THE COMMON LAW
By Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr.
CONVENTIONS
Numbers in square brackets [245] refer to original page numbers. Original footnotes were numbered page-by-page, and are collected at the end of the text. In the text, numbers in slashes (e.g./1/) refer to original footnote numbers. In the footnote section, a number such as 245/1 refers to (original) page 245, footnote 1. The footnotes are mostly citations to old English law reporters and to commentaries by writers such as Ihering, Bracton and Blackstone. I cannot give a source for decrypting the notation. To find a footnote click on the page number just above the footnote i.e. [245].
There is quite a little Latin and some Greek in the original text. I have reproduced the Latin. The Greek text is omitted; its place is marked by the expression [Greek characters]. Italics and diacritical marks such as accents and cedillas are omitted and unmarked.
Lecture X has two subheads—Successions After Death and Successions Inter Vivos. Lecture XI is also titled Successions Inter Vivos. This conforms to the original.
CONTENTS
[ LECTURE I. — EARLY FORMS OF LIABILITY. ]
[ LECTURE II. — THE CRIMINAL LAW. ]
[ LECTURE III. — TORTS.—TRESPASS AND NEGLIGENCE. ]
[ LECTURE IV. — FRAUD, MALICE, AND INTENT.—THE THEORY OF TORTS. ]
[ LECTURE V. — THE BAILEE AT COMMON LAW. ]
[ LECTURE VII. — CONTRACT.—I. HISTORY. ]
[ LECTURE VIII. — CONTRACT. II. ELEMENTS. ]
[ LECTURE IX. — CONTRACT.—III. VOID AND VOIDABLE. ]
[ LECTURE X. — SUCCESSIONS AFTER DEATH. ]
[ LECTURE X. — SUCCESSIONS INTER VIVOS ]
[ LECTURE XI. — SUCCESSIONS.—II. INTER VIVOS. ]
LECTURE I. — EARLY FORMS OF LIABILITY.
[1] The object of this book is to present a general view of the Common Law. To accomplish the task, other tools are needed besides logic. It is something to show that the consistency of a system requires a particular result, but it is not all. 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, intuitions 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. In order to know what it is, we must know what it has been, and what it tends to become. We must alternately consult history and existing theories of legislation. But the most difficult labor will be to understand the combination of the two into new products at every stage. The substance of the law at any given time pretty nearly [2] corresponds, so far as it goes, with what is then understood to be convenient; but its form and machinery, and the degree to which it is able to work out desired results, depend very much upon its past.
In Massachusetts today, while, on the one hand, there are a great many rules which are quite sufficiently accounted for by their manifest good sense, on the other, there are some which can only be understood by reference to the infancy of procedure among the German tribes, or to the social condition of Rome under the Decemvirs.
I shall use the history of our law so far as it is necessary to explain a conception or to interpret a rule, but no further. In doing so there are two errors equally to be avoided both by writer and reader. One is that of supposing, because an idea seems very familiar and natural to us, that it has always been so. Many things which we take for granted have had to be laboriously fought out or thought out in past times. The other mistake is the opposite one of asking too much of history. We start with man full grown. It may be assumed that the earliest barbarian whose practices are to be considered, had a good many of the same feelings and passions as ourselves.
The first subject to be discussed is the general theory of liability civil and criminal. The Common Law has changed a good deal since the beginning of our series of reports, and the search after a theory which may now be said to prevail is very much a study of tendencies. I believe that it will be instructive to go back to the early forms of liability, and to start from them.
It is commonly known that the early forms of legal procedure were grounded in vengeance. Modern writers [3] have thought that the Roman law started from the blood feud, and all the authorities agree that the German law begun in that way. The feud led to the composition, at first optional, then compulsory, by which the feud was bought off. The gradual encroachment of the composition may be traced in the Anglo-Saxon laws, /1/ and the feud was pretty well broken up, though not extinguished, by the time of William the Conqueror. The killings and house-burnings of an earlier day became the appeals of mayhem and arson. The appeals de pace et plagis and of mayhem became, or rather were in substance, the action of trespass which is still familiar to lawyers. /2/ But as the compensation recovered in the appeal was the alternative of vengeance, we might expect to find its scope limited to the scope of vengeance. Vengeance imports a feeling of blame, and an opinion, however distorted by passion, that a wrong has been done. It can hardly go very far beyond the case of a harm intentionally inflicted: even a dog distinguishes between being stumbled over and being kicked.
Whether for this cause or another, the early English appeals for personal violence seem to have been confined to intentional wrongs. Glanvill /3/ mentions melees, blows, and wounds,—all forms of intentional violence. In the fuller description of such appeals given by Bracton /4/ it is made quite clear that they were based on intentional assaults. The appeal de pace et plagis laid an intentional assault, described the nature of the arms used, and the length and depth of the wound. The appellor also had [4] to show that he immediately raised the hue and cry. So when Bracton speaks of the lesser offences, which were not sued by way of appeal, he instances only intentional wrongs, such as blows with the fist, flogging, wounding, insults, and so forth. /1/ The cause of action in the cases of trespass reported in the earlier Year Books and in the Abbreviatio Plaeitorum is always an intentional wrong. It was only at a later day, and after argument, that trespass was extended so as to embrace harms which were foreseen, but which were not the intended consequence of the defendant's act. /2/ Thence again it extended to unforeseen injuries. /3/
It will be seen that this order of development is not quite consistent with an opinion which has been held, that it was a characteristic of early law not to penetrate beyond the external visible fact, the damnum corpore corpori datum. It has been thought that an inquiry into the internal condition of the defendant, his culpability or innocence, implies a refinement of juridical conception equally foreign to Rome before the Lex Aquilia, and to England when trespass took its shape. I do not know any very satisfactory evidence that a man was generally held liable either in Rome /4/ or England for the accidental consequences even of his own act. But whatever may have been the early law, the foregoing account shows the starting-point of the system with which we have to deal. Our system of private liability for the consequences of a man's own acts, that is, for his trespasses, started from the notion of actual intent and actual personal culpability.
The original principles of liability for harm inflicted by [5] another person or thing have been less carefully considered hitherto than those which governed trespass, and I shall therefore devote the rest of this Lecture to discussing them. I shall try to show that this liability also had its root in the passion of revenge, and to point out the changes by which it reached its present form. But I shall not confine myself strictly to what is needful for that purpose, because it is not only most interesting to trace the transformation throughout its whole extent, but the story will also afford an instructive example of the mode in which the law has grown, without a break, from barbarism to civilization. Furthermore, it will throw much light upon some important and peculiar doctrines which cannot be returned to later.
A very common phenomenon, and one very familiar to the student of history, is this. The customs, beliefs, or needs of a primitive time establish a rule or a formula. In the course of centuries the custom, belief, or necessity disappears, but the rule remains. The reason which gave rise to the rule has been forgotten, and ingenious minds set themselves to inquire how it is to be accounted for. Some ground of policy is thought of, which seems to explain it and to reconcile it with the present state of things; and then the rule adapts itself to the new reasons which have been found for it, and enters on a new career. The old form receives a new content, and in time even the form modifies itself to fit the meaning which it has received. The subject under consideration illustrates this course of events very clearly.
I will begin by taking a medley of examples embodying as many distinct rules, each with its plausible and seemingly sufficient ground of policy to explain it.
[6] A man has an animal of known ferocious habits, which escapes and does his neighbor damage. He can prove that the animal escaped through no negligence of his, but still he is held liable. Why? It is, says the analytical jurist, because, although he was not negligent at the moment of escape, he was guilty of remote heedlessness, or negligence, or fault, in having such a creature at all. And one by whose fault damage is done ought to pay for it.
A baker's man, while driving his master's cart to deliver hot rolls of a morning, runs another man down. The master has to pay for it. And when he has asked why he should have to pay for the wrongful act of an independent and responsible being, he has been answered from the time of Ulpian to that of Austin, that it is because he was to blame for employing an improper person. If he answers, that he used the greatest possible care in choosing his driver, he is told that that is no excuse; and then perhaps the reason is shifted, and it is said that there ought to be a remedy against some one who can pay the damages, or that such wrongful acts as by ordinary human laws are likely to happen in the course of the service are imputable to the service.
Next, take a case where a limit has been set to liability which had previously been unlimited. In 1851, Congress passed a law, which is still in force, and by which the owners of ships in all the more common cases of maritime loss can surrender the vessel and her freight then pending to the losers; and it is provided that, thereupon, further proceedings against the owners shall cease. The legislators to whom we owe this act argued that, if a merchant embark a portion of his property upon a hazardous venture, it is reasonable that his stake should be confined to what [7] he puts at risk,—a principle similar to that on which corporations have been so largely created in America during the last fifty years.
It has been a rule of criminal pleading in England down into the present century, that an indictment for homicide must set forth the value of the instrument causing the death, in order that the king or his grantee might claim forfeiture of the deodand, "as an accursed thing," in the language of Blackstone.
I might go on multiplying examples; but these are enough to show the remoteness of the points to be brought together.—As a first step towards a generalization, it will be necessary to consider what is to be found in ancient and independent systems of law.
There is a well-known passage in Exodus, /1/ which we shall have to remember later: "If an ox gore a man or a woman, that they die: then the ox shall be surely stoned, and his flesh shall not be eaten; but the owner of the ox shall be quit." When we turn from the Jews to the Greeks, we find the principle of the passage just quoted erected into a system. Plutarch, in his Solon, tells us that a dog that had bitten a man was to be delivered up bound to a log four cubits long. Plato made elaborate provisions in his Laws for many such cases. If a slave killed a man, he was to be given up to the relatives of the deceased. /2/ If he wounded a man, he was to be given up to the injured party to use him as he pleased. /3/ So if he did damage to which the injured party did not contribute as a joint cause. In either case, if the owner [8] failed to surrender the slave, he was bound to make good the loss. /1/ If a beast killed a man, it was to be slain and cast beyond the borders. If an inanimate thing caused death, it was to be cast beyond the borders in like manner, and expiation was to be made. /2/ Nor was all this an ideal creation of merely imagined law, for it was said in one of the speeches of Aeschines, that "we banish beyond our borders stocks and stones and steel, voiceless and mindless things, if they chance to kill a man; and if a man commits suicide, bury the hand that struck the blow afar from its body." This is mentioned quite as an every-day matter, evidently without thinking it at all extraordinary, only to point an antithesis to the honors heaped upon Demosthenes. /3/ As late as the second century after Christ the traveller Pausanias observed with some surprise that they still sat in judgment on inanimate things in the Prytaneum. /4/ Plutarch attributes the institution to Draco. /5/
In the Roman law we find the similar principles of the noxoe deditio gradually leading to further results. The Twelve Tables (451 B.C.) provided that, if an animal had done damage, either the animal was to be surrendered or the damage paid for. /6/ We learn from Gains that the same rule was applied to the torts of children or slaves, /7/ and there is some trace of it with regard to inanimate things.
The Roman lawyers, not looking beyond their own [9] system or their own time, drew on their wits for an explanation which would show that the law as they found it was reasonable. Gaius said that it was unjust that the fault of children or slaves should be a source of loss to their parents or owners beyond their own bodies, and Ulpian reasoned that a fortiori this was true of things devoid of life, and therefore incapable of fault. /1/ This way of approaching the question seems to deal with the right of surrender as if it were a limitation of a liability incurred by a parent or owner, which would naturally and in the first instance be unlimited. But if that is what was meant, it puts the cart before the horse. The right of surrender was not introduced as a limitation of liability, but, in Rome and Greece alike, payment was introduced as the alternative of a failure to surrender.
The action was not based, as it would be nowadays, on the fault of the parent or owner. If it had been, it would always have been brought against the person who had control of the slave or animal at the time it did the harm complained of, and who, if any one, was to blame for not preventing the injury. So far from this being the course, the person to be sued was the owner at the time of suing. The action followed the guilty thing into whosesoever hands it came. /2/ And in curious contrast with the principle as inverted to meet still more modern views of public policy, if the animal was of a wild nature, that is, in the very case of the most ferocious animals, the owner ceased to be liable the moment it escaped, because at that moment he ceased to be owner. /3/ There [10] seems to have been no other or more extensive liability by the old law, even where a slave was guilty with his master's knowledge, unless perhaps he was a mere tool in his master's hands. /1/ Gains and Ulpian showed an inclination to cut the noxoe deditio down to a privilege of the owner in case of misdeeds committed without his knowledge; but Ulpian is obliged to admit, that by the ancient law, according to Celsus, the action was noxal where a slave was guilty even with the privity of his master. /2/
All this shows very clearly that the liability of the owner was merely a way of getting at the slave or animal which was the immediate cause of offence. In other words, vengeance on the immediate offender was the object of the Greek and early Roman process, not indemnity from the master or owner. The liability of the owner was simply a liability of the offending thing. In the primitive customs of Greece it was enforced by a judicial process expressly directed against the object, animate or inanimate. The Roman Twelve Tables made the owner, instead of the thing itself, the defendant, but did not in any way change the ground of liability, or affect its limit. The change was simply a device to allow the owner to protect his interest. /3/
But it may be asked how inanimate objects came to be [11] pursued in this way, if the object of the procedure was to gratify the passion of revenge. Learned men have been ready to find a reason in the personification of inanimate nature common to savages and children, and there is much to confirm this view. Without such a personification, anger towards lifeless things would have been transitory, at most. It is noticeable that the commonest example in the most primitive customs and laws is that of a tree which falls upon a man, or from which he falls and is killed. We can conceive with comparative ease how a tree might have been put on the same footing with animals. It certainly was treated like them, and was delivered to the relatives, or chopped to pieces for the gratification of a real or simulated passion. /1/
In the Athenian process there is also, no doubt, to be traced a different thought. Expiation is one of the ends most insisted on by Plato, and appears to have been the purpose of the procedure mentioned by Aeschines. Some passages in the Roman historians which will be mentioned again seem to point in the same direction. /2/
Another peculiarity to be noticed is, that the liability seems to have been regarded as attached to the body doing the damage, in an almost physical sense. An untrained intelligence only imperfectly performs the analysis by which jurists carry responsibility back to the beginning of a chain of causation. The hatred for anything giving us pain, which wreaks itself on the manifest cause, and which leads even civilized man to kick a door when it pinches his finger, is embodied in the noxoe deditio and [12] other kindred doctrines of early Roman law. There is a defective passage in Gaius, which seems to say that liability may sometimes be escaped by giving up even the dead body of the offender. /1/ So Livy relates that, Brutulus Papins having caused a breach of truce with the Romans, the Samnites determined to surrender him, and that, upon his avoiding disgrace and punishment by suicide, they sent his lifeless body. It is noticeable that the surrender seems to be regarded as the natural expiation for the breach of treaty, /2/ and that it is equally a matter of course to send the body when the wrong-doer has perished. /3/
The most curious examples of this sort occur in the region of what we should now call contract. Livy again furnishes an example, if, indeed, the last is not one. The Roman Consul Postumius concluded the disgraceful peace of the Caudine Forks (per sponsionem, as Livy says, denying the common story that it was per feedus), and he was sent to Rome to obtain the sanction of the people. When there however, he proposed that the persons who had made the [13] contract, including himself, should be given up in satisfaction of it. For, he said, the Roman people not having sanctioned the agreement, who is so ignorant of the jus fetialium as not to know that they are released from obligation by surrendering us? The formula of surrender seems to bring the case within the noxoe deditio. /1/ Cicero narrates a similar surrender of Mancinus by the pater-patratus to the Numantines, who, however, like the Samnites in the former case, refused to receive him. /2/
It might be asked what analogy could have been found between a breach of contract and those wrongs which excite the desire for vengeance. But it must be remembered that the distinction between tort and breaches of contract, and especially between the remedies for the two, is not found ready made. It is conceivable that a procedure adapted to redress for violence was extended to other cases as they arose. Slaves were surrendered for theft as well as [14] for assault; /1/ and it is said that a debtor who did not pay his debts, or a seller who failed to deliver an article for which he had been paid, was dealt with on the same footing as a thief. /2/ This line of thought, together with the quasi material conception of legal obligations as binding the offending body, which has been noticed, would perhaps explain the well-known law of the Twelve Tables as to insolvent debtors. According to that law, if a man was indebted to several creditors and insolvent, after certain formalities they might cut up his body and divide it among them. If there was a single creditor, he might put his debtor to death or sell him as a slave. /3/
If no other right were given but to reduce a debtor to slavery, the law might be taken to look only to compensation, and to be modelled on the natural working of self-redress. /4/ The principle of our own law, that taking a man's body on execution satisfies the debt, although he is not detained an hour, seems to be explained in that way. But the right to put to death looks like vengeance, and the division of the body shows that the debt was conceived very literally to inhere in or bind the body with a vinculum juris.
Whatever may be the true explanation of surrender in connection with contracts, for the present purpose we need not go further than the common case of noxoe deditio for wrongs. Neither is the seeming adhesion of liability to the very body which did the harm of the first importance. [15] The Roman law dealt mainly with living creatures,—with animals and slaves. If a man was run over, it did not surrender the wagon which crushed him, but the ox which drew the wagon. /1/ At this stage the notion is easy to understand. The desire for vengeance may be felt as strongly against a slave as against a freeman, and it is not without example nowadays that a like passion should be felt against an animal. The surrender of the slave or beast empowered the injured party to do his will upon them. Payment by the owner was merely a privilege in case he wanted to buy the vengeance off.
It will readily be imagined that such a system as has been described could not last when civilization had advanced to any considerable height. What had been the privilege of buying off vengeance by agreement, of paying the damage instead of surrendering the body of the offender, no doubt became a general custom. The Aquilian law, passed about a couple of centuries later than the date of the Twelve Tables, enlarged the sphere of compensation for bodily injuries. Interpretation enlarged the Aquilian law. Masters became personally liable for certain wrongs committed by their slaves with their knowledge, where previously they were only bound to surrender the slave. /2/ If a pack-mule threw off his burden upon a passer-by because he had been improperly overloaded, or a dog which might have been restrained escaped from his master and bit any one, the old noxal action, as it was called, gave way to an action under the new law to enforce a general personal liability. /3/ Still later, ship-owners and innkeepers were made liable [16] as if they were wrong-doers for wrongs committed by those in their employ on board ship or in the tavern, although of course committed without their knowledge. The true reason for this exceptional responsibility was the exceptional confidence which was necessarily reposed in carriers and innkeepers. /1/ But some of the jurists, who regarded the surrender of children and slaves as a privilege intended to limit liability, explained this new liability on the ground that the innkeeper or ship-owner was to a certain degree guilty of negligence in having employed the services of bad men? This was the first instance of a master being made unconditionally liable for the wrongs of his servant. The reason given for it was of general application, and the principle expanded to the scope of the reason.
