labourers is referred to as normal[337] in the _Politicus_ _Republic_
and _Laws_. They are regarded simply as so much physical strength at
disposal. They are free, and so able to transfer their labour from job
to job according to demand. Intellectually and politically they do not
count. But the μισθωτὸς is neither a chattel like the slave, nor bound
to the soil like the serf. I have found no suggestion of the employment
of this class in agriculture; and, as I have said above, I believe that
they were in fact almost confined to the towns, especially such as the
Peiraeus. It is also worth noticing that we find favourable mention of
apprenticeship[338] as a method of learning a trade. But this principle
also seems not applied to agriculture. Again, we are told[339] in the
_Laws_ that one who has never served (δουλεύσας) will never turn out a
creditable master (δεσπότης). From the context this would seem to refer
only to the wardens of the country (ἀγρονόμοι), who must be kept under
strict discipline in order to perform very responsible duties. It does
not apply to farmers. Another curious rule[340] is that kidnapping of
men is not to be allowed. Yet there are bought slaves, and therefore a
market. That the dealer in human flesh should be despised[341] by his
customers is a feeling probably older than Plato, and it lasted down
to the days of _Uncle Tom’s Cabin_. In view of Plato’s acceptance of
the sharp line drawn between Greek and Barbarian (and this does touch
rustic slavery) it is interesting to note that he observed[342] with
care the different characters of alien peoples. He also refers[343] to
them without contempt in various contexts side by side with Greeks, and
cites[344] their common belief as a proof of the existence of the gods.
If I may venture to make a general comment on Plato’s position in
relation to the labour-question, I would remark that he is already in
the same difficulty which proved embarrassing to Aristotle, and which
has always beset those who seek to find a theoretical justification for
slavery. True, he is less definite and positive than Aristotle, but the
attempt to regard a human being as both a man and a chattel is a failure.
This point need not be further pressed here. But it is well to observe
that agriculture is the department in which the absurdity most strikingly
appears. Heavy farm-labour without prospect of personal advantage was
recognized as a function that no man would willingly perform. Hence to
be sent to labour on a farm was one of the punishments that awaited the
offending domestic slave. Hence overseers were employed to exact from
rustic slaves their daily task under the menace of severe and often cruel
punishments. Hence the humaner masters (as Xenophon shews us) tried to
secure more cheerful and effective service by a system of little rewards
for good work. In short there was in practical life a miserable attempt
to treat the slave both as a brute beast and as a moral being capable
of weighing consequences and acting accordingly. One form of reward,
manumission, was apparently not at this time common[345] in Greece:
and it was one not easy to apply in agriculture. It was not easy to
know what to do with a worn-out farm-hand, unless he was transferred to
lighter duties on the farm; for he would be useless elsewhere. Sooner or
later a time would come when he could no longer do anything of any value.
What then? Was he charitably fed by the master[346] whom he had served,
or was he cast adrift in nominal freedom? From the fragments of Comedy
one may perhaps guess that the humaner practice generally prevailed. But
the silence of Plato seems to suggest that to him, and indeed to Greeks
generally, the point was not an important one. Even for a citizen, if
destitute in old age, the state-relief was very small. We must therefore
not wonder at the silence generally maintained as to the treatment of the
worn-out rustic slave. Slave artisans, and those whose services were let
out to other employers with reservation of a rent to their own masters,
could scrape together the means of sustenance in their old age. It is
possible that manumission of rustic slaves may have occasionally taken
place, and that they too may have scraped together some small savings:
but I can find no ground for thinking that such cases were normal or even
frequent. In the _Laws_ Plato allows for the presence of freedmen[347],
and frames regulations for their control, probably suggested by
experience of the Attic laws and their defects. Manumission by the
state[348] as reward of slave-informers is also mentioned. But there
is nothing in these passages to weaken the natural inference that town
slaves, and chiefly domestics, are the class to whom in practice such
rules would apply. In short, we must not look to a philosopher reared in
a civilization under which manual labour tended to become the burden of
the unfree and the destitute, and to be despised as mean and unworthy of
the free citizen, for a wholesome solution of the problem of farm-labour.
