contract in that connection, although historically our action for such

cases is delictal. In other connections also our law for a time sought to develop this postulate contractually by means of an "implied undertaking to use skill" for which one must answer if his skill fell short of that which the legal standard of affirmative conduct called for under the circumstances. Also in the Year Books an undertaking implied in certain relations or callings to use the skill or diligence which the relation or calling demanded is often made the basis of liability. But here the basis of liability must be found in a relation. The fiction of an undertaking to use the skill or diligence involved in a relation or calling is a juristic way of saying that one who deals with another in such a relation or with another who professes such a calling is justified in assuming the skill and diligence ordinarily involved therein, so that the law holds those in the relation or engaged in the calling to that standard in order to maintain the general security. In other words another, though closely related, postulate of civilized society is involved.

It is worth a moment's digression to suggest that such things show how little the historical categories of delict and contract represent any essential or inherent need of legal thinking. Austin thought that "the distinction of obligations (or of duties corresponding to rights against persons specifically determined) into obligations which arise from contracts, obligations which arise from injuries, and obligations which arise from incidents which are neither contracts nor injuries," was a "necessary distinction," without which a "system of law evolved in a refined community" could not be conceived. This "necessary" systematic scheme, which must be "a constituent part" of any imaginable developed legal system, is but the Roman division into obligations ex contractu, obligations ex delicto and obligations ex uariis causarum figuris, in which the third category is obviously a catch-all. In trying to fit our law into this necessary scheme, we find three types of cases must go in the third: (a) Duties or liabilities attached by law to a relation, (b) duties imposed by law to prevent unjust enrichment, (c) duties involved in an office or calling. In the third of these our Anglo-American procedure allows recovery either ex delicto or ex contractu. In the second our law sometimes goes on a property theory of constructive trust. In the first duties are sometimes sanctioned affirmatively by conferring legal powers or negatively by legal non-restraint of natural powers, as in the law of domestic relations, where the wife has a power to pledge the husband's credit for necessaries and the law does not interfere with the parent's administering reasonable "correction" to the child. Are we to say that these dogmatic departures of our law from the Roman scheme are inconceivable or that because of them our law is not matured or was not "evolved in a refined community?" Or are we to say that Austin derived his systematic ideas, not from scientific study of English law, but from scientific study of Roman law in a German university? Are we to say that we cannot "imagine coherently" a system of law which enforces warranties indifferently ex contractu or ex delicto as our law does, or which goes further and applies the contract measure of damage ex delicto as does the law of Massachusetts? But enough of this. What we have here is not any necessary distinction. It is rather what Austin calls a "pervading notion," to be found generally in the systematic ideas of developed legal systems by derivation from the Roman books. Roman law may have a contractual conception of obligation ex delicto--thinking of the delict as giving rise to a debt--and the common law a delictual conception of liability upon contract--thinking in terms of recovery of damages for the wrong of breaking a promise--without much difference in the ultimate results. The fundamental things are not tort and contract but justifiable assumptions as to the mode in which one's fellow men will act in civilized society in many different situations of which aggression and undertaking are but two common types.

Returning to our second postulate of due care in affirmative courses of conduct, we may note that in the society of today it is no less fundamental than the postulate of no intentional aggression. Aggression is the chief if not the only form of anti-social conduct in a primitive society. Indeed, a Greek writer on law and politics of the fifth century B. C. knew of no other subject of legal precepts. But with the development of machinery and consequent increase in human powers of action, the general security comes to be threatened quite as much by the way in which one does things as by what he does. Carelessness becomes a more frequent and more serious source of danger to the general security than aggression. Hence a set of nominate delicts requiring dolus is supplemented by a theory of culpa. Hence a set of nominate torts, characterized by intentional aggression, is supplemented by liability for negligence, and the latter becomes the more important source of legal liability in practice.

Must we not recognize also a third postulate, namely, that men must be able to assume that others, who keep things or maintain conditions or employ agencies that are likely to get out of hand or escape and do damage, will restrain them or keep them within proper bounds? Just as we may not go effectively about our several businesses in a society dependent on a minute division of labor if we must constantly be on guard against the aggressions or the want of forethought of our neighbor, so our complex social order based on division of labor may not function effectively if each of us must stay his activities through fear of the breaking loose or getting out of hand of something which his neighbor harbors or maintains. There is danger to the general security not only in what men do and the way in which they do it, but also in what they fail to do in not restraining things they maintain or agencies they employ which may do injury if not kept strictly in hand. The general security is threatened by wilful aggression, by affirmative action without due regard for others in the mode of conducting it, and by harboring and maintaining things and employing agencies likely to escape or to go out of bounds and do damage. Looked at in this way, the ultimate basis of delictal liability is the social interest in the general security. This interest is threatened or infringed in three ways: (1) Intentional aggression, (2) negligent action, (3) failure to restrain potentially dangerous things which one maintains or potentially dangerous agencies which one employs. Accordingly these three are the immediate bases of delictal liability.

Controversial cases of liability without fault involve the third postulate. Systematic writers have found no difficulty in reconciling the law of negligence with the will theory of liability and the doctrine of no liability without fault. Yet they must use the term fault in a strained sense in order to fit our law of negligence with its objective standard of due care, or the Roman cases of liability for culpa judged by the abstract standard, into any theory of moral blameworthiness. The doctrine of liability for fault and for fault only has its roots in the stage of equity and natural law, when the moral and the legal are identified, and means that one shall respond for injuries due to morally blameworthy conduct upon his part. As Ames puts it, "the unmoral standard of acting at one's peril" is replaced by the question, "Was the act blameworthy?" But is an act blameworthy because the actor has a slow reaction time or was born impulsive or is naturally timid or is easily "rattled" and hence in an emergency does not come up to the standard of what a reasonably prudent man would do in such an emergency, as applied ex post facto by twelve average men in the jury box? If our use of "culpable" here were not, as it were, Pickwickian, we should allow the defendant in such cases to show what sort of man nature had made him and to call for individualization with respect to his character and temperament as well as with respect to the circumstances under which he acted. As the Romanist would say, we should apply a concrete standard of culpa. But what the law is really regarding is not his culpable exercise of his will but the danger to the general security if he and his fellows act affirmatively without coming up to the standard imposed to maintain that security. If he acts, he must measure up to that standard at his peril of answering for injurious consequences. Whenever a case of negligence calls for sharp application of the objective standard, fault is as much a dogmatic fiction as is representation in the liability of the master for the torts of his servant. In each case the exigencies of the will theory lead us to cover up a liability irrespective of fault, imposed to maintain the general security, by a conclusive imputation of fault to one who may be morally blameless. This is no less true of cases where we speak of "negligence per se."

Reconciliation of common-law absolute liabilities for the getting out of hand of things likely to escape and do damage with the doctrine of no liability without fault has been sought by means of a fiction of negligence, by pronouncing them disappearing historical anomalies, by an economic interpretation that regards them as results of class interest distorting the law, and by a theory of res ipsa loquitur. Blackstone resorted to the first of these. "A man is answerable," he said, "for not only his own trespass but for that of his cattle also; for if by his negligent keeping they stray upon the land of another ... this is a trespass for which the owner must answer in damages." But note that the negligence here is a dogmatic fiction. No proof of negligence is required of the plaintiff, nor may the defendant show that there was in fact no negligence. The negligence is established by the liability, not the liability by the negligence.

In the last century it was usual to refer to absolute liability for trespassing animals, for injuries by wild animals and for injuries by domestic animals, known to be vicious, as disappearing rudiments of the old liability to make composition. The common American doctrine as to cattle running at large upon uncultivated lands seemed to confirm this. Yet one need but look beneath the surface to see that the English rule was rejected for a time in America, not because it was in conflict with a fundamental principle of no liability without fault, but because it presupposed a settled community, where it was contrary to the general security to turn cattle out to graze, whereas in pioneer American communities of the past vacant lands which were owned and those which were not owned could not be distinguished and the grazing resources of the community were often its most important resources. The common-law rule, without regard to its basis, was for a time inapplicable to local conditions. It is significant that as the conditions that made the rule inapplicable have come to an end the rule has generally re-established itself. In England it is in full vigor so that the owner of trespassing animals is held for disease communicated by them although he had no knowledge or reason to suppose they were diseased. A rule that can re-establish itself and extend its scope in this way is not moribund. It must have behind it some basis in the securing of social interests. Nor have the attempts of some American courts to narrow common-law liability for injuries by known vicious animals to cases of negligent keeping made much headway. The weight of American authority remains with the common-law rule and in England the Court of Appeal has carried the rule out to the extent of holding the owner notwithstanding the animal was turned loose by the wrongful act of an intermeddling third person. Nor have the predictions that the doctrine of Rylands v. Fletcher would disappear from the law through the courts' smothering it with exceptions--predictions commonly made at the end of the last century--been verified in the event. In 1914 the English courts refused to limit the doctrine to adjacent free-holders and they have since extended it to new situations. Moreover in America, where we had been told it was decisively rejected, it has been applied in the past decade by more than one court. The leading American cases that profess to reject the doctrine did not involve it nor did they involve the postulate of civilized society on which, as I think, it is based. Also the Court of Appeals of New York, the leading exponent of no liability without fault, had theretofore imposed a liability without regard to negligence in the case of blasting.

An ingenious explanation of the doctrine of Rylands v. Fletcher by means of the economic interpretation of legal history demands more notice. We are told that the English courts were manned by landowners or by judges drawn from the land-owning class; that the doctrine of Rylands v. Fletcher is a doctrine for landowners and so was not accepted by artisans in the United States. But consider which states applied the rule and which rejected it. It was applied in Massachusetts in 1872, in Minnesota in 1872, in Ohio in 1896, in West Virginia in 1911, in Missouri in 1913, in Texas in 1916. It was rejected by New Hampshire in 1873, by New York in 1873, by New Jersey in 1876, by Pennsylvania in 1886, by California in 1895, by Kentucky in 1903, by Indiana in 1911. Is New York a community of artisans but Massachusetts a community of landowners? Did the United States begin to change from a country of artisans to one of landowners about the year 1910 so that a drift toward the doctrine began at that time after a steady rejection of it between 1873 and 1896? Rylands v. Fletcher was decided in 1867 and is connected with the movement Dicey calls collectivism, which, he says, began in 1865. It is a reaction from the notion of liability merely as a corollary of culpability. It restrains the use of land in the interest of the general security. If this view is well taken, if it was an attempt to take account of the social interest in the general security in a crowded country, this may explain the reluctance with which it was received in the United States at first, where pioneer ideas, appropriate to a less crowded agricultural country, lingered at least to the end of the nineteenth century. In the actual American decisions, some follow Rylands v. Fletcher as an authoritative statement of the common law. Other cases go rather on the principle that liability flows from culpability. Agricultural states and industrial states alike divide along these doctrinal lines. Massachusetts and Pennsylvania, both industrial states, are on opposite sides. So are Texas and Kentucky, which are agricultural states. Massachusetts and New Jersey, each with an appointive bench, are on opposite sides, and so are Ohio and New York, each with an elective bench. In truth the Massachusetts court followed authority. In New Hampshire Chief Justice Doe was not willing to go on mere authority and decided on the general principle that liability must flow from fault.

