Georg Friedrich Meier: Thoughts on the condition of the soul after death (1746)

Meier’s Gedanken von dem Zustande der Seelen nach dem Tode is a rare book for its time, since although it studies the condition of the human soul after death, it does not try to demonstrate that this soul will continue to exist then. Indeed, he says, most of the demonstrations suggested for the immortality of our souls seem convincing just because the conclusion has already been accepted. We believe in the afterlife, because the idea agrees with our hopes, and indeed, we picture the afterlife to be as we would like it to be: Meier mentions a noble who was certain that in the afterlife souls of the nobility won’t have to mingle with souls from the lower classes.

Meier still makes sure to ascertain that he isn’t trying to disprove the immortality of the soul either. The reason for such an explanation is clear, since Meier speaks of the pressure of religious zealots, who censure everyone who even appears to go against such central religious dogmas. Meier assures the reader that he believes in the immortality of the soul and the final judgement of all humans, just because the Bible has taught him so. He even admits that we can be morally certain of this immortality and commends anyone who wants to go even further and demonstrate it with complete mathematical certainty.

Still, Meier says, the aim of his work is to show that such a demonstration is impossible for human beings, although, as he immediately adds, human reason is not inevitably led to doubt the immortality of the human soul. He will even analyse some suggested demonstrations and show where they fail to prove what they set out to prove. Finally, Meier concludes, his work will make it clear that nothing certain can be revealed about the condition of our soul after death.

Meier emphasises that his work has not been motivated by mere arrogance. Instead, he wants to raise the value of faith and scripture by lowering the worth of the human reason. Furthermore, Meier insists, the distinction of the faith and the reason also defends the faith: if one would think that belief in the immortality of the soul is based on nothing else than supposed demonstrations of reason, the weaknesses of these demonstrations would place the faith also in jeopardy.

Meier scorns all those who prefer leaving people with the incorrect opinion that demonstration of the immortality of the soul is possible in the name of religion and morality. On the contrary, he says, religion and morality do not need such weak defences. Immortality does motivate us for morality and religion, but motives need not have mathematical, but mere moral certainty.

Morality specifically, Meier thinks, has motives, even if we didn’t believe in immortality, because it has good consequences even in this life, and at least philosophers are equipped to understand these motives. Even if other people would not recognise these motives, Meier says, they still wouldn’t all become murderers and robbers, if they did not believe in the immortality of the human soul. His justification is that people generally do not act on the basis of some theories, but on the basis of their passions and inclinations. Furthermore, he insists, universal lack of morality could not occur, since, for instance, a universal disregard of property rights would soon collapse, since no one could make sure that they could keep on to what they had stolen from others.

Even religion could exist with the belief in human immortality, Meier says. True, he admits, most non-believers in immortality are atheists. Still, the demonstration of God’s existence is independent of the truth of our immortality, and when we accept the existence of God already, we always have to accept religion also.

Christian Wolff: Natural right 6 – What a scholar must do

Wolff ends this part of Jus naturae with a study of the duties of a scholar, that is, a person who knows of things. Wolff begins by noting that there are different kinds of scholars depending on what the person in question knows: e.g. there are scholars of law and scholars of languages. Furthermore, he continues, scholars come in different grades. Scholars of the lowest or vulgar order merely know facts. More experienced scholars, on the other hand, have philosophical or even mathematical understanding why something is true. The highest order of scholars, finally, are capable of finding new truths.

Wolff suggests that all scholars should aim for the proper place in this hierarchy, that is, the place where they can achieve something. Thus, if they can ascend to a higher order, they should not be content with remaining on a lower order. Indeed, scholars of all orders should continuously try to progress further, Wolff says, and not be satisfied with the knowledge of things they have already acquired.

Wolff is also a proponent of cooperation in scholarship: if some scholar can help others further, for instance, by providing advice in acquiring information or in finding new truths, they should do so. Particularly, scholars of superior grades should teach those of inferior grades things that are useful in promoting knowledge and understanding. On the other hand, a scholar who cannot decide something on their own should follow the guidance of other, preferably more experienced scholars.

The goal of a scholar, Wolff determines, should be to propagate knowledge and science and to develop them, unless this would be contrary to other important duties. This general goal has many subgoals, as it could imply perfecting one’s intellect, but also perfecting one’s will (if we are speaking of the science of morals) or even perfecting arts that serve humankind to reach necessities, commodities and pleasures of life.

Scholars can have different careers, depending on what they are good at (e.g. whether they are used to working with their hands or with mere intellect and how they apply what they know to other things). Whatever their career choice, Wolff explains, a person following a career should especially know the things they work with. If a scholar wants to pursue any career and they haven’t decided yet what it should be, they should choose it depending on their abilities.

An important task for every scholar, Wolff emphasises, is to have a cognitive faculty they can use readily. This implies that they should especially perfect their intellect. Furthermore, their intellect should enable them to discern true from apparent good and have enough understanding of the natural law for cultivating virtue. Because of this assumed expertise, scholars are expected to be more perfect in virtue than ordinary people and to show a good example to others.

Wolff thinks that all scholars should be given as much praise as they merit. Then again, no scholar has a right for praise, if they do not merit it. Thus, they have no right to complain, when they are not praised in this case. Wolff also insists that no scholar should envy another for being praised, even if the other person does not really merit it: we are allowed to praise anyone we want, provided this is not done contemptuously.

According to Wolff, scholars have the right to defend their own fame or fame of others against those who challenge it. Then again, they are not allowed to contend for their fame by showing contempt toward others. Similarly, scholars are not allowed to gain favour of their countrymen by deriding other nations, or vice versa, to gain favour of foreigners by deriding their own country.