XVI. THE EARLIER ATTIC ORATORS.
It is convenient to take the speeches and pamphlets of the masters of
Attic oratory in two sections, though there can be no exact chronological
division between the two. The political background is different in the
two cases. To Isocrates the urgent problem is how to compose Greek
jealousies by uniting in an attack on the common enemy, Persia: to
Demosthenes it is how to save the separate independence of the weary
Greek states from the control of the encroaching king of Macedon. True,
the disunion of Greece was not to be ended by either effort. But the
difficulties of Isocrates lay largely outside Athens: the states did not
want to have a leader; Philip, to whom he turned in his old age, was no
more welcome to them than the rest of his proposed leaders. Demosthenes
had to face the fact of a Macedonian party in Athens itself, as well as
to overcome the apathy and inertia which had been growing continually
since the fall of the Athenian empire. His opponents were not all mere
corrupt partisans of the Macedonian king. Athens was now no longer a
great power, and they knew it: Demosthenes is forgiven by historians for
his splendid defiance of facts. Naturally enough, in the conflicts of
political opinion from the time of the revolution of the Four Hundred
to the death of Demosthenes (411-322 BC) we have few references to
agriculture. Yet we know that the question of food-supply was still a
pressing one for many Greek states, above all for Athens. Some of the
references have a value as being contemporary. But a large part of these
are references to litigation, and deal not with conditions of cultivation
but with claims to property. Among the most significant facts are the
importance attached to the control of the Hellespontine trade-route and
the careful regulations affecting the import and distribution[349] of
corn.
The period on which we get some little light from passages in the
earlier orators is roughly about 410-350 BC. It includes the general
abandonment of agricultural enterprises abroad, owing to the loss of
empire and therewith of cleruchic properties. By this shrinkage the
relative importance of home agriculture must surely have been increased.
Yet I cannot find a single direct statement or reference to this effect.
It seems reasonable to suppose that it was not necessary to assert what
was only too obvious. Corn had to be imported, and imported it was from
various[350] sources of supply. To guard against failure of this supply
was a chief preoccupation of the Athenian government. But that some corn
was still grown in Attica is clear. Isocrates says[351] that one act of
hostility to the Thirty was the destruction of corn in the country by the
democrats. And in another place[352] he lays stress upon the mythical
legend of the earliest introduction of corn-growing, the civilizing gift
of Demeter to her favoured Attica. Yet there are signs that the culture
of the olive and vine was more and more displacing cereal crops: the fig
tree, often a sacred thing, was, and had long been, a regular feature
of the countryside. Live stock, goats sheep and cattle, were probably
abundant, though there was seldom need for an orator to mention them.
If we judge by the remaining references, it would seem that land was
not generally cultivated by its owners. Letting to tenant farmers[353]
was the plan adopted by the state in dealing with public lands, and
the collection of the rents was farmed out in its turn to capitalist
speculators by public auction. We have several specimens[354] of mixed
estates, described by an orator in connexion with some litigation. From
these we may fairly infer that the policy of not putting all their
eggs into one basket found favour with Athenian capitalists. Landed
estate is in such cases but one item, side by side with house-property,
mortgages and money at interest on other securities, slaves and other
stock employed or leased to employers, stock in hand, specie and other
valuables, mentioned in more or less detail. Consistently with this
picture of landlord and tenant is the statement[355] that formerly, in
the good old times before Athens entered upon her ill-starred career
of imperialism, the country houses and establishments of citizens
were superior to those within the city walls; so much so, that even
the attraction of festivals could not draw them to town from their
comfortable country-seats. Evidently a great change had come over rural
Attica, if the writer is to be trusted. We are not to suppose that
personal direction of a farm by the owner of the land was altogether
a thing of the past. Suburban farms at least were, as we learn from
Xenophon, sometimes managed by men living in the city and riding out to
superintend operations and give orders. The injured husband[356] defended
by =Lysias= may even have gone to and fro on foot. He does not seem to
have been a wealthy man, and he may have been a αὐτουργός, taking part in
the labours of his farm: that he earned his night’s rest and slept sound
seems suggested by the context of his curious story.