The law as to ship-owners and innkeepers introduced another and more startling innovation. It made them responsible when those whom they employed were free, as well as when they were slaves. /3/ For the first time one man was made answerable for the wrongs of another who was also answerable himself, and who had a standing before the law. This was a great change from the bare permission to ransom one's slave as a privilege. But here we have the history of the whole modern doctrine of master and servant, and principal and agent. All servants are now as free and as liable to a suit as their masters. Yet the principle introduced on special grounds in a special case, when servants were slaves, is now the general law of this country and England, and under it men daily have to pay large sums for other people's acts, in which they had no part and [17] for which they are in no sense to blame. And to this day the reason offered by the Roman jurists for an exceptional rule is made to justify this universal and unlimited responsibility. /1/
So much for one of the parents of our common law. Now let us turn for a moment to the Teutonic side. The Salic Law embodies usages which in all probability are of too early a date to have been influenced either by Rome or the Old Testament. The thirty-sixth chapter of the ancient text provides that, if a man is killed by a domestic animal, the owner of the animal shall pay half the composition (which he would have had to pay to buy off the blood feud had he killed the man himself), and for the other half give up the beast to the complainant. /2/ So, by chapter thirty-five, if a slave killed a freeman, he was to be surrendered for one half of the composition to the relatives of the slain man, and the master was to pay the other half. But according to the gloss, if the slave or his master had been maltreated by the slain man or his relatives, the master had only to surrender the slave. /3/ It is interesting to notice that those Northern sources which Wilda takes to represent a more primitive stage of German law confine liability for animals to surrender alone. /4/ There is also a trace of the master's having been able to free himself in some cases, at a later date, by showing that the slave was no longer in [18] his possession. /1/ There are later provisions making a master liable for the wrongs committed by his slave by his command. /2/ In the laws adapted by the Thuringians from the earlier sources, it is provided in terms that the master is to pay for all damage done by his slaves. /4/
In short, so far as I am able to trace the order of development in the customs of the German tribes, it seems to have been entirely similar to that which we have already followed in the growth of Roman law. The earlier liability for slaves and animals was mainly confined to surrender; the later became personal, as at Rome.
The reader may begin to ask for the proof that all this has any bearing on our law of today. So far as concerns the influence of the Roman law upon our own, especially the Roman law of master and servant, the evidence of it is to be found in every book which has been written for the last five hundred years. It has been stated already that we still repeat the reasoning of the Roman lawyers, empty as it is, to the present day. It will be seen directly whether the German folk-laws can also be followed into England.
In the Kentish laws of Hlothhaere and Eadrie (A.D. 680) [19] it is said, "If any one's slave slay a freeman, whoever it be, let the owner pay with a hundred shillings, give up the slayer," &c. /1/ There are several other similar provisions. In the nearly contemporaneous laws of Ine, the surrender and payment are simple alternatives. "If a Wessex slave slay an Englishman, then shall he who owns him deliver him up to the lord and the kindred, or give sixty shillings for his life." /2/ Alfred's laws (A.D. 871-901) have a like provision as to cattle. "If a neat wound a man, let the neat be delivered up or compounded for." /3/ And Alfred, although two hundred years later than the first English lawgivers who have been quoted, seems to have gone back to more primitive notions than we find before his time. For the same principle is extended to the case of a tree by which a man is killed. "If, at their common work, one man slay another unwilfully, let the tree be given to the kindred, and let them have it off the land within thirty nights. Or let him take possession of it who owns the wood." /4/
It is not inapposite to compare what Mr. Tylor has mentioned concerning the rude Kukis of Southern Asia. "If a tiger killed a Kuki, his family were in disgrace till they had retaliated by killing and eating this tiger, or another; but further, if a man was killed by a fall from a tree, his relatives would take their revenge by cutting the tree down, and scattering it in chips." /5/
To return to the English, the later laws, from about a hundred years after Alfred down to the collection known as the laws of Henry I, compiled long after the Conquest, [20] increase the lord's liability for his household, and make him surety for his men's good conduct. If they incur a fine to the king and run away, the lord has to pay it unless he can clear himself of complicity. But I cannot say that I find until a later period the unlimited liability of master for servant which was worked out on the Continent, both by the German tribes and at Rome. Whether the principle when established was an indigenous growth, or whether the last step was taken under the influence of the Roman law, of which Bracton made great use, I cannot say. It is enough that the soil was ready for it, and that it took root at an early day. /1/ This is all that need be said here with regard to the liability of a master for the misdeeds of his servants.
It is next to be shown what became of the principle as applied to animals. Nowadays a man is bound at his peril to keep his cattle from trespassing, and he is liable for damage done by his dog or by any fierce animal, if he has notice of a tendency in the brute to do the harm complained of. The question is whether any connection can be established between these very sensible and intelligible rules of modern law and the surrender directed by King Alfred.
Let us turn to one of the old books of the Scotch law, where the old principle still appears in full force and is stated with its reasons as then understood, /2/
"Gif ane wylde or head-strang horse, carries ane man [21] against his will over an craig, or heuch, or to the water, and the man happin to drowne, the horse sall perteine to the king as escheit.
"Bot it is otherwise of ane tame and dantoned horse; gif any man fulishlie rides, and be sharp spurres compelles his horse to take the water, and the man drownes, the horse sould not be escheit, for that comes be the mans fault or trespasse, and not of the horse, and the man has receaved his punishment, in sa farre as he is perished and dead; and the horse quha did na fault, sould not be escheit.
"The like reason is of all other beastes, quhilk slayes anie man, [it is added in a later work, "of the quhilk slaughter they haue gilt,">[ for all these beasts sould be escheit." /1/
"The Forme and Maner of Baron Courts" continues as follows:—
"It is to witt, that this question is asked in the law, Gif ane lord hes ane milne, and any man fall in the damne, and be borne down with the water quhill he comes to the quheill, and there be slaine to death with the quheill; quhither aught the milne to be eseheir or not? The law sayes thereto nay, and be this reason, For it is ane dead thing, and ane dead thing may do na fellony, nor be made escheit throw their gilt. Swa the milne in this case is not culpable, and in the law it is lawfull to the lord of the land to haue ane mylne on his awin water quhere best likes him." /2/
The reader will see in this passage, as has been remarked already of the Roman law, that a distinction is taken between things which are capable of guilt and those which [22] are not,—between living and dead things; but he will also see that no difficulty was felt in treating animals as guilty.
Take next an early passage of the English law, a report of what was laid down by one of the English judges. In 1333 it was stated for law, that, "if my dog kills your sheep, and I, freshly after the fact, tender you the dog, you are without recovery against me." /1/ More than three centuries later, in 1676, it was said by Twisden, J. that, "if one hath kept a tame fox, which gets loose and grows wild, he that hath kept him before shall not answer for the damage the fox doth after he hath lost him, and he hath resumed his wild nature." /2/ It is at least doubtful whether that sentence ever would have been written but for the lingering influence of the notion that the ground of the owner's liability was his ownership of the offending: thing and his failure to surrender it. When the fox escaped, by another principle of law the ownership was at an end. In fact, that very consideration was seriously pressed in England as late as 1846, with regard to a monkey which escaped and bit the plaintiff, /3/ So it seems to be a reasonable conjecture, that it was this way of thinking which led Lord Holt, near the beginning of the last century, to intimate that one ground on which a man is bound at his peril to restrain cattle from trespassing is that he has valuable property in such animals, whereas he has not dogs, for which his responsibility is less. /4/ To this day, in fact, cautious judges state the law as to cattle to be, that, "if I am the owner of an animal in which by law the [23] right of property can exist, I am bound to take care that it does not stray into the land of my neighbor." /1/
I do not mean that our modern law on this subject is only a survival, and that the only change from primitive notions was to substitute the owner for the offending animal. For although it is probable that the early law was one of the causes which led to the modern doctrine, there has been too much good sense in every stage of our law to adopt any such sweeping consequences as would follow from the wholesale transfer of liability supposed. An owner is not bound at his peril to keep his cattle from harming his neighbor's person. /2/ And in some of the earliest instances of personal liability, even for trespass on a neighbor's land, the ground seems to have been the owner's negligence. /3/
It is the nature of those animals which the common law recognizes as the subject of ownership to stray, and when straying to do damage by trampling down and eating crops. At the same time it is usual and easy to restrain them. On the other hand, a dog, which is not the subject of property, does no harm by simply crossing the land of others than its owner. Hence to this extent the new law might have followed the old. The right of property in the [24] offending animal, which was the ancient ground of responsibility, might have been adopted safely enough as the test of a liability based on the fault of the owner. But the responsibility for damage of a kind not to be expected from such animals is determined on grounds of policy comparatively little disturbed by tradition. The development of personal liability for fierce wild animals at Rome has been explained. Our law seems to have followed the Roman.
We will now follow the history of that branch of the primitive notion which was least likely to survive,—the liability of inanimate things.
It will be remembered that King Alfred ordained the surrender of a tree, but that the later Scotch law refused it because a dead thing could not have guilt. It will be remembered, also, that the animals which the Scotch law forfeited were escheat to the king. The same thing has remained true in England until well into this century, with regard even to inanimate objects. As long ago as Bracton, /1/ in case a man was slain, the coroner was to value the object causing the death, and that was to be forfeited sa deodand "pro rege." It was to be given to God, that is to say to the Church, for the king, to be expended for the good of his soul. A man's death had ceased to be the private affair of his friends as in the time of the barbarian folk-laws. The king, who furnished the court, now sued for the penalty. He supplanted the family in the claim on the guilty thing, and the Church supplanted him.
In Edward the First's time some of the cases remind of the barbarian laws at their rudest stage. If a man fell from a tree, the tree was deodand. /2/ If he drowned in a [25] well, the well was to be filled up. /1/ It did not matter that the forfeited instrument belonged to an innocent person. "Where a man killeth another with the sword of John at Stile, the sword shall be forfeit as deodand, and yet no default is in the owner." /2/ That is from a book written in the reign of Henry VIII., about 1530. And it has been repeated from Queen Elizabeth's time /3/ to within one hundred years, /4/ that if my horse strikes a man, and afterwards I sell my horse, and after that the man dies, the horse shall be forfeited. Hence it is, that, in all indictments for homicide, until very lately it has been necessary to state the instrument causing the death and its value, as that the stroke was given by a certain penknife, value sixpence, so as to secure the forfeiture. It is said that a steam-engine has been forfeited in this way.
I now come to what I regard as the most remarkable transformation of this principle, and one which is a most important factor in our law as it is today. I must for the moment leave the common law and take up the doctrines of the Admiralty. In the early books which have just been referred to, and long afterwards, the fact of motion is adverted to as of much importance. A maxim of Henry Spigurnel, a judge in the time of Edward I., is reported, that "where a man is killed by a cart, or by the fall of a house, or in other like manner, and the thing in motion is the cause of the death, it shall be deodand." /5/ So it was [26] said in the next reign that "oinne illud quod mover cum eo quod occidit homines deodandum domino Regi erit, vel feodo clerici." /1/ The reader sees how motion gives life to the object forfeited.
The most striking example of this sort is a ship. And accordingly the old books say that, if a man falls from a ship and is drowned, the motion of the ship must be taken to cause the death, and the ship is forfeited,—provided, however, that this happens in fresh water. /2/ For if the death took place on the high seas, that was outside the ordinary jurisdiction. This proviso has been supposed to mean that ships at sea were not forfeited; /3/ but there is a long series of petitions to the king in Parliament that such forfeitures may be done away with, which tell a different story. /4/ The truth seems to be that the forfeiture took place, but in a different court. A manuscript of the reign of Henry VI., only recently printed, discloses the fact that, if a man was killed or drowned at sea by the motion of the ship, the vessel was forfeited to the admiral upon a proceeding in the admiral's court, and subject to release by favor of the admiral or the king. /5/
A ship is the most living of inanimate things. Servants sometimes say "she" of a clock, but every one gives a gender to vessels. And we need not be surprised, therefore, to find a mode of dealing which has shown such extraordinary vitality in the criminal law applied with even more striking thoroughness in the Admiralty. It is only by supposing [27] the ship to have been treated as if endowed with personality, that the arbitrary seeming peculiarities of the maritime law can be made intelligible, and on that supposition they at once become consistent and logical.
By way of seeing what those peculiarities are, take first a case of collision at sea. A collision takes place between two vessels, the Ticonderoga and the Melampus, through the fault of the Ticonderoga alone. That ship is under a lease at the time, the lessee has his own master in charge, and the owner of the vessel has no manner of control over it. The owner, therefore, is not to blame, and he cannot even be charged on the ground that the damage was done by his servants. He is free from personal liability on elementary principles. Yet it is perfectly settled that there is a lien on his vessel for the amount of the damage done, /1/ and this means that that vessel may be arrested and sold to pay the loss in any admiralty court whose process will reach her. If a livery-stable keeper lets a horse and wagon to a customer, who runs a man down by careless driving, no one would think of claiming a right to seize the horse and wagon. It would be seen that the only property which could be sold to pay for a wrong was the property of the wrong-doer.
But, again, suppose that the vessel, instead of being under lease, is in charge of a pilot whose employment is made compulsory by the laws of the port which she is just entering. The Supreme Court of the United States holds the ship liable in this instance also. /2/ The English courts would probably have decided otherwise, and the matter is settled in England by legislation. But there the court of appeal, the Privy Council, has been largely composed of common-law [28]lawyers, and it has shown a marked tendency to assimilate common-law doctrine. At common law one who could not impose a personal liability on the owner could not bind a particular chattel to answer for a wrong of which it had been the instrument. But our Supreme Court has long recognized that a person may bind a ship, when he could not bind the owners personally, because he was not the agent.
It may be admitted that, if this doctrine were not supported by an appearance of good sense, it would not have survived. The ship is the only security available in dealing with foreigners, and rather than send one's own citizens to search for a remedy abroad in strange courts, it is easy to seize the vessel and satisfy the claim at home, leaving the foreign owners to get their indemnity as they may be able. I dare say some such thought has helped to keep the practice alive, but I believe the true historic foundation is elsewhere. The ship no doubt, like a sword would have been forfeited for causing death, in whosesoever hands it might have been. So, if the master and mariners of a ship, furnished with letters of reprisal, committed piracy against a friend of the king, the owner lost his ship by the admiralty law, although the crime was committed without his knowledge or assent. /2/ It seems most likely that the principle by which the ship was forfeited to the king for causing death, or for piracy, was the same as that by which it was bound to private sufferers for other damage, in whose hands soever it might have been when it did the harm.
If we should say to an uneducated man today, "She did it and she ought to pay for it," it may be doubted [29] whether he would see the fallacy, or be ready to explain that the ship was only property, and that to say, "The ship has to pay for it," /1/ was simply a dramatic way of saying that somebody's property was to be sold, and the proceeds applied to pay for a wrong committed by somebody else.
It would seem that a similar form of words has been enough to satisfy the minds of great lawyers. The following is a passage from a judgment by Chief Justice Marshall, which is quoted with approval by Judge Story in giving the opinion of the Supreme Court of the United States: "This is not a proceeding against the owner; it is a proceeding against the vessel for an offence committed by the vessel; which is not the less an offence, and does not the less subject her to forfeiture, because it was committed without the authority and against the will of the owner. It is true that inanimate matter can commit no offence. But this body is animated and put in action by the crew, who are guided by the master. The vessel acts and speaks by the master. She reports herself by the master. It is, therefore, not unreasonable that the vessel should be affected by this report." And again Judge Story quotes from another case: "The thing is here primarily considered as the offender, or rather the offence is primarily attached to the thing." /2/
In other words, those great judges, although of course aware that a ship is no more alive than a mill-wheel, thought that not only the law did in fact deal with it as if it were alive, but that it was reasonable that the law should do so. The reader will observe that they do not say simply that it is reasonable on grounds of policy to [30] sacrifice justice to the owner to security for somebody else but that it is reasonable to deal with the vessel as an offending thing. Whatever the hidden ground of policy may be, their thought still clothes itself in personifying language.
Let us now go on to follow the peculiarities of the maritime law in other directions. For the cases which have been stated are only parts of a larger whole.
By the maritime law of the Middle Ages the ship was not only the source, but the limit, of liability. The rule already prevailed, which has been borrowed and adopted by the English statutes and by our own act of Congress of 1851, according to which the owner is discharged from responsibility for wrongful acts of a master appointed by himself upon surrendering his interest in the vessel and the freight which she had earned. By the doctrines of agency he would be personally liable for the whole damage. If the origin of the system of limited liability which is believed to be so essential to modern commerce is to be attributed to those considerations of public policy on which it would now be sustained, that system has nothing to do with the law of collision. But if the limit of liability here stands on the same ground as the noxoe deditio, confirms the explanation already given of the liability of the ship for wrongs done by it while out of the owner's hands, and conversely existence of that liability confirms the argument here.
Let us now take another rule, for which, as usual, there is a plausible explanation of policy. Freight, it is said, the mother of wages; for, we are told, "if the ship perished, [31] if the mariners were to have their wages in such cases, they would not use their endeavors, nor hazard their lives, for the safety of the ship." /1/ The best commentary on this reasoning is, that the law has recently been changed by statute. But even by the old law there was an exception inconsistent with the supposed reason. In case of shipwreck, which was the usual case of a failure to earn freight, so long as any portion of the ship was saved, the lien of the mariners remained. I suppose it would have been said, because it was sound policy to encourage them to save all they could. If we consider that the sailors were regarded as employed by the ship, we shall understand very readily both the rule and the exception. "The ship is the debtor," as was said in arguing a case decided in the time of William III. /2/ If the debtor perished, there was an end of the matter. If a part came ashore, that might be proceeded against.
Even the rule in its modern form, that freight is the mother of wages, is shown by the explanation commonly given to have reference to the question whether the ship is lost or arrive safe. In the most ancient source of the maritime law now extant, which has anything about the matter, so far as I have been able to discover, the statement is that the mariners will lose their wages when the ship is lost. /3/ In like manner, in what is said by its English [32] editor, Sir Travers Twiss, to be the oldest part of the Consulate of the Sea, /1/ we read that "whoever the freighter may be who runs away or dies, the ship is bound to pay: the mariners." /2/ I think we may assume that the vessel was bound by the contract with the sailors, much in the same way as it was by the wrongs for which it was answerable, just as the debtor's body was answerable for his debts, as well as for his crimes, under the ancient law of Rome.
The same thing is true of other maritime dealings with the vessel, whether by way of contract or otherwise. If salvage service is rendered to a vessel, the admiralty court will hold the vessel, although it has been doubted whether an action of contract would lie, if the owners were sued at law. So the ship is bound by the master's contract to carry cargo, just as in case of collision, although she was under lease at the time. In such cases, also, according to our Supreme Court, the master may bind the vessel when he cannot bind the general owners. /4/ "By custom the ship is bound to the merchandise, and the merchandise to the ship." /5/ "By the maritime law every contract of the master implies an hypothecation." /6/ It might be urged, no doubt, with force, that, so far as the usual maritime contracts are concerned, the dealing must be on the security of the ship or merchandise in many cases, and therefore [33] that it is policy to give this security in all cases; that the risk to which it subjects ship-owners is calculable, and that they must take it into account when they let their vessels. Again, in many cases, when a party asserts a maritime lien by way of contract, he has improved the condition of the thing upon which the lien is claimed, and this has been recognized as a ground for such a lien in some systems. But this is not true universally, nor in the most important cases. It must be left to the reader to decide whether ground has not been shown for believing that the same metaphysical confusion which naturally arose as to the ship's wrongful acts, affected the way of thinking as to her contracts. The whole manner of dealing with vessels obviously took the form which prevailed in the eases first mentioned. Pardessus, a high authority, says that the lien for freight prevails even against the owner of stolen goods, "as the master deals less with the person than the thing." /2/ So it was said in the argument of a famous English case, that "the ship is instead of the owner, and therefore is answerable." /3/ In many cases of contract, as well as tort, the vessel was not only the security for the debt, but the limit of the owner's liability.