Another view is that the doctrine of Rylands v. Fletcher is a crude attempt, when negligence and the doctrine of res ipsa loquitur were none too well understood, to apply the principle of the latter doctrine, and that those doctrines will suffice to reach the actual result. No doubt res ipsa loquitur gives a possible mode of treating cases where one maintains something likely to get out of hand and do injury. For four possible solutions may be found for such cases. One is absolute liability, as in Rylands v. Fletcher. Another is to put the burden of proof of due care on the defendant, as French law does in some cases and as is done by some American decisions and some statutes in case of fires set by locomotives. A third is to apply the doctrine of res ipsa loquitur. A fourth would be to require the plaintiff to prove negligence, as is done by the Supreme Court of New Jersey where a known vicious animal breaks loose. That the fourth, which is the solution required by the theory of no liability without fault, has found but two courts to uphold it, and that only in the case of vicious domestic animals, is suggestive. Res ipsa loquitur may easily run into a dogmatic fiction, and must do so, if made to achieve the result of the doctrine of Rylands v. Fletcher, which does not permit the defendant to go forward with proof, short of vis maior or the unanticipated unlawful act of a third person beyond defendant's control. The vitality and persistence of the doctrine against theoretical assault for more than a generation show that it is more than a historical anomaly or a dogmatic blunder.

Another type of common-law liability without fault, the so-called liability of the carrier as an insurer and the liability of the innkeeper, is relational and depends upon a different postulate. Nineteenth-century courts in the United States endeavored to hold down the former, restricting it because of its inconsistency with the doctrine of liability as a corollary of fault. But it has proved to have abundant vitality, has been extended by legislation in some states to carriers of passengers and has been upheld by recent legislation everywhere.

Two other types of liability, contractual and relational, must receive brief notice. The former has long done valiant service for the will theory. Not only liability arising from legal transactions but liability attached to an office or calling, liability attached to relations and liability to restitution in case of unjust enrichment have been referred to express or implied undertaking and hence to the will of the person held. But beneath the surface the so-called contract by estoppel, the cases of acceptance of a wrongly transmitted offer, the doctrine that a public utility has no general power of contract as to facilities or rates except to liquidate the terms of its relational duties in certain doubtful cases, and cases of imposition of duties on husband or wife after marriage by change of law, have caused persistent and recurring difficulties and call everywhere for a revision of our ideas. Also the objective theory of contract has undermined the very citadel of the will theory. May we not refer these phenomena, not to the will of the person bound, but to another postulate of civilized society and its corollaries? May we not say that in civilized society men must be able to assume that those with whom they deal in the general intercourse of society will act in good faith? If so, four corollaries will serve as the bases of four types of liability. For it will follow that they must be able to assume (a) that their fellow men will make good reasonable expectations created by their promises or other conduct, (b) that they will carry out their undertakings according to the expectation which the moral sentiment of the community attaches thereto, (c) that they will conduct themselves with zeal and fidelity in relations, offices and callings, and (d) that they will restore in specie or by equivalent what comes to them by mistake or unanticipated situation whereby they receive what they could not have expected reasonably to receive under such circumstances. Thus we come back to the idea of good faith, the idea of the classical Roman jurists and of the philosophical jurists of the seventeenth century, out of which the will theory was but a metaphysical development. Only we give it a basis in social philosophy where they sought a basis in theories of the nature of transactions or of the nature of man as a moral creature.

Looking back over the whole subject, shall we not explain more phenomena and explain them better by saying that the law enforces the reasonable expectations arising out of conduct, relations and situations, instead of that it proceeds upon willed action and willed action only, enforcing the willed consequences of declared intention, enforcing reparation for willed aggression and enforcing reparation for culpable carrying on of willed conduct? If we explain more and explain it more completely by saying that the ultimate thing in the theory of liability is justifiable reliance under the conditions of civilized society than by saying that it is free will, we shall have done all that we may hope to do by any theory.

V

Property

Economic life of the individual in society, as we know it, involves four claims. One is a claim to the control of certain corporeal things, the natural media on which human existence depends. Another is a claim to freedom of industry and contract as an individual asset, apart from free exercise of one's powers as a phase of personality, since in a highly organized society the general existence may depend to a large extent upon individual labor in specialized occupations, and the power to labor freely at one's chosen occupation may be one's chief asset. Third, there is a claim to promised advantages, to promised performances of pecuniary value by others, since in a complex economic organization with minute division of labor and enterprises extending over long periods, credit more and more replaces corporeal wealth as the medium of exchange and agency of commercial activity. Fourth, there is a claim to be secured against interference by outsiders with economically advantageous relations with others, whether contractual, social, business, official or domestic. For not only do various relations which have an economic value involve claims against the other party to the relation, which one may demand that the law secure, but they also involve claims against the world at large that these advantageous relations, which form an important part of the substance of the individual, shall not be interfered with. Legal recognition of these individual claims, legal delimitation and securing of individual interests of substance is at the foundation of our economic organization of society. In civilized society men must be able to assume that they may control, for purposes beneficial to themselves, what they have discovered and appropriated to their own use, what they have created by their own labor and what they have acquired under the existing social and economic order. This is a jural postulate of civilized society as we know it. The law of property in the widest sense, including incorporeal property and the growing doctrines as to protection of economically advantageous relations, gives effect to the social want or demand formulated in this postulate. So also does the law of contract in an economic order based upon credit. A social interest in the security of acquisitions and a social interest in the security of transactions are the forms of the interest in the general security which give the law most to do. The general safety, peace and order and the general health are secured for the most part by police and administrative agencies. Property and contract, security of acquisitions and security of transactions are the domain in which law is most effective and is chiefly invoked. Hence property and contract are the two subjects about which philosophy of law has had the most to say.

In the law of liability, both for injuries and for undertakings, philosophical theories have had much influence in shaping the actual law. If they have grown out of attempts to understand and explain existing legal precepts, yet they have furnished a critique by which to judge those precepts, to shape them for the future and to build new ones out of them or upon them. This is much less true of philosophical theories of property. Their rôle has not been critical or creative but explanatory. They have not shown how to build but have sought to satisfy men with what they had built already. Examination of these theories is an illuminating study of how philosophical theories of law grow out of the facts of time and place as explanations thereof and then are given universal application as necessarily explanatory or determinative of social and legal phenomena for all time and in every place. It has been said that the philosophy of law seeks the permanent or enduring element in the law of the time and place. It would be quite as true to say that it seeks to find in the law of the time and place a permanent or enduring picture of universal law.

It has been said that the individual in civilized society claims to control and to apply to his purposes what he discovers and reduces to his power, what he creates by his labor, physical or mental, and what he acquires under the prevailing social, economic or legal system by exchange, purchase, gift or succession. The first and second of these have always been spoken of as giving a "natural" title to property. Thus the Romans spoke of them as modes of "natural acquisition" by occupation or by specification (making a species, i.e., creation). Indeed, taking possession of what one discovers is so in accord with a fundamental human instinct that discovery and occupation have stood in the books ever since substantially as the Romans stated them. A striking example of the extent to which this doctrine responds to deep-seated human tendencies is afforded by the customs as to discovery of mineral on the public domain upon which American mining law is founded and the customs of the old whale-fishery as to fast-fish and loose-fish which were recognized and given effect by the courts. But there is a difficulty in the case of creation or specification in that except where the creation is mental only materials must be used, and the materials or tools employed may be another's. Hence Grotius reduced creation by labor to occupation, since if one made from what he discovered, the materials were his by occupation, and if not, the title of others to the materials was decisive. This controversy as to the respective claims of him who creates by labor and him who furnishes the materials goes back to the Roman jurists of the classical period. The Proculians awarded the thing made to the maker because as such it had not existed previously. The Sabinians awarded it to the owner of the materials because without materials the new thing could not have been made. In the maturity of Roman law a compromise was made, and various compromises have obtained ever since. In modern times, however, the claim of him who creates has been urged by a long line of writers beginning with Locke and culminating in the socialists. The Romans spoke of what one acquired under the prevailing social, economic or legal system as held by "civil" acquisition and conceived that the principle suum cuique tribuere secured the thing so acquired as being one's own.

Roman jurists recognized that certain things were not subject to acquisition in any of the foregoing ways. Under the influence of the Stoic idea of naturalis ratio they conceived that most things were destined by nature to be controlled by man. Such control expressed their natural purpose. Some things, however, were not destined to be controlled by individuals. Individual control would run counter to their natural purpose. Hence they could not be the subjects of private ownership. Such things were called res extra commercium. They might be excluded from the possibility of individual ownership in any of three ways. It might be that from their nature they could only be used, not owned, and from their nature they were adapted to general use. These were res communes. Or it might be that they were made for or from their nature they were adapted to public use, that is use for public purposes by public functionaries or by the political community. These were res publicae. Again it might be because they had been devoted to religious purposes or consecrated by religious acts inconsistent with private ownership. Such things were res sanctae*, res sacrae and *res religiosae. In modern law, as a result of the medieval confusion of the power of the sovereign to regulate the use of things (imperium) with ownership (dominium) and of the idea of the corporate personality of the state, we have made the second category into property of public corporations. And this has required modern systematic writers to distinguish between those things which cannot be owned at all, such as human beings, things which may be owned by public corporations but may not be transferred, and things which are owned by public corporations in full dominion. We are also tending to limit the idea of discovery and occupation by making res nullius (e.g., wild game) into res publicae and to justify a more stringent regulation of individual use of res communes (e.g., of the use of running water for irrigation or for power) by declaring that they are the property of the state or are "owned by the state in trust for the people." It should be said, however, that while in form our courts and legislatures seem thus to have reduced everything but the air and the high seas to ownership, in fact the so-called state ownership of res communes and res nullius is only a sort of guardianship for social purposes. It is imperium, not dominium. The state as a corporation does not own a river as it owns the furniture in the state house. It does not own wild game as it owns the cash in the vaults of the treasury. What is meant is that conservation of important social resources requires regulation of the use of res communes to eliminate friction and prevent waste, and requires limitation of the times when, places where and persons by whom res nullius may be acquired in order to prevent their extermination. Our modern way of putting it is only an incident of the nineteenth-century dogma that everything must be owned.

