Estate (pronounced ih-steyt)
(1) A piece
of landed property, especially one of large extent with an elaborate house on
it.
(2) By
extension, in computing, an institution’s collective ICT (information &
communications technology) resources.
(3) In law,
property or possessions.
(4) In law,
the legal position or status of an owner, considered with respect to property
owned in land or other things (the degree or quantity of interest that a person
has in land with respect to the nature of the right, its duration, or its
relation to the rights of others; interest, ownership, or property in land or
other things.
(5) In law,
the property of a deceased person, a bankrupt etc, viewed as an aggregate.
(6) In UK
use, a housing development (sometimes a class-based slur (Council estate (ie
directed at those living in social housing)).
(7) As
“industrial estate”, land areas designated exclusively for industrial or
commercial purposes.
(8) In
automotive use, as “estate car” (often clipped to “estate”), an alternative term
for a station wagon.
(9) A
period or condition of life (archaic).
(10) Within
society, one of the major political or social group or classes, historically:
(1) the clergy, (2) the nobles, and (3) everybody else; they were style
respectively as first, second & third estates with a fourth (the press)
later added. Subsequent additions are
not universally acknowledged.
(11) Condition
or circumstances with reference to worldly prosperity, estimation, etc.; social
status or rank.
(12) The
owner of an estate (obsolete).
(13) Pomp
or state (obsolete).
(14) High
social status or rank (obsolete).
(15) To
give an estate to (obsolete).
(16) To
bestow upon (obsolete).
1175–1225:
From the Middle English estat, from
Anglo-Norman estat and Old French estat (state, position, condition,
health, status, legal estate), from the Latin status (state or condition,
position, place; social position of the aristocracy), from the primitive
Indo-European PIE root sta- (to
stand, make or be firm). It was cognate
with the Provençal estat and for some
time in Anglo-French there was the spelling astat;
the form endures in modern French as état. The native word in the Middle English was ethel (ancestral land or estate,
patrimony), from the Old English æðel. Estate
is a noun, verb & adjective, estateman is a noun, estating is a verb and
estated is an adjective; the noun plural is estates.
The idea of
an estate being the collective property and liabilities of someone (usually of the deceased, bankrupts or debtors) dates from the 1820s and as well
as being part of legal jargon (in probate or bankruptcy proceedings), it became
a commercial term (“estate sale”, “estate jewellery” etc). That ultimately was derived from the thirteen
century sense when it was used generally of one’s “state, condition or rank in
society”. Presumably because of late
fourteenth century use of “estate” to mean “real property” (ie land), in the early
1500s the meaning in this context between then and seventeenth century extended
(socially upwards) to imply “a person of
estate” (ie the rich, nobility, gentry etc); that was an example of
“linguistic association” and the various uses ran in parallel with the
technical use in law. As early as the
fourteenth century, there was the idea of “Estates of the Realm”, each a major
social class or order of persons regarded collectively as part of the body
politic of the country and possessing distinct (and very different) political rights. At the time the “major” in that phrase
referred either to wealth and power (the clergy or nobility) or sheer numbers
(everybody else). By the eighteenth
century, the use of “estate” to refer to “the general body politic; the
common-wealth” had faded and had been replaced by “the state” and later, “the
nation”.
In the English-speaking world, the classic example of the three “political estates” was the English model of the Lords Spiritual (bishops), Lords Temporal (hereditary peers) and Commons. There were though variations on the theme. The ancient Parliament of Scotland comprised the king and three estates: (1) archbishops, bishops, abbots & mired priors, (2) the barons and commissioners of shires and stewartries (the lands under the jurisdiction of a steward (a magistrate appointed by the crown to exercise jurisdiction over royal lands)) and (3) the commissioners from the royal burghs. In France the three estates were (1) the nobles, (2) the clergy and (3) the plebs; collectively, these were known as the États Généraux (pronounced ay-tah zhay-nay-roh). Before Louis XVI (1754–1793; King of France 1774-1792) on 5 May, 1789, summoned the assembly, the États Généraux hadn’t met for 175 years, that meeting in 1614 convened during the minority reign of Louis XIII (1601–1643; King of France 1610-1643). The 1614 assembly ended in deadlock and that meant no legislative measures ensued (suiting the kings and most of the nobility), thus cementing absolutism as the nature of the French state; operating as absolute monarchs, kings had no interest in sharing power and it was only as a last resort in 1789 with the ancien regime facing a catastrophic financial crisis and structural gridlock that Louis XVI fell compelled to convene the assembly. By then, it was too little, too late and before long, the guillotine began its bloody business.
