Book III, Chapter II, 1

ON THE DISCOURAGEMENT OF AGRICULTURE IN THE ANCIENT STATE OF EUROPE, AFTER THE FALL OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE

When the German and Scythian nations overran the western provinces of the Roman empire, the turmoil following so great a revolution lasted several centuries. The plunder and violence the barbarians inflicted on the earlier inhabitants interrupted commerce between town and country. Towns were abandoned and the countryside left uncultivated; the western provinces of Europe, which had enjoyed considerable opulence under the Roman empire, fell into the deepest poverty and barbarism. Amid this turmoil, the chiefs and principal leaders of those nations acquired, or usurped, most of the land. Much of it lay uncultivated, but none of it, cultivated or otherwise, remained without an owner. All of it was monopolized, most by a few great proprietors.

This original monopolization of uncultivated land, though a great evil, might have been temporary. The land could soon have been divided again into small parcels, through inheritance or sale. Primogeniture prevented division by inheritance; entails prevented division into small parcels through sale.

When land, like movable property, is regarded simply as a means of subsistence and enjoyment, the natural rule of inheritance distributes it, like movables, among all the family’s children: a father may be presumed to care equally for the subsistence and enjoyment of each. This natural rule prevailed among the Romans, who made no greater distinction between older and younger, male and female, in inheriting land than we make in distributing movables. But when land came to be regarded as a source not merely of subsistence but of power and protection, it seemed better for it to pass undivided to one heir. In those lawless times every great landlord was a petty prince. His tenants were his subjects. He judged them and was in some respects their lawgiver in peace and their commander in war. He made war at his own discretion, often against his neighbors and sometimes against his sovereign. The security of a landed estate, therefore, and the protection its owner could give those living on it, depended on its size. To divide it was to ruin it and expose each part to oppression and absorption by neighboring incursions. Thus primogeniture came in time, though not immediately, to govern landed inheritance for the same reason it has generally governed monarchies, though not necessarily at their founding. To keep the monarchy’s power and therefore its security from being diminished by division, it must pass intact to one child. A general rule must decide which child receives so great a preference, based not on debatable claims of personal merit but on some plain difference admitting no dispute. Among siblings, only sex and age are beyond dispute. Males are universally preferred to females; other things being equal, the older everywhere takes precedence over the younger. This is the origin of primogeniture and what is called lineal succession.

Laws often survive long after the circumstances that occasioned them and alone could justify them have disappeared. In Europe today, the owner of a single acre is as secure in its possession as the owner of 100,000. Yet primogeniture remains honored; since no institution better sustains the pride of family distinction, it is likely to endure for centuries more. In every other respect, nothing could be more opposed to the real interests of a numerous family than a rule that enriches one child by impoverishing all the rest.

Entails naturally follow primogeniture. They were introduced to preserve the line of succession conceived under primogeniture and prevent any part of the original estate from passing outside that line by gift, devise, or sale, through the folly or misfortune of any successive owner. The Romans knew nothing of them. Neither Roman substitutions nor fidei commisses resemble entails, though certain French lawyers have seen fit to clothe this modern institution in the terminology and appearance of the ancient ones.

When great estates were virtual principalities, entails might not have been unreasonable. Like the so-called fundamental laws of certain monarchies, they might often protect thousands of people from the risks posed by one man’s whim or extravagance. But in Europe today, when both small and large estates draw their security from national law, nothing could be more thoroughly absurd. Entails rest on the most absurd of all assumptions: that successive generations do not have an equal right to the earth and everything it possesses, but that the property of the living should be constrained and governed by the wishes of people who died perhaps five hundred years ago. Yet entails remain respected across much of Europe, especially where noble birth is required to enjoy civil or military honors. They are thought necessary to preserve the nobility’s exclusive claim to their country’s highest offices and honors; having usurped one unjust advantage over their fellow citizens, the nobility is thought entitled to another lest poverty make the first look ridiculous. English common law is said to abhor perpetuities, which are accordingly more restricted there than in any other European monarchy; even England, however, is not wholly without them. In Scotland, more than one fifth, perhaps more than one third, of all the country’s land is now believed to be held under strict entail.