The principles of the admiralty are embodied in its form of procedure. A suit may be brought there against a vessel by name, any person interested in it being at liberty to come in and defend, but the suit, if successful, ending in a sale of the vessel and a payment of the plaintiff's claim out of the proceeds. As long ago as the time of James I. it was said that "the libel ought to be only [34] against the ship and goods, and not against the party." /1/ And authority for the statement was cited from the reign of Henry VI., the same reign when, as we have seen, the Admiral claimed a forfeiture of ships for causing death. I am bound to say, however, that I cannot find such an authority of that date.
We have now followed the development of the chief forms of liability in modern law for anything other than the immediate and manifest consequences of a man's own acts. We have seen the parallel course of events in the two parents,—the Roman law and the German customs, and in the offspring of those two on English soil with regard to servants, animals, and inanimate things. We have seen a single germ multiplying and branching into products as different from each other as the flower from the root. It hardly remains to ask what that germ was. We have seen that it was the desire of retaliation against the offending thing itself. Undoubtedly, it might be argued that many of the rules stated were derived from a seizure of the offending thing as security for reparation, at first, perhaps, outside the law. That explanation, as well as the one offered here; would show that modern views of responsibility had not yet been attained, as the owner of the thing might very well not have been the person in fault. But such has not been the view of those most competent to judge. A consideration of the earliest instances will show, as might have been expected, that vengeance, not compensation, and vengeance on the offending thing, was the original object. The ox in Exodus was to be stoned. The axe in the Athenian law was to be banished. The tree, in Mr. Tylor's instance, was to be chopped to pieces. The [35] slave under all the systems was to be surrendered to the relatives of the slain man, that they might do with him what they liked. /1/ The deodand was an accursed thing. The original limitation of liability to surrender, when the owner was before the court, could not be accounted for if it was his liability, and not that of his property, which was in question. Even where, as in some of the cases, expiation seems to be intended rather than vengeance, the object is equally remote from an extrajudicial distress.
The foregoing history, apart from the purposes for which it has been given, well illustrates the paradox of form and substance in the development of law. In form its growth is logical. The official theory is that each new decision follows syllogistically from existing precedents. But just as the clavicle in the cat only tells of the existence of some earlier creature to which a collar-bone was useful, precedents survive in the law long after the use they once served is at an end and the reason for them has been forgotten. The result of following them must often be failure and confusion from the merely logical point of view.
On the other hand, in substance the growth of the law is legislative. And this in a deeper sense than that what the courts declare to have always been the law is in fact new. It is legislative in its grounds. The very considerations which judges most rarely mention, and always with an apology, are the secret root from which the law draws all the juices of life. I mean, of course, considerations of what is expedient for the community concerned. Every important principle which is developed by litigation is in fact and at bottom the result of more or less definitely understood views of public policy; most generally, to be sure, [36] under our practice and traditions, the unconscious result of instinctive preferences and inarticulate convictions, but none the less traceable to views of public policy in the last analysis. And as the law is administered by able and experienced men, who know too much to sacrifice good sense to a syllogism, it will be found that, when ancient rules maintain themselves in the way that has been and will be shown in this book, new reasons more fitted to the time have been found for them, and that they gradually receive a new content, and at last a new form, from the grounds to which they have been transplanted.
But hitherto this process has been largely unconscious. It is important, on that account, to bring to mind what the actual course of events has been. If it were only to insist on a more conscious recognition of the legislative function of the courts, as just explained, it would be useful, as we shall see more clearly further on. /1/
What has been said will explain the failure of all theories which consider the law only from its formal side; whether they attempt to deduce the corpus from a priori postulates, or fall into the humbler error of supposing the science of the law to reside in the elegantia juris, or logical cohesion of part with part. The truth is, that the law always approaching, and never reaching, consistency. It is forever adopting new principles from life at one end, and it always retains old ones from history at the other, which have not yet been absorbed or sloughed off. It will become entirely consistent only when it ceases to grow.
The study upon which we have been engaged is necessary both for the knowledge and for the revision of the law. [37] However much we may codify the law into a series of seemingly self-sufficient propositions, those propositions will be but a phase in a continuous growth. To understand their scope fully, to know how they will be dealt with by judges trained in the past which the law embodies, we must ourselves know something of that past. The history of what the law has been is necessary to the knowledge of what the law is.
Again, the process which I have described has involved the attempt to follow precedents, as well as to give a good reason for them. When we find that in large and important branches of the law the various grounds of policy on which the various rules have been justified are later inventions to account for what are in fact survivals from more primitive times, we have a right to reconsider the popular reasons, and, taking a broader view of the field, to decide anew whether those reasons are satisfactory. They may be, notwithstanding the manner of their appearance. If truth were not often suggested by error, if old implements could not be adjusted to new uses, human progress would be slow. But scrutiny and revision are justified.
But none of the foregoing considerations, nor the purpose of showing the materials for anthropology contained in the history of the law, are the immediate object here. My aim and purpose have been to show that the various forms of liability known to modern law spring from the common ground of revenge. In the sphere of contract the fact will hardly be material outside the cases which have been stated in this Lecture. But in the criminal law and the law of torts it is of the first importance. It shows that they have started from a moral basis, from the thought that some one was to blame.
[38] It remains to be proved that, while the terminology of morals is still retained, and while the law does still and always, in a certain sense, measure legal liability by moral standards, it nevertheless, by the very necessity of its nature, is continually transmuting those moral standards into external or objective ones, from which the actual guilt of the party concerned is wholly eliminated.
LECTURE II. — THE CRIMINAL LAW.
In the beginning of the first Lecture it was shown that the appeals of the early law were directed only to intentional wrongs. The appeal was a far older form of procedure than the indictment, and may be said to have had a criminal as well as a civil aspect. It had the double object of satisfying the private party for his loss, and the king for the breach of his peace. On its civil side it was rooted in vengeance. It was a proceeding to recover those compositions, at first optional, afterwards compulsory, by which a wrong-doer bought the spear from his side. Whether, so far as concerned the king, it had the same object of vengeance, or was more particularly directed to revenue, does not matter, since the claim of the king did not enlarge the scope of the action.
It would seem to be a fair inference that indictable offences were originally limited in the same way as those which gave rise to an appeal. For whether the indictment arose by a splitting up of the appeal, or in some other way, the two were closely connected.
An acquittal of the appellee on the merits was a bar to an indictment; and, on the other hand, when an appeal was fairly started, although the appellor might fail to prosecute, or might be defeated by plea, the cause might still be proceeded with on behalf of the king. /1/
[40] The presentment, which is the other parent of our criminal procedure, had an origin distinct from the appeal. If, as has been thought, it was merely the successor of fresh suit and lynch law, /1/ this also is the child of vengeance, even more clearly than the other.
The desire for vengeance imports an opinion that its object is actually and personally to blame. It takes an internal standard, not an objective or external one, and condemns its victim by that. The question is whether such a standard is still accepted either in this primitive form, or in some more refined development, as is commonly supposed, and as seems not impossible, considering the relative slowness with which the criminal law has improved.
It certainly may be argued, with some force, that it has never ceased to be one object of punishment to satisfy the desire for vengeance. The argument will be made plain by considering those instances in which, for one reason or another, compensation for a wrong is out of the question.
Thus an act may be of such a kind as to make indemnity impossible by putting an end to the principal sufferer, as in the case of murder or manslaughter.
Again, these and other crimes, like forgery, although directed against an individual, tend to make others feel unsafe, and this general insecurity does not admit of being paid for.
Again, there are cases where there are no means of enforcing indemnity. In Macaulay's draft of the Indian Penal Code, breaches of contract for the carriage of passengers, were made criminal. The palanquin-bearers of India were too poor to pay damages, and yet had to be [41] trusted to carry unprotected women and children through wild and desolate tracts, where their desertion would have placed those under their charge in great danger.
In all these cases punishment remains as an alternative. A pain can be inflicted upon the wrong-doer, of a sort which does not restore the injured party to his former situation, or to another equally good, but which is inflicted for the very purpose of causing pain. And so far as this punishment takes the place of compensation, whether on account of the death of the person to whom the wrong was done, the indefinite number of persons affected, the impossibility of estimating the worth of the suffering in money, or the poverty of the criminal, it may be said that one of its objects is to gratify the desire for vengeance. The prisoner pays with his body.
The statement may be made stronger still, and it may be said, not only that the law does, but that it ought to, make the gratification of revenge an object. This is the opinion, at any rate, of two authorities so great, and so opposed in other views, as Bishop Butler and Jeremy Bentham. /1/ Sir James Stephen says, "The criminal law stands to the passion of revenge in much the same relation as marriage to the sexual appetite." /2/
The first requirement of a sound body of law is, that it should correspond with the actual feelings and demands of the community, whether right or wrong. If people would gratify the passion of revenge outside of the law, if the law did not help them, the law has no choice but to satisfy the craving itself, and thus avoid the greater evil of private [42 retribution. At the same time, this passion is not one which we encourage, either as private individuals or as lawmakers. Moreover, it does not cover the whole ground. There are crimes which do not excite it, and we should naturally expect that the most important purposes of punishment would be coextensive with the whole field of its application. It remains to be discovered whether such a general purpose exists, and if so what it is. Different theories still divide opinion upon the subject.
It has been thought that the purpose of punishment is to reform the criminal; that it is to deter the criminal and others from committing similar crimes; and that it is retribution. Few would now maintain that the first of these purposes was the only one. If it were, every prisoner should be released as soon as it appears clear that he will never repeat his offence, and if he is incurable he should not be punished at all. Of course it would be hard to reconcile the punishment of death with this doctrine.
The main struggle lies between the other two. On the one side is the notion that there is a mystic bond between wrong and punishment; on the other, that the infliction of pain is only a means to an end. Hegel, one of the great expounders of the former view, puts it, in his quasi mathematical form, that, wrong being the negation of right, punishment is the negation of that negation, or retribution. Thus the punishment must be equal, in the sense of proportionate to the crime, because its only function is to destroy it. Others, without this logical apparatus, are content to rely upon a felt necessity that suffering should follow wrong-doing.
It is objected that the preventive theory is immoral, because it overlooks the ill-desert of wrong-doing, and furnishes [43] no measure of the amount of punishment, except the lawgiver's subjective opinion in regard to the sufficiency of the amount of preventive suffering. /1/ In the language of Kant, it treats man as a thing, not as a person; as a means, not as an end in himself. It is said to conflict with the sense of justice, and to violate the fundamental principle of all free communities, that the members of such communities have equal rights to life, liberty, and personal security. /2/
In spite of all this, probably most English-speaking lawyers would accept the preventive theory without hesitation. As to the violation of equal rights which is charged, it may be replied that the dogma of equality makes an equation between individuals only, not between an individual and the community. No society has ever admitted that it could not sacrifice individual welfare to its own existence. If conscripts are necessary for its army, it seizes them, and marches them, with bayonets in their rear, to death. It runs highways and railroads through old family places in spite of the owner's protest, paying in this instance the market value, to be sure, because no civilized government sacrifices the citizen more than it can help, but still sacrificing his will and his welfare to that of the rest. /3/
If it were necessary to trench further upon the field of morals, it might be suggested that the dogma of equality applied even to individuals only within the limits of ordinary dealings in the common run of affairs. You cannot argue with your neighbor, except on the admission for the [44] moment that he is as wise as you, although you may by no means believe it. In the same way, you cannot deal with him, where both are free to choose, except on the footing of equal treatment, and the same rules for both. The ever-growing value set upon peace and the social relations tends to give the law of social being the appearance of the law of all being. But it seems to me clear that the ultima ratio, not only regum, but of private persons, is force, and that at the bottom of all private relations, however tempered by sympathy and all the social feelings, is a justifiable self-preference. If a man is on a plank in the deep sea which will only float one, and a stranger lays hold of it, he will thrust him off if he can. When the state finds itself in a similar position, it does the same thing.
The considerations which answer the argument of equal rights also answer the objections to treating man as a thing, and the like. If a man lives in society, he is liable to find himself so treated. The degree of civilization which a people has reached, no doubt, is marked by their anxiety to do as they would be done by. It may be the destiny of man that the social instincts shall grow to control his actions absolutely, even in anti-social situations. But they have not yet done so, and as the rules of law are or should be based upon a morality which is generally accepted, no rule founded on a theory of absolute unselfishness can be laid down without a breach between law and working beliefs.
If it be true, as I shall presently try to show, that the general principles of criminal and civil liability are the same, it will follow from that alone that theory and fact agree in frequently punishing those who have been guilty [45] of no moral wrong, and who could not be condemned by any standard that did not avowedly disregard the personal peculiarities of the individuals concerned. If punishment stood on the moral grounds which are proposed for it, the first thing to be considered would be those limitations in the capacity for choosing rightly which arise from abnormal instincts, want of education, lack of intelligence, and all the other defects which are most marked in the criminal classes. I do not say that they should not be, or at least I do not need to for my argument. I do not say that the criminal law does more good than harm. I only say that it is not enacted or administered on that theory.
There remains to be mentioned the affirmative argument in favor of the theory of retribution, to the effect that the fitness of punishment following wrong-doing is axiomatic, and is instinctively recognized by unperverted minds. I think that it will be seen, on self-inspection, that this feeling of fitness is absolute and unconditional only in the case of our neighbors. It does not seem to me that any one who has satisfied himself that an act of his was wrong, and that he will never do it again, would feel the least need or propriety, as between himself and an earthly punishing power alone, of his being made to suffer for what he had done, although, when third persons were introduced, he might, as a philosopher, admit the necessity of hurting him to frighten others. But when our neighbors do wrong, we sometimes feel the fitness of making them smart for it, whether they have repented or not. The feeling of fitness seems to me to be only vengeance in disguise, and I have already admitted that vengeance was an element, though not the chief element, of punishment.
[46] But, again, the supposed intuition of fitness does not seem to me to be coextensive with the thing to be accounted for. The lesser punishments are just as fit for the lesser crimes as the greater for the greater. The demand that crime should be followed by its punishment should therefore be equal and absolute in both. Again, a malum prohibitum is just as much a crime as a malum in se. If there is any general ground for punishment, it must apply to one case as much as to the other. But it will hardly be said that, if the wrong in the case just supposed consisted of a breach of the revenue laws, and the government had been indemnified for the loss, we should feel any internal necessity that a man who had thoroughly repented of his wrong should be punished for it, except on the ground that his act was known to others. If it was known, the law would have to verify its threats in order that others might believe and tremble. But if the fact was a secret between the sovereign and the subject, the sovereign, if wholly free from passion, would undoubtedly see that punishment in such a case was wholly without justification.
On the other hand, there can be no case in which the law-maker makes certain conduct criminal without his thereby showing a wish and purpose to prevent that conduct. Prevention would accordingly seem to be the chief and only universal purpose of punishment. The law threatens certain pains if you do certain things, intending thereby to give you a new motive for not doing them. If you persist in doing them, it has to inflict the pains in order that its threats may continue to be believed.
If this is a true account of the law as it stands, the law does undoubtedly treat the individual as a means to an [47] end, and uses him as a tool to increase the general welfare at his own expense. It has been suggested above, that this course is perfectly proper; but even if it is wrong, our criminal law follows it, and the theory of our criminal law must be shaped accordingly.
Further evidence that our law exceeds the limits of retribution, and subordinates consideration of the individual to that of the public well-being, will be found in some doctrines which cannot be satisfactorily explained on any other ground.
The first of these is, that even the deliberate taking of life will not be punished when it is the only way of saving one's own. This principle is not so clearly established as that next to be mentioned; but it has the support of very great authority. /1/ If that is the law, it must go on one of two grounds, either that self-preference is proper in the case supposed, or that, even if it is improper, the law cannot prevent it by punishment, because a threat of death at some future time can never be a sufficiently powerful motive to make a man choose death now in order to avoid the threat. If the former ground is adopted, it admits that a single person may sacrifice another to himself, and a fortiori that a people may. If the latter view is taken, by abandoning punishment when it can no longer be expected to prevent an act, the law abandons the retributive and adopts the preventive theory.
The next doctrine leads to still clearer conclusions. Ignorance of the law is no excuse for breaking it. This substantive principle is sometimes put in the form of a rule of evidence, that every one is presumed to know the [48] law. It has accordingly been defended by Austin and others, on the ground of difficulty of proof. If justice requires the fact to be ascertained, the difficulty of doing so is no ground for refusing to try. But every one must feel that ignorance of the law could never be admitted as an excuse, even if the fact could be proved by sight and hearing in every case. Furthermore, now that parties can testify, it may be doubted whether a man's knowledge of the law is any harder to investigate than many questions which are gone into. The difficulty, such as it is, would be met by throwing the burden of proving ignorance on the lawbreaker.
The principle cannot be explained by saying that we are not only commanded to abstain from certain acts, but also to find out that we are commanded. For if there were such a second command, it is very clear that the guilt of failing to obey it would bear no proportion to that of disobeying the principal command if known, yet the failure to know would receive the same punishment as the failure to obey the principal law.
The true explanation of the rule is the same as that which accounts for the law's indifference to a man's particular temperament, faculties, and so forth. Public policy sacrifices the individual to the general good. It is desirable that the burden of all should be equal, but it is still more desirable to put an end to robbery and murder. It is no doubt true that there are many cases in which the criminal could not have known that he was breaking the law, but to admit the excuse at all would be to encourage ignorance where the law-maker has determined to make men know and obey, and justice to the individual is rightly outweighed by the larger interests on the other side of the scales.
[49] If the foregoing arguments are sound, it is already manifest that liability to punishment cannot be finally and absolutely determined by considering the actual personal unworthiness of the criminal alone. That consideration will govern only so far as the public welfare permits or demands. And if we take into account the general result which the criminal law is intended to bring about, we shall see that the actual state of mind accompanying a criminal act plays a different part from what is commonly supposed.
For the most part, the purpose of the criminal law is only to induce external conformity to rule. All law is directed to conditions of things manifest to the senses. And whether it brings those conditions to pass immediately by the use of force, as when it protects a house from a mob by soldiers, or appropriates private property to public use, or hangs a man in pursuance of a judicial sentence, or whether it brings them about mediately through men's fears, its object is equally an external result. In directing itself against robbery or murder, for instance, its purpose is to put a stop to the actual physical taking and keeping of other men's goods, or the actual poisoning, shooting, stabbing, and otherwise putting to death of other men. If those things are not done, the law forbidding them is equally satisfied, whatever the motive.
Considering this purely external purpose of the law together with the fact that it is ready to sacrifice the individual so far as necessary in order to accomplish that purpose, we can see more readily than before that the actual degree of personal guilt involved in any particular transgression cannot be the only element, if it is an element at all, in the liability incurred. So far from its [50] being true, as is often assumed, that the condition of a man's heart or conscience ought to be more considered in determining criminal than civil liability, it might almost be said that it is the very opposite of truth. For civil liability, in its immediate working, is simply a redistribution of an existing loss between two individuals; and it will be argued in the next Lecture that sound policy lets losses lie where they fall, except where a special reason can be shown for interference. The most frequent of such reasons is, that the party who is charged has been to blame.