The Danse Macabre (Dance of Death) was an artistic genre of allegory dating from the late Middle Ages; exploring the universality of death, it made clear that however high or low exulted one’s station in life, the death ultimately will visit all. It was a popular artistic motif in European folklore and the most elaborated of all Medieval macabre art. During the fourteenth century, Europe was beset by deathly horrors, recurring famines, the Hundred Years’ War (1337-1453) and, looming over all, the Black Death, an outbreak of bubonic plague which between 1346-1353 may have killed as many as 50 million, making it one of history's most lethal pandemics. In reducing the population of Europe by between a third and a half, its demographic, political and economic implications were felt for centuries. The artists often included some subtle comment about the way something like plague could take victims regardless of their wealth or social standing. In the modern era, the principle remains, one just as dead whether one is struck by a meteorite, drinks oneself to death or is murdered by the Freemasons.
In the UK,
while the composition has much changed, structurally the estates still exists
as the (1) the Lords Spiritual (26 Church of England bishops with ex officio seats in the House of Lords,
(2) the Lords Temporal (hereditary and life peers, a subset of each sitting in
the House of Lords) and (3) the Commons (elected representatives sitting in the
House of Commons). Those examples are
however only formalized examples of the ancient (and almost certainly
universal) graduation of societies into hierarchical layers. While the criteria used to establish the
layers could between cultures vary, as far as is known, no society with any
form of organization has ever not operated on some sort of stratified basis,
something not surprising given that’s the inherent (and natural) arrangements
of families, human or animal. Indeed, so
pervasive was the idea of “degree” that in the highly stratified Europe of the
late Middle Ages, it extended even to the rank-order of birds in the sport of falconry: falcons exclusively were for royalty, peregrines for noblemen, merlins for
noblewomen, goshawks for yeomen, sparrowhawks for priests and kestrels for
knaves or servants. Whether in the royal
court, the Church, the orders of chivalry or whatever, there were established
and well-understood layers. Even in art,
the sense of a living in a layered system was reflected, the many artists
between the fourteenth and sixteenth centuries who created memorable
illustrations of the danse macabre
depicting the members of the various estates going to their inevitable death is
ways that reflected their status; while there might in death be a kind of democratic
equality, the last days of some were celebrated more than others although the
works often were satirical and it’s obvious the demise of the rich wasn’t
always something to be mourned.
The three
(in England) estates were originally the three classes of people who could
participate in government, either directly or by electing representatives, originally
the clergy, barons & knights and the commons (though over time this would change).
Later the “three estates” were sometimes
written of as “the three organs of governmental” necessary for legislation: the
Crown, the House of Lords and the House of Commons. Building on the notion of three, the idea of
a “Fourth Estate” started to appear in satirical or jocular
expressions, the targets of the tag including “the mob” (1752) and “the lawyers”
(1825). In time, a “new” Fourth Estate
did join the list and it described the press, the origin often attributed to Anglo-Irish
Whig statesman and philosopher Edmund Burke (1729-1797) although the concept
was popularized in the writings of Irish literary critic & essayist William
Hazlitt (1778–1830); what Burke had suggested was that with newspapers becoming
more numerous and more influential, journalists, editors and publishers should
be regarded as “the Fourth Estate”.
First seriously discussed in early the 1820s, within a decade the term
had gained currency, supplanting earlier associations (although in both Burke
and Hazlitt there are unsubtle hints they likely thought of journalists as “the mob in print”, a view doubtlessly reflecting
the opinions of most politicians. From
the modest (if sometimes strident) folios of the eighteenth century to Rupert
Murdoch’s (b 1931) Fox News today, it’s clear Burke’s insight was
prescient. Subsequent creations have not
universally been accepted as part of the political lexicon but the ideas
explored are not without foundation. The
term “Fifth Estate” was first seen in the US during the 1960s counterculture and
was used as the name of a newspaper first printed in Detroit in 1965 and still published. Were one generous one could describe that
publication as an example of “critical theory” but it was of its time and
certainly an outlet for discontent and dissent.
The understanding of the Fifth Estate evolved into a socio-cultural
reference encompassing the opinions of those generally excluded from (or at least
marginalized by) the mainstream media and in the twenty-first century it
included those distributing their content on blogs, vlogs and social media
platforms. It became a generally
accepted concept.
