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and in ideals. And nowhere is the character of this common inheritance more apparent than in the region of jurisprudence. The lawyers of the three countries think for the most part alike. At no period has political divergence prevented this fact from being strikingly apparent. Where the letter of their law is different the spirit is yet the same, and it has been so always. As I speak of the historical tradition of our great calling, and of what appears likely to be its record in days to come, it seems to me that we who are here gathered may well proclaim, in the words of the Spartans, "We are what you were; we shall be what you are."
It is this identity of spirit, largely due to a past which the lawyers of the group have inherited jointly, that not only forms a bond of union, but furnishes them with an influence that can hardly be reproduced in other nations. I take my stand on facts which are beyond controversy, and seek to look ahead. I ask you to consider with me whether we, who have in days gone by moulded their laws, are not called on to try in days that lie in front to mould opinion in yet another form, and so encourage the nations of this group to develop and recognize a reliable character in the obligations they assume towards each other. For it may be that there are relations possible within such a group of nations as is ours that are not possible for nations more isolated from each other and lacking in our identity of history and spirit. Canada and Great Britain on the one hand and the United States on the other, with their common language, their common interests, and their common ends, form something resembling a single society. If there be such a society it may develop within itself a foundation for international faith of a kind that is new in the history of the world. Without interfering with the freedom of action of these great countries, or the independence of their constitutions, it may be possible to establish a true unison between sovereign states. This unison will doubtless, if it ever comes into complete being, have its witnesses in treaties and written agreements. But such documents can never of themselves constitute it. Its substance, if it is to be realized, must be sought for deeper down in an intimate social life. I have
never been without hope that the future development of the world may bring all the nations that compose it nearer together, so that they will progressively cease to desire to hold each other at arm's length. But such an approximation can only come about very gradually, if I read the signs of the times aright. It seems to me to be far less likely of definite realization than in the case of a group united by ties such as those of which I have spoken.
Well, the growth of such a future is at least conceivable. The substance of some of the things I am going to say about its conception, and about the way by which that conception may become real, is as old as Plato. Yet the principles and facts to which I shall have to refer appear to me to be often overlooked by those to whom they might well appear obvious. Perhaps the reason is the deadening effect of that conventional atmosphere out of which few men in public life succeed in completely escaping. We can best assist in the freshening of that atmosphere by omitting no opportunity of trying to think rightly, and thereby to contribute to the fashioning of a more hopeful and resolute kind of public opinion. For, as someone has said, "L'opinion générale dirige l'autorité, quels qu'en soient les dépositaires."
The chance of laying before such an audience as this what was in my mind made the invitation which came from the Bar Association and from the heads of our great profession, both in Canada and in the United States, a highly attractive one. But before I could accept it I had to obtain the permission of my Sovereign; for, as you know, the Lord Chancellor is also Custos Sigilli, the Keeper of that Great Seal under which alone supreme executive acts of the British Crown can be done. It is an instrument he must neither quit without special authority, nor carry out of the realm. The head of a predecessor of mine, Cardinal Wolsey, was in peril because he was so daring as to take the Great Seal across the water to Calais, when he ought instead to have asked his Sovereign to put it into commission.
Well, the Clavis Regni was on the present occasion put safely into commission before I left, and I am privileged to be here with a comfortable constitutional conscience. But the King has
done more than graciously approve of my leaving British shores. I am the bearer to you of a message from him which I will now read:
"I have given my Lord Chancellor permission to cross the seas, so that he may address the meeting at Montreal. I have asked him to convey from me to that great meeting of the lawyers of the United States and of Canada my best wishes for its success. I entertain the hope that the deliberations of the distinguished men of both countries who are to assemble at Montreal may add yet further to the esteem and goodwill which the people of the United States and of Canada and the United Kingdom have for each other."
