I Propose to begin with a word or two about the growth of Appeals and then to say something about the present appellate jurisdictions in this country. I suppose, speaking generally, the man who has a decision given against him has a disposition to be discontented with it, and tries to get another decision if he is satisfied that he is in the right. But I should imagine also that in early days the private litigant had a very small say in the matter whether he should, or should not, have the right of appeal. Before the Judiciary and the Executive were distinguishable, when the act of deciding disputes was an act of government, ordinarily performed by the Chieftain or Ruler though perhaps sometimes delegated to a subordinate, in those days, of course, the judge, being also ruler, there were no appeals, and one can only hope that decisions were satisfactory to everyone concerned. Whether the same persons made good rulers and good judges in the days of the Hebrew Judges I do not know; but I do know that I should be very sorry indeed if the two functions, which are of entirely different kinds, were united nowadays. As soon as a ruler began to delegate his function to a subordinate there can be no question that he would from time to time desire to revise the decisions that were arrived at, partly from self-interest, and partly, one may assume, from a sense of justice, knowing that, or thinking that, the decision was wrong and that he could give a better one. And in that kind of way there would gradually emerge a more or less settled system by which decisions would become the subject of review.

Of all Bacon's claims to greatness, his claims as a lawyer are the least of all known. It is strange that this should be so. The law was his profession. Through the law he gained position and honour—Solicitor and Attorney-General and Lord Chancellor. Moreover, I think that those who study his philosophy should remember that Bacon was trained as a student and practitioner in a system of case law, which taught him to construct the rules and principles of law from concrete cases. It is at least arguable that this had some influence on his inductive system of experimental philosophy. Yet there is no doubt that it is as lawyer that Bacon is least known. I think that for this three reasons can be assigned. In the first place, some of his appearances as a lawyer were the least creditable parts of his career. I do not propose to defend his conduct as Lord Chancellor—he himself threw up the defence. But I think that there is more to be said in extenuation of his offence than some of his more severe critics allow—that at any rate was the opinion of Mr. Spedding, to whose great work on Bacon the Master of Trinity has alluded. In the second place, to appreciate Bacon's greatness as a lawyer we must have a considerable knowledge of sixteenth century law, of sixteenth century legal literature, and of sixteenth century lawyers. That is not very common; but it is getting more common; and as a result of this I think it is clear that among sixteenth century lawyers Bacon is pre-eminent. His only rival is Coke. As a lawyer I think that he was Coke's equal, and as a juridical thinker infinitely his superior. Thirdly, the most decisive reason why Bacon's eminence as a lawyer has been so inadequately recognised is the fact that he took the losing side in the politics of the seventeenth century, and the fact that the influence of seventeenth century politics has been immense and long lived.

I Would like to preface what I have to say this evening by one deprecatory remark. I should not venture to tax your patience or reveal my own ignorance by attempting to speak of the Imperial Conference of 1926 as a whole. It was, probably, the most important of the striking series of Colonial and Imperial Conferences which have been held; and it covered an enormous area. It may be that the aspect of it with which alone I propose to deal is not the most important side of its many-sided labours, which included such matters as Inter-Imperial Trade. Defence, Air Communications, Nationality, Overseas Settlement, and Economic Resources. But it is the only one on which I am even moderately competent to speak; and therefore I beg to draw your attention to the fact that I am going to speak of the Imperial Conference only on its constitutional side.

The title which I suggested for this address was prompted by some enquiries which I had recently been making into the history of my Inn—which you will forgive me for regarding as the best of the Inns of Court—the Inner Temple. In its records I had been struck with the contrast that was apparent between the life of the law student as there depicted and that of the law student of to-day. I think that in the old times for a man to come to Oxford or Cambridge, before going to London and becoming either a barrister or a solicitor, was very much less common than it is to-day. A certain number of law students no doubt went first to Oxford or Cambridge, but few of them seem to have taken a degree. I had occasion to look into the life history of seven or eight barristers at the end of the 18th century, and I found that each of them was a member of a college, either here or at Oxford, but only two of them took a degree. In those times it was much commoner for a man to spend a year or two, either here or at Oxford, and then to go on to London. The poorer ones, I think, went first to an Inn of Chancery, of which there were about ten attached to the various Inns of Court. The Inner Temple had four of the attached to it—Clement's Inn, Clifford's Inn, New Inn, and Lyon's Inn.

It is recorded in the annals of Ouchronia that Robinson Crusoe, shortly after his return home, met a college friend, who forthwith invited him to deliver a public lecture to his constituents on the “Principles of Political Science as exhibited in an Island State’. Ignorance, eagerness to mix once more with his fellow citizens, and an hypnotic state superinduced by the splendour of the topic proposed, concurred to make the unwary traveller accept the invitation. A very few days of reflection were sufficient, however, to reveal to him the full extent of his impotence and of his audacity; and the chronicle goes on to record that he hastily put his affairs in order, and set sail without delay. upon his second voyage. I have felt much sympathy in the last few weeks with Robinson Crusoe in his quandary; but unlike him, I propose to throw myself upon your indulgence, only asking you to make allowance for a nearly life-long absence from the atmosphere of universities, libraries, and great tribunals.

In the spring of 1925, the public fancy was caught for a moment by a Privy Council case involving the legal position of Hindu idols. The Times newspaper discussed it in a leading article. The case was fully reported in India and attracted some attention there; but, though it was also reported here, it does not seem to have interested English lawyers. Few readers of this Journal are particularly concerned with the technicalities of Hindu law, but the case seems to have for students of jurisprudence a much more general interest.

It was decided by the Court of Appeal (Bankes and Atkin I.JJ., Scrutton L.J. dissenting on another ground), in Commercial and Estates Co. of Egypt v. Board of Trade, that the Crown has by prerogative the right to requisition the goods of neutrals found in this country, on payment of compensation, where such seizure is necessary for the defence of the realm. This right corresponds to what is known in International Law as “ the right of angary.” It is proposed to examine in this paper the nature and extent of this prerogative right.

Of the various devices for facilitating the disposition of property which conveyancers have invented, the trust for sale has been in the past one of the most useful, and its utility has been greatly extended by the Property Acts of 1925. Most students of the law first come across it in the famous argument of Lord Eldon, then John Scott, in Ackròyd v. Smithson (1780, 1 Bro. C.C. 503), and the rebuff he received when, a little later, he argued, or tried to argue, on the other side. “Mr. Scott,” the Chancellor of the Lancaster Chancery Court said to him, “I have read your argument in that case of Ackroyd v. Smithson, and I defy you or any man in England to answer it.” That was on the doctrine of conversion, the immediate result of a trust for sale, and the refinements to which the doctrine led formed, till the recent legislation, one of the most important branches of equity. With the abolition of the heir at law, and the distribution, in cases of intestacy, of the proceeds of real estate among the new statutory next of kin, these refinements have become obsolete so far as regards the property of persons dying after 1925, but the immediate operation of a trust for sale—the power conferred on the trustees of making a title to the land—remains.