It is not intended to deny that criminal liability, as well as civil, is founded on blameworthiness. Such a denial would shock the moral sense of any civilized community; or, to put it another way, a law which punished conduct which would not be blameworthy in the average member of the community would be too severe for that community to bear. It is only intended to point out that, when we are dealing with that part of the law which aims more directly than any other at establishing standards of conduct, we should expect there more than elsewhere to find that the tests of liability are external, and independent of the degree of evil in the particular person's motives or intentions. The conclusion follows directly from the nature of the standards to which conformity is required. These are not only external, as was shown above, but they are of general application. They do not merely require that every man should get as near as he can to the best conduct possible for him. They require him at his own peril to come up to a certain height. They take no account of incapacities, unless the weakness is so marked as to fall into well-known exceptions, such as infancy or madness. [51] They assume that every man is as able as every other to behave as they command. If they fall on any one class harder than on another, it is on the weakest. For it is precisely to those who are most likely to err by temperament, ignorance, or folly, that the threats of the law are the most dangerous.
The reconciliation of the doctrine that liability is founded on blameworthiness with the existence of liability where the party is not to blame, will be worked out more fully in the next Lecture. It is found in the conception of the average man, the man of ordinary intelligence and reasonable prudence. Liability is said to arise out of such conduct as would be blameworthy in him. But he is an ideal being, represented by the jury when they are appealed to, and his conduct is an external or objective standard when applied to any given individual. That individual may be morally without stain, because he has less than ordinary intelligence or prudence. But he is required to have those qualities at his peril. If he has them, he will not, as a general rule, incur liability without blameworthiness.
The next step is to take up some crimes in detail, and to discover what analysis will teach with regard to them.
I will begin with murder. Murder is defined by Sir James Stephen, in his Digest of Criminal Law, /1/ as unlawful homicide with malice aforethought. In his earlier work, /2/ he explained that malice meant wickedness, and that the law had determined what states of mind were wicked in the necessary degree. Without the same preliminary he continues in his Digest as follows:—
[52] "Malice aforethought means any one or more of the following states of mind..... "(a.) An intention to cause the death of, or grievous bodily harm to, any person, whether such person is the person actually killed or not; "(b.) Knowledge that the act which causes death will probably cause the death of, or grievous bodily harm to, some person, whether such person is the person actually killed or not, although such knowledge is accompanied by indifference whether death or grievous bodily harm is caused or not, or by a wish that it may not be caused; "(c.) An intent to commit any felony whatever; "(d.) An intent to oppose by force any officer of justice on his way to, in, or returning from the execution of the duty of arresting, keeping in custody, or imprisoning any person whom he is lawfully entitled to arrest, keep in custody, or imprison, or the duty of keeping the peace or dispersing an unlawful assembly, provided that the offender has notice that the person killed is such an officer so employed."
Malice, as used in common speech, includes intent, and something more. When an act is said to be done with an intent to do harm, it is meant that a wish for the harm is the motive of the act. Intent, however, is perfectly consistent with the harm being regretted as such, and being wished only as a means to something else. But when an act is said to be done maliciously, it is meant, not only that a wish for the harmful effect is the motive, but also that the harm is wished for its own sake, or, as Austin would say with more accuracy, for the sake of the pleasurable feeling which knowledge of the suffering caused by the act would excite. Now it is apparent from Sir James [53] Stephen's enumeration, that of these two elements of malice the intent alone is material to murder. It is just as much murder to shoot a sentry for the purpose of releasing a friend, as to shoot him because you hate him. Malice, in the definition of murder, has not the same meaning as in common speech, and, in view of the considerations just mentioned, it has been thought to mean criminal intention. /1/
But intent again will be found to resolve itself into two things; foresight that certain consequences will follow from an act, and the wish for those consequences working as a motive which induces the act. The question then is, whether intent, in its turn, cannot be reduced to a lower term. Sir James Stephen's statement shows that it can be, and that knowledge that the act will probably cause death, that is, foresight of the consequences of the act, is enough in murder as in tort.
For instance, a newly born child is laid naked out of doors, where it must perish as a matter of course. This is none the less murder, that the guilty party would have been very glad to have a stranger find the child and save it. /2/
But again, What is foresight of consequences? It is a picture of a future state of things called up by knowledge of the present state of things, the future being viewed as standing to the present in the relation of effect to cause. Again, we must seek a reduction to lower terms. If the known present state of things is such that the act done will very certainly cause death, and the probability is a matter of common knowledge, one who does the act, [54] knowing the present state of things, is guilty of murder, and the law will not inquire whether he did actually foresee the consequences or not. The test of foresight is not what this very criminal foresaw, but what a man of reasonable prudence would have foreseen.
On the other hand, there must be actual present knowledge of the present facts which make an act dangerous. The act is not enough by itself. An act, it is true, imports intention in a certain sense. It is a muscular contraction, and something more. A spasm is not an act. The contraction of the muscles must be willed. And as an adult who is master of himself foresees with mysterious accuracy the outward adjustment which will follow his inward effort, that adjustment may be said to be intended. But the intent necessarily accompanying the act ends there. Nothing would follow from the act except for the environment. All acts, taken apart from their surrounding circumstances, are indifferent to the law. For instance, to crook the forefinger with a certain force is the same act whether the trigger of a pistol is next to it or not. It is only the surrounding circumstances of a pistol loaded and cocked, and of a human being in such relation to it, as to be manifestly likely to be hit, that make the act a wrong. Hence, it is no sufficient foundation for liability, on any sound principle, that the proximate cause of loss was an act.
The reason for requiring an act is, that an act implies a choice, and that it is felt to be impolitic and unjust to make a man answerable for harm, unless he might have chosen otherwise. But the choice must be made with a chance of contemplating the consequence complained of, or else it has no bearing on responsibility for that consequence. [55] If this were not true, a man might be held answerable for everything which would not have happened but for his choice at some past time. For instance, for having in a fit fallen on a man, which he would not have done had he not chosen to come to the city where he was taken ill.
All foresight of the future, all choice with regard to any possible consequence of action, depends on what is known at the moment of choosing. An act cannot be wrong, even when done under circumstances in which it will be hurtful, unless those circumstances are or ought to be known. A fear of punishment for causing harm cannot work as a motive, unless the possibility of harm may be foreseen. So far, then, as criminal liability is founded upon wrong-doing in any sense, and so far as the threats and punishments of the law are intended to deter men from bringing about various harmful results, they must be confined to cases where circumstances making the conduct dangerous were known.
Still, in a more limited way, the same principle applies to knowledge that applies to foresight. It is enough that such circumstances were actually known as would have led a man of common understanding to infer from them the rest of the group making up the present state of things. For instance, if a workman on a house-top at mid-day knows that the space below him is a street in a great city, he knows facts from which a man of common understanding would infer that there were people passing below. He is therefore bound to draw that inference, or, in other words, is chargeable with knowledge of that fact also, whether he draws the inference or not. If then, he throws down a heavy beam into the street, he does an act [56] which a person of ordinary prudence would foresee is likely to cause death, or grievous bodily harm, and he is dealt with as if he foresaw it, whether he does so in fact or not. If a death is caused by the act, he is guilty of murder. /1/ But if the workman has reasonable cause to believe that the space below is a private yard from which every one is excluded, and which is used as a rubbish heap, his act is not blameworthy, and the homicide is a mere misadventure.
To make an act which causes death murder, then, the actor ought, on principle, to know, or have notice of the facts which make the act dangerous. There are certain exceptions to this principle which will be stated presently, but they have less application to murder than to some smaller statutory crimes. The general rule prevails for the most part in murder.
But furthermore, on the same principle, the danger which in fact exists under the known circumstances ought to be of a class which a man of reasonable prudence could foresee. Ignorance of a fact and inability to foresee a consequence have the same effect on blameworthiness. If a consequence cannot be foreseen, it cannot be avoided. But there is this practical difference, that whereas, in most cases, the question of knowledge is a question of the actual condition of the defendant's consciousness, the question of what he might have foreseen is determined by the standard of the prudent man, that is, by general experience. For it is to be remembered that the object of the law is to prevent human life being endangered or taken; and that, although it so far considers blameworthiness in punishing as not to hold a man responsible for consequences which [57] no one, or only some exceptional specialist, could have foreseen, still the reason for this limitation is simply to make a rule which is not too hard for the average member of the community. As the purpose is to compel men to abstain from dangerous conduct, and not merely to restrain them from evil inclinations, the law requires them at their peril to know the teachings of common experience, just as it requires them to know the law. Subject to these explanations, it may be said that the test of murder is the degree of danger to life attending the act under the known circumstances of the case. /1/
It needs no further explanation to show that, when the particular defendant does for any reason foresee what an ordinary man of reasonable prudence would not have foreseen, the ground of exemption no longer applies. A harmful act is only excused on the ground that the party neither did foresee, nor could with proper care have foreseen harm.
It would seem, at first sight, that the above analysis ought to exhaust the whole subject of murder. But it does not without some further explanation. If a man forcibly resists an officer lawfully making an arrest, and kills him, knowing him to be an officer, it may be murder, although no act is done which, but for his official function, would be criminal at all. So, if a man does an act with intent to commit a felony, and thereby accidentally kills another; for instance, if he fires at chickens, intending to steal them, and accidentally kills the owner, whom he does not see. Such a case as this last seems hardly to be reconcilable with the general principles which have been laid down. It has been argued somewhat as [58] follows:—The only blameworthy act is firing at the chickens, knowing them to belong to another. It is neither more nor less so because an accident happens afterwards; and hitting a man, whose presence could not have been suspected, is an accident. The fact that the shooting is felonious does not make it any more likely to kill people. If the object of the rule is to prevent such accidents, it should make accidental killing with firearms murder, not accidental killing in the effort to steal; while, if its object is to prevent stealing, it would do better to hang one thief in every thousand by lot.
Still, the law is intelligible as it stands. The general test of murder is the degree of danger attending the acts under the known state of facts. If certain acts are regarded as peculiarly dangerous under certain circumstances, a legislator may make them punishable if done under these circumstances, although the danger was not generally known. The law often takes this step, although it does not nowadays often inflict death in such cases. It sometimes goes even further, and requires a man to find out present facts, as well as to foresee future harm, at his peril, although they are not such as would necessarily be inferred from the facts known.
Thus it is a statutory offence in England to abduct a girl under sixteen from the possession of the person having lawful charge of her. If a man does acts which induce a girl under sixteen to leave her parents, he is not chargeable, if he had no reason to know that she was under the lawful charge of her parents, /1/ and it may be presumed that he would not be, if he had reasonable cause to believe that she was a boy. But if he knowingly abducts a girl from [59] her parents, he must find out her age at his peril. It is no defence that he had every reason to think her over sixteen. /1/ So, under a prohibitory liquor law, it has been held that, if a man sells "Plantation Bitters," it is no defence that he does not know them to be intoxicating. /2/ And there are other examples of the same kind.
Now, if experience shows, or is deemed by the law-maker to show, that somehow or other deaths which the evidence makes accidental happen disproportionately often in connection with other felonies, or with resistance to officers, or if on any other ground of policy it is deemed desirable to make special efforts for the prevention of such deaths, the lawmaker may consistently treat acts which, under the known circumstances, are felonious, or constitute resistance to officers, as having a sufficiently dangerous tendency to be put under a special ban. The law may, therefore, throw on the actor the peril, not only of the consequences foreseen by him, but also of consequences which, although not predicted by common experience, the legislator apprehends. I do not, however, mean to argue that the rules under discussion arose on the above reasoning, any more than that they are right, or would be generally applied in this country.
Returning to the main line of thought it will be instructive to consider the relation of manslaughter to murder. One great difference between the two will be found to lie in the degree of danger attaching to the act in the given state of facts. If a man strikes another with a small stick which is not likely to kill, and which he has no reason to suppose will do more than slight bodily harm, but which [60] does kill the other, he commits manslaughter, not murder. /1/ But if the blow is struck as hard as possible with an iron bar an inch thick, it is murder. /2/ So if, at the time of striking with a switch, the party knows an additional fact, by reason of which he foresees that death will be the consequence of a slight blow, as, for instance, that the other has heart disease, the offence is equally murder. /3/ To explode a barrel of gunpowder in a crowded street, and kill people, is murder, although the actor hopes that no such harm will be done. /4/ But to kill a man by careless riding in the same street would commonly be manslaughter. /5/ Perhaps, however, a case could be put where the riding was so manifestly dangerous that it would be murder.
To recur to an example which has been used already for another purpose: "When a workman flings down a stone or piece of timber into the street, and kills a man; this may be either misadventure, manslaughter, or murder, according to the circumstances under which the original act was done: if it were in a country village, where few passengers are, and he calls out to all people to have a care, it is misadventure only; but if it were in London, or other populous town, where people are continually passing, it is manslaughter, though he gives loud warning; and murder, if he knows of their passing, and gives no warning at all." /6/
The law of manslaughter contains another doctrine [61] which should be referred to in order to complete the understanding of the general principles of the criminal law. This doctrine is, that provocation may reduce an offence which would otherwise have been murder to manslaughter. According to current morality, a man is not so much to blame for an act done under the disturbance of great excitement, caused by a wrong done to himself, as when he is calm. The law is made to govern men through their motives, and it must, therefore, take their mental constitution into account.
It might be urged, on the other side, that, if the object of punishment is prevention, the heaviest punishment should be threatened where the strongest motive is needed to restrain; and primitive legislation seems sometimes to have gone on that principle. But if any threat will restrain a man in a passion, a threat of less than death will be sufficient, and therefore the extreme penalty has been thought excessive.
At the same time the objective nature of legal standards is shown even here. The mitigation does not come from the fact that the defendant was beside himself with rage. It is not enough that he had grounds which would have had the same effect on every man of his standing and education. The most insulting words are not provocation, although to this day, and still more when the law was established, many people would rather die than suffer them without action. There must be provocation sufficient to justify the passion, and the law decides on general considerations what provocations are sufficient.
It is said that even what the law admits to be "provocation does not extenuate the guilt of homicide, unless the person provoked is at the time when he does the deed [62] deprived of the power of self-control by the provocation which he has received." /1/ There are obvious reasons for taking the actual state of the defendant's consciousness into account to this extent. The only ground for not applying the general rule is, that the defendant was in such a state that he could not be expected to remember or be influenced by the fear of punishment; if he could be, the ground of exception disappears. Yet even here, rightly or wrongly, the law has gone far in the direction of adopting external tests. The courts seem to have decided between murder and manslaughter on such grounds as the nature of the weapon used, /2/ or the length of time between the provocation and the act. /3/ But in other cases the question whether the prisoner was deprived of self-control by passion has been left to the jury. /4/
As the object of this Lecture is not to give an outline of the criminal law, but to explain its general theory, I shall only consider such offences as throw some special light upon the subject, and shall treat of those in such order as seems best fitted for that purpose. It will now be useful to take up malicious mischief, and to compare the malice required to constitute that offence with the malice aforethought of murder.
The charge of malice aforethought in an indictment for murder has been shown not to mean a state of the defendant's mind, as is often thought, except in the sense that he knew circumstances which did in fact make his conduct dangerous. It is, in truth, an allegation like that of negligence, which asserts that the party accused did not [63] come up to the legal standard of action under the circumstances in which he found himself, and also that there was no exceptional fact or excuse present which took the case out of the general rule. It is an averment of a conclusion of law which is permitted to abridge the facts (positive and negative) on which it is founded.
When a statute punishes the "wilfully and maliciously" injuring another's property, it is arguable, if not clear, that something more is meant. The presumption that the second word was not added without some meaning is seconded by the unreasonableness of making every wilful trespass criminal. /1/ If this reasoning prevails, maliciously is here used in its popular sense, and imports that the motive for the defendant's act was a wish to harm the owner of the property, or the thing itself, if living, as an end, and for the sake of the harm. Malice in this sense has nothing in common with the malice of murder.
Statutory law need not profess to be consistent with itself, or with the theory adopted by judicial decisions. Hence there is strictly no need to reconcile such a statute with the principles which have been explained. But there is no inconsistency. Although punishment must be confined to compelling external conformity to a rule of conduct, so far that it can always be avoided by avoiding or doing certain acts as required, with whatever intent or for whatever motive, still the prohibited conduct may not be hurtful unless it is accompanied by a particular state of feeling.
Common disputes about property are satisfactorily settled by compensation. But every one knows that sometimes secret harm is done by neighbor to neighbor out of [64] pure malice and spite. The damage can be paid for, but the malignity calls for revenge, and the difficulty of detecting the authors of such wrongs, which are always done secretly, affords a ground for punishment, even if revenge is thought insufficient.
How far the law will go in this direction it is hard to say. The crime of arson is defined to be the malicious and wilful burning of the house of another man, and is generally discussed in close connection with malicious mischief. It has been thought that the burning was not malicious where a prisoner set fire to his prison, not from a desire to consume the building, but solely to effect his escape. But it seems to be the better opinion that this is arson, /1/ in which case an intentional burning is malicious within the meaning of the rule. When we remember that arson was the subject of one of the old appeals which take us far back into the early law, /2/ we may readily understand that only intentional burnings were redressed in that way. /3/ The appeal of arson was brother to the appeal de pace et plagis. As the latter was founded on a warlike assault, the former supposed a house-firing for robbery or revenge, /4/ such as that by which Njal perished in the Icelandic Saga. But this crime seems to have had the same history as others. As soon as intent is admitted to be sufficient, the law is on the high-road to an external standard. A man who intentionally sets fire to his own house, which is so near to other houses that the fire will manifestly endanger them, is guilty of arson if one of the other houses is burned in consequence. /5/ In this case, an act which would not [65] have been arson, taking only its immediate consequences into account, becomes arson by reason of more remote consequences which were manifestly likely to follow, whether they were actually intended or not. If that may be the effect of setting fire to things which a man has a right to burn, so far as they alone are concerned, why, on principle, should it not be the effect of any other act which is equally likely under the surrounding circumstances to cause the same harm. /1/ Cases may easily be imagined where firing a gun, or making a chemical mixture, or piling up oiled rags, or twenty other things, might be manifestly dangerous in the highest degree and actually lead to a conflagration. If, in such cases, the crime is held to have been committed, an external standard is reached, and the analysis which has been made of murder applies here.
There is another class of cases in which intent plays an important part, for quite different reasons from those which have been offered to account for the law of malicious mischief. The most obvious examples of this class are criminal attempts. Attempt and intent, of course, are two distinct things. Intent to commit a crime is not itself criminal. There is no law against a man's intending to commit a murder the day after tomorrow. The law only deals with conduct. An attempt is an overt act. It differs from the attempted crime in this, that the act has failed to bring about the result which would have given it the character of the principal crime. If an attempt to murder results in death within a year and a day, it is murder. If an attempt to steal results in carrying off the owner's goods, it is larceny.
If an act is done of which the natural and probable [66] effect under the circumstances is the accomplishment of a substantive crime, the criminal law, while it may properly enough moderate the severity of punishment if the act has not that effect in the particular case, can hardly abstain altogether from punishing it, on any theory. It has been argued that an actual intent is all that can give the act a criminal character in such instances. /1/ But if the views which I have advanced as to murder and manslaughter are sound, the same principles ought logically to determine the criminality of acts in general. Acts should be judged by their tendency under the known circumstances, not by the actual intent which accompanies them.