It is not hard to see how the Romans came to the distinction that has obtained in the books ever since. Some things were part of the Roman's familia, were used by him upon the public domain which he occupied or were traded by him to those with whom he had legal power of commercial intercourse. He acquired them by discovery, by capture in war, by labor in agriculture or as an artisan, by commercial transactions or by inheritance. For these things private actions lay. Other things were no part of his or of anyone's household. They were used for political or military or religious purposes or, like rivers, were put to use by everyone without being consumed thereby. As to these, the magisterial rather than the judicial power had to be invoked. They were protected or use of them was regulated and secured by interdicts. One could not acquire them so as to maintain a private action for them. Thus some things could be acquired and conveyed and some could not. In order to be valid, however, according to juristic theory the distinction must lie in the nature of things, and it was generalized accordingly.

In a time when large unoccupied areas were open to settlement and abundant natural resources were waiting to be discovered and developed, a theory of acquisition by discovery and appropriation of res nullius, reserving a few things as res extra commercium, did not involve serious difficulty. On the other hand, in a crowded world, the theory of res extra commercium comes to seem inconsistent with private property and the theory of discovery and occupation to involve waste of social resources. As to the latter, we may compare the law of mining and of water rights on the public domain, which developed along lines of discovery and reduction to possession under the conditions of 1849 and the federal legislation of 1866 and 1872, with recent legislation proceeding on ideas of conservation of natural resources. The former requires more consideration. For the argument that excludes some things from private ownership may seem to apply more and more to land and even to movables. Thus Herbert Spencer says, in explaining res communes:

"If one individual interferes with the relations of another to the natural media upon which the latter's life depends, he infringes the like liberties of others by which his own are measured."

But if this is true of air and of light and of running water, men will insist upon inquiring why it is not true of land, of articles of food, of tools and implements, of capital and even, it may be, of the luxuries upon which a truly human life depends. Accordingly, how to give a rational account of the so-called natural right of property and how to fix the natural limits of that right became vexed questions of philosophical jurisprudence.

Antiquity was content to maintain the economic and social status quo or at least to idealize it and maintain it in an ideal form. The Middle Ages were content to accept suum cuique tribuere as conclusive. It was enough that acquisition of land and movables and private ownership of them were part of the existing social system. Upon the downfall of authority, seventeenth-and eighteenth-century jurists sought to put natural reason behind private property as behind all other institutions. When Kant had undermined this foundation, the nineteenth-century philosophical jurists sought to deduce property from a fundamental metaphysical datum; the historical jurists sought to record the unfolding of the idea of private property in human experience, thus showing the universal idea; the utilitarian demonstrated private property by his fundamental test and the positivist established its validity and necessity by observation of human institutions and their evolution. In other words, here as elsewhere, when eighteenth-century natural law broke down, jurists sought to put new foundations under the old structure of natural rights, just as natural rights had been put as a new foundation to support institutions which theretofore had found a sufficient basis in authority.

Theories by which men have sought to give a rational account of private property as a social and legal institution may be arranged conveniently in six principal groups, each including many forms. These groups may be called: (1) Natural-law theories, (2) metaphysical theories, (3) historical theories, (4) positive theories, (5) psychological theories and (6) sociological theories.

Of the natural-law theories, some proceed on a conception of principles of natural reason derived from the nature of things, some on conceptions of human nature. The former continue the ideas of the Roman lawyers. They start with a definite principle found as the explanation of a concrete case and make it a universal foundation for a general law of property. As it has been put, they find a postulate of property and derive property therefrom by deduction. Such theories usually start either from the idea of occupation or from the idea of creation through labor. Theories purporting to be based on human nature are of three forms. Some proceed on a conception of natural rights, taken to be qualities of human nature reached by reasoning as to the nature of the abstract man. Others proceed upon the basis of a social contract expressing or guaranteeing the rights derived by reason from the nature of man in the abstract. In recent thinking a third form has arisen which may be called an economic natural law. In this form of theory, a general foundation for property is derived from the economic nature of man or from the nature of man as an economic entity. These are modern theories of natural law on an economic instead of an ethical basis.

Grotius and Pufendorf may be taken as types of the older natural-law theories of property. According to Grotius, all things originally were res nullius. But men in society came to a division of things by agreement. Things not so divided were afterward discovered by individuals and reduced to possession. Thus things came to be subjected to individual control. A complete power of disposition was deduced from this individual control, as something logically implied therein, and this power of disposition furnished the basis for acquisition from others whose titles rested directly or indirectly upon the natural foundation of the original division by agreement or of subsequent discovery and occupation. Moreover, it could be argued that the control of an owner, in order to be complete, must include not only the power to give inter vivos but also the power to provide for devolution after death as a sort of postponed gift. Thus a complete system of natural rights of property was made to rest mediately or immediately upon a postulated original division by agreement or a subsequent discovery and occupation. This theory should be considered in the light of the facts of the subject on which Grotius wrote and of the time when he wrote. He wrote on international law in the period of expansion and colonization at the beginning of the seventeenth century. His discussion of the philosophical foundation of property was meant as a preliminary to consideration of the title of states to their territorial domain. As things were, the territories of states had come down in part from the past. The titles rested on a sort of rough adjustment among the invaders of the Roman empire. They could be idealized as the result of a division by agreement and of successions to, or acquisitions from, those who participated therein. Another part represented new "natural" titles based on discovery and occupation in the new world. Thus a Romanized, idealized scheme of the titles by which European states of the seventeenth century held their territories becomes a universal theory of property.

Pufendorf rests his whole theory upon an original pact. He argues that there was in the beginning a "negative community." That is, all things were originally res communes. No one owned them. They were subject to use by all. This is called a negative community to distinguish it from affirmative ownership by co-owners. He declares that men abolished the negative community by mutual agreement and thus established private ownership. Either by the terms of this pact or by a necessary implication what was not occupied then and there was subject to acquisition by discovery and occupation, and derivative acquisition of titles proceeding from the abolition of the negative community was conceived to be a further necessary implication.

In Anglo-American law, the justification of property on a natural principle of occupation of ownerless things got currency through Blackstone. As between Locke on the one side and Grotius and Pufendorf on the other, Blackstone was not willing to commit himself to the need of assuming an original pact. Apparently he held that a principle of acquisition by a temporary power of control co-extensive with possession expressed the nature of man in primitive times and that afterwards, with the growth of civilization, the nature of man in a civilized society was expressed by a principle of complete permanent control of what had been occupied exclusively, including as a necessary incident of such control the ius disponendi. Maine has pointed out that this distinction between an earlier and a later stage in the natural right of property grew out of desire to bring the theory into accord with Scriptural accounts of the Patriarchs and their relations to the land grazed by their flocks. In either event the ultimate basis is taken to be the nature of man as a rational creature, expressed in a natural principle of control of things through occupation or in an original contract providing for such ownership.

With the revival of natural law in recent years a new phase of the justification of property upon the basis of human nature has arisen. This was suggested first by economists who deduced property from the economic nature of man as a necessity of the economic life of the individual in society. Usually it is coupled with a psychological theory on the one side and a social-utilitarian theory on the other side. In the hands of writers on philosophy of law it has often taken on a metaphysical color. From another standpoint, what are essentially natural-law theories have been advocated by socialists, either deducing a natural right of the laborer to the whole produce of his labor from a "natural" principle of creation or carrying out the idea of natural qualities of the individual human being to the point of denying all private property as a "natural" institution and deducing a general regime of res communes or res publicae.

Metaphysical theories of property are part of the general movement that replaced seventeenth-and eighteenth-century theories of natural rights, founded on the nature of the abstract man or on an assumed compact, by metaphysical theories. They begin with Kant. He first sets himself to justify the abstract idea of a law of property--the idea of a system of "external meum and tuum." Here, as everywhere else, he begins with the inviolability of the individual human personality. A thing is rightfully mine, he says, when I am so connected with it that anyone who uses it without my consent does me an injury. But to justify the law of property we must go beyond cases of possession where there is an actual physical relation to the object and interference therewith is an aggression upon personality. The thing can only be mine for the purposes of a legal system of meum and tuum where I will be wronged by another's use of it when it is not actually in my possession. This raises in the first instance the question "How is a merely juridical or rational [as distinguished from a purely physical] possession possible?" He answers the question by a metaphysical version of the occupation theory of the eighteenth century. Conceding that the idea of a primitive community of things is a fiction, the idea of a logically original community of the soil and of the things upon it, he says, has objective reality and practical juridical reality. Otherwise mere objects of the exercise of the will, exempted therefrom by operation of law, would be raised to the dignity of free-willing subjects, although they have no subjective claim to be respected. Thus the first possessor founds upon a common innate right of taking possession, and to disturb him is a wrong. The first taking of possession has "a title of right" behind it in the principle of the original common claim to possession. It results that this taker obtains a control "realized by the understanding and independent of relations of space," and he or those who derive from him may possess a parcel of land although remote from it physically. Such a possession is only possible in a state of civil society. In civil society, a declaration by word or act that an external thing is mine and making it an object of the exercise of my will is "a juridical act." It involves a declaration that others are under a duty of abstaining from the use of the object. It also involves an admission that I am bound in turn toward all others with respect to the objects they have made "externally theirs." For we are brought to the fundamental principle of justice that requires each to regulate his conduct by a universal rule that will give like effect to the will of others. This is guaranteed by the legal order in civil society and gives us the regime of external mine and thine. Having thus worked out a theory of meum and tuum as legal institutions, Kant turns to a theory of acquisition, distinguishing an original and primary from a derived acquisition. Nothing is originally mine without a juridical act. The elements of this legal transaction of original acquisition are three: (1) "Prehension" of an object which belongs to no one; (2) an act of the free will interdicting all others from using it as theirs; (3) appropriation as a permanent acquisition, receiving a lawmaking force from the principle of reconciling wills according to a universal law, whereby all others are obliged to respect and act in conformity to the will of the appropriator with respect to the thing appropriated. Kant then proceeds to work out a theory of derivative acquisition by transfer or alienation, by delivery or by contract, as a legal giving effect to the individual will by universal rules, not incompatible with a like efficacy in action of all other wills. This metaphysical version of the Roman theory of occupation is evidently the link between the eighteenth century and Savigny's aphorism that all property is founded in adverse possession ripened by prescription.

When Kant's theory is examined it will be found to contain both the idea of occupation and the idea of compact. Occupation has become a legal transaction involving a unilateral pact not to disturb others in respect of their occupation of other things. But the pact does not derive its efficacy from the inherent moral force of a promise as such or the nature of man as a moral creature which holds him to promises. Its efficacy is not found in qualities of promises or of men, but in a principle of reconciling wills by a universal law, since that principle requires one who declares his will as to object A to respect the declaration of his neighbor's will as to object B. On the other hand, the idea of creation is significantly absent. Writing at the end of the eighteenth century, in view of the ideas of Rousseau, who held that the man who first laid out a plot of ground and said, "This is mine," should have been lynched, and of the interferings with vested rights in Revolutionary France, Kant was not thinking how those who had not might claim a greater share in what they produced but how those who had might claim to hold what they had.

