ON GOVERNMENT.

From the Pennsylvania Gazette, April 8, 1736.

AN ancient sage of the law,m says, the king can do no wrong; for if he doeth wrong he is not the king." And in another place, when the king doth justice he is God's vicar, but when he doth unjustly he is the agent of the devil. The politeness of the later times, has given a softer turn to the expression. It is now said, the king can do no wrong, but his ministers may. In allusion to this the parliament of 1741, declared they made war against the king for the king's service. But his majesty affirmed that such a distinction was absurd, though by the way his own creed contained a greater absurdity, for he believed he had an authority from God to oppress the subjects, whom by the same authority, he was obliged to cherish and defend. Aristotle calls all princes tyrants, from the moment they set up an interest different from that of their subjects; and this is the only definition he gives us of tyranny. Our own countryman, before cited, and the sagacious Greek, both agree on this point, that a governor who acts contrary to the ends of government, loses the title bestowed on him at his institution. It would be highly improper to give the same name to things of different qualities, or that produce different effects; matter, while it communicates heat, is generally called fire, but when the flames are extinguished, the appellation is changed. Sometimes indeed the same sound serves to express things of a contrary nature; but that only denotes a defect, or poverty in the language.

A wicked prince imagines that the crown receives a new Justre from absolute power, whereas every step he takes to obtain it, is a forfeiture of the crown.

m Bracton de leg. Angl. An author of great weight, contemporary with Henry III.

"Rex non facit injuriam, qui si facit injuriam, non est rex.

• Dum facit justitiam vicarius est regis æterni, minister autere diaboli dum declinet ad injuriam.

His conduct is as foolish as it is detestable; he aims at glory and power, and treads the path that leads to dishonor and contempt; he is a plague to his country, and deceives himself.

During the inglorious reigns of the Stuarts (except a part of queen Anne's) it was a perpetual struggle between them and the people; those endeavoring to subvert, and these bravely opposing the subverters of liberty. What were the consequences? One lost his life on a scaffold, another was banished. The memory of all of them stinks in the nostrils of every true lover of his country; and their history stains with indelible blots the English annals.

The reign of queen Elizabeth furnishes a beautiful contrast. All her views centered in one object, which was the public good. She made it her study to gain the love of her subjects, not by flattery or little soothing arts, but by rendering them substantial favors. It was far from her policy to encroach on their privileges; she augmented and secured them.

And it is remarked to her eternal honor, that the acts presented to her for her royal approbation (forty or fifty of a session of parliament) were signed without examining any farther than the titles. This wise and good queen only reigned for her people, and knew that it was absurd to imagine they would promote any thing contrary to their own interests, which she so studiously endeavored to advance. On the other hand, when this queen asked money of the parliament, they frequently gave her more than she demanded, and never inquired how it was disposed of, except for form sake, being fully convinced she would not employ it but for the general welfare. Happy princess, happy people! what harmony, what mutual confidence! Seconded by the hearts and purses of her subjects, she crushed the exorbitant power of Spain, which threatened destruction to England, and chains to all Europe. That monarchy has ever since pined under the stroke, so that now when we send a man of war or two to Y y

the West Indies, it puts her into such a panic fright, that if the galleons can steal home, she sings Te Deum as for a victory.

This is a true picture of government, its reverse is tyranny.

ON HUMAN VANITY.

From the Pennsylvania Gazette, Dec. 4, 1735.

MR. FRANKLIN, MEETING with the following curious little piece, the other day, I send it to you to republish, as it is now in very few hands. There is something so elegant in the imagination, conveyed in so delicate a style, and accompanied with a moral so just and elevated, that it must yield great pleasure and instruction to every mind of real taste and virtue.

Cicero, in the first of his Tusculan questions, finely exposes the vain judgment we are apt to form, of the duration of human life compared with eternity. In illustrating this argument, he quotes a passage of natural history from Aristotle, concerning a species of insects on the banks of the river Hypanis, that never outlive the day in which they are born.