It may be true that in the region of attempts, as elsewhere, the law began with cases of actual intent, as those cases are the most obvious ones. But it cannot stop with them, unless it attaches more importance to the etymological meaning of the word attempt than to the general principles of punishment. Accordingly there is at least color of authority for the proposition that an act is punishable as an attempt, if, supposing it to have produced its natural and probable effect, it would have amounted to a substantive crime. /2/
But such acts are not the only punishable attempts. There is another class in which actual intent is clearly necessary, and the existence of this class as well as the name (attempt) no doubt tends to affect the whole doctrine. Some acts may be attempts or misdemeanors which [67] could not have effected the crime unless followed by other acts on the part of the wrong-doer. For instance, lighting a match with intent to set fire to a haystack has been held to amount to a criminal attempt to burn it, although the defendant blew out the match on seeing that he was watched. /1/ So the purchase of dies for making counterfeit coin is a misdemeanor, although of course the coin would not be counterfeited unless the dies were used. /2/
In such cases the law goes on a new principle, different from that governing most substantive crimes. The reason for punishing any act must generally be to prevent some harm which is foreseen as likely to follow that act under the circumstances in which it is done. In most substantive crimes the ground on which that likelihood stands is the common working of natural causes as shown by experience. But when an act is punished the natural effect of which is not harmful under the circumstances, that ground alone will not suffice. The probability does not exist unless there are grounds for expecting that the act done will be followed by other acts in connection with which its effect will be harmful, although not so otherwise. But as in fact no such acts have followed, it cannot, in general, be assumed, from the mere doing of what has been done, that they would have followed if the actor had not been interrupted. They would not have followed it unless the actor had chosen, and the only way generally available to show that he would have chosen to do them is by showing that he intended to do them when he did what he did. The accompanying intent in that case renders the otherwise [68] innocent act harmful, because it raises a probability that it will be followed by such other acts and events as will all together result in harm. The importance of the intent is not to show that the act was wicked, but to show that it was likely to be followed by hurtful consequences.
It will be readily seen that there are limits to this kind of liability. The law does not punish every act which is done with the intent to bring about a crime. If a man starts from Boston to Cambridge for the purpose of committing a murder when he gets there, but is stopped by the draw and goes home, he is no more punishable than if he had sat in his chair and resolved to shoot somebody, but on second thoughts had given up the notion. On the other hand, a slave who ran after a white woman, but desisted before he caught her, has been convicted of an attempt to commit rape. /1/ We have seen what amounts to an attempt to burn a haystack; but it was said in the same case, that, if the defendant had gone no further than to buy a box of matches for the purpose, he would not have been liable.
Eminent judges have been puzzled where to draw the line, or even to state the principle on which it should be drawn, between the two sets of cases. But the principle is believed to be similar to that on which all other lines are drawn by the law. Public policy, that is to say, legislative considerations, are at the bottom of the matter; the considerations being, in this case, the nearness of the danger, the greatness of the harm, and the degree of apprehension felt. When a man buys matches to fire a haystack, or starts on a journey meaning to murder at the end of it, there is still a considerable chance that he will [69] change his mind before he comes to the point. But when he has struck the match, or cocked and aimed the pistol, there is very little chance that he will not persist to the end, and the danger becomes so great that the law steps in. With an object which could not be used innocently, the point of intervention might be put further back, as in the case of the purchase of a die for coining.
The degree of apprehension may affect the decision, as well as the degree of probability that the crime will be accomplished. No doubt the fears peculiar to a slaveowning community had their share in the conviction which has just been mentioned.
There is one doubtful point which should not be passed over. It has been thought that to shoot at a block of wood thinking it to be a man is not an attempt to murder, /1/ and that to put a hand into an empty pocket, intending to pick it, is not an attempt to commit larceny, although on the latter question there is a difference of opinion. /2/ The reason given is, that an act which could not have effected the crime if the actor had been allowed to follow it up to all results to which in the nature of things it could have led, cannot be an attempt to commit that crime when interrupted. At some point or other, of course, the law must adopt this conclusion, unless it goes on the theory of retribution for guilt, and not of prevention of harm.
But even to prevent harm effectually it will not do to be too exact. I do not suppose that firing a pistol at a man with intent to kill him is any the less an attempt to murder because the bullet misses its aim. Yet there the act has produced the whole effect possible to it in the [70] course of nature. It is just as impossible that that bullet under those circumstances should hit that man, as to pick an empty pocket. But there is no difficulty in saying that such an act under such circumstances is so dangerous, so far as the possibility of human foresight is concerned, that it should be punished. No one can absolutely know, though many would be pretty sure, exactly where the bullet will strike; and if the harm is done, it is a very great harm. If a man fires at a block, no harm can possibly ensue, and no theft can be committed in an empty pocket, besides that the harm of successful theft is less than that of murder. Yet it might be said that even such things as these should be punished, in order to make discouragement broad enough and easy to understand.
There remain to be considered certain substantive crimes, which differ in very important ways from murder and the like, and for the explanation of which the foregoing analysis of intent in criminal attempts and analogous misdemeanors will be found of service.
The type of these is larceny. Under this name acts are punished which of themselves would not be sufficient to accomplish the evil which the law seeks to prevent, and which are treated as equally criminal, whether the evil has been accomplished or not. Murder, manslaughter, and arson, on the other hand, are not committed unless the evil is accomplished, and they all consist of acts the tendency of which under the surrounding circumstances is to hurt or destroy person or property by the mere working of natural laws.
In larceny the consequences immediately flowing from the act are generally exhausted with little or no harm to the owner. Goods are removed from his possession by [71] trespass, and that is all, when the crime is complete. But they must be permanently kept from him before the harm is done which the law seeks to prevent. A momentary loss of possession is not what has been guarded against with such severe penalties. What the law means to prevent is the loss of it wholly and forever, as is shown by the fact that it is not larceny to take for a temporary use without intending to deprive the owner of his property. If then the law punishes the mere act of taking, it punishes an act which will not of itself produce the evil effect sought to be prevented, and punishes it before that effect has in any way come to pass.
The reason is plain enough. The law cannot wait until the property has been used up or destroyed in other hands than the owner's, or until the owner has died, in order to make sure that the harm which it seeks to prevent has been done. And for the same reason it cannot confine itself to acts likely to do that harm. For the harm of permanent loss of property will not follow from the act of taking, but only from the series of acts which constitute removing and keeping the property after it has been taken. After these preliminaries, the bearing of intent upon the crime is easily seen.
According to Mr. Bishop, larceny is "the taking and removing, by trespass, of personal property which the trespasser knows to belong either generally or specially to another, with the intent to deprive such owner of his ownership therein; and perhaps it should be added, for the sake of some advantage to the trespasser, a proposition on which the decisions are not harmonious." /1/
There must be an intent to deprive such owner of his [72] ownership therein, it is said. But why? Is it because the law is more anxious not to put a man in prison for stealing unless he is actually wicked, than it is not to hang him for killing another? That can hardly be. The true answer is, that the intent is an index to the external event which probably would have happened, and that, if the law is to punish at all, it must, in this case, go on probabilities, not on accomplished facts. The analogy to the manner of dealing with attempts is plain. Theft may be called an attempt to permanently deprive a man of his property, which is punished with the same severity whether successful or not. If theft can rightly be considered in this way, intent must play the same part as in other attempts. An act which does not fully accomplish the prohibited result may be made wrongful by evidence that but for some interference it would have been followed by other acts co-ordinated with it to produce that result. This can only be shown by showing intent. In theft the intent to deprive the owner of his property establishes that the thief would have retained, or would not have taken steps to restore, the stolen goods. Nor would it matter that the thief afterwards changed his mind and returned the goods. From the point of view of attempt, the crime was already complete when the property was carried off.
It may be objected to this view, that, if intent is only a makeshift which from a practical necessity takes the place of actual deprivation, it ought not to be required where the actual deprivation is wholly accomplished, provided the same criminal act produces the whole effect. Suppose, for instance, that by one and the same motion a man seizes and backs another's horse over a precipice. The whole evil which the law seeks to prevent is the natural and manifestly [73] certain consequence of the act under the known circumstances. In such a case, if the law of larceny is consistent with the theories here maintained, the act should be passed upon according to its tendency, and the actual intent of the wrong-doer not in any way considered. Yet it is possible, to say the least, that even in such a case the intent would make all the difference. I assume that the act was without excuse and wrongful, and that it would have amounted to larceny, if done for the purpose of depriving the owner of his horse. Nevertheless, if it was done for the sake of an experiment, and without actual foresight of the destruction, or evil design against the owner, the trespasser might not be held a thief.
The inconsistency, if there is one, seems to be explained by the way in which the law has grown. The distinctions of the common law as to theft are not those of a broad theory of legislation; they are highly technical, and very largely dependent upon history for explanation. /1/
The type of theft is taking to one's own user It used to be, and sometimes still is, thought that the taking must be lucri catesa, for the sake of some advantage to the thief. In such cases the owner is deprived of his property by the thief's keeping it, not by its destruction, and the permanence of his loss can only be judged of beforehand by the intent to keep. The intent is therefore always necessary, and it is naturally stated in the form of a self-regarding intent. It was an advance on the old precedents when it was decided that the intent to deprive the owner of his property was sufficient. As late as 1815 the English judges stood only six to five in favor of the proposition [74] that it was larceny to take a horse intending to kill it for no other purpose than to destroy evidence against a friend. /1/ Even that case, however, did not do away with the universality of intent as a test, for the destruction followed the taking, and it is an ancient rule that the criminality of the act must be determined by the state of things at the time of the taking, and not afterwards. Whether the law of larceny would follow what seems to be the general principle of criminal law, or would be held back by tradition, could only be decided by a case like that supposed above, where the same act accomplishes both taking and destruction. As has been suggested already, tradition might very possibly prevail.
Another crime in which the peculiarities noticed in larceny are still more clearly marked, and at the same time more easily explained, is burglary. It is defined as breaking and entering any dwelling-house by night with intent to commit a felony therein. /2/ The object of punishing such a breaking and entering is not to prevent trespasses, even when committed by night, but only such trespasses as are the first step to wrongs of a greater magnitude, like robbery or murder. /3/ In this case the function of intent when proved appears more clearly than in theft, but it is precisely similar. It is an index to the probability of certain future acts which the law seeks to prevent. And here the law gives evidence that this is the true explanation. For if the apprehended act did follow, then it is no longer necessary to allege that the breaking and entering was with that intent. An indictment for burglary which charges that [75] the defendant broke into a dwelling-house and stole certain property, is just as good as one which alleges that he broke in with intent to steal. /1/
It is believed that enough has now been said to explain the general theory of criminal liability, as it stands at common law. The result may be summed up as follows. All acts are indifferent per se.
In the characteristic type of substantive crime acts are rendered criminal because they are done finder circumstances in which they will probably cause some harm which the law seeks to prevent.
The test of criminality in such cases is the degree of danger shown by experience to attend that act under those circumstances.
In such cases the mens rea, or actual wickedness of the party, is wholly unnecessary, and all reference to the state of his consciousness is misleading if it means anything more than that the circumstances in connection with which the tendency of his act is judged are the circumstances known to him. Even the requirement of knowledge is subject to certain limitations. A man must find out at his peril things which a reasonable and prudent man would have inferred from the things actually known. In some cases, especially of statutory crimes, he must go even further, and, when he knows certain facts, must find out at his peril whether the other facts are present which would make the act criminal. A man who abducts a girl from her parents in England must find out at his peril whether she is under sixteen.
[76] In some cases it may be that the consequence of the act, under the circumstances, must be actually foreseen, if it is a consequence which a prudent man would not have foreseen. The reference to the prudent man, as a standard, is the only form in which blameworthiness as such is an element of crime, and what would be blameworthy in such a man is an element;—first, as a survival of true moral standards; second, because to punish what would not be blameworthy in an average member of the community would be to enforce a standard which was indefensible theoretically, and which practically was too high for that community.
In some cases, actual malice or intent, in the common meaning of those words, is an element in crime. But it will be found that, when it is so, it is because the act when done maliciously is followed by harm which would not have followed the act alone, or because the intent raises a strong probability that an act, innocent in itself, will be followed by other acts or events in connection with which it will accomplish the result sought to be prevented by the law.
[77]
LECTURE III. — TORTS.—TRESPASS AND NEGLIGENCE.
The object of the next two Lectures is to discover whether there is any common ground at the bottom of all liability in tort, and if so, what that ground is. Supposing the attempt to succeed, it will reveal the general principle of civil liability at common law. The liabilities incurred by way of contract are more or less expressly fixed by the agreement of the parties concerned, but those arising from a tort are independent of any previous consent of the wrong-doer to bear the loss occasioned by his act. If A fails to pay a certain sum on a certain day, or to deliver a lecture on a certain night, after having made a binding promise to do so, the damages which he has to pay are recovered in accordance with his consent that some or all of the harms which may be caused by his failure shall fall upon him. But when A assaults or slanders his neighbor, or converts his neighbor's property, he does a harm which he has never consented to bear, and if the law makes him pay for it, the reason for doing so must be found in some general view of the conduct which every one may fairly expect and demand from every other, whether that other has agreed to it or not.
Such a general view is very hard to find. The law did not begin with a theory. It has never worked one out. The point from which it started and that at which I shall [78] try to show that it has arrived, are on different planes. In the progress from one to the other, it is to be expected that its course should not be straight and its direction not always visible. All that can be done is to point out a tendency, and to justify it. The tendency, which is our main concern, is a matter of fact to be gathered from the cases. But the difficulty of showing it is much enhanced by the circumstance that, until lately, the substantive law has been approached only through the categories of the forms of action. Discussions of legislative principle have been darkened by arguments on the limits between trespass and case, or on the scope of a general issue. In place of a theory of tort, we have a theory of trespass. And even within that narrower limit, precedents of the time of the assize and jurata have been applied without a thought of their connection with a long forgotten procedure.
Since the ancient forms of action have disappeared, a broader treatment of the subject ought to be possible. Ignorance is the best of law reformers. People are glad to discuss a question on general principles, when they have forgotten the special knowledge necessary for technical reasoning. But the present willingness to generalize is founded on more than merely negative grounds. The philosophical habit of the day, the frequency of legislation, and the ease with which the law may be changed to meet the opinions and wishes of the public, all make it natural and unavoidable that judges as well as others should openly discuss the legislative principles upon which their decisions must always rest in the end, and should base their judgments upon broad considerations of policy to which the traditions of the bench would hardly have tolerated a reference fifty years ago.
[79] The business of the law of torts is to fix the dividing lines between those cases in which a man is liable for harm which he has done, and those in which he is not. But it cannot enable him to predict with certainty whether a given act under given circumstances will make him liable, because an act will rarely have that effect unless followed by damage, and for the most part, if not always, the consequences of an act are not known, but only guessed at as more or less probable. All the rules that the law can lay down beforehand are rules for determining the conduct which will be followed by liability if it is followed by harm—that is, the conduct which a man pursues at his peril. The only guide for the future to be drawn from a decision against a defendant in an action of tort is that similar acts, under circumstances which cannot be distinguished except by the result from those of the defendant, are done at the peril of the actor; that if he escapes liability, it is simply because by good fortune no harm comes of his conduct in the particular event.
If, therefore, there is any common ground for all liability in tort, we shall best find it by eliminating the event as it actually turns out, and by considering only the principles on which the peril of his conduct is thrown upon the actor. We are to ask what are the elements, on the defendant's side, which must all be present before liability is possible, and the presence of which will commonly make him liable if damage follows.
The law of torts abounds in moral phraseology. It has much to say of wrongs, of malice, fraud, intent, and negligence. Hence it may naturally be supposed that the risk of a man's conduct is thrown upon him as the result of some moral short-coming. But while this notion has been [80] entertained, the extreme opposite will be found to have been a far more popular opinion;—I mean the notion that a man is answerable for all the consequences of his acts, or, in other words, that he acts at his peril always, and wholly irrespective of the state of his consciousness upon the matter.
To test the former opinion it would be natural to take up successively the several words, such as negligence and intent, which in the language of morals designate various well-understood states of mind, and to show their significance in the law. To test the latter, it would perhaps be more convenient to consider it under the head of the several forms of action. So many of our authorities are decisions under one or another of these forms, that it will not be safe to neglect them, at least in the first instance; and a compromise between the two modes of approaching the subject may be reached by beginning with the action of trespass and the notion of negligence together, leaving wrongs which are defined as intentional for the next Lecture.
Trespass lies for unintentional, as well as for intended wrongs. Any wrongful and direct application of force is redressed by that action. It therefore affords a fair field for a discussion of the general principles of liability for unintentional wrongs at common law. For it can hardly be supposed that a man's responsibility for the consequences of his acts varies as the remedy happens to fall on one side or the other of the penumbra which separates trespass from the action on the case. And the greater part of the law of torts will be found under one or the other of those two heads.
It might be hastily assumed that the action on the case [81] is founded on the defendant's negligence. But if that be so, the same doctrine must prevail in trespass. It might be assumed that trespass is founded on the defendant's having caused damage by his act, without regard to negligence. But if that be true, the law must apply the same criterion to other wrongs differing from trespass only in some technical point; as, for instance, that the property damaged was in the defendant's possession. Neither of the above assumptions, however, can be hastily permitted. It might very well be argued that the action on the case adopts the severe rule just suggested for trespass, except when the action is founded on a contract. Negligence, it might be said, had nothing to do with the common-law liability for a nuisance, and it might be added that, where negligence was a ground of liability, a special duty had to be founded in the defendant's super se assumpsit, or public calling. /1/ On the other hand, we shall see what can be said for the proposition, that even in trespass there must at least be negligence. But whichever argument prevails for the one form of action must prevail for the other. The discussion may therefore be shortened on its technical side, by confining it to trespass so far as may be practicable without excluding light to be got from other parts of the law.
As has just been hinted, there are two theories of the common-law liability for unintentional harm. Both of them seem to receive the implied assent of popular textbooks, and neither of them is wanting in plausibility and the semblance of authority.
The first is that of Austin, which is essentially the theory of a criminalist. According to him, the characteristic [82] feature of law, properly so called, is a sanction or detriment threatened and imposed by the sovereign for disobedience to the sovereign's commands. As the greater part of the law only makes a man civilly answerable for breaking it, Austin is compelled to regard the liability to an action as a sanction, or, in other words, as a penalty for disobedience. It follows from this, according to the prevailing views of penal law, that such liability ought only to be based upon personal fault; and Austin accepts that conclusion, with its corollaries, one of which is that negligence means a state of the party's mind. /1/ These doctrines will be referred to later, so far as necessary.
The other theory is directly opposed to the foregoing. It seems to be adopted by some of the greatest common law authorities, and requires serious discussion before it can be set aside in favor of any third opinion which may be maintained. According to this view, broadly stated, under the common law a man acts at his peril. It may be held as a sort of set-off, that he is never liable for omissions except in consequence of some duty voluntarily undertaken. But the whole and sufficient ground for such liabilities as he does incur outside the last class is supposed to be that he has voluntarily acted, and that damage has ensued. If the act was voluntary, it is totally immaterial that the detriment which followed from it was neither intended nor due to the negligence of the actor.
In order to do justice to this way of looking at the subject, we must remember that the abolition of the common-law forms of pleading has not changed the rules of substantive law. Hence, although pleaders now generally [83] allege intent or negligence, anything which would formerly have been sufficient to charge a defendant in trespass is still sufficient, notwithstanding the fact that the ancient form of action and declaration has disappeared.