Hegel develops the metaphysical theory further by getting rid of the idea of occupation and treating property as a realization of the idea of liberty. Property, he says, "makes objective my personal, individual will." In order to reach the complete liberty involved in the idea of liberty, one must give his liberty an external sphere. Hence a person has a right to direct his will upon an external object and an object on which it is so directed becomes his. It is not an end in itself; it gets its whole rational significance from his will. Thus when one appropriates a thing, fundamentally he manifests the majesty of his will by demonstrating that external objects that have no wills are not self-sufficient and are not ends in themselves. It follows that the demand for equality in the division of the soil and in other forms of wealth is superficial. For, he argues, differences of wealth are due to accidents of external nature that give to what A has impressed with his will greater value than to what B has impressed with his, and to the infinite diversity of individual mind and character that leads A to attach his will to this and B to attach his will to that. Men are equal as persons. With respect to the principle of possession they stand alike. Everyone must have property of some sort in order to be free. Beyond this, "among persons differently endowed inequality must result and equality would be wrong."

Nineteenth-century metaphysical theories of property carry out these ideas or develop this method. And it is to be noted that they are all open to attack from the standpoint of the theory of res extra commercium. Thus Hegel's theory comes to this: Personality involves exercise of the will with respect to things. When one has exercised his will with respect to a thing and so has acquired a power of control over it, other wills are excluded from this thing and are to be directed toward objects with which other personalities have not been so identified. So long as there are vacant lands to occupy, undeveloped regions awaiting the pioneer, unexploited natural resources awaiting the prospector--in short, so long as there are enough physical objects in reach, if one may so put it, to go round--this would be consistent with the nineteenth-century theory of justice. But when, as at the end of the nineteenth century, the world becomes crowded and its natural resources have been appropriated and exploited, so that there is a defect in material nature whereby such exercise of the will by some leaves no objects upon which the wills of others may be exerted, or a deficiency such as to prevent any substantial exertion of the will, it is difficult to see how Hegel's argument may be reconciled with the argument put behind the conception of res extra commercium. Miller, a Scotch Hegelian, seeks to meet this difficulty. He says that beyond what is needed for the natural existence and development of the person, property "can only be held as a trust for the state." In modern times, however, a periodical redistribution, as in antiquity, is economically inadmissible. Yet if anyone's holdings were to exceed the bounds of reason, "the legislature would undoubtedly interfere on behalf of society and prevent the wrong which would be done by caricaturing an abstract right." In view of our bills of rights, an American Hegelian could not invoke the deus ex machina of an Act of Parliament so conveniently. Perhaps he would fall back on graduated taxation and inheritance taxes. But does not Miller when hard pressed resort to something very like social-utilitarianism?

Lorimer connects the metaphysical theory with theories resting on human nature. To begin with, he deduces the whole system of property from a fundamental proposition that "the right to be and to continue to be implies a right to the conditions of existence." Accordingly he says that the idea of property is inseparably connected "not only with the life of man but with organic existence in general"; that "life confers rights to its exercise corresponding in extent to the powers of which it consists." When, however, this is applied in explaining the basis of the present proprietary system in all its details resort must be had to a type of artificial reasoning similar to that employed by the jurists of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The abstract idea of ownership is not the only thing the legal philosopher has to consider. Moreover the reasoning by which that application is made may not be reconciled with the arguments by which the doctrine of res extra commercium is regarded also as a bit of natural law.

Although it purports to be wholly different, the positive theory of the basis of property is essentially the same as the metaphysical. Thus Spencer's theory is a deduction from a fundamental "law of equal freedom" verified by observation of the facts of primitive society. But the "law of equal freedom" supposed to be ascertained by observation, in the same way in which physical or chemical laws are ascertained, is in fact, as has often been pointed out, Kant's formula of justice. And the verification of deductions from this law by observation of the facts of primitive civilization is not essentially different from the verification of the deductions from the metaphysical fundamental law carried on by the historical jurists. The metaphysical jurist reached a principle metaphysically and deduced property therefrom. The historical jurist thereupon verified the deduction by showing the same principle as the idea realizing itself in legal history. In the hands of the positivists the same principle is reached by observation, the same deduction is made therefrom, and the deduction is verified by finding the institution latent in primitive society and unfolding with the development of civilization. The most notable difference is that the metaphysical and historical jurists rely chiefly on primitive occupation of ownerless things, while the positivists have been inclined to lay stress upon creation of new things by labor. In any event, laying aside the verification for the moment, the deduction as made by Spencer involves the same difficulties as those involved in the metaphysical deduction. Moreover, like the metaphysical deduction, it accounts for an abstract idea of private property rather than for the regime that actually exists. Inequalities are assumed to be due to "greater strength, greater ingenuity or greater application" of those who have acquired more than their fellows. Hence, as the end of law is taken to be the bringing about of a maximum of individual free self-assertion, any interference with one's holding the fruits of his greater strength or greater ingenuity or greater application, and his resulting greater activity in creative or acquisitive self-assertion, would contravene the very purpose of the legal order. It will be noted also that this theory, like all that had gone before, assumes a complete ius disponendi as implied in the very notion of property. But does not this also require demonstration? Is the ius disponendi implied in the idea which they demonstrate or is it only an incident of the institution they are seeking to explain by the demonstration?

Historical jurists have maintained their theory on the basis of two propositions: (1) The conception of private property, like the conception of individual personality, has had slow but steady development from the beginnings of law; (2) individual ownership has grown out of group rights just as individual interests of personality have been disentangled gradually from group interests. Let us look at each of these propositions in some detail.

If we examine the law of property analytically, we may see three grades or stages in the power or capacity which men have of influencing the acts of others with respect to corporeal objects. One is a mere condition of fact, a mere physical holding of or physical control over the thing without any other element whatever. The Roman jurists called this natural possession. We call it custody. Writers on analytical jurisprudence regard it as an element of possession. But this natural possession is something that may exist independently of law or of the state, as in the so-called pedis possessio of American mining law, where, before law or state authority had been extended to the public domain in the mining country, the miners recognized the claim of one who was actually digging to dig without molestation at that spot. The mere having of an object in one's actual grasp gives an advantage. But it may be only an advantage depending on one's strength or on recognition of and respect for his personality by his fellow men. It is not a legal advantage except as the law protects personality. It is the physical person of the one in natural possession which is secured, not his relation to the thing held. Analytically the next grade or stage is what the Romanist calls juristic possession as distinguished from natural possession. This is a legal development of the extra-legal idea of custody. Where custody or the ability to reproduce a condition of custody is coupled with the mental element of intention to hold for one's own purposes, the legal order confers on one who so holds a capacity protected and maintained by law so to hold, and a claim to have the thing restored to his immediate physical control should he be deprived of it. As the Romanist puts it, in the case of natural possession the law secures the relation of the physical person to the object; in juristic possession the law secures the relation of the will to the object. In the highest grade of proprietary relation, ownership, the law goes much further and secures to men the exclusive or ultimate enjoyment or control of objects far beyond their capacity either to hold in custody or to possess--that is, beyond what they could hold by physical force and beyond what they could actually hold even by the help of the state. Natural possession is a conception of pure fact in no degree dependent upon law. The legally significant thing is the interest of the natural possessor in his personality. Possession or juristic possession is a conception of fact and law, existing as a pure relation of fact, independent of legal origin, but protected and maintained by law without regard to interference with personality. Ownership is a purely legal conception having its origin in and depending on the law.

In general the historical development of the law of property follows the line thus indicated by analysis. In the most primitive social control only natural possession is recognized and interference with natural possession is not distinguished from interference with the person or injury to the honor of the one whose physical contact with the physical object is meddled with. In the earlier legal social control the all-important thing is seisin, or possession. This is a juristic possession, a conception both of fact and of law. Such institutions as tortious conveyance by the person seised in the common law are numerous in an early stage of legal development. They show that primarily the law protected the relation to an object of one who had possession of it. Indeed the idea of dominium, or ownership as we now understand it, was first worked out thoroughly in Roman law, and other systems got their idea of it, as distinguished from seisin, from the Roman books.

Recognition of individual interests of substance, or in other words individual property, has developed out of recognition of group interests, just as recognition of individual interests of personality has evolved gradually from what in the first instance was a recognition of group interests. The statement which used to be found in the books that all property originally was owned in common means nothing more than this: When interests of substance are first secured they are interests of groups of kindred because in tribally organized society groups of kindred are the legal units. Social control secures these groups in the occupation of things which they have reduced to their possession. In this sense the first property is group property rather than individual property. Yet it must be noted that wherever we find a securing of group interests, the group in occupation is secured against interference of other groups with that occupation. Two ideas gradually operated to break up these group interests and bring about recognition of individual interests. One of these is the partition of households. The other is the idea of what in the Hindu law is called self-acquired property.

In primitive or archaic society as households grow unwieldy there is a partition which involves partition of property as well as of the household. Indeed in Hindu law partition is thought of as partition of the household primarily and as partition of property only incidentally. Also in Roman law the old action for partition is called the action for partitioning the household. Thus, at first, partition is a splitting up of an overgrown household into smaller households. Presently, however, it tends to become a division of a household among individuals. Thus in Roman law on the death of the head of a household each of his sons in his power at his death became a pater familias and could bring a proceeding to partition the inheritance although he might be the sole member of the household of which he was the head. In this way individual ownership became the normal condition instead of household ownership. In Hindu law household ownership is still regarded as the normal condition. But with changes in society and the rise of commercial and industrial activity, a change has been taking place rapidly which is making individual ownership the normal type in fact, if not in legal theory.

Self-acquired property, the second disintegrating agency, may be seen in Hindu law and also in Roman law. In Hindu law all property is normally and prima facie household property. The burden is upon anyone who claims to be the individual owner of anything. But an exceptional class of property is recognized which is called self-acquired property. Such property might be acquired by "valor," that is, by leaving the household and going into military service and thus earning or acquiring by way of booty, or by "learning," that is, by withdrawing from the household and devoting oneself to study and thus acquiring through the gifts of the pious or the exercise of knowledge. A third form was recognized later, namely, property acquired through the use of self-acquired property. In the same way in Roman law the son in the household, even if of full age, normally had no property. Legally all property acquired by any member of the household was the property of the head of the household as the legal symbol and representative thereof. Later the head of the household ceases to be thought of as symbolizing the household and the property was regarded legally as his individual property. But Roman law recognized certain kinds of property which sons in the household might hold as their own. The first of these was property earned or acquired by the son in military service. Later property earned in the service of the state was added. Finally it came to be law that property acquired otherwise than through use of the patrimony of the household might be held by the son individually though he remained legally under the power of the head.

