished the
world, and those trades have been fettered which have proved the
greatest benefit.
When a man loudly pleads for public good, we shrewdly suspect a private
emolument lurking beneath. There is nothing more detrimental to good
neighbourhood, than men in power, where power is unnecessary: free as
the air we breathe, we subsist by our freedom; no command is exercised
among us, but that of the laws, to which every discreet citizen pays
attention--the magistrate who distributes justice, tinctured with mercy,
merits the thanks of society. A train of attendants, a white wand, and a
few fiddles, are only the fringe, lace, and trappings of
charteral office.
Birmingham, exclusive of her market, ranks among the very lowest order
of townships; every petty village claims the honour of being a
constable-wick--we are no more. Our immunities are only the trifling
privileges anciently granted to the lords; and two thirds of these are
lost. But, notwithstanding this seemingly forlorn state, perhaps there
is not a place in the British dominions, where so many people are
governed by so few officers; nor a place better governed: pride,
therefore, must have dictated the humble petition before us.
I have seen a copy of this petition, signed by eighty-four of the
inhabitants; and though without a date, seems to have been addressed to
King George the First, about 1716: it alledges, "That Birmingham is, of
late years, become very populous, from its great increase of trade; is
much superior to any town in the county, and but little inferior to any
inland town in the kingdom: that it is governed only by a constable, and
enjoys no more privileges than a village: that there is no justice of
peace in the town; nor any in the neighbourhood, who dares act with
vigour: that the country abounds with rioters, who, knowing the place to
be void of magistrates, assemble in it, pull down the meeting-houses,
defy the king, openly avow the pretender, threaten the inhabitants, and
oblige them to keep watch in their own houses: that the trade decays,
and will stagnate, if not relieved. To remedy these evils, they beseech
his majesty to incorporate the town, and grant such privileges as will
enable them to support their trade, the king's interest, and destroy the
villainous attempts of the jacobites. In consideration of the requested
charter, they make the usual offering of _lives_ and _fortunes_".
A petition and the petitioner, like Janus with his two faces, looks
different ways; it is often treated as if it said one thing, and meant
another; or as if it said any thing but truth. Its use, in some places,
is to _lie on the table_. Our humble petition, by some means, met with
the fate it deserved.
We may remark, a town without a charter, is a town without a shackle. If
there was then a necessity to erect a corporation, because the town was
large, there is none now, though larger: the place was not better
governed a thousand years ago, when only a tenth of its present
magnitude; it may also be governed as well a thousand years hence, if it
should swell to ten times its size.
The _pride_ of our ancestors was hurt by a petty constable; the
_interest_ of us, their successors, would be hurt by a mayor: a more
simple government cannot be instituted, or one more efficacious: that of
some places is designed for parade, ours for use; and both answers their
end. A town governed by a multitude of governors, is the most likely to
be ill-governed.
[Illustration: The New Brass Works]