really be of a nature calculated to make the tenure
of property more secure than ever. Even the charge
of irreligion has not been found more effective against
the advocates of improvement or change than that of
Agrarianism,—by which is meant hostility
to existing property institutions, and a determination,
if possible, to subvert them. Of the two, the
charge of Agrarianism is the more serious, as it implies
the other. A man may be irreligious, and yet
a great stickler for property, because a great owner
of it,—or because he is by nature stanchly
conservative, and his infidelity merely a matter of
logic. But if there be any reason for charging
a man with Agrarianism, though it be never so unreasonable
a reason, his infidelity is taken for granted, and
it would be labor lost to attempt to show the contrary.
Nor is this conclusion so altogether irrational as
it appears at the first sight. Religion is an
ordinance of God, and so is property; and if a man
be suspected of hostility to the latter, why should
he not be held positively guilty towards the former?
Every man is religious, though but few men govern
their lives according to religious precepts; but every
man not only loves property and desires to possess
it, but allows considerations growing out of its rights
to have a weight on his mind far more grave, far more
productive of positive results, than religion has on
the common person. If there be such a thing as
an Agrarian on earth, he would fight bravely for his
land, though it should be of no greater extent than
would suffice him for a grave, according to the strictest
measurement of the potter’s field. Would
every honest believer do as much for his religion?
But what is Agrarianism, and who are Agrarians?
Though the words are used as glibly as the luring
party-terms of the passing year, it is no very easy
matter to define them. Indeed, it is by no means
an easy thing to affix a precise and definite meaning
to any political terms, living or dead. Let the
reader endeavor to give a clear and intelligible definition
of Whig and Tory, Democrat and Republican, Guelph and
Ghibelline, Cordelier and Jacobin, and he will soon
find that he has a task before him calculated to test
his powers very severely. How much more difficult,
then, must it be to give the meaning of words that
are never used save in a reproachful sense, which
originated in political battles that were fought nearly
two thousand years ago, and in a state of society
having small resemblance to anything that has ever
been known to Christendom! With some few exceptions,
party-names continue to have their champions long
after the parties they belonged to are as dead as
the Jacobites. Many Americans would not hesitate
to defend the Federalists, or to eulogize the Federal
party, though Federalism long ago ceased even to cast
a shadow. The prostitution of the Democratic
name has lessened in but a slight degree the charm
that has attached to it ever since Jefferson’s