which grew with what they fed on; his task was never finished, even temporarily; his mind worked unceasingly. After five years of unsparing labor and constant strain his health became impaired, and this led to his death, in the prime of life and the prime of his usefulness.

The loss suffered by Thayer's death cannot be measured. To the community and to the Law School he gave the service of his great intellectual powers and ripening experience. To his students he gave without stint cr measure the best fruits of a wonderful mind and an almost inspired enthusiasm. To his friends he gave a heart pure as a child's, tender as a woman's, strong as a man's. The work of such an one may be done by others, but his place can never be filled.

William H. Dunbar.

It was a large undertaking to succeed James Barr Ames, cut off at the high tide of his fame as a scholar, a teacher and an administrator. It was a large achievement to meet the measure of that undertaking in five brief and heavily-burdened years. After Thayer had proved himself equal to the exacting measure set up by those who had gone before him and had given promise of becoming not the least of that goodly company, it was indeed a hard fate that took him off before the promise could be fulfilled.

Thayer had scant opportunity to show to the world his powers as a legal scholar. A prize essay, written while a candidate for his professional degree, a paper in the Harvard Law Review on a difficult point in the law of torts, three bar-association addresses, one of them published reluctantly after much urging, and a brief note as to the function of teachers of law, give a wholly inadequate picture. Intense conscientiousness impelled him to patient canvassing of all the authorities. He was almost morbidly anxious to be absolutely accurate and to present nothing that was not well matured. He was severely critical and consistently applied his critical powers to his own work. Accordingly he made repeated redrafts of everything that he wrote, and in any event would never have written much in point of quantity. "After all," he said more than once, "the reputation of the school will suffer no injury from

what I do not write." But he had a keen scent for the cases which were significant in the maze of contemporary law reports, a power of reducing jural situations to their lowest terms, and a faculty of seeing through a mass of legal materials and perceiving a principle by which the inert mass might be given life. Moreover, although a man of positive convictions, he was able to detach himself from prepossessions, to perceive and duly weigh all relevant considerations, and to look at the larger aspects of a question, in a time when so many legal questions are social questions also, without losing his footing upon the solid ground. To some extent he had exhibited these qualities in the little that he published. To some extent they are shown in more than one unfinished manuscript to which he had devoted much thought and labor, one of which, it is hoped, may prove ripe for publication. To some extent they are witnessed by a mass of patiently elaborated notes of lectures, critically revised from year to year, which in time would have borne fruit in contributions no less significant than those of his father. Yet these are but feeble testimony, and only those whose fortune it was to listen to him as he discussed the subjects of his study with the grasp and assurance of a master can know how truly we have lost a scholar.

If it was hard to follow Ames the scholar, it was even more hard to follow Ames the teacher, coming to the work of teaching, as Thayer did, for the first time at the age of forty-five. But Thayer had a high sense of the importance of the teaching function and set himself to master this part of his work. He studied a class as carefully as a trial lawyer studies a jury. He was wont to note upon the cover of each examination book, without knowing whose book it was, his impressions of the writer derived from reading it, and he kept careful memoranda with respect to the work, the capacity and the mental characteristics of his students. Also he devoted much time to consideration of methods of presentation, often recording after each lecture his impressions of what he had done and what he had left undone during the hour. This conscientious preparation joined to penetrating analysis, a merciless crossexamining elenchus developed in the forum, to which he submitted his own views no less than those of others, and an intellectual honesty that shirked no difficulties and tolerated no pretense, made itself felt in steady gain in his hold upon classes from the beginning

of his teaching. He had already become a teacher of the first order, and much of the results of his critical study of his vocation was yet to become manifest.

As an administrator Thayer was charged with maintaining and developing a great tradition. In his relations with the students he maintained the standard set by Ames, seeking to have a real personal acquaintance with every student and giving his time to conferences without stint. He was aware of the responsibility imposed upon the school by the possession of its library and gave anxious consideration to the growth of the library in its relation to the income of the school. He was no less aware that the curriculum could not remain for all time as it had come down to him and studied diligently how to improve it. Most of all he came to see the part which law schools and in particular the Harvard Law School may play, if they will, in the period of growth upon which our law has manifestly entered. Nor was he dismayed by the difficulties involved. On the one hand he had no doubt that the school must hold fast to the work of training lawyers for the practice of their profession to which it had been devoted heretofore. On the other hand he recognized that, without abating a jot of this, something more was demanded in an era of legal development no less rich in possibilities than that in which the school under Story's leadership was a factor in the reception of English law and the building thereon of a common law for America. With every inclination from training and environment to confine himself to the lines on which the school had developed in the past, he had the vision to see the service which the law school of today is called to perform and his sensitive conscience and unswerving regard for truth impelled him to heed the call. Happily his critical temper and well-reasoned firmness of purpose enabled him to avoid an over-ambitious program on the one side and an unwise narrowness on the other. In the opinion of a foreign critic, who is not likely to lay too much stress on the side of purely professional training, the plan he had laid out needs little alteration to give for our time "absolutely the best school for lawyers."

It is not easy for one who had known him so short a time to speak adequately of Thayer personally. What stands out permanently in one's memory of him is his conscientiousness, his loyalty, his devotion to duty, his considerateness of others. Not sanguine

and with little outward enthusiasm, he saw so clearly and strode in the path he saw before him so courageously as to derive from his conscience the élan which others derive from their temperament. Even a certain depression, born of his critical faculties and his sensitive conscience, was balanced by a sound sense of values and a keen sense of humor. His wit was Greek in its gracefulness and playfulness. Indeed the reading of Greek, which he kept up to the last, had left its mark upon him and one might think of him as one of the well born, well bred, well taught, widely cultured youth with whom Socrates practiced his dialectic. And even as Socrates taught, he thought consistently and he lived consistentlyΧερσίν τε καὶ ποσὶ καὶ νόῳ τετράγωνον, ἄνευ ψόγου τετυγμένον.

Roscoe Pound.

A NEW PROVINCE FOR LAW AND ORDER

INDUSTRIAL PEACE THROUGH MINIMUM WAGE AND ARBITRATION

HE new province is that of the relations between employers and employees. Is it possible for a civilized community so to regulate these relations as to make the bounds of the industrial chaos narrower, to add new territory to the domain of order and law? The war between the profit-maker and the wage-earner is always with us; and, although not so dramatic or catastrophic as the present war in Europe, it probably produces in the long run as much loss and suffering, not only to the actual combatants, but also to the public. Is there no remedy?

During a brief sojourn in the United States in the summer of 1914, I had the good fortune to meet many men and women of broad and generous outlook and of admirable public spirit. They were anxious to learn what I, as President of the Australian Court of Conciliation and Arbitration, could tell them of Australian methods of dealing with labour questions. I propose now, on the invitation of the editor of this Review, to state briefly the present position, confining my survey to my own personal experience.

The Australian Federal Constitution of 1900 gave to the Federal Parliament power to make laws with respect to "conciliation and arbitration for the prevention and settlement of industrial disputes extending beyond the limits of any one State." Following the example of the United States Constitution, the Constitution left all residuary powers of legislation to the States; and the theory generally held at the time of our constitutional convention was that each State should be left to deal with its own labour conditions as it thought best. But an exception was made, after several discussions, in favour of labour disputes which pass beyond State boundaries and cannot be effectually dealt with by the laws of any one or more States. Just as bushfires run through the artificial State lines, just as the rabbits ignore them in pursuit of food, so do, frequently, industrial disputes.

In pursuance of this power, an Act was passed December 15, 1904, constituting a Court for Conciliation, and where con

1 Sec. 51 (XXXV).