Republican Herald

DANGER OF DISSOLUTION—SOUTHERN CONVENTION—THE WRONG MAN AT THE HELM.

We are beginning to see the effects of intrusting the reins of government to a mere automaton, and then scrambling, each section and faction on its own hook, for the uppermost seat in the assembly of wire-movers. We are beginning to realize the consequences of "going it blind" for a pair of epaulettes—for a man who is anything or nothing, somebody or nobody, just as his keepers speak for him. A dissolution of the Union is threatened, and there is no hand to turn back the tide of discord and destruction. No man, South or North, Whig or Democrat, has confidence in the President, or relies upon him to avert the danger or any portion of the danger which now threatens our existence as a nation. He is but a mass of puerility and weakness, where we should have the wisdom of a statesman and the strength of a giant. He has dodged between opinions and factions, till everybody is disgusted with him, and till his own friends disown him. From being all things to all men, he has sunk to be nothing to anybody. He is without experience and without firmness, without influence and without power.—If the South could rely upon him to arrest the Wilmot Proviso, it would remain quiet. If the North could see in him a determination to prevent the extension of slavery, it would feel satisfied, and could afford to be generous. But neither the North nor the South can see in him a friend, nor the qualities which are needed to arrest this dangerous conflict of sectional feelings and interests.

A Jackson in his place, would restore order and confidence in a single day; but a mere cipher where we should have a president, can do nothing. If both himself and that other cipher, Fillmore, would resign, we might have hope that somebody would fill their places with the strength and moral courage to arrest our progress toward destruction; but neither of them have the patriotism to make such a sacrifice. They will hold on—perhaps till the ship goes down, and they sink with her.

But it is too near harvest time to be crying over a mistake in planting. We have sown to the wind—we must reap the whirlwind. The people have attempted to make something out of nothing—a President out of nobody—and have seen their error, too late to avert the consequences. Probably they would never do it again; quite possibly they will never have the chance to try.—This miserable bungling of old Zachary and his masters at Washington, threatens to bring our Republican experiment to a close: and the cry is already on the lips of thousands, that our last President has been chosen. We may say that 'tis all nonsense; that the Union cannot be dissolved: that only a few are disaffected, and that fanaticism cannot rule the country.

But stubborn and alarming facts stare us in the face, and refuse to be winked out of sight. They assure us that there is danger, and that it is imminent and fearful. The course of the Northern fanatics has driven the South to call a Convention of the slaveholding States. It was an unwise and suicidal movement; but it has been agreed upon, and many of the States have already elected Delegates. It is a threat against the North, which the South may one day wish it could recall. But it is too late to recall it, even now, and its consequences must be felt. It would not have been called, probably, if we had had a President of the ability and firmness of either of his predecessors. But it is called and on the ground that while Southern institutions are in danger, the South must prepare for the worst. It will be held, and will be governed by fanatics and propagandists. Neither of the two great political parties will dare to oppose them—They will carry their measures, and insist that the North, and the North alone, shall yield. If the North shall refuse, as it probably will, they will declare the Union dissolved, and call on the States which they represent to ratify their declaration.—Compromise may follow, if the work is not too hurriedly carried forward, but on this we cannot count with certainty. If it does not, the Union becomes dissolved—for the time and forever. An army cannot be raised to put down the seceders, for no American will fight to retain connection with any considerable number of States which spurn his company; and we cannot hope that new terms of union can be agreed upon.

This view of our present difficulty, we are aware, will be laughed at. But we cannot help it. It may be said we are an alarmist, and ourself too easily disturbed by the noise which Southern men are making. It may be so. But we think we see danger ahead, and we point to it.—We think we can see the causes from which it has resulted, and we point to these also. We believe that the evils which threaten us might be easily averted, if we had a President—or if the abstractionists on either side of Mason and Dixon's line, would cease their useless clatter. The latter, we can hardly hope for, after what we have seen since the commencement of the present session of Congress: the former, we cannot get till 1853. In the mean time we hold those Northern and Southern ultraists who went it blind for Taylor, responsible for the consequences which may grow out of his election.