That there was no lack of interest in the prospects of agriculture
generally may be inferred from various references to the different
qualities of soils not only in Attica but in other parts of Greece and
abroad. The smallness of the cultivable area in rocky Samothrace[357]
was noted by =Antiphon=. =Isocrates= remarked[358] that in Laconia the
Dorian conquerors appropriated not only the greater part of the land
but the most fertile. The results of their greed and oppression had not
been wholly satisfactory in the long run: adversity carried with it the
peril[359] of Helot risings. No fertility of soil can compensate for
the ill effects of bad policy and lack of moderation: the independence
and wellbeing of cramped rocky Megara, contrasted[360] with the
embarrassments of wide fruitful Thessaly, is an object-lesson. The
Greek race needs to expand[361], as it did of old, when Athens led the
colonization of the Asiatic seaboard. It is monstrous to try and wring
contributions from (δασμολογεῖν)[362] the islanders, who have to till
mountain sides for lack of room. It is in Asia that the new Greece must
find relief, at the expense of Persia, whose subjects let vast areas
lie idle, while the parts that they do cultivate keep them in great
plenty; so fertile is the land. Attica itself was once a prosperous
farming country. In the good old days, before the unhappy dissension
between selfish rich and grudging poor, agriculture was one of the chief
means[363] used to avert poverty and distress. Farms let at fair rents
kept the people profitably employed, and so out of mischief. Men could
and did[364] live well in the country: they were not jostling each other
in the city to earn a bare subsistence by pitiful state-fees—beggars
all—as they are doing now. The great pamphleteer may be overdrawing his
picture, but that it contains much truth is certain, and it seems pretty
clear that he saw no prospect of a local revival. Athens had run her
course of ambitious imperialism, and the old country life, developed in
long security, could not be restored. Any man who felt inclined to live
a farmer’s life would, if I read the situation aright, prefer some cheap
and profitable venture abroad to the heavy and unremunerative struggles
of a crofter in upland Attica. Small farms in the rich lowland were I
take it very seldom to be had. And, if he had the capital to work a large
farm, he was under strong temptation to employ his capital in urban
industries, state-contracts, loans at interest, etc, and so to distribute
his risks while increasing his returns. For his main object was to
make money, not to provide himself and his family with a healthy and
comfortable home. The land-question in Attica is illustrated by a passage
of =Isaeus= in which he refers to the fraud of a guardian. The scoundrel,
he says, has robbed his nephew of the estate: he is sticking to the farm
(τὸν ἀγρόν) and has given him a hill pasture[365] (φελλέα).
Farming enterprise abroad had been a product of the Athenian empire
with its cleruchies and colonies, and probably private ventures of
individuals, unofficial but practically resting on imperial protection.
The collapse of this system would ruin some settlers and speculators,
and impoverish more. Even those who returned to Athens still possessed
of considerable capital would not in all cases take to Attic farming,
even supposing that they were willing to face its risks and that suitable
farms were available. It was to Athens a most important object to retain
or recover all she could of her island territories, partly no doubt in
order to control the cultivable lands in them. In the peace-negotiations
of 390 BC the extreme opposition party at Athens were not content[366]
with the proposals by which she was to recover the islands of Lemnos
Imbros and Scyros: they demanded also the restitution of the Thracian
Chersonese and estates and debts elsewhere. So strong was the feeling of
dependence on these investments abroad. And =Isocrates=, in depicting the
evil results of imperial ambition, recalls[367] to the citizens that,
instead of farming the lands of others, the Peloponnesian war had for
years prevented them from setting eyes upon their own.
Thus far I have said nothing of the labour-question. Orators and
pamphleteers were not likely to concern themselves much with this topic,
for there was nothing in the nature of an Abolitionist controversy
to bring them into discussion of the subject. Slavery is in this
department of Greek literature more a fundamental assumption than ever.
The frequent arguments on the torture of slave witnesses and the moral
value of evidence so extracted are plain proof of this. But what about
agricultural labour? In the case of the sacred olive-stump we hear from
=Lysias=[368] that the farm in question several times changed hands by
sale. Some of the purchasers let it to tenants. The words used of the
persons who actually farmed it from time to time are the usual ones,
ἐγεώργει, εἰργάσατο etc. That these tenants were not merely αὐτουργοί,
but employers of labour, may fairly be guessed from the case of the
present tenant, accused of sacrilege. He at least is an owner of slaves,
and argues[369] that he could never have been so mad as to put himself
at their mercy. They would have witnessed his sacrilege, and could have
won their freedom by informing against their master. Isocrates[370] draws
no real distinction between serfs and slaves in the case of Sparta. Here
too the slave was dangerous, though in a different way: but he was on
the land. A fragment of =Isaeus=[371] runs ‘he left on the farm old men
and cripples.’ The context is lost, but the persons referred to must
surely be slaves: no one would employ wage-labour of this quality. In
another place he casually mentions[372] the sale of a flock of goats with
the goatherd. These little scraps of evidence all serve to strengthen
the impression, derived from other sources, of slave-labour as the
backbone of Attic agriculture in this period. To free labour there are
very few references, and none of these seem to have any connexion with
agriculture. This does not prove that no hired freemen were employed
on farms. For special jobs, as we shall see later, they were called in:
but this was only temporary employment. The μισθτοὶ or θῆτες were a
despised[373] class: some of them were freedmen. The competition with
slave-labour doubtless had something to do with this, and to be driven
by necessity to such labour was galling to a citizen, as we have already
learnt from Xenophon.
XVII. ARISTOTLE.
The great founder of the philosophy of experience is a witness[374] of
exceptional value. He collected and recorded the facts and traditions
of the past, judging them from the point of view of his own day.