In the two ways just explained, through partition and through the idea of self-acquired property, individual interests in property came to be recognized throughout the law. Except for the institution of community property between husband and wife in civil-law countries, or as it is called the matrimonial property regime, there is practically nothing left of the old system of recognized group interests. And even this remnant of household group ownership is dissolving. All legally recognized interests of substance in developed legal systems are normally individual interests. To the historical jurist of the nineteenth century, this fact, coupled with the development of ownership out of possession, served to show us the idea which was realizing in human experience of the administration of justice and to confirm the position reached by the metaphysical jurists. Individual private property was a corollary of liberty and hence law was not thinkable without it. Even if we do not adopt the metaphysical part of this argument and if we give over the idealistic-political interpretation of legal history which it involves, there is much which is attractive in the theory of the historical jurists of the last century. Yet as we look at certain movements in the law there are things to give us pause. For one thing, the rise and growth of ideas of "negotiability," the development of the maxim possession vaut titre in Continental law, and the cutting down in other ways of the sphere of recognition of the interest of the owner in view of the exigencies of the social interest in the security of transactions, suggests that the tendency involved in the first of the two propositions relied on by the historical school has passed its meridian. The Roman doctrine that no one may transfer a greater title than he has is continually giving way before the demand for securing of business transactions had in good faith. And in Roman law in its maturity the rules that restricted acquisition by adverse possession and enabled the owner in many cases to reclaim after any lapse of time were superseded by a decisive limitation of actions which cut off all claims. The modern law in countries which take their law from Rome has developed this decisive limitation. Likewise in our law the hostility to the statute of limitations, so marked in eighteenth-century decisions, has given way to a policy of upholding it. Moreover the rapid rise in recent times of limitations upon the ius disponendi, the imposition of restrictions in order to secure the social interest in the conservation of natural resources, and English projects for cutting off the ius abutendi of the landowner, could be interpreted by the nineteenth-century historical jurists only as marking a retrograde development. When we add that with the increase in number and influence of groups in the highly organized society of today a tendency is manifest to recognize practically and in back-handed ways group property in what are not legal entities, it becomes evident that the segment of experience at which the historical jurists were looking was far too short to justify a dogmatic conclusion, even admitting the validity of their method.

It remains to consider some twentieth-century theories. These have not been worked out with the same elaboration and systematic detail as those of the past, and as yet one may do no more than sketch them.

An instinctive claim to control natural objects is an individual interest of which the law must take account. This instinct has been the basis of psychological theories of private property. But thus far these theories have been no more than indicated. They might well be combined with the historical theory, putting a psychological basis in place of the nineteenth-century metaphysical foundation. A social-psychological legal history might achieve much in this connection.

Of sociological theories, some are positivist, some psychological and some social-utilitarian. An excellent example of the first is Duguit's deduction from social interdependence through similarity of interest and through division of labor. He has but sketched this theory, but his discussion contains many valuable suggestions. He shows clearly enough that the law of property is becoming socialized. But, as he points out, this does not mean that property is becoming collective. It means that we are ceasing to think of it in terms of private right and are thinking of it in terms of social function. If one doubts this he should reflect on recent rent legislation, which in effect treats the renting of houses as a business affected with a public interest in which reasonable rates must be charged as by a public utility. Also it means that cases of legal application of wealth to collective uses are becoming continually more numerous. He then argues that the law of property answers to the economic need of applying certain wealth to definite individual or collective uses and the consequent need that society guarantee and protect that application. Hence, he says, society sanctions acts which conform to those uses of wealth which meet that economic need, and restrains acts of contrary tendency. Thus property is a social institution based upon an economic need in a society organized through division of labor. It will be seen that the results and the attitude toward the law of property involved are much the same as those which are reached from the social-utilitarian standpoint.

Psychological sociological theories have been advanced chiefly in Italy. They seek the foundation of property in an instinct of acquisitiveness, considering it a social development or social institution on that basis.

Social-utilitarian theories explain and justify property as an institution which secures a maximum of interests or satisfies a maximum of wants, conceiving it to be a sound and wise bit of social engineering when viewed with reference to its results. This is the method of Professor Ely's well-known book on Property and Contract. No one has yet done so, but I suspect one might combine this mode of thought with the civilization interpretation of the Neo-Hegelians and argue that the system of individual property, on the whole, conduces to the maintaining and furthering of civilization--to the development of human powers to the most of which they are capable--instead of viewing it as a realization of the idea of civilization as it unfolds in human experience. Perhaps the theories of the immediate future will run along some such lines. For we have had no experience of conducting civilized society on any other basis, and the waste and friction involved in going to any other basis must give us pause. Moreover, whatever we do, we must take account of the instinct of acquisitiveness and of individual claims grounded thereon. We may believe that the law of property is a wise bit of social engineering in the world as we know it, and that we satisfy more human wants, secure more interests, with a sacrifice of less thereby than by anything we are likely to devise--we may believe this without holding that private property is eternally and absolutely necessary and that human society may not expect in some civilization, which we cannot forecast, to achieve something different and something better.

VI

Contract

Wealth, in a commercial age, is made up largely of promises. An important part of everyone's substance consists of advantages which others have promised to provide for or to render to him; of demands to have the advantages promised which he may assert not against the world at large but against particular individuals. Thus the individual claims to have performance of advantageous promises secured to him. He claims the satisfaction of expectations created by promises and agreements. If this claim is not secured friction and waste obviously result, and unless some countervailing interest must come into account which would be sacrificed in the process, it would seem that the individual interest in promised advantages should be secured to the full extent of what has been assured to him by the deliberate promise of another. Let us put this in another way. In a former lecture I suggested, as a jural postulate of civilized society, that in such a society men must be able to assume that those with whom they deal in the general intercourse of the society will act in good faith, and as a corollary must be able to assume that those with whom they so deal will carry out their undertakings according to the expectations which the moral sentiment of the community attaches thereto. Hence, in a commercial and industrial society, a claim or want or demand of society that promises be kept and that undertakings be carried out in good faith, a social interest in the stability of promises as a social and economic institution, becomes of the first importance. This social interest in the security of transactions, as one might call it, requires that we secure the individual interest of the promisee, that is, his claim or demand to be assured in the expectation created, which has become part of his substance.

In civil-law countries the interest of the promisee, and thus the social interest in the security of transactions, is well secured. The traditional requirement of a causa ciuilis, a civil, i.e., legal, reason for enforcing a pact, gave way before natural-law ideas in the eighteenth century. Pothier gave over the contract categories of the Roman law as being "very remote from simplicity." Then came the rise of the will theory of legal transactions in the nineteenth century. French law made intention of gratuitously benefiting another a causa. The Austrian code of 1811 presumed a causa, requiring a promisor to prove there was none. And this means that he must prove the promise was not a legal transaction--that there was no intention to enter into a binding undertaking. In the result, abstract promises, as the civilian calls them, came to be enforced equally with those which came under some formal Roman category and with those having a substantial presupposition. Modern Continental law, apart from certain requirements of proof, resting on the same policy as our Statute of Frauds, asks only, Did the promisor intend to create a binding duty?

Likewise in civil-law countries the enforcing machinery is modern and adequate. The oldest method of enforcement in Roman law was seizure of the person, to coerce satisfaction or hold the promisor in bondage until his kinsmen performed the judgment. Later there was a pecuniary condemnation or, as we should say, a money judgment in all cases, enforced in the classical law by universal execution or, as we should say, by involuntary bankruptcy. But along with this remedy specific relief grew up in the actio arbitraria, a clumsy device of specific performance on the alternative of a heavy money condemnation, which repeated itself in Pennsylvania before equity powers were given the courts, and is substantially repeating in our federal courts in their attempts to apply equitable relief to torts committed in foreign jurisdictions. The civil law developed, or perhaps the canon law developed and the civil law took over, an actio ad implendum or action to require performance, with natural execution, that is a doing by the court or its officers at the expense of the defendant, of that to which he is bound as ascertained by the judgment. In general in civil-law countries today what we call specific performance is the rule. A money reparation for breach of contract is the exceptional remedy. It is only when for some reason specific relief is impracticable or inequitable, as in contracts of personal service, that money relief is resorted to.

In countries governed by the common law we do not secure this interest so completely nor so effectively. For one thing we do not recognize as legally enforceable all intentional promises intended to be binding upon the promisor. Many technical rules as to consideration, rules having chiefly a historical basis, stand in the way. Many jurisdictions have abolished private seals and have made no provision for formal gratuitous or abstract promises. Moreover, we do not give specific relief ordinarily but only exceptionally where pecuniary relief is considered inadequate. Hence in the great majority of cases the promisee cannot compel performance in specie.

If we look into the reasons for this wide and effective enforcement of promises in the one system and narrower and less effective enforcement in the other, we come in both cases upon a mixture of historical background and philosophical reasoning, each influencing the other and neither governing the subject completely. Philosophical theories have arisen to explain existing rules and have been the basis of new rules and of remaking of old ones. But they have been the means also, at times, of intrenching the rules they sought to explain and of fastening on the law doctrines of which it were better rid. Nowhere is the reciprocal action of legal rules and philosophical theories more strikingly manifest than in our law of contractual liability.

Law did not concern itself at first with agreements or breaches of agreements. Its function was to keep the peace by regulating or preventing private war and this only required it to deal with personal violence and with disputes over the possession of property. I may remind you of the proposition of Hippodamus in the fifth century B. C. that there were but three subjects of lawsuits, namely, insult, injury and homicide. If a dispute over breach of an agreement led to an assault and a breach of the peace, tribunals might be called on to act. But it was the assault not the breach of agreement with which they were concerned. Controversy as to possession of property was a fertile source of disturbance of the peace and tribunals would entertain an action to recover possession. Agreements to compound for a wrong are perhaps the earliest type. But the law had its eye upon the need of composition, not upon the agreement. No basis for a law of contracts was to be found in the power of the tribunals with respect to injuries although our law did make assumpsit out of trespass on the case. On the other hand recovery of property could be used for this purpose. Hence the first legal, as distinguished from religious, contract was worked out on the analogy of a real transaction. Before this, however, another possibility had developed in the religiously sanctioned promise.