In the first place, it is said, consider generally the protection given by the law to property, both within and outside the limits of the last-named action. If a man crosses his neighbor's boundary by however innocent a mistake, or if his cattle escape into his neighbor's field, he is said to be liable in trespass quare clausum fregit. If an auctioneer in the most perfect good faith, and in the regular course of his business, sells goods sent to his rooms for the purpose of being sold, he may be compelled to pay their full value if a third person turns out to be the owner, although he has paid over the proceeds, and has no means of obtaining indemnity.
Now suppose that, instead of a dealing with the plaintiff's property, the case is that force has proceeded directly from the defendant's body to the plaintiff's body, it is urged that, as the law cannot be less careful of the persons than of the property of its subjects, the only defences possible are similar to those which would have been open to an alleged trespass on land. You may show that there was no trespass by showing that the defendant did no act; as where he was thrown from his horse upon the plaintiff, or where a third person took his hand and struck the plaintiff with it. In such cases the defendant's body is file passive instrument of an external force, and the bodily motion relied on by the plaintiff is not his act at all. So you may show a justification or excuse in the conduct of the plaintiff himself. But if no such excuse is shown, and the defendant has voluntarily acted, he must answer [84] for the consequences, however little intended and however unforeseen. If, for instance, being assaulted by a third person, the defendant lifted his stick and accidentally hit the plaintiff, who was standing behind him, according to this view he is liable, irrespective of any negligence toward the party injured.
The arguments for the doctrine under consideration are, for the most part, drawn from precedent, but it is sometimes supposed to be defensible as theoretically sound. Every man, it is said, has an absolute right to his person, and so forth, free from detriment at the hands of his neighbors. In the cases put, the plaintiff has done nothing; the defendant, on the other hand, has chosen to act. As between the two, the party whose voluntary conduct has caused the damage should suffer, rather than one who has had no share in producing it.
We have more difficult matter to deal with when we turn to the pleadings and precedents in trespass. The declaration says nothing of negligence, and it is clear that the damage need not have been intended. The words vi et armis and contra pacere, which might seem to imply intent, are supposed to have been inserted merely to give jurisdiction to the king's court. Glanvill says it belongs to the sheriff, in case of neglect on the part of lords of franchise, to take cognizance of melees, blows, and even wounds, unless the accuser add a charge of breach of the king's peace (nisi accusator adjiciat de pace Domini Regis infracta). /1/ Reeves observes, "In this distinction between the sheriff's jurisdiction and that of the king, we see the reason of the allegation in modern indictments and writs, vi et amis, of 'the king's crown and dignity,' 'the king's [85] peace,' and 'the peace,'—this last expression being sufficient, after the peace of the sheriff had ceased to be distinguished as a separate jurisdiction." /1/
Again, it might be said that, if the defendant's intent or neglect was essential to his liability, the absence of both would deprive his act of the character of a trespass, and ought therefore to be admissible under the general issue. But it is perfectly well settled at common law that "Not guilty" only denies the act. /2/
Next comes the argument from authority. I will begin with an early and important case. /3/ It was trespass quare clausum. The defendant pleaded that he owned adjoining land, upon which was a thorn hedge; that he cut the thorns, and that they, against his will (ipso invito), fell on the plaintiff's land, and the defendant went quickly upon the same, and took them, which was the trespass complained of. And on demurrer judgment was given for the plaintiff. The plaintiff's counsel put cases which have been often repeated. One of them, Fairfax, said: "There is a diversity between an act resulting in a felony, and one resulting in a trespass.... If one is cutting trees, and the boughs fall on a man and wound him, in this case he shall have an action of trespass, &c., and also, sir, if one is shooting at butts, and his bow shakes in his hands, and kills a man, ipso invito, it is no felony, as has been said, [86] &c.; but if he wounds one by shooting, he shall have a good action of trespass against him, and yet the shooting was lawful, &c., and the wrong which the other receives was against his will, &c.; and so here, &c." Brian, another counsel, states the whole doctrine, and uses equally familiar illustrations. "When one does a thing, he is bound to do it in such a way that by his act no prejudice or damage shall be done to &c. As if I am building a house, and when the timber is being put up a piece of timber falls on my neighbor's house and breaks his house, he shall have a good action, &c.; and yet the raising of the house was lawful, and the timber fell, me invito, &c. And so if one assaults me and I cannot escape, and I in self-defence lift my stick to strike him, and in lifting it hit a man who is behind me, in this case he shall have an action against me, yet my raising my stick was lawful in self-defence, and I hit him, me invito, &c.; and so here, &C."
"Littleton, J. to the same intent, and if a man is damaged he ought to be recompensed.... If your cattle come on my land and eat my grass, notwithstanding you come freshly and drive them out, you ought to make amends for what your cattle have done, be it more or less.... And, sir, if this should be law that he might enter and take the thorns, for the same reason, if he cut a large tree, he might come with his wagons and horses to carry the trees off, which is not reason, for perhaps he has corn or other crops growing, &c., and no more here, for the law is all one in great things and small.... Choke, C. J. to the same intent, for when the principal thing was not lawful, that which depends upon it was not lawful; for when he cut the thorns and they fell on my land, [87] this falling was not lawful, and therefore his coming to take them out was not lawful. As to what was said about their falling in ipso invito, that is no plea, but he ought to show that he could not do it in any other way, or that he did all that was in his power to keep them out."
Forty years later, /1/ the Year Books report Rede, J. as adopting the argument of Fairfax in the last case. In trespass, he says, "the intent cannot be construed; but in felony it shall be. As when a man shoots at butts and kills a man, it is not felony et il ser come n'avoit l'entent de luy tuer; and so of a tiler on a house who with a stone kills a man unwittingly, it is not felony. /2/ But when a man shoots at the butts and wounds a man, though it is against his will, he shall be called a trespasser against his intent."
There is a series of later shooting cases, Weaver v. Ward, /3/ Dickenson v. Watson, /4/ and Underwood v. Hewson, /5/ followed by the Court of Appeals of New York in Castle v. Duryee, /6/ in which defences to the effect that the damage was done accidentally and by misfortune, and against the will of the defendant, were held insufficient.
In the reign of Queen Elizabeth it was held that where a man with a gun at the door of his house shot at a fowl, and thereby set fire to his own house and to the house of his neighbor, he was liable in an action on the case generally, the declaration not being on the custom of the realm, [88] "viz. for negligently keeping his fire." "For the injury is the same, although this mischance was not by a common negligence, but by misadventure." /1/
The above-mentioned instances of the stick and shooting at butts became standard illustrations; they are repeated by Sir Thomas Raymond, in Bessey v. Olliot, /2/ by Sir William Blackstone, in the famous squib case, /3/ and by other judges, and have become familiar through the textbooks. Sir T. Raymond, in the above case, also repeats the thought and almost the words of Littleton, J., which have been quoted, and says further: "In all civil acts the law doth not so much regard the intent of the actor, as the loss and damage of the party suffering." Sir William Blackstone also adopts a phrase from Dickenson v. Watson, just cited: "Nothing but inevitable necessity" is a justification. So Lord Ellenborough, in Leame v. Bray: /4/ "If the injury were received from the personal act of another, it was deemed sufficient to make it trespass"; or, according to the more frequently quoted language of Grose, J., in the same case: "Looking into all the cases from the Year Book in the 21 H. VII. down to the latest decision on the subject, I find the principle to be, that if the injury be done by the act of the party himself at the time, or he be the immediate cause of it, though it happen accidentally or by misfortune, yet he is answerable in trespass." Further citations are deemed unnecessary.
In spite, however, of all the arguments which may be [89] urged for the rule that a man acts at his peril, it has been rejected by very eminent courts, even under the old forms of action. In view of this fact, and of the further circumstance that, since the old forms have been abolished, the allegation of negligence has spread from the action on the case to all ordinary declarations in tort which do not allege intent, probably many lawyers would be surprised that any one should think it worth while to go into the present discussion. Such is the natural impression to be derived from daily practice. But even if the doctrine under consideration had no longer any followers, which is not the case, it would be well to have something more than daily practice to sustain our views upon so fundamental a question; as it seems to me at least, the true principle is far from being articulately grasped by all who are interested in it, and can only be arrived at after a careful analysis of what has been thought hitherto. It might be thought enough to cite the decisions opposed to the rule of absolute responsibility, and to show that such a rule is inconsistent with admitted doctrines and sound policy. But we may go further with profit, and inquire whether there are not strong grounds for thinking that the common law has never known such a rule, unless in that period of dry precedent which is so often to be found midway between a creative epoch and a period of solvent philosophical reaction. Conciliating the attention of those who, contrary to most modern practitioners, still adhere to the strict doctrine, by reminding them once more that there are weighty decisions to be cited adverse to it, and that, if they have involved an innovation, the fact that it has been made by such magistrates as Chief Justice Shaw goes far to prove that the change was politic, I [90] think I may assert that a little reflection will show that it was required not only by policy, but by consistency. I will begin with the latter.
The same reasoning which would make a man answerable in trespass for all damage to another by force directly resulting from his own act, irrespective of negligence or intent, would make him answerable in case for the like damage similarly resulting from the act of his servant, in the course of the latter's employment. The discussions of the company's negligence in many railway cases would therefore be wholly out of place, for although, to be sure, there is a contract which would make the company liable for negligence, that contract cannot be taken to diminish any liability which would otherwise exist for a trespass on the part of its employees.
More than this, the same reasoning would make a defendant responsible for all damage, however remote, of which his act could be called the cause. So long, at least, as only physical or irresponsible agencies, however unforeseen, co-operated with the act complained of to produce the result, the argument which would resolve the case of accidentally striking the plaintiff, when lifting a stick in necessary self-defence, adversely to the defendant, would require a decision against him in every case where his act was a factor in the result complained of. The distinction between a direct application of force, and causing damage indirectly, or as a more remote consequence of one's act, although it may determine whether the form of action should be trespass or case, does not touch the theory of responsibility, if that theory be that a man acts at his peril.
[91] As was said at the outset, if the strict liability is to be maintained at all, it must be maintained throughout. A principle cannot be stated which would retain the strict liability in trespass while abandoning it in case. It cannot be said that trespass is for acts alone, and case for consequences of those acts. All actions of trespass are for consequences of acts, not for the acts themselves. And some actions of trespass are for consequences more remote from the defendant's act than in other instances where the remedy would be case.
An act is always a voluntary muscular contraction, and nothing else. The chain of physical sequences which it sets in motion or directs to the plaintiff's harm is no part of it, and very generally a long train of such sequences intervenes. An example or two will make this extremely clear.
When a man commits an assault and battery with a pistol, his only act is to contract the muscles of his arm and forefinger in a certain way, but it is the delight of elementary writers to point out what a vast series of physical changes must take place before the harm is done. Suppose that, instead of firing a pistol, he takes up a hose which is discharging water on the sidewalk, and directs it at the plaintiff, he does not even set in motion the physical causes which must co-operate with his act to make a battery. Not only natural causes, but a living being, may intervene between the act and its effect. Gibbons v. Pepper, /1/ which decided that there was no battery when a man's horse was frightened by accident or a third person and ran away with him, and ran over the plaintiff, takes the distinction that, if the rider by spurring is the cause of [92] the accident, then he is guilty. In Scott v. Shepherd, /1/ already mentioned, trespass was maintained against one who had thrown a squib into a crowd, where it was tossed from hand to hand in self-defence until it burst and injured the plaintiff. Here even human agencies were a part of the chain between the defendant's act and the result, although they were treated as more or less nearly automatic, in order to arrive at the decision.
Now I repeat, that, if principle requires us to charge a man in trespass when his act has brought force to bear on another through a comparatively short train of intervening causes, in spite of his having used all possible care, it requires the same liability, however numerous and unexpected the events between the act and the result. If running a man down is a trespass when the accident can be referred to the rider's act of spurring, why is it not a tort in every case, as was argued in Vincent v. Stinehour, /2/ seeing that it can always be referred more remotely to his act of mounting and taking the horse out?
Why is a man not responsible for the consequences of an act innocent in its direct and obvious effects, when those consequences would not have followed but for the intervention of a series of extraordinary, although natural, events? The reason is, that, if the intervening events are of such a kind that no foresight could have been expected to look out for them, the defendant is not to blame for having failed to do so. It seems to be admitted by the English judges that, even on the question whether the acts of leaving dry trimmings in hot weather by the side of a railroad, and then sending an engine over the track, are [93] negligent,—that is, are a ground of liability,—the consequences which might reasonably be anticipated are material. /1/ Yet these are acts which, under the circumstances, can hardly be called innocent in their natural and obvious effects. The same doctrine has been applied to acts in violation of statute which could not reasonably have been expected to lead to the result complained of. /2/
But there is no difference in principle between the case where a natural cause or physical factor intervenes after the act in some way not to be foreseen, and turns what seemed innocent to harm, and the case where such a cause or factor intervenes, unknown, at the time; as, for the matter of that, it did in the English cases cited. If a man is excused in the one case because he is not to blame, he must be in the other. The difference taken in Gibbons v. Pepper, cited above, is not between results which are and those which are not the consequences of the defendant's acts: it is between consequences which he was bound as a reasonable man to contemplate, and those which he was not. Hard spurring is just so much more likely to lead to harm than merely riding a horse in the street, that the court thought that the defendant would be bound to look out for the consequences of the one, while it would not hold him liable for those resulting merely from the other; [94] because the possibility of being run away with when riding quietly, though familiar, is comparatively slight. If, however, the horse had been unruly, and had been taken into a frequented place for the purpose of being broken, the owner might have been liable, because "it was his fault to bring a wild horse into a place where mischief might probably be done."
To return to the example of the accidental blow with a stick lifted in self-defence, there is no difference between hitting a person standing in one's rear and hitting one who was pushed by a horse within range of the stick just as it was lifted, provided that it was not possible, under the circumstances, in the one case to have known, in the other to have anticipated, the proximity. In either case there is wanting the only element which distinguishes voluntary acts from spasmodic muscular contractions as a ground of liability. In neither of them, that is to say, has there been an opportunity of choice with reference to the consequence complained of,—a chance to guard against the result which has come to pass. A choice which entails a concealed consequence is as to that consequence no choice.
The general principle of our law is that loss from accident must lie where it falls, and this principle is not affected by the fact that a human being is the instrument of misfortune. But relatively to a given human being anything is accident which he could not fairly have been expected to contemplate as possible, and therefore to avoid. In the language of the late Chief Justice Nelson of New York: "No case or principle can be found, or if found can be maintained, subjecting an individual to liability for [95] an act done without fault on his part.... All the cases concede that an injury arising from inevitable accident, or, which in law or reason is the same thing, from an act that ordinary human care and foresight are unable to guard against, is but the misfortune of the sufferer, and lays no foundation for legal responsibility." /1/ If this were not so, any act would be sufficient, however remote, which set in motion or opened the door for a series of physical sequences ending in damage; such as riding the horse, in the case of the runaway, or even coming to a place where one is seized with a fit and strikes the plaintiff in an unconscious spasm. Nay, why need the defendant have acted at all, and why is it not enough that his existence has been at the expense of the plaintiff? The requirement of an act is the requirement that the defendant should have made a choice. But the only possible purpose of introducing this moral element is to make the power of avoiding the evil complained of a condition of liability. There is no such power where the evil cannot be foreseen. /2/ Here we reach the argument from policy, and I shall accordingly postpone for a moment the discussion of trespasses upon land, and of conversions, and will take up the liability for cattle separately at a later stage.
A man need not, it is true, do this or that act, the term act implies a choice,—but he must act somehow. Furthermore, the public generally profits by individual activity. As action cannot be avoided, and tends to the public good, there is obviously no policy in throwing the hazard of what is at once desirable and inevitable upon the actor. [96] The state might conceivably make itself a mutual insurance company against accidents, and distribute the burden of its citizens' mishaps among all its members. There might be a pension for paralytics, and state aid for those who suffered in person or estate from tempest or wild beasts. As between individuals it might adopt the mutual insurance principle pro tanto, and divide damages when both were in fault, as in the rusticum judicium of the admiralty, or it might throw all loss upon the actor irrespective of fault. The state does none of these things, however, and the prevailing view is that its cumbrous and expensive machinery ought not to be set in motion unless some clear benefit is to be derived from disturbing the status quo. State interference is an evil, where it cannot be shown to be a good. Universal insurance, if desired, can be better and more cheaply accomplished by private enterprise. The undertaking to redistribute losses simply on the ground that they resulted from the defendant's act would not only be open to these objections, but, as it is hoped the preceding discussion has shown, to the still graver one of offending the sense of justice. Unless my act is of a nature to threaten others, unless under the circumstances a prudent man would have foreseen the possibility of harm, it is no more justifiable to make me indemnify my neighbor against the consequences, than to make me do the same thing if I had fallen upon him in a fit, or to compel me to insure him against lightning.
I must now recur to the conclusions drawn from innocent trespasses upon land, and conversions, and the supposed analogy of those cases to trespasses against the person, lest the law concerning the latter should be supposed to lie between two antinomies, each necessitating with equal cogency an opposite conclusion to the other.
[97] Take first the case of trespass upon land attended by actual damage. When a man goes upon his neighbor's land, thinking it is his own, he intends the very act or consequence complained of. He means to intermeddle with a certain thing in a certain way, and it is just that intended intermeddling for which he is sued. /1/ Whereas, if he accidentally hits a stranger as he lifts his staff in self defence, the fact, which is the gist of the action,—namely, the contact between the staff and his neighbor's head,—was not intended, and could not have been foreseen. It might be answered, to be sure, that it is not for intermeddling with property, but for intermeddling with the plaintiff's property, that a man is sued; and that in the supposed cases, just as much as in that of the accidental blow, the defendant is ignorant of one of the facts making up the total environment, and which must be present to make his action wrong. He is ignorant, that is to say, that the true owner either has or claims any interest in the property in question, and therefore he does not intend a wrongful act, because he does not mean to deal with his neighbor's property. But the answer to this is, that he does intend to do the damage complained of. One who diminishes the value of property by intentional damage knows it belongs to somebody. If he thinks it belongs to himself, he expects whatever harm he may do to come out of his own pocket. It would be odd if he were to get rid of the burden by discovering that it belonged to his neighbor. It is a very different thing to say that he who intentionally does harm must bear the loss, from saying that one from whose acts harm follows accidentally, as [98] a consequence which could not have been foreseen, must bear it.
Next, suppose the act complained of is an exercise of dominion over the plaintiff's property, such as a merely technical trespass or a conversion. If the defendant thought that the property belonged to himself, there seems to be no abstract injustice in requiring him to know the limits of his own titles, or, if he thought that it belonged to another, in holding him bound to get proof of title before acting. Consider, too, what the defendant's liability amounts to, if the act, whether an entry upon land or a conversion of chattels, has been unattended by damage to the property, and the thing has come back to the hands of the true owner. The sum recovered is merely nominal, and the payment is nothing more than a formal acknowledgment of the owner's title; which, considering the effect of prescription and statutes of limitation upon repeated acts of dominion, is no more than right. /1/ All semblance of injustice disappears when the defendant is allowed to avoid the costs of an action by tender or otherwise.