In this way great expanses of uncultivated land were not only monopolized by particular families, but every possible obstacle was put in the way of ever dividing them again. A great proprietor, however, is seldom a great improver. In the lawless times that produced those barbarous institutions, he was busy defending his territory or extending his jurisdiction and authority over his neighbors’ territories. He had no leisure to cultivate and improve his land. Once law and order afforded him leisure, he often lacked the desire and almost always the necessary ability. If his household and personal expenses equaled or exceeded his revenue, as they frequently did, he had no stock to invest in improvement. If he was thrifty, he generally found it more profitable to spend his annual savings buying more land than improving his existing estate. Profitable land improvement, like any commercial undertaking, calls for close attention to small savings and gains, something a man born to a great fortune is rarely capable of, however frugal by nature. His situation inclines him toward ornament, which gratifies his taste, rather than profit, which he scarcely needs. From childhood he has been accustomed to concern himself with the elegance of his clothes, carriage, house, and furnishings. That cast of mind follows him into the improvement of land. He may beautify four or five hundred acres around his house at ten times the value of the land even after improvement; and he discovers that, if he treated his entire estate in the same way—and he has little taste for any other—he would be bankrupt before improving a tenth of it. In both parts of the united kingdom some large estates remain in the same families without interruption since the age of feudal anarchy. Compare their present condition with that of neighboring small owners’ holdings, and you will need no further proof of how hostile such extensive property is to improvement.

If little improvement could be expected from such great owners, still less could be hoped for from those who occupied their land. In ancient Europe all occupants of land were tenants at will. All, or nearly all, were slaves, though their slavery was milder than that among the ancient Greeks and Romans, or even in our West Indian colonies. They were regarded as belonging more directly to the land than to their master. They could accordingly be sold with the land, but not apart from it. They could marry with their master’s consent, and he could not subsequently break up the marriage by selling husband and wife to different people. If he maimed or killed one, he was liable to a penalty, though generally a small one. They could not, however, acquire property. Whatever they acquired belonged to their master, who could take it whenever he pleased. Any cultivation and improvement carried out by these slaves was in fact carried out by their master and at his expense. The seed, livestock, and implements were all his; the benefit was his as well. Such slaves could acquire nothing beyond their daily subsistence. The owner himself therefore effectively occupied and cultivated his own land through his bondmen. This form of slavery still exists in Russia, Poland, Hungary, Bohemia, Moravia, and other parts of Germany. Only in western and southwestern Europe has it gradually disappeared altogether.

But if great improvements can seldom be expected of great proprietors, they are least to be expected when those proprietors employ slaves. The experience of every age and nation, I believe, shows that labor performed by slaves, though it appears to cost only their maintenance, is ultimately the most expensive labor of all. Someone who cannot acquire property has no interest except in eating as much and working as little as possible. Work beyond what is necessary to earn his maintenance can be extracted from him only by force, not by any interest of his own. Pliny and Columella both note how much the cultivation of corn deteriorated in ancient Italy, and how unprofitable it became for the owner, when slaves took charge of it. Ancient Greece had fared little better by Aristotle’s time. Discussing the ideal republic described in Plato’s laws, Aristotle says that supporting 5000 idle men—the number of warriors thought necessary to defend it—along with their women and servants, would require a territory of limitless extent and fertility, like the plains of Babylon.

Human pride loves to dominate, and nothing so humiliates a man as having to stoop to persuade his inferiors. Wherever the law permits it and the work can bear the expense, he will therefore generally prefer slaves to free workers. Growing sugar and tobacco can bear the cost of slave cultivation. Growing corn nowadays, it seems, cannot. In the English colonies whose chief produce is corn, by far the greater part of the work is done by free people. The Quakers’ recent decision in Pennsylvania to free all their negro slaves may convince us that their number cannot be very large: had these slaves made up any considerable part of Quaker property, such a resolution could never have passed. In our sugar colonies, by contrast, slaves do all the work; in our tobacco colonies they do a very large part. A sugar plantation in any of our West Indian colonies generally earns much higher profits than any other known cultivation in Europe or America. Tobacco plantations earn less than sugar plantations, but more than corn, as already noted. Both crops can bear the expense of slavery, but sugar can bear it better than tobacco. Accordingly, relative to whites, the number of negroes is much greater in our sugar colonies than in our tobacco colonies.

The slave cultivators of ancient times were gradually replaced by a kind of farmer now known in France as metayers, called Coloni Partiarii in Latin. They have fallen so long out of use in England that I know of no present English name for them. The proprietor provided the seed, livestock, and implements—in short, all the stock necessary to cultivate the farm. Its produce was divided equally between owner and farmer after setting aside what was deemed necessary to maintain that stock, which was returned to the proprietor when the farmer left or was dismissed from the farm.