Stimulated by the theories of his master Plato, he also strove, by
sketching the fabric of a model state, to indicate the lines on which
Greek political development might be conducted with advantage. Inasmuch
as ideal circumstances were rather to be desired than expected, he
did not restrict his interest in the future to the mere designing
of an ideal: taking states as he found them, conditioned by their
situation and past history, he sought for the causes of their growth and
decay, and aimed at discovering cures for their various maladies. But
throughout, whether looking to the past or the future, he was guided by
a characteristic moral purpose. For him ‘good living’ (τὸ εὖ ζῆν) is the
aim and object of political institutions. It is in the state that man
finds the possibility of reaching his full development: for he is by
nature a ‘political animal.’ That is, he cannot live alone. Each step in
association (household, village,) brings him nearer to that final union
of the city. In this he attains the highest degree of manhood of which
he (as Man, differentiated from other animals by reason and speech,) is
capable. This completion of his potentialities is the proof of his true
nature; that he realizes his best self in the πόλις shews that he is a
πολιτικὸν ζῷον. The animal needs met in the more primitive associations
are of course met in the city also. But there is something more, and this
something more is a moral element, from which is derived the possibility
of ‘good living,’ as contrasted with existence of a more predominantly
animal character. Therefore, though in point of time the man comes before
the state, in logical order the state comes first: for the man can only
exist in the fulness of his nature when he is a citizen. He is by the law
of his nature part of a state, potentially: as such a part he is to be
regarded. As states vary, so do the several types of citizens. In the
best state the qualities of good man and good citizen are identical and
complete.
The aim of political science (πολιτική) is to frame and employ the
machinery of states so as to promote the perfection of human excellence
(ἀρετή), and to train the citizens on such principles as will insure
the effective working and permanence of their institutions. We may call
it Aristotle’s response to the Greek yearning after a stability which
was in practice never attained. To design a model state was one way
of approaching the problem. But Aristotle was surely not the man to
believe that such an ideal could be practically realised. To make the
best of existing systems was a more promising enterprise. Now in either
procedure it was evident that material equipment[375] could not be left
out of account. Without food clothing and shelter men cannot live at
all, and therefore cannot live well. Experience also shewed that the
means of defence against enemies could not safely be neglected. It is
under the head of equipment (χορηγία) that we get the philosopher’s
view of the proper position of agriculture in the life of a state. We
must bear in mind the general Greek conception of citizenship common to
statesmen and theorists, present to Plato and Aristotle no less than to
Cleisthenes or Pericles. Residence gave no claim to it. Either it was
hereditary, passing from father to son on proof of citizen descent and
certain religious qualifications; or it was deliberately conferred on a
person or persons as a privilege. That beside the citizens there should
be resident within the state[376] a number of persons, not citizens or
likely to become citizens, was a necessity generally admitted. They
might be free aliens, more or less legally connected with the state, or
slaves public or private. These alien persons were very numerous in some
states, such as Athens or Corinth. Subject or serf populations of Greek
origin, as in Laconia or Thessaly, are not to be distinguished from them
for the present purpose. One common mark of citizenship was the right of
owning land within the territory of the state. We know that the Attic
landowner must be an Athenian citizen, and such was the general rule.
Who did the actual work of cultivation, or tended the flocks and herds,
is another question. We have seen reason for believing that personal
labour[377] of the owner on his farm had at one time been usual, and that
the practice still in the fourth century BC prevailed in those parts
of Greece where there had been little development of urban life. And
that slave-labour was employed by farmers on a greater or less scale,
according to the size of their estates, seems as certain as certain
can be. In Attica the slave overseer, entrusted with the direction of
a gang of slave labourers, had become[378] a well-recognized figure,
and farming by deputy, as well as labouring by deputy, was an ordinary
thing. Citizens resided in the city more than ever. Rich men visited
their country estates to keep an eye on their overseers, or paid the
penalty of their neglect. Poor citizens, resident and able to attend
meetings of the Assembly, had to be kept quiet by systematic provision
of fees for performance of civic functions. It may be too strong to say
that squeezing the wealthy was the leading fact of politics: but there
was too much of that sort of thing, and the scramble for state pay was
demoralizing. Immediate personal interest tended to deaden patriotism in
a state that within human memory had, whatever its faults, been the most
public-spirited community among the leading states of Greece.
In treating of politics, and therewith in assigning a position to
agriculture, Aristotle was affected by three main influences. First,
the historical; the experience of Greek states, and more particularly
of Athens. Secondly, the theoretical; the various attempts of earlier
philosophers, particularly of Plato, to find a solution of political
problems on speculative lines. Thirdly, his own firm conviction that
the lasting success of state life depended on devotion to a moral end.
It will be the simplest and best plan to consider his utterances on
agriculture from these three points of view.