But suppose the property has not come back to the hands of the true owner. If the thing remains in the hands of the defendant, it is clearly right that he should surrender it. And if instead of the thing itself he holds the proceeds of a sale, it is as reasonable to make him pay over its value in trover or assumpsit as it would have been to compel a surrender of the thing. But the question whether the defendant has subsequently paid over the proceeds of the sale of a chattel to a third person, cannot affect the rights of the true owner of the [99] chattel. In the supposed case of an auctioneer, for instance, if he had paid the true owner, it would have been an answer to his bailor's claim. If he has paid his bailor instead, he has paid one whom he was not bound to pay, and no general principle requires that this should be held to divest the plaintiff's right.
Another consideration affecting the argument that the law as to trespasses upon property establishes a general principle, is that the defendant's knowledge or ignorance of the plaintiff's title is likely to lie wholly in his own breast, and therefore hardly admits of satisfactory proof. Indeed, in many cases it cannot have been open to evidence at all at the time when the law was settled, before parties were permitted to testify. Accordingly, in Basely v. Clarkson, /1/ where the defence set up to an action of trespass quare clausum was that the defendant in mowing his own land involuntarily and by mistake mowed down some of the plaintiff's grass, the plaintiff had judgment on demurrer. "For it appears the fact was voluntary, and his intention and knowledge are not traversable; they can't be known."
This language suggests that it would be sufficient to explain the law of trespass upon property historically, without attempting to justify it. For it seems to be admitted that if the defendant's mistake could be proved it might be material. /2/ It will be noticed, further, that any general argument from the law of trespass upon laud to that governing trespass against the person is shown to be misleading by the law as to cattle. The owner is bound at his peril [100] to keep them off his neighbor's premises, but he is not bound at his peril in all cases to keep them from his neighbor's person.
The objections to such a decision as supposed in the case of an auctioneer do not rest on the general theory of liability, but spring altogether from the special exigencies of commerce. It does not become unjust to hold a person liable for unauthorized intermeddling with another's property, until there arises the practical necessity for rapid dealing. But where this practical necessity exists, it is not surprising to find, and we do find, a different tendency in the law. The absolute protection of property, however natural to a primitive community more occupied in production than in exchange, is hardly consistent with the requirements of modern business. Even when the rules which we have been considering were established, the traffic of the public markets was governed by more liberal principles. On the continent of Europe it was long ago decided that the policy of protecting titles must yield to the policy of protecting trade. Casaregis held that the general principle nemo plus juris in alium transferre potest quam ipse habet must give way in mercantile transactions to possession vaut titre. /1/ In later times, as markets overt have lost their importance, the Factors' Acts and their successive amendments have tended more and more in the direction of adopting the Continental doctrine.
I must preface the argument from precedent with a reference to what has been said already in the first Lecture about early forms of liability, and especially about [101] the appeals. It was there shown that the appeals de pace et plagis and of mayhem became the action of trespass, and that those appeals and the early actions of trespass were always, so far as appears, for intentional wrongs. /1/
The contra pacem in the writ of trespass was no doubt inserted to lay a foundation for the king's writ; but there seems to be no reason to attribute a similar purpose to vi et armis, or cum vi sua, as it was often put. Glanvill says that wounds are within the sheriff's jurisdiction, unless the appellor adds a charge of breach of the king's peace. /2/ Yet the wounds are given vi et armis as much in the one case as in the other. Bracton says that the lesser wrongs described by him belong to the king's jurisdiction, "because they are sometimes against the peace of our lord the king," /3/ while, as has been observed, they were supposed to be always committed intentionally. It might even perhaps be inferred that the allegation contra pacem was originally material, and it will be remembered that trespasses formerly involved the liability to pay a fine to the king. /4/
If it be true that trespass was originally confined to intentional wrongs, it is hardly necessary to consider the argument drawn from the scope of the general issue. In form it was a mitigation of the strict denial de verbo in verbum of the ancient procedure, to which the inquest given by the king's writ was unknown. /5/ The strict form seems to have lasted in England some time after the trial of the issue by recognition was introduced. /6/ When [102] a recognition was granted, the inquest was, of course, only competent to speak to the facts, as has been said above. /1/ When the general issue was introduced, trespass was still confined to intentional wrongs.
We may now take up the authorities. It will be remembered that the earlier precedents are of a date when the assize and jurata had not given place to the modern jury. These bodies spoke from their own knowledge to an issue defined by the writ, or to certain familiar questions of fact arising in the trial of a cause, but did not hear the whole case upon evidence adduced. Their function was more limited than that which has been gained by the jury, and it naturally happened that, when they had declared what the defendant had done, the judges laid down the standard by which those acts were to be measured without their assistance. Hence the question in the Year Books is not a loose or general inquiry of the jury whether they think the alleged trespasser was negligent on such facts as they may find, but a well-defined issue of law, to be determined by the court, whether certain acts set forth upon the record are a ground of liability. It is possible that the judges may have dealt pretty strictly with defendants, and it is quite easy to pass from the premise that defendants have been held trespassers for a variety of acts, without mention of neglect, to the conclusion that any act by which another was damaged will make the actor chargeable. But a more exact scrutiny of the early books will show that liability in general, then as later, was [103] founded on the opinion of the tribunal that the defendant ought to have acted otherwise, or, in other words, that he was to blame.
Returning first to the case of the thorns in the Year Book, /1/ it will be seen that the falling of the thorns into the plaintiff's close, although a result not wished by the defendant, was in no other sense against his will. When he cut the thorns, he did an act which obviously and necessarily would have that consequence, and he must be taken to have foreseen and not to have prevented it. Choke, C. J. says, "As to what was said about their falling in, ipso invito, that is no plea, but he ought to show that he could not do it in any other way, or that he did all in his power to keep them out"; and both the judges put the unlawfulness of the entry upon the plaintiff's land as a consequence of the unlawfulness of dropping the thorns there. Choke admits that, if the thorns or a tree had been blown over upon the plaintiff's land, the defendant might have entered to get them. Chief Justice Crew says of this case, in Millen v. Fawdry, /2/ that the opinion was that "trespass lies, because he did not plead that he did his best endeavor to hinder their falling there; yet this was a hard case." The statements of law by counsel in argument may be left on one side, although Brian is quoted and mistaken for one of the judges by Sir William Blackstone, in Scott v. Shepherd.
The principal authorities are the shooting cases, and, as shooting is an extra-hazardous act, it would not be surprising if it should be held that men do it at their peril in public places. The liability has been put on the general ground of fault, however, wherever the line of necessary [104] precaution may be drawn. In Weaver v. Ward, /1/ the defendant set up that the plaintiff and he were skirmishing in a trainband, and that when discharging his piece he wounded the plaintiff by accident and misfortune, and against his own will. On demurrer, the court says that "no man shall be excused of a trespass,... except it may be judged utterly without his fault. As if a man by force take my hand and strike you, or if here the defendant had said, that the plaintiff ran cross his piece when it was discharging, or had set forth the case with the circumstances so as it had appeared to the court that it had been inevitable, and that the defendant had committed no negligence to give occasion to the hurt." The later cases simply follow Weaver v. Ward.
The quotations which were made above in favor of the strict doctrine from Sir T. Raymond, in Bessey v. Olliot, and from Sir William Blackstone, in Scott v. Shepherd, are both taken from dissenting opinions. In the latter case it is pretty clear that the majority of the court considered that to repel personal danger by instantaneously tossing away a squib thrown by another upon one's stall was not a trespass, although a new motion was thereby imparted to the squib, and the plaintiff's eye was put out in consequence. The last case cited above, in stating the arguments for absolute responsibility, was Leame v. Bray. /2/ The question under discussion was whether the action (for running down the plaintiff) should not have been case rather than trespass, the defendant founding his objection to trespass on the ground that the injury happened through his neglect, but was not done wilfully. There was therefore no question of absolute responsibility for one's acts [105] before the court, as negligence was admitted; and the language used is all directed simply to the proposition that the damage need not have been done intentionally.
In Wakeman v. Robinson, /1/another runaway case, there was evidence that the defendant pulled the wrong rein, and that he ought to have kept a straight course. The jury were instructed that, if the injury was occasioned by an immediate act of the defendant, it was immaterial whether the act was wilful or accidental. On motion for a new trial, Dallas, C. J. said, "If the accident happened entirely without default on the part of the defendant, or blame imputable to him, the action does not lie ....The accident was clearly occasioned by the default of the defendant. The weight of evidence was all that way. I am now called upon to grant a new trial, contrary to the justice of the case, upon the ground, that the jury were not called on to consider whether the accident was unavoidable, or occasioned by the fault of the defendant. There can be no doubt that the learned judge who presided would have taken the opinion of the jury on that ground, if he had been requested so to do." This language may have been inapposite under the defendant's plea (the general issue), but the pleadings were not adverted to, and the doctrine is believed to be sound.
In America there have been several decisions to the point. In Brown v. Kendall, /2/ Chief Justice Shaw settled the question for Massachusetts. That was trespass for assault and battery, and it appeared that the defendant, while trying to separate two fighting dogs, had raised his stick over his shoulder in the act of striking, and had accidentally hit the plaintiff in the eye, inflicting upon him a [106] severe injury. The case was stronger for the plaintiff than if the defendant had been acting in self-defence; but the court held that, although the defendant was bound by no duty to separate the dogs, yet, if he was doing a lawful act, he was not liable unless he was wanting in the care which men of ordinary prudence would use under the circumstances, and that the burden was on the plaintiff to prove the want of such care.
In such a matter no authority is more deserving of respect than that of Chief Justice Shaw, for the strength of that great judge lay in an accurate appreciation of the requirements of the community whose officer he was. Some, indeed many, English judges could be named who have surpassed him in accurate technical knowledge, but few have lived who were his equals in their understanding of the grounds of public policy to which all laws must ultimately be referred. It was this which made him, in the language of the late Judge Curtis, the greatest magistrate which this country has produced.
Brown v. Kendall has been followed in Connecticut, /1/ in a case where a man fired a pistol, in lawful self-defence as he alleged, and hit a bystander. The court was strongly of opinion that the defendant was not answerable on the general principles of trespass, unless there was a failure to use such care as was practicable under the circumstances. The foundation of liability in trespass as well as case was said to be negligence. The Supreme Court of the United States has given the sanction of its approval to the same doctrine. /2/ The language of Harvey v. Dunlop /3/ has been [107] quoted, and there is a case in Vermont which tends in the same direction. /1/
Supposing it now to be conceded that the general notion upon which liability to an action is founded is fault or blameworthiness in some sense, the question arises, whether it is so in the sense of personal moral shortcoming, as would practically result from Austin's teaching. The language of Rede, J., which has been quoted from the Year Book, gives a sufficient answer. "In trespass the intent" (we may say more broadly, the defendant's state of mind) "cannot be construed." Suppose that a defendant were allowed to testify that, before acting, he considered carefully what would be the conduct of a prudent man under the circumstances, and, having formed the best judgment he could, acted accordingly. If the story was believed, it would be conclusive against the defendant's negligence judged by a moral standard which would take his personal characteristics into account. But supposing any such evidence to have got before the jury, it is very clear that the court would say, Gentlemen, the question is not whether the defendant thought his conduct was that of a prudent man, but whether you think it was. /2/
Some middle point must be found between the horns of this dilemma.
[108 The standards of the law are standards of general application. The law takes no account of the infinite varieties of temperament, intellect, and education which make the internal character of a given act so different in different men. It does not attempt to see men as God sees them, for more than one sufficient reason. In the first place, the impossibility of nicely measuring a man's powers and limitations is far clearer than that of ascertaining his knowledge of law, which has been thought to account for what is called the presumption that every man knows the law. But a more satisfactory explanation is, that, when men live in society, a certain average of conduct, a sacrifice of individual peculiarities going beyond a certain point, is necessary to the general welfare. If, for instance, a man is born hasty and awkward, is always having accidents and hurting himself or his neighbors, no doubt his congenital defects will be allowed for in the courts of Heaven, but his slips are no less troublesome to his neighbors than if they sprang from guilty neglect. His neighbors accordingly require him, at his proper peril, to come up to their standard, and the courts which they establish decline to take his personal equation into account.
The rule that the law does, in general, determine liability by blameworthiness, is subject to the limitation that minute differences of character are not allowed for. The law considers, in other words, what would be blameworthy in the average man, the man of ordinary intelligence and prudence, and determines liability by that. If we fall below the level in those gifts, it is our misfortune; so much as that we must have at our peril, for the reasons just given. But he who is intelligent and prudent does not act at his peril, in theory of law. On the contrary, it is [109] only when he fails to exercise the foresight of which he is capable, or exercises it with evil intent, that he is answerable for the consequences.
There are exceptions to the principle that every man is presumed to possess ordinary capacity to avoid harm to his neighbors, which illustrate the rule, and also the moral basis of liability in general. When a man has a distinct defect of such a nature that all can recognize it as making certain precautions impossible, he will not be held answerable for not taking them. A blind man is not required to see at his peril; and although he is, no doubt, bound to consider his infirmity in regulating his actions, yet if he properly finds himself in a certain situation, the neglect of precautions requiring eyesight would not prevent his recovering for an injury to himself, and, it may be presumed, would not make him liable for injuring another. So it is held that, in cases where he is the plaintiff, an infant of very tender years is only bound to take the precautions of which an infant is capable; the same principle may be cautiously applied where he is defendant. /1/ Insanity is a more difficult matter to deal with, and no general rule can be laid down about it. There is no doubt that in many cases a man may be insane, and yet perfectly capable of taking the precautions, and of being influenced by the motives, which the circumstances demand. But if insanity of a pronounced type exists, manifestly incapacitating the sufferer from complying with the rule which he has broken, good sense would require it to be admitted as an excuse.
Taking the qualification last established in connection with the general proposition previously laid down, it will [110] now be assumed that, on the one hand, the law presumes or requires a man to possess ordinary capacity to avoid harming his neighbors, unless a clear and manifest incapacity be shown; but that, on the other, it does not in general hold him liable for unintentional injury, unless, possessing such capacity, he might and ought to have foreseen the danger, or, in other words, unless a man of ordinary intelligence and forethought would have been to blame for acting as he did. The next question is, whether this vague test is all that the law has to say upon the matter, and the same question in another form, by whom this test is to be applied.
Notwithstanding the fact that the grounds of legal liability are moral to the extent above explained, it must be borne in mind that law only works within the sphere of the senses. If the external phenomena, the manifest acts and omissions, are such as it requires, it is wholly indifferent to the internal phenomena of conscience. A man may have as bad a heart as he chooses, if his conduct is within the rules. In other words, the standards of the law are external standards, and, however much it may take moral considerations into account, it does so only for the purpose of drawing a line between such bodily motions and rests as it permits, and such as it does not. What the law really forbids, and the only thing it forbids, is the act on the wrong side of the line, be that act blameworthy or otherwise.
Again, any legal standard must, in theory, be one which would apply to all men, not specially excepted, under the same circumstances. It is not intended that the public force should fall upon an individual accidentally, or at the whim of any body of men. The standard, that is, [111] must be fixed. In practice, no doubt, one man may have to pay and another may escape, according to the different feelings of different juries. But this merely shows that the law does not perfectly accomplish its ends. The theory or intention of the law is not that the feeling of approbation or blame which a particular twelve may entertain should be the criterion. They are supposed to leave their idiosyncrasies on one side, and to represent the feeling of the community. The ideal average prudent man, whose equivalent the jury is taken to be in many cases, and whose culpability or innocence is the supposed test, is a constant, and his conduct under given circumstances is theoretically always the same.
Finally, any legal standard must, in theory, be capable of being known. When a man has to pay damages, he is supposed to have broken the law, and he is further supposed to have known what the law was.
If, now, the ordinary liabilities in tort arise from failure to comply with fixed and uniform standards of external conduct, which every man is presumed and required to know, it is obvious that it ought to be possible, sooner or later, to formulate these standards at least to some extent, and that to do so must at last be the business of the court. It is equally clear that the featureless generality, that the defendant was bound to use such care as a prudent man would do under the circumstances, ought to be continually giving place to the specific one, that he was bound to use this or that precaution under these or those circumstances. The standard which the defendant was bound to come up to was a standard of specific acts or omissions, with reference to the specific circumstances in which he found himself. If in the whole department of [112] unintentional wrongs the courts arrived at no further utterance than the question of negligence, and left every case, without rudder or compass, to the jury, they would simply confess their inability to state a very large part of the law which they required the defendant to know, and would assert, by implication, that nothing could be learned by experience. But neither courts nor legislatures have ever stopped at that point.
From the time of Alfred to the present day, statutes and decisions have busied themselves with defining the precautions to be taken in certain familiar cases; that is, with substituting for the vague test of the care exercised by a prudent man, a precise one of specific acts or omissions. The fundamental thought is still the same, that the way prescribed is that in which prudent men are in the habit of acting, or else is one laid down for cases where prudent men might otherwise be in doubt.
It will be observed that the existence of the external tests of liability which will be mentioned, while it illustrates the tendency of the law of tort to become more and more concrete by judicial decision and by statute, does not interfere with the general doctrine maintained as to the grounds of liability. The argument of this Lecture, although opposed to the doctrine that a man acts or exerts force at his peril, is by no means opposed to the doctrine that he does certain particular acts at his peril. It is the coarseness, not the nature, of the standard which is objected to. If, when the question of the defendant's negligence is left to a jury, negligence does not mean the actual state of the defendant's mind, but a failure to act as a prudent man of average intelligence would have done, he is required to conform to an objective standard at his [113] peril, even in that case. When a more exact and specific rule has been arrived at, he must obey that rule at his peril to the same extent. But, further, if the law is wholly a standard of external conduct, a man must always comply with that standard at his peril.
Some examples of the process of specification will be useful. In LL. Alfred, 36, /1/ providing for the case of a man's staking himself on a spear carried by another, we read, "Let this (liability) be if the point be three fingers higher than the hindmost part of the shaft; if they be both on a level,... be that without danger."
The rule of the road and the sailing rules adopted by Congress from England are modern examples of such statutes. By the former rule, the question has been narrowed from the vague one, Was the party negligent? to the precise one, Was he on the right or left of the road? To avoid a possible misconception, it may be observed that, of course, this question does not necessarily and under all circumstances decide that of liability; a plaintiff may have been on the wrong side of the road, as he may have been negligent, and yet the conduct of the defendant may have been unjustifiable, and a ground of liability. /2/ So, no doubt, a defendant could justify or excuse being on the wrong side, under some circumstances. The difference between alleging that a defendant was on the wrong side of the road, and that he was negligent, is the difference between an allegation of facts requiring to be excused by a counter allegation of further facts to prevent their being a ground of liability, and an allegation which involves a conclusion of law, and denies in advance the existence of an [114] excuse. Whether the former allegation ought not to be enough, and whether the establishment of the fact ought not to shift the burden of proof, are questions which belong to the theory of pleading and evidence, and could be answered either way consistently with analogy. I should have no difficulty in saying that the allegation of facts which are ordinarily a ground of liability, and which would be so unless excused, ought to be sufficient. But the forms of the law, especially the forms of pleading, do not change with every change of its substance, and a prudent lawyer would use the broader and safer phrase.