Why Farming Was Discouraged in Europe in Earlier Times, After the Fall of the Roman Empire

When German and Scythian peoples overran the Roman empire's western provinces, the disorder that followed such a great upheaval lasted several centuries. The invaders robbed and attacked the original inhabitants, disrupting trade between towns and the countryside. Towns emptied and land went unfarmed. Western Europe had enjoyed considerable wealth under the Roman empire, but sank into deep poverty and what was then called barbarism. Amid this disorder, the chiefs and leading men of the invading peoples took possession, sometimes by force, of most of the land. Much of it was uncultivated, but every piece, cultivated or not, had an owner. All the land was taken up, most of it by a few large landowners.

This first concentration of uncultivated land in a few hands was a serious harm, but it could have been temporary. Land could soon have been divided again into small plots through inheritance or sale. The law of primogeniture stopped inheritance from dividing it. Entails, which legally tied estates to a line of heirs, stopped owners from dividing and transferring it.

When land is seen, like movable property, only as a way to live and enjoy life, the natural rule of inheritance divides it among all a family's children. A father can be expected to care equally about each child's livelihood and enjoyment. That was how inheritance worked among the Romans: they made no more distinction between older and younger children, or between sons and daughters, when dividing land than we do when dividing movable property. But once land was seen as a means of power and protection, not merely livelihood, people thought it better to pass it intact to one person. In those unsettled times, every large landowner was something like a small prince. His tenants were his subjects. He acted as their judge and, to some extent, their lawmaker in peacetime and commander in war. He made war as he saw fit, often against his neighbors and sometimes against his sovereign. The safety of an estate, and the protection its owner could give the people living on it, depended on its size. Dividing it would ruin it and leave every part open to attack and takeover by neighbors. For this reason, the law of primogeniture eventually came to govern the inheritance of landed estates. This did not happen immediately. It was the same reason primogeniture generally came to govern monarchies, though not always when they were first founded. To keep a monarchy's power, and therefore its security, from being weakened by division, it must pass intact to one child. A general rule must decide which child gets such an important preference. The rule cannot rely on disputed judgments of personal merit, but must use a clear difference no one can contest. Among children in one family, only sex and age offer such unquestionable differences. Sons are universally preferred to daughters; all else being equal, the older child takes precedence over the younger. That is where the right of primogeniture and what is called lineal succession came from.

Laws often stay in force long after the circumstances that originally justified them have vanished. In Europe today, someone who owns a single acre has as secure a claim to it as someone who owns 100,000. Yet primogeniture is still respected. No institution better supports pride in family rank, so it will probably last for many more centuries. In every other respect, no rule could run more directly against the real interest of a large family: it makes all but one child poor so that one may be rich.

Entails followed naturally from primogeniture. They were introduced to preserve the line of inheritance that primogeniture had suggested. They kept any part of the original estate from leaving that line through a gift, a will, or another transfer, whether through an owner's foolishness or bad luck. The Romans had no entails at all. Their substitutions and fidei commisses were nothing like entails, though some French lawyers have chosen to describe this modern institution using the terms and appearance of those ancient practices.

When big estates were like small principalities, entails may have been reasonable. Like the so-called fundamental laws of some monarchies, they might often have kept one person's whim or wastefulness from putting thousands of people in danger. But today in Europe the law protects small estates as well as large ones, making entails completely absurd. They rest on the most absurd assumption of all: that successive generations do not have an equal right to the earth and all it contains, and that the property of living people should be controlled by the wishes of people who died perhaps five hundred years ago. Yet entails are still respected across most of Europe, particularly where noble birth is required to hold civil or military honors. People think entails are needed to preserve the nobility's exclusive claim to high office and honors. Since nobles have already taken one unfair advantage over their fellow citizens, they are thought entitled to another so that poverty will not make the first look ridiculous. English common law, it is true, is said to oppose permanent restrictions on property. They are more limited in England than in any other European monarchy, though England still has some. In Scotland, more than one fifth, perhaps more than one third of all land is now thought to be under strict entail.