To pursue the thought of this elegant writer, let us suppose one of the most robust of these Hypanians, so famed in history, was in a manner coeval with time itself; that he began to exist at the break of day, and that from the uncommon strength of his constitution, he has been able to show himself active in life, through the numberless minutes of ten or twelve hours. Through so long a series of seconds, he must have acquired vast wisdom in his way, from observation and experience.

He looks upon his fellow-creatures who died about noon, to be happily delivered from the many inconveniencies of old age; and can perhaps recount to his great grandson, a surprising tradition of actions, before any records of their nation were extant. The young swarm of Hypanians, who may be advanced one hour in life, approach his person with respect, and listen to his improving discourse: Every thing

he says will seem wonderful to their short-lived generation. The compass of a day will be esteemed the whole duration of time; and the first dawn of light will, in their chronology, be styled the great era of their creation.

Let us now suppose this venerable insect, this Nestor of Hypania should, a little before his death, and about sun-set, send for all his descendants, his friends, and his acquaintances, out of the desire he may have to impart his last thoughts to them, and to admonish them, with his departing breath. They meet, perhaps, under the spacious shelter of a mushroom; and the dying sage addresses himself to them after the following manner.

:

"Friends and fellow-citizens! I perceive the longest life must however end: the period of mine is now at hand: neither do I repine at my fate, since my great age is become a burthen to me; and there is nothing new to me under the sun: the changes and revolutions I have seen, in my country; the manifold private misfortunes to which we are all liable; the fatal diseases incident to our race, have abundantly taught me this lesson that no happiness can be secure or lasting which is placed in things that are out of our power..... Great is the uncertainty of life!.....A whole brood of our infants have perished in moment, by a keen blast!.....Shoals of our straggling youth, have been swept into the ocean by an unexpected breeze!...... What wasteful desolation have we not suffered from the deluge of a sudden shower!......Our strongest holds are not proof against a storm of hail, and even a dark cloud damps the very stoutest heart.

"I have lived in the first ages, and conversed with insects of a larger size and stronger make, and I must add, of greater virtue than any can boast of in the present generation. I must conjure you to give yet further credit to my latest words when I assure you, that yonder sun, which now appears westward, beyond the water, and seems not to be far distant from the earth, in my remembrance stood in the middle of the sky, and shot his beams directly, down upon us. The world was much more enlightened in those ages, and the air much warmer.

Think it not dotage in me, if I affirm, that glorious being moves: I saw his first setting out in the east, and I began my race of life, near the time when he began his immense career. He has for several ages advanced along the sky with vast heat and unparalleled brightness, but now by his declination and a sensible decay, more especially of late, in his vigor, I foresee, that all nature must fall in a little time, and that the creation will lie buried in darkness, in less than a century of minutes.

"Alas! my friends, how did I once flatter myself with the hopes of abiding here for ever; how magnificent are the cells which I hollowed out for myself: what confidence did I repose in the firmness and spring of my joints, and in the strength of my pinions! But I have lived enough to nature, and even to glory. Neither will any of you, whom I leave behind, have equal satisfaction in life, in the dark declining age which I see is already began."

Thus far this agreeable unknown writer, too agreeable we may hope, to remain always concealed; the fine allusion to the character of Julius Cæsar, whose words he has put into the mouth of this illustrious son of Hypanis, is perfectly just and beautiful, and aptly points out the moral of this inimitable piece, the design of which would have been quite perverted, had a virtuous character, a Cato, or a Cicero, been made choice of, to have been turned into ridicule. Had this life of a day been represented as employed in the exercise of virtue, it would have had equal dignity with a life of any limited duration; and according to the exalted sentiments of Tully, would have been preferable to an immortality filled with all the pleasures of sense, if void of those of an higher kind: but as the views of this vain-glorious insect were confined within the narrow circle of his own existence, as he only boasts the magnificent cells he had built, and the length of happiness he had enjoyed, he is the proper emblem of all such insects of the human race, whose ambition does not extend beyond the like narrow limits; and notwithstanding the splendor they appear in at present, they will no more deserve the regard of posterity than the butterflies of the last spring. In vain has