Less accepted is the idea, first suggested in the late 1980s (before the www (world wide web made the internet an accessible, mass market commodity) there’s a “Sixth Estate” functioning as an observer, critic, and counterweight to the Fourth (the press) and Fifth Estate (non-mainstream online media). The basis of the concept was the realization a political phenomenon of the 1980s was groups of citizens organizing as pressure groups to pursue issues of interest that although tending to be relatively small in number, their clever use of the mainstream media meant they were able (often as “agenda-setters”) to exert an influence beyond their size and budgets. Obviously, blogs and social media were the natural environment for such groups although, as big tech rapidly honed their techniques, it’s likely in some cases the hunter has been captured by the game but, at least for their sectional audiences, some of the “Sixth Estate” functions still as an unofficial counterweight to the traditional press (now described variously as the “mainstream media” (however archaic that may be), “legacy media” or, as Donald Trump (b 1946; POTUS 2017-2021 and since 2025) prefers: “fake news media”. Wholly opportunistic was the attempt to coin “Seventh Estate”. That was the idea the newest influence to reach critical mass and influence was the “expert strategic advisor”, apparently a collective term for “business analysts, management consultants, thought leaders, market researchers” and such. The notion of the Seventh Estate seems less a serious contribution to political theory than a marketing promotion. There may be a case to be made for the recognition of a Seventh Estate and that is as a description of consumer-packaged AI (artificial intelligence). While philosophers and scientists can write erudite pieces discussing why what AI produces can’t be “independent thought”, it certainly can appear to be and, as theories of cognition explain, that may be enough for some to legitimize AI as the “Seventh Estate”.
Estate cars
Although with engines as large as 360 cubic inch (5.9 litre) V8s, the Australian-built Chrysler Valiants might seem a curious choice for the UK market in the post-oil shock 1970s, the demise of the big Humbers left a gap in the range and in 1967 the Australian cars had the advantage of benefiting from the Commonwealth preference scheme, a low tariff regime which was the last relic of the chimera of imperial free trade. Sales were never more than a trickle but the Chryslers were close to unique in the tiny market segment and the programme for a while remained profitable even after the tariff advantage was lost in 1973 when the UK joined the EEC (European Economic Community (1957), the Zollverein that would evolve into the EU (European Union (1993)); The cars remained available until 1976. Although in Australia and South Africa the Valiant station wagons had been called “Safaris” (after 1973 they would in the home market become “station wagons”), in the UK they were always marketed as “Estates”, reflecting the local practice.
The model represented a transition in method, the timber still real (mahogany plywood with birch or maple spars) but the roof now of steel. The timber component would later become “fibreglass over appliqué” and that look would for decades endure though as something purely decorative with no structural role. Although the look is better known as the “station wagon”, “estate cars” began life literally as “a car built for use on one’s estate”. Because, in this context, ownership of an estate was a preserve of the rich (including many with massive debts), the parameters of an estate car’s design included being large, comfortable and able easily to accommodate life’s essentials (hunting dogs, polo gear, fishing rods, shotguns etc). So that was specific but while there was sufficient demand to make the early estate cars for decades a thing in the catalogues of coachbuilders, there weren’t that many rich folk so rather than using full-metal bodies, what tended to be done was take a the chassis and frontal components of a conventional two or four-door saloon and add a “station wagon like” rear section in timber. Combining the eye of a coachbuilder with the hands of craftsmen skilled in timberwork, some elegant creations emerged in the pre-war years (some built as late as the 1950s) and the look influenced mainstream manufacturers in the post-war years with timber spars and panels appearing on station wagons, sedans and convertibles (although fibreglass and plastic appliqué would soon replace the natural product, despite which the “woodie” & “woody” nicknames remained). Inheriting an earlier tradition, the coach-built estate cars came to be called “shooting brakes”.
Although entirely
representative of the style of shooting brakes built in the 1930s, Bentley
4¼-Litre chassis B142JD retained until 1949 its original all-weather tourer
body by Vanden Plas, converted to a shooting brake in 1949-1950 by the
coachbuilder Vincents of Reading.
Founded in 1805 and best known in the era for their closed horse-drawn
carriages and railway cars, Vincents began building bodies for motor cars in
1899 but their most commercially successful lines turned out to be the “horse
boxes” (now often called “horse floats”) which could accommodate up to four
horses and were towed behind cars or trucks.
Post-war realities meant coach-building became a challenging business
model and in the late 1940s Vincents shifted their focus to trucks and busses
which provided a more stable flow of contracts but a small volume of cars were
built as late as 1955; the Bentley shooting brake on a 1937 chassis was untypical but an
example of the bespoke work possible.
Vincents built their last car body in 1981.
The economies of scale of the US industry in the post-war years was achieved volume production and efficient assembly with a high degree of interchangeability of parts. What that meant was it was viable to manufacture even low-volume ranges like the four-door hardtop (ie no B-pillar) station wagons. As a body-style, they were unique in the world and were in their era kind of the "ultimate estate" and a then unusual combination of something originally purely functional (the station wagon) with the flourish of a motif (the four-door hardtop) that had no purpose other than to look stylish; never big sellers, they were available for a decade, the last produced in 1964. The same mix 'n' match approach would later produce the sports car based shooting brakes.
