“We are in the midst of a revolution,” was the startling, and true as startling, declaration, with which Mr. Clay commenced his speech in the Senate some weeks ago. We are in the midst of a political revolution, which is silently but fatally sapping the principles of our free institutions, and consolidating the whole action of the Government, into the will of the executive. “The President is far above the reach of anything said in this House,” said Mr Polk; and a passive House of Representatives—the people’s own House—hear without resenting the insolent assertion, and by their silence admit its truth. Yet the minister or favorite, who, on the floor of the English House of Commons, or of the French Chamber of Deputies, should hazard such a vaunt of the crowned monarchs of either of those realms, would be put to silence and to shame, by the indignant voices of men of all parties. He would, in those limited monarchies be told that the king, like the humblest man in the kingdom, was the subject of the laws and the creature of opinion; and that it belonged not to him, or to any one for him, to claim exemption from that dependence upon the people’s representatives, ordained for the common good o all. In this freest of republics, infallibility in judgement and in action; the right of constructing according to his own will all laws, and of dismissing at his own will all functionaries who see not with his eyes; and finally entire independence of the opinion of the Legislatures; are openly claimed for the Executive; and all who demur in the least to this sweeping claim, or who suggest that, even with the best motives, and the greatest caution, there may be error or mistake in some given act, are denounced as enemies to the “venerable President,” and forthwith trampled under foot as rebels and traitors—not to the country, or to freedom—but to the party. We are then in the midst of a revolution, which is habituating us fast and fatally to disregard all those checks and balances which the wise contrivers of the Constitution, thought sufficient and availing, to secure the independence of each department in its proper sphere; and to look to the Executive head alone, as the fountain of all honor, profit and power. Nor is it to politics alone that the revolution is confined. In a country like this, where every citizen does, or may if he pleases, take a part in its public affairs, no great revolution in politics can be effected without a corresponding revolution in morals. Accordingly we find that the spirit of party, which now directs all its discipline and energy to sustain allegiance and devotion to the person of the President—be his measures what they may—infects the judgement or corrupts the principles of men on other subjects, and the recklessness with which conscience is outraged, in approving political measures, which in fact it disapproved—may come at last to pervert entirely the warning voice of that secret monitor.

It would seem the very “error of the moon” that men and doctrines such as these we have this alluded to, should find a place and a bearing in the Legislative halls of a people so practical, and which flatters itself with being so enlightened, as ours—were it not that a sufficient earthly explanation is at hand in the cause we referred to in the outset of these remarks—the spirit of party—which, so that implicit and uncompromising obedience be rendered to its mandates, is little solicitous about any other qualifications, in the instruments it puts forth. Truly indeed did Mr Binney conclude, that the question now in issue in this country is, whether this “spirit of party” be not more fatal to free institutions here, than the spirit of despotism has proved elsewhere. Its inevitable tendency, at any rate, is to degrade, even though it may not wholly destroy;—and in that stage of the question, most certainly, this State now is.— N.Y. American.