Religion, the internal discipline of the organized kindred, and the law of the state were three co-ordinate agencies of social control in ancient society. Nor was law for a long time the chief of these nor the one which covered the widest field. If the gods had been called to witness or good faith had a religious sanction, the duty to keep a promise was a matter for religion. Otherwise the mere pact or agreement not within the cognizance of the priests was but a matter for self-help. Hindu law shows the idea of religious duty to keep faith in full vigor. In the Hindu system the relation between the parties to a debt is not legal but religious and now that a law has grown up under English influence it is said that there is a legal obligation because there is a religious obligation. A man is bound in law because and to the extent that he is bound in religion and not otherwise and no more. To the Hindu lawyer a debt is not an obligation merely. It is a sin the consequences whereof follow the debtor into another world. Vrihaspati says: "He who, having received a sum lent or the like does not return it to the owner, will be born hereafter in his creditor's house a slave, a servant, a woman or a quadruped." Narada says that when one dies without having paid his debt, "the whole merit of his devotions or of his perpetual fire belongs to his creditors." In short the debtor is looked on as one who wrongfully withholds from the creditor the latter's property and hence as in some sort a thief. The legal idea, so far as there is one, is not one of obligation but of a property right in the creditor. One may suspect that religious obligation arising from the detention of property is a legal way of putting it in a polity in which social control is primarily religious and religious precepts are turning into legal precepts. At any rate the Hindus carry the idea of religious obligation so far that a descendant is bound to pay the debts of his ancestor in many cases whether he receives any assets of the ancestor or not. The liability of the son to pay the father's debt is held to arise from the moral and religious duty of rescuing the father from the penalties attaching in a future state to non-payment of debts. Accordingly if the debt is of such a kind that no penalties would so attach, there is no religious duty and hence no obligation imposed upon the descendant.

Roman law in its earliest stage was not unlike this. Agreements of themselves were not cognizable by the tribunals. It was no ground for summoning a defendant before the magistrate that he had made a promise and had broken it. Agreements were matters for religion or for kin or guild discipline. If one had called on the gods to witness his promise or sworn to fulfil it, he was liable to pontifical discipline. The presence of an impious oath breaker was a social danger and he might be devoted to the infernal gods. As law replaced religion as the controlling regulative agency, the old religiously sanctioned promise becomes a formal legal contract. Thus in the strict law we get formal contracts with their historical origin in religious duty, and formal contracts with their historical origin in a legal duty created by a real transaction of suretyship or conveyance, perhaps by calling the people to witness so that there is an affront to the state if they are called upon in vain.

When contact with Greek philosophers set the Roman jurists to thinking about the basis of obligation, there were two sorts of promises: (1) Formal promises, (a) by stipulation, using the sacramental word spondeo and thus assuming the pouring out of a libation that the gods might take notice of the promise, (b) by public ceremony apparently symbolizing a real transaction before the whole people, (c) entered upon the household books of account, and (2) mere informal promises not recognized by law. The latter depended wholly on the good faith of the maker since the law had put down self-help which formerly had been available to the promisee. Accordingly Roman jurists distinguished civil obligations and natural obligations--those recognized and secured legally and those which primarily had only a moral efficacy. A nudum pactum or mere agreement or mere promise, not clothed with legal efficacy because it did not come within any of the categories of legal transactions sanctioned by the ius ciuile, created only a natural obligation. It was right and just to adhere to such a pact, but only contracts, undertakings recognized by law because of their form or nature, were enforceable.

With increasing pressure of the social interest in the security of transactions through economic development and commercial expansion, the natural-law philosophy slowly affected this simple scheme of formal undertakings legally recognized and enforceable and informal undertakings of only moral efficacy, and brought about the complicated system of enforceable undertakings in the maturity of Roman law with which you are familiar. Four features of this movement are noteworthy. In the first place it led to a juristic theory of formal contract which has affected our ideas ever since. In the strict law the source of obligation was in the form itself. For in primitive thinking forms have an intrinsic efficacy. It has often been pointed out that the faith in legal forms belongs to the same order of thought as faith in forms of incantation and that legal forms are frequently symbols to be classed psychologically with the symbols of magic. The stage of equity and natural law, relying on reason rather than on form, governed by philosophy instead of by naïve faith, looked for the substance and found it in a pact preceding and presupposed by the formal ceremony. Thus a formal contract was a pact with the addition of legal form. The pact was the substance of the transaction. The form was a causa ciuilis or legal reason for enforcing the pact. But if the form was only a legal reason for enforcing something that got its natural efficacy in another way, it followed that there might well be other legal reasons for enforcement besides form. Consequently new categories of contract were added to the old formal contracts and it is significant that while the latter were transactions stricti iuris the former were considered transactions bonae fidei involving liability to what good faith demanded in view of what had been done. In the scope of their obligation these contracts responded exactly to the postulate of civilized society that those with whom we deal will act in good faith and will carry out their undertakings according to the expectations of the community. On the other hand the old formal contracts responded thereto in part only since their obligation was one to do exactly what the terms of the form called for, no more and no less. When one makes nexum, said the Twelve Tables, as he says orally so be the law. New categories were added in successive strata, as it were, and juristic science sought afterward to reduce them to system and logical consistency. Thus real contracts, consensual contracts and innominate contracts were added. But it is evident that many of these are juristic rationalizings of what had been done for a long time through formal transactions. Thus the consensual contract of sale with its implied warranties rationalizes transfer by traditio with stipulations for the price and for warranties. The real contract of depositum rationalizes fiducia cum amico. The real contract of mutuum rationalizes pecunia credita. But the latter was so thoroughly established as a formal transaction that the case of a loan of money, analytically a real contract, preserved the incidents of the strict law. Moreover certain pacts, pacta adiecta, pacta praetoria, became actionable which do not fit into the analytical scheme of the Institutes. For example, a causa or reason for enforcing these pacts was found in their being incidental to something else or in a pre-existing natural obligation which they undertook to satisfy. There still remained natural obligations which had not been given legal efficacy as the basis of actions. The mere will of the person who undertook or the claim of the promisee was not a reason for enforcing. Yet in reason they were morally binding and the legal and moral should coincide. Hence they might be used defensively or as the basis of a set-off. Meanwhile the forms of stipulation and of literal contract had been reduced to their lowest terms by conceiving them in terms of substance, and taking orally expressed agreement to be the substance of the one and writing to be the substance of the other. The results have defied analysis although the best that juristic ingenuity could do has been expended upon them for centuries.

In the Middle Ages primitive ideas came back for a time through Germanic law. General security in its lowest terms of peace and order was the pressing social interest. There was little commercial activity. The civilization of the time did not involve the corollaries of our jural postulate. Religiously sanctioned undertakings by promissory oath and real transactions of pledge of person or property and of exchange gave rise to a simple system of formal undertakings. Out of these came a theory of causa debendi, or reason for owing the promised performance, which has had a profound influence upon subsequent thinking. The Roman causa ciuilis was a legal reason for enforcing a pact. Under the influence of the Germanic idea causa becomes a reason for making the pact, the good reason for making it furnishing a sufficient reason for enforcing it. For a time it seemed that the church might succeed in establishing a jurisdiction over promises. Oaths and vows involved religious duties and might well be claimed as the province of the spiritual. But the moral obligation of pacts, binding the conscience of a Christian, might also be cognizable by a zealous corrector of the conduct of the faithful for their soul's welfare. Had not the power of the canon law broken down and the law of the state developed rapidly in respect of the security of transactions after the sixteenth century, the law of contracts might have grown along religious instead of along philosophical lines, and perhaps not to its advantage. As it is, one need but read Doctor and Student with the title de pactis of the Corpus Iuris Canonici and casuist writings as to the moral efficacy of promises before him, to see that religion paved the way for much that was done presently in the name of philosophy.

To the jurists of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries no distinction between natural obligations and civil obligations was maintainable since all natural rights or obligations must for the very reason that they were natural be legal also. If it was morally obligatory that one adhere to a pact, then it must be treated as a contract. However much systematized analytically, the Roman categories of contract did not deal with undertakings from this standpoint. What the jurists desired was not analytical categories but a principle upon which men were to be held or not to be held upon their promises. Thus the philosophy of contract, the principles underlying the binding force of promises and agreements, became the chief problem of philosophical jurisprudence of the seventeenth century, as interests of personality were the chief subject of discussion in the eighteenth century, and interests of substance, the philosophy of the law of property, the chief subject of discussion in the nineteenth century. The decisive element in seventeenth-century thought as to contract was the idea of natural law; the idea of deduction from the nature of man as a moral creature and of legal rules and legal institutions which expressed this ideal of human nature. But the idea was put to work upon existing materials and the result was a reciprocal influence of the conception of enforcing promises as such because morally binding, on the one hand, shaped to some extent by canon law and casuist discussions of what promises were binding in conscience and when, and the ideas of nudum pactum and causa debendi on the other hand. Roman law was assumed to be embodied reason. As D'Aguesseau put it, Rome was ruling by her reason, having ceased to rule by her authority. Hence all consideration of the subject starts with the assumption that there are morally naked agreements which for that reason are to be naked legally. Where there was an exchange of promises there was the authority of Justinian for enforcement (synallagma) and it was easy to find a reason in the analogy of exchange of property. Where something was exchanged for a promise, that something was a causa debendi. But suppose there was no exchange of promises nor was anything exchanged for the promise. There was nothing but a promise assented to. In Roman law this would have to take the form of a stipulation. In the Germanic law it would have required an oath or the form of a real transaction of pledge or exchange. At common law it required delivery of a sealed instrument. Clearly there was no moral efficacy inherent in these forms. Why should these "abstract" promises be enforced and not others? Should every such promise be enforced or should none be enforced without something in the way of exchange, or should such promises be classified for the purpose of enforcement, and if so, how?

Two theories arose in the seventeenth century. One may be called the theory of an equivalent. This theory is obviously a rationalization of the Germanic causa debendi influenced by canon law and casuist writings. According to this theory an abstract promise, no equivalent having been given for it, is not naturally and hence is not legally binding. Three reasons have been given for this which have figured in juristic discussion of the subject ever since. It was said that one who trusts another who makes a promise for no equivalent does so rashly. He cannot ask to be secured in such an unfounded expectation. This is too much in the spirit of the strict law. It denies any interest except where the law secures it. It says that if the law does not secure the interest, one is a fool to rely on the promise and so has no interest. In like manner the strict law said that if one gave his formal undertaking through fraud or mistake or coercion, he was a fool or a coward and was not to be helped. But we cannot prove the interest by the law. We must measure the law with reference to the interest. Again it was said that if one promises without equivalent he does so more from "ostentation" than from real intention and so an equivalent shows that he acted from calculation and deliberately. It is only deliberate promises that are morally binding, for only such promises are relied upon by the prudent, upright man in his intercourse with his neighbors. If this reason is sound, equivalent is only a mode of proving deliberation and the real point should be that the promise was made deliberately as something by which the maker expected to be bound, not that the deliberation was evidenced in a particular way by an equivalent. A third reason was that one who parted with an equivalent in exchange for or in reliance on a promise is injured in his substance if the promise is not kept. But if this is the reason, the law should simply require restitution in case of non-performance. If the interest involved is the deduction from substance through rendering the equivalent, the obligation should be quasi ex contractu rather than ex contractu.