The
industry never formalized the exact meaning of “shooting brake” but, by
convention, since at least the 1920s, it came to be used to describe a two-door
car (there were variations) with estate-car coachwork added aft, usually in timber
(although some sheet metal was sometimes included). The origin of the use lies in the original shooting
brakes, large horse-drawn carts suitable for use by shooting parties (ie groups
of people being taken to a spot at which it was convenient to slaughter
wildlife). The “brake” element in the
name was derived from the popularity of the heavy-framed carts for in “breaking-in”
spirited horses; etymologists have pointed out the Dutch brik (cart or carriage) but any link is speculative. In the UK, the term “brake” became so
identified with large horse-drawn carts it was applied widely, extended to
carts generally, whether or not used by shooting parties. In France, an estate car (station wagon) was
called a break, the French (somewhat unusually) following the example in
English, the original form having been break
de chasse (hunting break).
In recent decades, what are labelled shooting brakes have tended to be based on fast (or at least “fast-looking”) sports cars rather than the large chassis preferred for the purpose during the inter-war years. While the shooting brakes commissioned by the HFS (huntin’, fishin’ & shootin’) set could be well-proportioned and even elegant, they were not “sporty” but that market niche emerged in the 1960s. The best known early examples were the Reliant Scimitar GTE (1968-1986) and Volvo 1800 ES (1972-1973) and what legitimized the style (a two-door coupé with estate coachwork to the aft) was what Sir David Brown (1904–1993) thought would be a one-off based on an Aston Martin DB5 coupé (1963-1965, which the factory, in their English way, called a “saloon”). Sir David liked his DB5 saloon but found it too cramped comfortably to accommodate his polo gear, shotguns and hunting dogs. Now, that would be called a “first world problem” but because Brown then owned Aston Martin, he simply wrote out a work order and had his craftsmen create a bespoke shooting brake (thereby confirming the informal English definition of the term: “station wagon owned by someone rich”) which they did by hand-forming the aluminum panels with hammers over wooden formers. It delighted him and solved the problem but created another because good customers started writing him letters asking for their own. While folk offering to pay for a company's products usually is a good thing, at the time, Aston Martin was at full capacity building DB5s and developing the up-coming DB6, DBS and V8 models. With a bulging order book, the resources didn’t exist to add a niche model so the project was out-sourced to the coachbuilder Radford which built a further 11 (and subsequently another 6 based on the DB6 (1965-1971)). The “sporty” shooting brakes of course had nothing like the storage capacity of the old-style versions, the design imperative being to enlarge a sports car’s luggage space beyond the traditional “toothbrush & bikini”. So they were better suited to dirty weekends or trips to the ski slopes than a day spent slaughtering wildlife but nobody seems to have thought of a better term and because of the historic association with class & wealth, the target market likes “shooting brake”.
Leveraging her real-life history of driving incidents and DUI incidents, Lindsay Lohan appeared in the Esurance “Sorta Mom” spoof insurance commercial, shown during the 2015 Super Bowl. The fourth-generation Chrysler Town & Country minivan (2001-2007) was typical of what “soccer moms” drove after the demise of the station wagon.
The estate version of the Citroën CX (1974-1991) was made between 1975-1991; it was called “Break” in France and “Safari” in the UK. The most interesting variant was a six-wheel version which permitted a higher load capacity, the best known use as high-speed transporters of newspapers (remarkably heavy in bulk). Although fitted with low-powered diesel engines, the slippery aerodynamics and advanced suspension made high average speeds possible and proved the most economical way to move the quickly, over distances. This was a pre-digital version of the “information superhighway”.
“Estate” was but one of the terms used of the body style best known as the “station wagon”, others included “Safari” (France & Australia), “Station Sedan” (Auatralia), “Break” & “Commercial” (France), “Kombi”, “Universal” & “Touring” (Germany”) and “Squire” (US). The station was perhaps the most emblematic vehicle of post-war America, its popularity a product of (1) increasing prosperity leading to the “two car household” becoming the norm, (2) families moving from cities to newly developed, sprawling suburbs and (3) shopping patterns shifting from inner city department and grocery stores to vast suburban malls (with ever larger car parks, groceries taken from store to car by the provided shopping carts). Thus the perfect conjunction: women and their station wagons driving to the mall to shop, a model which contributed to the post war US boom. Internationally long in decline, the station wagon died out in the US by the 1990s although sales in Japan and Europe continued to be strong enough for a number of models to be sustained and in Australia, Holden kept one in the catalogue until the end of the operation in 2017. Those who once bought station wagons opted instead for minivans, SUVs (sports utility vehicles) or “Crossovers” (vehicles with SUV-like bodywork but built on a lighter platform) while those needing something suitable for unpacking the picnic basket in the polo-ground’s car-park are now (almost) all driving Range Rovers.
