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.