The history of Birmingham

Preface

The rapid increase of knowledge, in Birmingham, within the last fifty years ; the great demand and immense consumption of books, in small parts, or numbers, that could not be purchased by the working classes, if published in volumes, complete ; induced the publisher to suppose that an interesting record of facts would be acceptable to the intelligent mechanics of this populous and improving town. The quaint and frequently amusing style of Mr. Hutton, the first and only historian of Birmingham, caused his work to be fixed upon as the basis of this. For notwithstanding several accounts of Birmingham have been published since Mr. Hutton's ; they are all copied from his work, adding but few facts, not before recorded by him, and seldom disputing his assertions. The editor has availed himself of every means within, his reach to make the work complete, and worthy the support and encouragement of the working classes, for whom it was projected.

The present mode of incorporating with the text, the

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new matter may, in some respects, be objectionable, but it can make no difference to the man who reads for information, and is of some advantage to him who reads for amusement. Without further comment the work is left to speak for itself, and the public to judge which is the most worthy of their support, this or the envious an&splenelic production of Wrightson and Webb, of New Street, commenced five weeks after this, from pure malice towards the publisher.

JAMES GUEST.

Steelhouse Lane, Birmingham, June 1, 1835.

PREFACE

BY THE LATE WILLIAM HUTTON, F. A. S.

A preface rather induces a man to speak of himself, which is deemed the worst subject upon which he can speak. In a history we become acquainted with things, but in a preface with the author ; and, for a man to treat of himself, may be the most difficult task of the two ; for in history, facts are produced ready to the hand of the historian, which give birth to thought, and it is easy to clothe that thought in words. But in a preface, an author is obliged to forge from the brain, where he is sometimes known to forge without fire. In one, he only reduces a substance into form ; but in the other, he must create that substance.

As I am not an author by profession, it is no wonder if I am unacquainted with the modes of authorship ; but I apprehend, the usual method of conducting the pen, is to polish up a sounding- title-page, dignified with scraps of Latin, and then to hammer up a work to fit it, as nearly as genius, or want of genius, will allow.

We next turn over a new leaf, and open upon a pompous dedication, which answers many laudable purposes : if a coat of arms, correctly engraven, should step first into view, we consider it a singular advantage gained over a reader, like the first blow in a combat. The

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dedication itself becomes a pair of stilts, which advances an author something higher.

As a horse-shoe, nailed upon the threshold of a cottage, prevents the influence of the witch ; so a first-rate name, at the head of a dedication, is a total bar against the critic ; but this great name, like a great officer, sometimes unfortunately stands at the head of wretched troops.

When an author is too heavy to swim of himself, it serves as a pair of bladders, to prevent his sinking.

It is farther productive of a solid advantage, that of a present from the patron, more valuable than that from the bookseller, which prevents his sinking under the pressure of famine.

But, being wholly unknown to the great names of literary consequence, I shall not attempt a dedication, therefore must lose the benefit of the stilt, the bladder, and the horse-shoe.

Were I to enter upon a dedication, I should certainly address myself, " To the Inhabitants of Birmingham" For to them I not only owe much, but all ; and I think, among that congregated mass, there is not one person to whom I wish ill. I have the pleasure of calling many of those inhabitants Friends, and some of them share my warm affections equally with myself. Birmingham, like a compassionate nurse, not only draws our persons, but our esteem, from the place of our nativity, and fixes it upon herself : I might add, I was hungry, and she fed me ; thirsty, and she gave me drink ; a stranger, and she took me in. I approached her with reluctance, because I did not know her ; I shall leave her with reluctance, because I do.

Whether it is perfectly consistent in an author, to solicit the indulgence of the public, though it may stand first in his wishes, admits a doubt; for, if his productions will not bear the light, it may be said, why does he publish ?

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but, if they will, there is no need to ask a favour ; the world receives one from him. Will not a piece everlastingly be tried by its merit ? Shall we esteem it the higher, because it was written at the age of thirteen ? because it was the effort of a week ? delivered extempore ? hatched while the author stood upon one leg ? or cobbled, while he cobbled a shoe ? or will it be a recommendation, that it issues forth in gilt binding? The judicious world will not be deceived by the tinselled purse, but will examine whether the contents are sterling.

Will it augment the value of this history, or cover its blunders, to say, that I have never seen Oxford? That the thick fogs of penury, prevented the sun of science from beaming upon the mind? That necessity obliged me to lay down the battledore, before I was master of the letters ? And that, instead of handling systems of knowledge, my hands at the early period of seven, became callous with labour ?

But, though a whole group of pretences will have no effect with the impartial eye, yet one reason pleads strongly in my favour — no such thing ever appeared as A History of Birmingham. It is remarkable, that one of the most singular places in the universe is without an historian : that she never manufactured an history of herself, who has manufactured almost every thing else ; that so many ages should elapse, and not one among her numerous sons of industry, snatch the manners of the day from oblivion, group them in design, with the touches of his pen, and exhibit the picture to posterity. If such a production had ever seen the light, mine most certainly would never have been written ; a temporary bridge, therefore, may satisfy the impatient traveller, till a more skilful architect shall accommodate him with a complete production of elegance, of use, and of duration. Although works of genius ought to come out of the mint doubly refined, yet history admits

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of a much greater latitude to the author. The best upon the subject, though defective, may meet with regard.

It has long been a complaint, that local history is much wanted. This will appear obvious, if we examine the places we know, with the histories that treat of them. Many an author has become a cripple, by historically travelling through all England, who might have made a tolerable figure, had he staid at home. The subject is too copious for one performance, or even the life of one man. The design of history is knowledge ; but, if simply to tell a tale be all the duty of an historian, he has no irksome task before him ; for there is nothing more easy than to relate a fact ; but, perhaps, nothing more difficult than to relate it well.

Having, many years ago, entertained an idea of this undertaking, I made some trifling preparations ; but, in 1775, a circumstance of a private nature occurring, which engaged my attention for several years, I relinquished the design, destroyed the materials, and meant to give up the thought for ever. But the intention revived in 1780, and the work followed.

I may be accused of quitting the regular trammels of history, and sporting in the fields of remark : but, although our habitation justly stands first in our esteem, in return for rest, content, and protection ; does it follow that we should never stray from it ? If I happen to veer a moment from the polar point of Birmingham, I shall certainly vibrate again to the centre. Every author has a manner peculiar to himself, nor can he well forsake it. I should be exceedingly hurt to omit a necessary part of intelligence, but more so to offend a reader.

If grandeur should censure me for sometimes recording the men of mean life, let me ask, Which is preferable, he who thunders at the anvil, or in the senate ? The man who earnestly wishes the significant letters Esq. spliced

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to the end of his name, will despise the question ; but the philosopher will answer, " They are equal."

Lucrative views have no part in this production : I cannot solicit a kind people to grant what they have already granted ; but if another finds that pleasure in reading, which I have done in writing, T am paid.

As no history is extant, to inform me of this famous nursery of the arts, perfection in mine must not be expected. Though I have endeavoured to pursue the road to truth ; yet, having no light to guide, or hand to direct me, it is no wonder if I mistake it : but we do not condemn, so much as pity, the man for losing his way, who first travels an unbeaten road.

Birmingham, for want of the recording hand, may be said to live but one generation ; the transactions of the last age, die in this ; memory is the sole historian, which being defective, I embalm the present generation, for the inspection of the future.

It is unnecessary to attempt a general character, for if the attentive reader is himself of Birmingham, he is equally apprized of that character ; and, if a stranger, he will find a variety of touches scattered through the piece, which, taken in a collective view, form a picture of that generous people, who merit his esteem, and possess mine.

Contents

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