Our Anglo-American law of contracts was much influenced by this theory of equivalents. In the seventeenth century four types of promise were legally enforceable at common law: (1) A formal acknowledgment of indebtedness by bond under seal, often conditioned upon performance of a promise for which it was a security, (2) a covenant or undertaking under seal, (3) the real contract of debt, and (4) a simple promise upon consideration, that is, in exchange for an act or for another promise. The first conclusively acknowledged an equivalent, in the second it could be said that the seal presupposed or implied one, in the third the obligation arose from the detention of something by him to whom it had been delivered, and in the fourth the act or counter-promise was the motive or consideration for the promise and as a cause of or reason for making it was the equivalent for which the promisor chose to assume the undertaking. With some aid from a dogmatic fiction in the case of covenants, the common law could be adjusted to this theory reasonably well. Accordingly as far back as Bacon we find consideration treated from this standpoint in the English books. But it was never a satisfactory explanation. If the theory was sound it ought not to matter whether the equivalent was rendered before the promise or after it or simultaneously with it. Indeed, English equity in the nineteenth century took subsequent action in reliance upon a promise of a gift to be a common-law consideration on the basis whereof the promise was specifically enforceable. Equity never wholly adopted this or any other theory. At least after the middle of the eighteenth century equity was supposed to follow the law as to what was a contract. But the common law was not settled till the nineteenth century and we find the chancellors using consideration frequently to mean not equivalent but any reason for making the promise and thus making it synonymous with the civilian's causa. The so-called meritorious consideration, consideration of blood and of love and affection, and the cases of promises sustained by moral obligation of a debtor to secure his creditor, of a husband to settle property on his wife and of a parent to provide for a child, show the idea of causa at work in equity. It is significant that Doctor and Student was often cited in these connections. The most thoroughgoing attempt to apply the equivalent theory to be found in the books is Langdell's working out of a system of the so-called conditions implied in law or dependent promises on that basis. As an example of vigorous legal analysis it rivals Austin. But it did not succeed in shaping the law.

On the Continent the second theory, the theory of the inherent moral force of a promise made as such, came to prevail. This was the theory of Grotius. It was generally adopted by Continental writers of the eighteenth century and, as has been seen, it broke down the Roman categories and led to the rule that a promise as such, intending a legal transaction, created legal obligation. At the end of the eighteenth century Lord Mansfield came very near establishing it in our law by his doctrine that no promise made as a business transaction could be nudum pactum. But he was too late. Growth stopped for a season and the nineteenth century set itself to systematize and harmonize what it had received rather than to carry the development further.

When the natural-law foundation of enforcing promises crumbled, the metaphysical jurists sought to provide a new one. Kant said that it was impossible to prove that one ought to keep his promise, considered merely as a promise, and deduced contract from property as a form of conveyance or alienation of one's substance involved in the very idea of individual rights. So far as consistent with abstract freedom of will according to a universal law one might alienate his services as well as his property, and an undertaking to perform something was an alienation of that sort. This view was generally taken so that while the seventeenth century sought to rest rights upon contract and the eighteenth century rested contract on the inherent moral significance of a promise, the nineteenth century, making the philosophy of property the important thing, rested contract on property. Three of these theories are worth a moment's notice.

Fichte says that the duty of performing an agreement arises when one party thereto begins to act under it. Juristically this seems to be a rationalization of the Roman innominate contract. There, in case a pact was performed on one side, he who performed might claim restitution quasi ex contractu or claim the counter-performance ex contractu. Philosophically the idea seems to be that of the equivalent theory, in the form with which we are familiar in Anglo-American discussion of this subject as the injurious-reliance theory. According to the latter, unless the promisee has parted with an equivalent or has begun to act in reliance upon the agreement, he has no moral claim to fulfilment. This is not a theory of the law as it is or as it ever has been. Formal contracts require nothing of the sort. It is true, English equity, under the influence of the equivalent theory, did lay down in the nineteenth century that a contract under seal with no common-law consideration behind it would not be enforced. But that proposition was subject to many exceptions when it was announced, more have since developed and more are developing. As things are, the exceptions are of more frequent application than the rule itself. Nor is Fichte's theory a statement of moral ideas of his day or of ours. Then and now the moral duty to keep abstract promises was and is recognized. That a man's word should be "as good as his bond" expresses the moral sentiment of civilized society. But the philosopher saw that the law did not go so far and was trying to frame a rational explanation of why it fell short. It should be noticed that Fichte is really trying to show why a promise may be regarded as a part of one's substance and why one's claim to performance may be treated as his property.

Hegel also explains contract in terms of property, treating a promise as a disposition of one's substance. Hence in his view the so-called abstract promise is a mere subjective qualification of one's will which he is at liberty to change. This theory and the foregoing assume the Roman law or the older law of Continental Europe, and speak from the reaction from natural law which in England at the same time was overruling the liberal doctrines of Lord Mansfield.

Later metaphysical jurists rely upon the idea of personality. The Romanist thinks of a legal transaction as a willing of some change in a person's sphere of rights to which the law, carrying out his will, gives the intended effect. If the transaction is executed, revocation would involve aggression upon the substance of another. If it is executory, however, why should the declared intent that the change take place in the future be executed by law despite the altered will of the promisor? Some say that this should be done where there is a joint will from which only joint action may recede. Where the parties have come to an agreement, where their wills have been at one, the law is to give effect to this joint will as a sort of vindication of personality. It is evident, however, that this explanation assumes the will theory, the subjective theory of legal transactions. If we start from the objective theory it breaks down. Take for instance the case of an offer, which a reasonable man would understand in a given way, accepted by the offeree in that understanding when the offerer really meant something else. Or take the case of an offer wrongly transmitted by telegraph and accepted in good faith as it is transmitted. Here there is no community of will and yet the law may well hold, as we do in America, in both cases, that there is a contract. No metaphysical theory has prevailed to prevent the steady march of the law and of juristic thought in the direction of an objective doctrine of legal transactions. Nowhere, indeed, has the deductive method broken down so completely as in the attempt to deduce principles upon which contracts are to be enforced.

Later in the nineteenth century men came to think more about freedom of contract than about enforcement of promises when made. To Spencer and the mechanical positivists, conceiving of law negatively as a system of hands off while men do things, rather than as a system of ordering to prevent friction and waste so that they may do things, the important institution was a right of free exchange and free contract, deduced from the law of equal freedom as a sort of freedom of economic motion and locomotion. Justice required that each individual be at liberty to make free use of his natural powers in bargains and exchanges and promises except as he interfered with like action on the part of his fellow men, or with some other of their natural rights. Whether all such transactions should be enforced against him or only some, and if the latter, which, are questions belonging to an affirmative rather than to a negative science of law.

Historical jurists accepted the will theory and have been its leading advocates in modern times. They saw that the whole course of legal history had been one of wider recognition and more effective enforcement of promises. Those who accepted the ethical idealistic interpretation of legal history could see freedom as an ethical idea realizing itself in a larger freedom of self-assertion and self-determination through promises and agreements and a wider giving effect to the will so asserted and determined. For the most part they wrote on the Continent where the field of legally enforceable promises had ceased to be bounded by a narrow fence of Roman historical categories. Thus they had no call to rationalize dogmas of not enforcing promises made as business transactions. Those who accepted the political interpretation saw freedom as a civil or political idea realizing itself in a progress from status to contract in which men's duties and liabilities came more and more to flow from willed action instead of from the accident of social position recognized by law. The English historical jurists might well have asked how far English rules as to consideration were consonant with the implications of such a theory, and whether they must not be expected to give way as the idea unfolded more completely in experience of popular action and judicial decision. But the leader of this school was not a common-law lawyer and the American historical jurists devoted their energies to devising a historical-analytical theory of consideration rather than to the wider question of what promises should be enforced and why.

Here as in other places the historical jurist and the utilitarian were in agreement as to results although they differed widely as to the mode of reaching them. The former saw in contract a realization of the idea of liberty. The latter saw in it a means of promoting that maximum of individual free self-assertion which he took to be human happiness. Hence the former called for freedom of contract and should have called for wide general enforcement of promises. The latter held to a doctrine of unshackling men and allowing them to act as freely as possible, which involved the complementary position of extending the sphere and enforcing the obligation of contract. The difference between these ways of thinking and those of the end of the eighteenth century is brought out if we compare Blackstone (1765) with a dictum of Sir George Jessel a century later (1875). The former says that the public is "in nothing so essentially interested as in securing to every individual his private rights." The latter, discussing a question of what agreements are against public policy and therefore unenforceable, says: "If there is one thing more than another which public policy requires it is that men of full age and competent understanding shall have the utmost liberty of contracting and that such contracts shall be enforced by courts of justice." But the utilitarians put the emphasis upon the first, the negative, rather than upon the second, the affirmative, part of this twofold program. This is true also of the historical jurists and of the positivists. The English trader and entrepreneur was not seeking for legal instruments. He could work passably with those which the law furnished if the law would but let him. What he sought was to be free from legal shackles which had come down from a society of a different nature organized on a different basis and with other ends. Hence juristic thought addressed itself to this for a season rather than to the doctrine of consideration and the reason for non-enforcement of deliberate promises where not put in the form of bargains.

No one of the four theories of enforcing promises which are current today is adequate to cover the whole legal recognition and enforcement of them as the law actually exists. Putting them in the order of their currency, we may call them (1) the will theory, (2) the bargain theory, (3) the equivalent theory, (4) the injurious-reliance theory. That is, promises are enforced as a giving effect to the will of those who agree, or to the extent that they are bargains or parts of bargains, or where an equivalent for them has been rendered, or where they have been relied on by the promisee to his injury, according to the theory chosen. The first is the prevailing theory among civilians. But it must give way before the onward march of the objective theory of legal transactions and is already fighting a rear-guard action. In our law it is impossible. We do not give effect to promises on the basis of the will of the promisor, although our courts of equity have shown some tendency to move in that direction. The attempt in the nineteenth century to Romanize our theories of liability involved a Romanized will-theory of contract. But no one who looks beneath the surface of our law reports can doubt that the attempt has failed wholly. We no longer seek solutions on every side through a pedantic Romanized law of bailments and in the law of bailments itself we are coming to talk in common-law terms of negligence in view of the circumstances and not in Romanist terms of the willed standard of diligence and corresponding degrees of negligence. In America, at least, the objective theory of contract is orthodox and the leader of English analytical jurists of the present generation has expounded it zealously. Courts of equity, which inherit modes of thought from the time when the chancellor searched the conscience of a defendant by an examination under oath, and believed he could reach subjective data that were beyond the cognizance of a jury, are the last stronghold of the exotic subjective theory in the common law.