The same course of specification which has been illustrated from the statute-book ought also to be taking place in the growth of judicial decisions. That this should happen is in accordance with the past history of the law. It has been suggested already that in the days of the assize and jurata the court decided whether the facts constituted a ground of liability in all ordinary cases. A question of negligence might, no doubt, have gone to the jury. Common sense and common knowledge are as often sufficient to determine whether proper care has been taken of an animal, as they are to say whether A or B owns it. The cases which first arose were not of a kind to suggest analysis, and negligence was used as a proximately simple element for a long time before the need or possibility of analysis was felt. Still, when an issue of this sort is found, the dispute is rather what the acts or omissions of the defendant were than on the standard of conduct. /1/ The [115] distinction between the functions of court and jury does not come in question until the parties differ as to the standard of conduct. Negligence, like ownership, is a complex conception. Just as the latter imports the existence of certain facts, and also the consequence (protection against all the world) which the law attaches to those facts; the former imports the existence of certain facts (conduct) and also the consequence (liability) which the law attaches to those facts. In most cases the question is upon the facts, and it is only occasionally that one arises on the consequence.
It will have been noticed how the judges pass on the defendant's acts (on grounds of fault and public policy) in the case of the thorns, and that in Weaver v. Ward /1/it is said that the facts constituting an excuse, and showing that the defendant was free from negligence, should have been spread upon the record, in order that the court might judge. A similar requirement was laid down with regard to the defence of probable cause in an action for malicious prosecution. /2/ And to this day the question of probable cause is always passed on by the court. Later evidence will be found in what follows.
There is, however, an important consideration, which has not yet been adverted to. It is undoubtedly possible that those who have the making of the law should deem it wise to put the mark higher in some cases than the point established by common practice at which blameworthiness begins. For instance, in Morris v. Platt, /2/ the court, while declaring in the strongest terms that, in general, [116] negligence is the foundation of liability for accidental trespasses, nevertheless hints that, if a decision of the point were necessary, it might hold a defendant to a stricter rule where the damage was caused by a pistol, in view of the danger to the public of the growing habit of carrying deadly weapons. Again, it might well seem that to enter a man's house for the purpose of carrying a present, or inquiring after his health when he was ill, was a harmless and rather praiseworthy act, although crossing the owner's boundary was intentional. It is not supposed that an action would lie at the present day for such a cause, unless the defendant had been forbidden the house. Yet in the time of Henry VIII. it was said to be actionable if without license, "for then under that color my enemy might be in my house and kill me." /1/ There is a clear case where public policy establishes a standard of overt acts without regard to fault in any sense. In like manner, policy established exceptions to the general prohibition against entering another's premises, as in the instance put by Chief Justice Choke in the Year Book, of a tree being blown over upon them, or when the highway became impassable, or for the purpose of keeping the peace. /2/
Another example may perhaps be found in the shape which has been given in modern times to the liability for animals, and in the derivative principle of Rylands v. Fletcher, /3/ that when a person brings on his lands, and collects and keeps there, anything likely to do mischief if it escapes, he must keep it in at his peril; and, if he does not do so, is prima facie answerable for all the [117] damage which is the natural consequence of its escape. Cases of this sort do not stand on the notion that it is wrong to keep cattle, or to have a reservoir of water, as might have been thought with more plausibility when fierce and useless animals only were in question. /1/ It may even be very much for the public good that the dangerous accumulation should be made (a consideration which might influence the decision in some instances, and differently in different jurisdictions); but as there is a limit to the nicety of inquiry which is possible in a trial, it may be considered that the safest way to secure care is to throw the risk upon the person who decides what precautions shall be taken. The liability for trespasses of cattle seems to lie on the boundary line between rules based on policy irrespective of fault, and requirements intended to formulate the conduct of a prudent man.
It has been shown in the first Lecture how this liability for cattle arose in the early law, and how far the influence of early notions might be traced in the law of today, Subject to what is there said, it is evident that the early discussions turn on the general consideration whether the owner is or is not to blame. /2/ But they do not stop there: they go on to take practical distinctions, based on common experience. Thus, when the defendant chased sheep out of his land with a dog, and as soon as the sheep were out called in his dog, but the dog pursued them into adjoining land, the chasing of the sheep beyond the defendant's line was held no trespass, because "the nature of a dog is such that he cannot be ruled suddenly." /3/
[118] It was lawful in ploughing to turn the horses on adjoining land, and if while so turning the beasts took a mouthful of grass, or subverted the soil with the plough, against the will of the driver, he had a good justification, because the law will recognize that a man cannot at every instant govern his cattle as he will. /1/ So it was said that, if a man be driving cattle through a town, and one of them goes into another man's house, and he follows him, trespass does not lie for this. /2/ So it was said by Doderidge, J., in the same case, that if deer come into my land out of the forest, and I chase them with dogs, it is excuse enough for me to wind my horn to recall the dogs, because by this the warden of the forest has notice that a deer is being chased. /3/
The very case of Mason v. Keeling, /4/ which is referred to in the first Lecture for its echo of primitive notions, shows that the working rules of the law had long been founded on good sense. With regard to animals not then treated as property, which in the main were the wilder animals, the law was settled that, "if they are of a tame nature, there must be notice of the ill quality; and the law takes notice, that a dog is not of a fierce nature, but rather the contrary." /5/ If the animals "are such as are naturally [119] mischievous in their kind, he shall answer for hurt done by them, without any notice." /1/ The latter principle has been applied to the case of a bear, /2/ and amply accounts for the liability of the owner of such animals as horses and oxen in respect of trespasses upon land, although, as has been seen, it was at one time thought to stand upon his ownership. It is said to be the universal nature of cattle to stray, and, when straying in cultivated land, to do damage by trampling down and eating the crops, whereas a dog does no harm. It is also said to be usual and easy to restrain them. /3/ If, as has been suggested, the historical origin of the rule was different, it does not matter.
Following the same line of thought, the owner of cattle is not held absolutely answerable for all damage which they may do the person. According to Lord Holt in the alcove opinion, these animals, "which are not so familiar to mankind" as dogs, "the owner ought to confine, and take all reasonable caution that they do no mischief.... But... if the owner puts a horse or an ox to grass in his field, which is adjoining to the highway, and the horse or the ox breaks the hedge and runs into the highway, and kicks or gores some passenger, an action will not lie against the owner; otherwise, if he had notice that they had done such a thing before."
[120] Perhaps the most striking authority for the position that the judge's duties are not at an end when the question of negligence is reached, is shown by the discussions concerning the law of bailment. Consider the judgment in Coggs v. Bernard, /1/ the treatises of Sir William Jones and Story, and the chapter of Kent upon the subject. They are so many attempts to state the duty of the bailee specifically, according to the nature of the bailment and of the object bailed. Those attempts, to be sure, were not successful, partly because they were attempts to engraft upon the native stock a branch of the Roman law which was too large to survive the process, but more especially because the distinctions attempted were purely qualitative, and were therefore useless when dealing with a jury. /2/ To instruct a jury that they must find the defendant guilty of gross negligence before he can be charged, is open to the reproach that for such a body the word "gross" is only a vituperative epithet. But it would not be so with a judge sitting in admiralty without a jury. The Roman law and the Supreme Court of the United States agree that the word means something. /3/ Successful or not, it is enough for the present argument that the attempt has been made.
The principles of substantive law which have been established by the courts are believed to have been somewhat obscured by having presented themselves oftenest in the form of rulings upon the sufficiency of evidence. When a judge rules that there is no evidence of negligence, he does something more than is embraced in an ordinary ruling that there is no evidence of a fact. He rules that [121] acts or omissions proved or in question do not constitute a ground of legal liability, and in this way the law is gradually enriching itself from daily life, as it should. Thus, in Crafton v. Metropolitan Railway Co., /1/ the plaintiff slipped on the defendant's stairs and was severely hurt. The cause of his slipping was that the brass nosing of the stairs had been worn smooth by travel over it, and a builder testified that in his opinion the staircase was unsafe by reason of this circumstance and the absence of a hand-rail. There was nothing to contradict this except that great numbers of persons had passed over the stairs and that no accident had happened there, and the plaintiff had a verdict. The court set the verdict aside, and ordered a nonsuit. The ruling was in form that there was no evidence of negligence to go to the jury; but this was obviously equivalent to saying, and did in fact mean, that the railroad company had done all that it was bound to do in maintaining such a staircase as was proved by the plaintiff. A hundred other equally concrete instances will be found in the text-books.
On the other hand, if the court should rule that certain acts or omissions coupled with damage were conclusive evidence of negligence unless explained, it would, in substance and in truth, rule that such acts or omissions were a ground of liability, /2/ or prevented a recovery, as the case might be. Thus it is said to be actionable negligence to let a house for a dwelling knowing it to be so infected with small-pox as to be dangerous to health, and concealing the knowledge. /3/ To explain the acts or omissions in such a [122] case would be to prove different conduct from that ruled upon, or to show that they were not, juridically speaking, the cause of the damage complained of. The ruling assumes, for the purposes of the ruling, that the facts in evidence are all the facts.
The cases which have raised difficulties needing explanation are those in which the court has ruled that there was prima facie evidence of negligence, or some evidence of negligence to go to the jury.
Many have noticed the confusion of thought implied in speaking of such cases as presenting mixed questions of law and fact. No doubt, as has been said above, the averment that the defendant has been guilty of negligence is a complex one: first, that he has done or omitted certain things; second, that his alleged conduct does not come up to the legal standard. And so long as the controversy is simply on the first half, the whole complex averment is plain matter for the jury without special instructions, just as a question of ownership would be where the only dispute was as to the fact upon which the legal conclusion was founded. /1/ But when a controversy arises on the second half, the question whether the court or the jury ought to judge of the defendant's conduct is wholly unaffected by the accident, whether there is or is not also a dispute as to what that conduct was. If there is such a dispute, it is entirely possible to give a series of hypothetical instructions adapted to every state of facts which it is open to the jury to find. If there is no such dispute, the court may still take their opinion as to the standard. The problem is [123] to explain the relative functions of court and jury with regard to the latter.
When a case arises in which the standard of conduct, pure and simple, is submitted to the jury, the explanation is plain. It is that the court, not entertaining any clear views of public policy applicable to the matter, derives the rule to be applied from daily experience, as it has been agreed that the great body of the law of tort has been derived. But the court further feels that it is not itself possessed of sufficient practical experience to lay down the rule intelligently. It conceives that twelve men taken from the practical part of the community can aid its judgment. /1/ Therefore it aids its conscience by taking the opinion of the jury.
But supposing a state of facts often repeated in practice, is it to be imagined that the court is to go on leaving the standard to the jury forever? Is it not manifest, on the contrary, that if the jury is, on the whole, as fair a tribunal as it is represented to be, the lesson which can be got from that source will be learned? Either the court will find that the fair teaching of experience is that the conduct complained of usually is or is not blameworthy, and therefore, unless explained, is or is not a ground of liability; or it will find the jury oscillating to and fro, and will see the necessity of making up its mind for itself. There is no reason why any other such question should not be settled, as well as that of liability for stairs with smooth strips of brass upon their edges. The exceptions would mainly be found where the standard was rapidly changing, as, for instance, in some questions of medical treatment. /2/
[124] If this be the proper conclusion in plain cases, further consequences ensue. Facts do not often exactly repeat themselves in practice; but cases with comparatively small variations from each other do. A judge who has long sat at nisi prius ought gradually to acquire a fund of experience which enables him to represent the common sense of the community in ordinary instances far better than an average jury. He should be able to lead and to instruct them in detail, even where he thinks it desirable, on the whole, to take their opinion. Furthermore, the sphere in which he is able to rule without taking their opinion at all should be continually growing.
It has often been said, that negligence is pure matter of fact, or that, after the court has declared the evidence to be such that negligence may be inferred from it, the jury are always to decide whether the inference shall be drawn. /1/ But it is believed that the courts, when they lay down this broad proposition, are thinking of cases where the conduct to be passed upon is not proved directly, and the main or only question is what that conduct was, not what standard shall be applied to it after it is established.
Most cases which go to the jury on a ruling that there is evidence from which they may find negligence, do not go to them principally on account of a doubt as to the standard, but of a doubt as to the conduct. Take the case where the fact in proof is an event such as the dropping of a brick from a railway bridge over a highway upon the plaintiff, the fact must be inferred that the dropping was [125] due, not to a sudden operation of weather, but to a gradual falling out of repair which it was physically possible for the defendant to have prevented, before there can be any question as to the standard of conduct. /1/
So, in the case of a barrel falling from a warehouse window, it must be found that the defendant or his servants were in charge of it, before any question of standard can arise. /2/ It will be seen that in each of these well-known cases the court assumed a rule which would make the defendant liable if his conduct was such as the evidence tended to prove. When there is no question as to the conduct established by the evidence, as in the case of a collision between two trains belonging to the same company, the jury have, sometimes at least, been told in effect that, if they believed the evidence, the defendant was liable. /3/
The principal argument that is urged in favor of the view that a more extended function belongs to the jury as matter of right, is the necessity of continually conforming our standards to experience. No doubt the general foundation of legal liability in blameworthiness, as determined by the existing average standards of the community, should always be kept in mind, for the purpose of keeping such concrete rules as from time to time may be laid down conformable to daily life. No doubt this conformity is the practical justification for requiring a man to know the civil law, as the fact that crimes are also generally sins is one of the practical justifications for requiring a man to know the criminal law. But these considerations only lead to [126] the conclusion that precedents should be overruled when they become inconsistent with present conditions; and this has generally happened, except with regard to the construction of deeds and wills. On the other hand, it is very desirable to know as nearly as we can the standard by which we shall be judged at a given moment, and, moreover, the standards for a very large part of human conduct do not vary from century to century.
The considerations urged in this Lecture are of peculiar importance in this country, or at least in States where the law is as it stands in Massachusetts. In England, the judges at nisi prius express their opinions freely on the value and weight of the evidence, and the judges in banc, by consent of parties, constantly draw inferences of fact. Hence nice distinctions as to the province of court and jury are not of the first necessity. But when judges are forbidden by statute to charge the jury with respect to matters of fact, and when the court in banc will never hear a case calling for inferences of fact, it becomes of vital importance to understand that, when standards of conduct are left to the jury, it is a temporary surrender of a judicial function which may be resumed at any moment in any case when the court feels competent to do so. Were this not so, the almost universal acceptance of the first proposition in this Lecture, that the general foundation of liability for unintentional wrongs is conduct different from that of a prudent man under the circumstances, would leave all our rights and duties throughout a great part of the law to the necessarily more or less accidental feelings of a jury.
It is perfectly consistent with the views maintained in this Lecture that the courts have been very slow to withdraw questions of negligence from the jury, without distinguishing [127] nicely whether the doubt concerned the facts or the standard to be applied. Legal, like natural divisions, however clear in their general outline, will be found on exact scrutiny to end in a penumbra or debatable land. This is the region of the jury, and only cases falling on this doubtful border are likely to be carried far in court. Still, the tendency of the law must always be to narrow the field of uncertainty. That is what analogy, as well as the decisions on this very subject, would lead us to expect.
The growth of the law is very apt to take place in this way. Two widely different cases suggest a general distinction, which is a clear one when stated broadly. But as new eases cluster around the opposite poles, and begin to approach each other, the distinction becomes more difficult to trace; the determinations are made one way or the other on a very slight preponderance of feeling, rather than of articulate reason; and at last a mathematical line is arrived at by the contact of contrary decisions, which is so far arbitrary that it might equally well have been drawn a little farther to the one side or to the other, but which must have been drawn somewhere in the neighborhood of where it falls. /1/
In this way exact distinctions have been worked out upon questions in which the elements to be considered are few. For instance, what is a reasonable time for presenting negotiable paper, or what is a difference in kind and what a difference only in quality, or the rule against perpetuities.
An example of the approach of decisions towards each other from the opposite poles, and of the function of the jury midway, is to be found in the Massachusetts adjudications, [128] that, if a child of two years and four months is unnecessarily sent unattended across and down a street in a large city, he cannot recover for a negligent injury; /1/ that to allow a boy of eight to be abroad alone is not necessarily negligent; /2/ and that the effect of permitting a boy of ten to be abroad after dark is for the jury; /3/ a coupled with the statement, which may be ventured on without authority, that such a permission to a young man of twenty possessed of common intelligence has no effect whatever.
Take again the law of ancient lights in England. An obstruction to be actionable must be substantial. Under ordinary circumstances the erection of a structure a hundred yards off, and one foot above the ground, would not be actionable. One within a foot of the window, and covering it, would be, without any finding of a jury beyond these facts. In doubtful cases midway, the question whether the interference was substantial has been left to the jury. /4/ But as the elements are few and permanent, an inclination has been shown to lay down a definite rule, that, in ordinary cases, the building complained of must not be higher than the distance of its base from the dominant windows. And although this attempt to work out an exact line requires much caution, it is entirely philosophical in spirit. /5/
The same principle applies to negligence. If the whole evidence in the case was that a party, in full command of [129] senses and intellect, stood on a railway track, looking at an approaching engine until it ran him down, no judge would leave it to the jury to say whether the conduct was prudent. If the whole evidence was that he attempted to cross a level track, which was visible for half a mile each way, and on which no engine was in sight, no court would allow a jury to find negligence. Between these extremes are cases which would go to the jury. But it is obvious that the limit of safety in such cases, supposing no further elements present, could be determined to a foot by mathematical calculation.
The trouble with many cases of negligence is, that they are of a kind not frequently recurring, so as to enable any given judge to profit by long experience with juries to lay down rules, and that the elements are so complex that courts are glad to leave the whole matter in a lump for the jury's determination.
I reserve the relation between negligent and other torts for the next Lecture.
LECTURE IV. — FRAUD, MALICE, AND INTENT.—THE THEORY OF TORTS.
[130] The next subjects to be considered are fraud, malice, and intent. In the discussion of unintentional wrongs, the greatest difficulty to be overcome was found to be the doctrine that a man acts always at his peril. In what follows, on the other hand, the difficulty will be to prove that actual wickedness of the kind described by the several words just mentioned is not an element in the civil wrongs to which those words are applied.
It has been shown, in dealing with the criminal law, that, when we call an act malicious in common speech, we mean that harm to another person was intended to come of it, and that such harm was desired for its own sake as an end in itself. For the purposes of the criminal law, however, intent alone was found to be important, and to have the same consequences as intent with malevolence superadded. Pursuing the analysis, intent was found to be made up of foresight of the harm as a consequence, coupled with a desire to bring it about, the latter being conceived as the motive for the act in question. Of these, again, foresight only seemed material. As a last step, foresight was reduced to its lowest term, and it was concluded that, subject to exceptions which were explained, the general basis of criminal liability was knowledge, at the time of action, [131] of facts from which common experience showed that certain harmful results were likely to follow.
It remains to be seen whether a similar reduction is possible on the civil side of the law, and whether thus fraudulent, malicious, intentional, and negligent wrongs can be brought into a philosophically continuous series.
A word of preliminary explanation will be useful. It has been shown in the Lecture just referred to that an act, although always importing intent, is per se indifferent to the law. It is a willed, and therefore an intended coordination of muscular contractions. But the intent necessarily imported by the act ends there. And all muscular motions or co-ordinations of them are harmless apart from concomitant circumstances, the presence of which is not necessarily implied by the act itself. To strike out with the fist is the same act, whether done in a desert or in a crowd.