In this way particular families took over large areas of uncultivated land and made it almost impossible for the land ever to be divided again. But a large landowner is rarely someone who improves land extensively. In the chaotic times that produced these harsh institutions, a great landowner was busy protecting his territory or expanding his authority over his neighbors' land. He had no time to cultivate or improve his own. When law and order finally gave him the time, he often lacked the desire and almost always lacked the necessary skill. If his household and personal expenses equaled or exceeded his revenue, as often happened, he had no stock to invest in improvements. If he managed his money carefully, he usually found it more profitable to buy more land with his annual savings than to improve the land he already had. Improving land profitably, like any business undertaking, requires close attention to small savings and small gains. Even a naturally thrifty person born into a great fortune is rarely good at that. Someone in that position naturally pays more attention to decoration, which pleases him, than to profit, which he hardly needs. Since childhood he has cared about the elegance of his clothes, carriage, house, and furniture. That habit of mind carries over into his plans to improve his land. Perhaps he beautifies four or five hundred acres around his house at ten times what the land is worth after the work is done. Then he finds that improving his whole estate that way—the only way he likes—would bankrupt him before a tenth was finished. In both parts of the united kingdom, some great estates have remained continuously in the same families since the time of feudal disorder. Compare their present condition with nearby small owners' land. You will need no other proof of how poorly such vast ownership serves improvement.

If little improvement could be expected from large landowners, even less could be expected from the people working their land. In Europe in earlier times, land was worked by people who could be turned out at their owner's will. All or nearly all were slaves, though their condition was less harsh than that of slaves in ancient Greece and Rome, or even in our West Indian colonies. They were regarded as attached more directly to the land than to its owner. They could be sold with the land, but not separately. They could marry with their master's permission. He could not then break up the marriage by selling husband and wife to different people. He faced a penalty if he injured or killed one of them, though it was usually small. But they could not own property. Everything they acquired belonged to their master, who could take it whenever he wished. Any farming or improvement done with such slaves was really done by the master, at his expense and for his benefit. The seed, livestock, and farming tools were all his. The slaves could gain nothing beyond their daily keep. In effect, the landowner worked his own land using his own bonded workers. This kind of slavery still exists in Russia, Poland, Hungary, Bohemia, Moravia, and other parts of Germany. Only in Europe's western and southwestern provinces has it gradually disappeared completely.

But if large landowners rarely improve much, they are least likely to do so when they use enslaved workers. Experience across ages and nations shows, I believe, that work done by slaves ends up costing the most, even though it seems to cost only their keep. Someone unable to acquire property has no reason to do more than eat as much and work as little as possible. Any work beyond what earns their own keep can be forced from them only by violence, not by an interest of their own. Pliny and Columella both noted how grain farming declined in ancient Italy, and how little profit owners made from it, when slaves took charge of it. Things had not been much better in ancient Greece in Aristotle's time. Discussing the ideal republic described in Plato's laws, Aristotle says that feeding 5000 men who did no work—the number of warriors thought necessary for defense—along with their wives and servants would need a territory of limitless size and fertility, like the plains of Babylon.

Human pride makes people enjoy ruling over others. Nothing stings them more than having to lower themselves to persuade those beneath them. So wherever the law permits it and the work can bear the cost, people generally prefer enslaved workers to free workers. Sugar and tobacco plantations can bear the cost of slave labor. Grain farming apparently cannot do so now. In the English colonies whose main crop is grain, free people do most of the work. The Quakers in Pennsylvania recently decided to free all their negro slaves. This suggests that they could not have owned very many: if those slaves had made up a substantial share of their property, they would never have agreed to do it. By contrast, enslaved people do all the work in our sugar colonies and a very large share in our tobacco colonies. Sugar plantations in any of our West Indian colonies are generally far more profitable than any other kind of farming known in Europe or America. Tobacco plantations bring less profit than sugar, but more than grain, as already noted. Both can bear the cost of slave labor, but sugar can bear it even more easily than tobacco. Accordingly, our sugar colonies have far more negroes relative to whites than our tobacco colonies do.

Over time, the enslaved farmers of ancient times were replaced by a kind of farmer now known in France as a metayer. In Latin they are called Coloni Partiarii. They disappeared from England so long ago that I know no current English name for them. The landowner provided the seed, livestock, and farming tools—in short, all the stock needed to farm the land. The owner and farmer divided the produce equally, after setting aside what was needed to maintain the stock. That stock went back to the owner when the farmer left the farm or was turned out.