The King's message forms a text for what I have to say, and, having conveyed that message to you, I propose in the first place to turn to the reasons which make me think that the class to which you and I belong has a peculiar and extensive responsibility as regards the future relations of the three countries. But these reasons turn on the position which courts of law hold in Anglo-Saxon constitutions, and before I enter on them I must recall to you the character of the tradition that tends to fashion a common mind in you and me as members of a profession that has exercised a profound influence on Anglo-Saxon society. It is not difficult in an assemblage of lawyers such as we are to realize the process by which our customary habits of thought have come into being and bind us together. The spirit of the jurisprudence which is ours, of the system which we apply to the regulation of human affairs in Canada, in the United States, and in Great Britain alike, is different from that which obtains in other countries. It is its very peculiarity that lends to it its potency, and it is worth while to make explicit what the spirit of our law really means for us.
I read the other day the reflections of a foreign thinker on what seemed to him the barbarism of the entire system of English jurisprudence, in its essence judge-made and not based on the scientific foundation of a code. I do not wonder at such reflections. There is a gulf fixed between the method of a code and such procedure as that of Chief Justice Holt in Coggs vs. Bernard, of Chief Justice Pratt in Armory vs. Delmairie, and
of Lord Mansfield when he defined the count for money had and received. A stranger to the spirit of the law as it was evolved through centuries in England will always find its history a curious one. Looking first at the early English common law its most striking feature is the enormous extent to which its founders concerned themselves with remedies before settling the substantive rules for breach of which the remedies were required. Nowhere else, unless perhaps in the law of ancient Rome, do we see such a spectacle of legal writs making legal rights. Of the system of the common law there is a saying of Mr. Justice Wendell Holmes which is profoundly true: "The life of the law has not been logic; it has been experience. The felt necessities of the time, the prevalent moral and political theories, intentions of public policy, avowed or unconscious, even the prejudices which judges share with their fellow men, have had a good deal more to do than the syllogism in determining the rules by which men should be governed. The law embodies the story of a nation's development through many centuries, and it cannot be dealt with as if it contained only the axioms and corollaries of a book of mathematics." As the distinguished writer whom I have quoted tells us, we cannot, without the closest application of the historical method, comprehend the genesis and evolution of the English common law. Its paradox is that in its beginnings the forms of action came before the substance. It is in the history of English remedies that we have to study the growth of rights. I recall a notable sentence in one of Sir Henry Maine's books. "So great," he declares, "is the ascendancy of the law of actions in the infancy of courts of justice, that substantive law has at first the look of being gradually secreted in the interstices of procedure." I will add to his observation this: That all our reforms notwithstanding, the dead hands of the old forms of action still rest firmly upon us. In logic the substantive conceptions ought of course to have preceded these forms. But the historical sequence has been different, for reasons with which every competent student of early English history is familiar. The phenomenon is no uncommon one. The time spirit and the spirit of logical form do not always, in a world where the con
tingent is ever obtruding itself, travel hand in hand. The germs of substantive law were indeed present as potential forces from the beginning, but they did not grow into life until later on. And therefore forms of action have thrust themselves forward with undue prominence. That is why the understanding of our law is, even for the practitioner of today, inseparable from knowledge of its history.
As with the common law, so it is with equity. To know the principles of equity is to know the history of the courts in which it has been administered, and especially the history of the office which at present I chance myself to hold. Between law and equity there is no other true line of demarcation. The King was the fountain of justice. But to get justice at his hands it was necessary first of all to obtain the King's writ. As Bracton declared, "non potest quis sine brevi agere." But the King could not personally look after the department where such writs were to be obtained. At the head of this, his chancery, he therefore placed a Chancellor, usually a Bishop, but sometimes an Archbishop, and even a Cardinal, for in those days the church had a grip which to a Lord Chancellor of the twentieth century is unfamiliar. At first the holder of the office was not a judge. But he was keeper of the King's conscience, and his business was to see that the King's subjects had remedies when he considered that they had suffered wrongs. Consequently he began to invent new writs, and finally to develop remedies which were not confined by the rigid precedents of the common law. Thus he soon became a judge. When he found that he could not grant a common law writ he took to summoning people before him and to searching their consciences. He inquired, for instance, as to trusts which they were said to have undertaken, and as the result of his inquiries rights and obligations unknown to the common law were born in his court of conscience. You see at a glance how susceptible such a practice was of development into a complete system of equity. You would expect, moreover, to find that the ecclesiastical atmosphere in which my official predecessors lived would influence the forms in which they moulded their special system of jurisprudence. This did indeed happen,