Probably the bargain theory is the one most current in common-law thinking. It is a development of the equivalent theory. It will not cover formal contracts but under its influence the formal contracts have been slowly giving way. The seal "imports" a consideration. Legislation has abolished it in many jurisdictions and often it does no more than establish a bargain prima facie, subject to proof that there was in fact no consideration. Courts of equity require a common-law consideration, at least on the face of their general rule, before they will enforce a sealed contract. Also the formal contracts of the law merchant are subject to defeat by showing there was no consideration, except when in the hands of holders for value without notice. Here, however, consideration is used in the sense of equivalent, to the extent of admitting a "past consideration," and the bargain theory, appropriate to simple contracts, is not of entire application. On the other hand the extent to which courts today are straining to get away from the bargain theory and enforce promises which are not bargains and cannot be stated as such is significant. Subscription contracts, gratuitous promises afterwards acted on, promises based on moral obligations, new promises where a debt has been barred by limitation or bankruptcy or the like, the torturing of gifts into contracts by equity so as to enforce pacta donationis specifically in spite of the rule that equity will not aid a volunteer, the enforcement of gratuitous declarations of trust, specific enforcement of options under seal without consideration, specific performance by way of reformation in case of security to a creditor or settlement on a wife or provision for a child, voluntary relinquishment of a defense by a surety and other cases of "waiver," release by mere acknowledgment in some states, enforcement of gifts by way of reformation against the heir of a donor, "mandates" where there is no res, and stipulations of parties and their counsel as to the conduct of and proceedings in litigation--all these make up a formidable catalogue of exceptional or anomalous cases with which the advocate of the bargain theory must struggle. When one adds enforcement of promises at suit of third-party beneficiaries, which is making headway the world over, and enforcement of promises where the consideration moves from a third person, which has strong advocates in America and is likely to be used to meet the exigencies of doing business through letters of credit, one can but see that Lord Mansfield's proposition that no promise made as a business transaction can be nudum pactum is nearer realization than we had supposed.

Yet the equivalent theory and the injurious-reliance theory are even less adequate to explain the actual law. The equivalent theory must wrestle at the outset with the doctrine that inadequacy of consideration is immaterial so that the equivalency is often Pickwickian. Hegel could argue for it on the basis of the Roman laesio enormis. But when a court of equity is willing to uphold a sale of property worth $20,000 for $200, even a dogmatic fiction is strained. Moreover the catalogue of anomalies with which the bargain theory must wrestle contains more than one difficulty for the adherent of either theory. Stipulations in the course of litigation do not need equivalents nor do they need to be acted on in order to be enforceable. A release by mere acknowledgment, when good at all, needs no equivalent and need not be acted on. Waiver by a surety of the defense of release by giving time to the principal needs no element of consideration nor of estoppel. Defectively executed securities, settlements and advancements need no equivalent and need not be acted on in order to be reformed. Options under seal are held open in equity on the basis of the seal alone. A gratuitously declared trust creates an obligation cognizable in equity without more. In truth the situation in our law is becoming much the same as that in the maturity of Roman law and for the same reason. We have three main categories. First, there are formal contracts, including sealed instruments, recognizances, and the formal contracts of the law merchant, in which latter the form consists in the use of certain words, requirements as to sum certain, payment at all events, and certainty as to time. Second, there are the real contracts of debt and bailment. Third, there are simple contracts, without form and upon consideration. The latter is the growing category although the formal contracts of the law merchant have shown some power of growth and the business world has been trying to add thereto letters of credit using the formal words "confirmed" or "irrevocable." But the category of enforceable simple promises defies systematic treatment as obstinately as the actionable pacts in Roman law. Successive additions at different times in the endeavor of courts to hold men to their undertakings, in view of the social interest in the security of transactions and the jural postulates of the civilization of the day, proceed on all manner of different theories and different analogies and agree only in the result--that a man's word in the course of business should be as good as his bond and that his fellow men must be able to rely on the one equally with the other if our economic order is to function efficiently. It is evident that many courts consciously or subconsciously sympathize with Lord Dunedin's feeling that one can have no liking for a doctrine which enables a promisor to snap his fingers at a promise deliberately made, fair in itself, and in which the person seeking to enforce it has a legitimate interest according to the ordinary understanding of upright men in the community. It is significant that although we have been theorizing about consideration for four centuries, our texts have not agreed upon a formula of consideration, much less our courts upon any consistent scheme of what is consideration and what is not. It means one thing--we are not agreed exactly what--in the law of simple contracts, another in the law of negotiable instruments, another in conveyancing under the Statute of Uses and still another thing--no one knows exactly what--in many cases in equity.

Letters of credit afford a striking illustration of the ill-adaptation of our American common law of contract to the needs of modern business in an urban society of highly complex economic organization. Well known abroad and worked out consistently on general theories in the commercial law of Continental Europe, these instruments came into use in this country on a large scale suddenly during the war. There was no settled theory with respect to them in our books and the decisions warranted four or five views leading to divergent results in matters of vital moment to the business man who acted on them. Characteristically the business world set out to make of them formal contracts of the law merchant by the use of certain distinctive words which gave the instruments character and made their nature clear to those who inspected them anywhere in the world. But for a season our category of mercantile specialties had ceased to admit of growth and the doctrine of consideration with its uncertain lines stood in the way of many things which the exigencies of business called for and business men found themselves doing in reliance on each other's business honor and the banker's jealousy of his business credit, with or without assistance from the law. Certainly no one would say that such a situation bears witness to wise social engineering in an economically organized society resting on credit.

Two circumstances operate to keep the requirement of consideration alive in our law of simple contract. One is the professional feeling that the common law is the legal order of nature, that its doctrines in an idealized form are natural law and that its actual rules are declaratory of natural law. This mode of thinking is to be found in all professions and is a result of habitual application of the rules of an art until they are taken for granted. In law it is fortified by the theory of natural law which has governed in our elementary books since Blackstone, was taught to all lawyers until the present century, and is assumed in much of our judicial decision. Later it was strengthened by the theories of the historical school which ruled in our law schools in the last quarter of the nineteenth century and taught us to think that growth must inevitably follow lines which might be discovered in the Year Books. These things co-operated with the temper of the last century and the instinctive aversion of the lawyer to change, lest in some unperceived way a door be opened to magisterial caprice or to the personal equation of the judge. Thus some thought of consideration, whatever it was, as inherent in the very idea of enforceable promises. Others assumed that it was a historically developed principle by which the future evolution of the law of contracts must be governed. Many others simply thought that it was dangerous to talk of change. And yet change has gone on rapidly, if subconsciously, until the present confused mass of unsystematized and unsystematizable rules has resulted. The second circumstance operating to keep alive the requirement of consideration is a more legitimate factor.

Nowhere could psychology render more service to jurisprudence than in giving us a psychological theory of nuda pacta. For there is something more than the fetish of a traditional Latin phrase with the hallmark of Roman legal science behind our reluctance to enforce all deliberate promises simply as such. It should be compared with the reluctance of courts to apply the ordinary principle of negligence to negligent speech, with the doctrine as to seller's talk, with the limitations upon liability for oral defamation and with many things of the sort throughout our law. All of these proceed partly from the attitude of the strict law in which our legal institutions first took shape. But they have persisted because of a feeling that "talk is cheap," that much of what men say is not to be taken at face value and that more will be sacrificed than gained if all oral speech is taken seriously and the principles applied by the law to other forms of conduct are applied rigorously thereto. This is what was meant when the writers on natural law said that promises often proceeded more from "ostentation" than from a real intention to assume a binding relation. But this feeling may be carried too far. Undoubtedly it has been carried too far in the analogous cases above mentioned. The rule of Derry v. Peek goes much beyond what is needed to secure reasonable limits for human garrulousness. The standard of negligence, taking into account the fact of oral speech and the character and circumstances of the speech in the particular case, would amply secure individual free utterance. So also the doctrine that one might not rely on another's oral representation in the course of a business transaction if he could ascertain the facts by diligence went much too far and has had to be restricted. Likewise we have had to extend liability for oral defamation. Accordingly because men are prone to overmuch talk it does not follow that promises made by business men in business dealings or by others as business transactions are in any wise likely to proceed from "ostentation" or that we should hesitate to make them as binding in law as they are in business morals. Without accepting the will theory, may we not take a suggestion from it and enforce those promises which a reasonable man in the position of the promisee would believe to have been made deliberately with intent to assume a binding relation? The general security is more easily and effectively guarded against fraud by requirements of proof after the manner of the Statute of Frauds than by requirements of consideration which is as easy to establish by doubtful evidence as the promise itself. This has been demonstrated abundantly by experience of suits in equity to enforce oral contracts taken out of the Statute of Frauds by great hardship and part performance.

Revived philosophical jurisprudence has its first and perhaps its greatest opportunity in the Anglo-American law of contracts. The constantly increasing list of theoretical anomalies shows that analysis and restatement can avail us no longer. Indeed the lucid statement of Williston but emphasizes the inadequacy of analysis even when eked out by choice from among competing views and analytical restatements of judicial dogma in the light of results. Projects for "restatement of the law" are in the air. But a restatement of what has never been stated is an impossibility and as yet there is no authoritative statement of what the law of consideration is. Nothing could be gained by a statement of it with all its imperfections on its head and any consistent analytical statement would require the undoing of much that the judges have done quietly beneath the surface for making promises more widely enforceable. Given an attractive philosophical theory of enforcement of promises, our courts in a new period of growth will begin to shape the law thereby and judicial empiricism and legal reason will bring about a workable system along new lines. The possibilities involved may be measured if we compare our old law of torts with its hard and fast series of nominate wrongs, its distinctions growing out of procedural requirements of trespass and trespass on the case and its crude idea of liability, flowing solely from causation, with the law of torts at the end of the nineteenth century after it had been molded by the theory of liability as a corollary of fault. Even if we must discard the conception that tort liability may flow only from fault, the generalization did a service of the first magnitude not only to legal theory but to the actual administration of justice. No less service will be rendered by the twentieth-century philosophical theory, whatever it is, which puts the jural postulate of civilized society in our day and place with respect to good faith, and its corollary as to promises, in acceptable form, and furnishes jurist and judge and lawmaker with a logical critique, a workable measure of decision and an ideal of what the law seeks to do, whereby to carry forward the process of enlarging the domain of legally enforceable promises and thus enlarging on this side the domain of legal satisfaction of human claims.