Scholars of second and primary order, Wolff continues, have as their special duty to raise disciplines of science to such a grade of certainty that they can and to distinguish truth in these disciplines from falsehoods. Then again, they should not undertake judgement of such things, which they have not endeavoured to know so meticulously as things, in which they excel. Thus, they should not attempt to reach greater certitude in things, which they are not yet adequately acquainted with.

Who is able to correct or refute errors committed by others has the right to do this, Wolff thinks. Then again, scholars of lowest order are not able to do this and have therefore no right to refute others and even less to correct errors. Wolff notes there are two methods of refuting people. In direct refutation, one is to demonstrate propositions as true what the other thinks is false or to show the manner in which the other falls into error. In indirect refutation, one is to assume as true what the other asserts and then infer from it propositions that the other acknowledges as false. Refutation should also not contain any scorn or arguments conducted out of hate.

In Wolff’s opinion, freedom to philosophise belongs to scholarship. Indeed, he thinks that everyone is permitted to propose their opinion on philosophical matters and also are to be permitted to publicly say their opinion on them. Thus, no one should be forced to defend an opinion that they hold to be untrue. Hence, although scholars have a right to defend truth against assailants, this truth cannot and shouldn’t be defended with external force.

Christian Wolff: Natural right 6 – Not yet living

From dead Wolff turns to those not yet living. Just like with the former, Wolff notes first that future generations do not have any rights and hence cannot acquire any property. This lack of rights extends, according to him, even to foetuses that are still in the uterus. Thus, if I say that I transfer some right to an unborn foetus, this isn’t literally true. Even so, Wolff adds, my statement still creates an obligation that I will transfer the right to the baby when they have been born.

More generally, Wolff thinks that although the unborn cannot have any proper rights, they can have some sort of quasi rights in the sense that they will acquire rights when they are born. Thus, there can be an agreement that a certain right will be passed on to the descendants of the person who currently has that right, after this person died, even if these descendants do not yet live. In the case of a foetus in the uterus, this quasi right cannot be removed and it has an equal juridical status as a promise that is supposed to be fulfilled if some condition occurs. Thus, if a thing is given to an unborn child and then delivered in my possession, I am expected to hand the thing over to the child, once they have been born.

An interesting case occurs, when a person relinquishes a right that was supposed to pass on to some unborn people. Wolff insists that such a renunciation is impossible, if the unborn person in question is already a foetus, but possible, if they are not even that. Furthermore, Wolff notes, the renunciation could also be done in such a manner that the quasi expectation of receiving the right when born would remain with the unborn people.

Wolff thinks that we also have some duties toward future generations, and indeed, that we should love and care for the generations to come. Such duties include that we must make sure that scientific truths and arts discovered by us are received by future generations by spreading new knowledge. Moral virtue is also something Wolff thinks should be transferred to future generations, for instance, by writing down examples of virtuous behaviour and teaching them to young people. Finally, Wolff suggests also that the happiness of future generations should be taken care of by e.g. planting fruit trees.

Christian Wolff: Natural right 6 – Bury your dead

Next topic Wolff discusses concerns the rights of dead humans. His first verdict is that the dead have no rights: as soon as a person dies, they lose all their rights, and at the same time, all their obligations vanish. This means particularly that the dead cannot own or possess anything, so that all things they had cease to be theirs.

The obvious question now is what happens to the things the dead person owned, and more extensively, to all the rights they had. Wolff notes that if the right in question was personal – something only they could have, such as when their neighbour allowed them to borrow a horse occasionally – this right just vanished at the time of death. On the other hand, other kinds of rights and particularly all property can be transferred from one owner to another. Thus, a person can decree that at the time of their death these rights and things will be transferred to a certain person. Sometimes the transfer happens even automatically, for instance, when the dying person owed something to another, what was owed should after the death naturally pass to the other. Only in the case that the dying person did not own enough for covering this debt, is it at least partially annulled. Furthermore, Wolff clarifies, while the rights and the property can change owner at the event of death, debt does not, that is, if you inherit something from a person, you are not obligated to pay what the dead person owed to someone else.

Although the dead do not have rights in some sense, Wolff continues, they do have rights in the sense that people still have obligations concerning them. For instance, if the dead deserve some praise, they should be praised even after their death. More generally, any good things they have done should be returned in some manner, for example, by doing good to people they had loved. This duty, Wolff thinks, should be followed especially by those who benefited from the deeds of the dead person, including those who inherited something from them.

What then of the dead who have done things that go against all morals, such as murderers? Wolff thinks that it would be best that such acts would be simply forgotten, so that no one would be influenced by these examples. If the deeds are well known, then they could be discussed, but only with the intention of instructing people not to do such things. Thus, bad deeds of the dead should be excused, as much as possible.

In Wolff's opinion, every dead person deserves some respect just due to their humanity and should thus be treated with some respect, even if they were our enemies. This respect concerns even the dead body or the corpse, which should not be treated like dead animals, Wolff insists. All dead bodies should be removed from the sight of the living, since corpses transmit diseases, but they should not be thrown to dogs or left rotting. Wolff underlines that human corpses should especially not be eaten, except in extreme necessity.

Wolff admits that there’s a number of appropriate ways to dispose of a dead body, such as cremation. Still, he thinks that the most convenient and thus the preferred way to deal with the corpse is burial, where the dead body is covered in soil. Right of burial is thus a universal right of all humans, and to show our respect to the dead, we should attend the funeral ceremonies where the dead are buried.

Where the dead can be buried, then? Wolff notes that in the natural state, the dead could be buried anywhere, but after the introduction of ownership, it requires the permission of the owner of the land. Thus, there arises a need for cemeteries or places where people are customarily buried.

Memory of the good and illustrious deeds of the dead should remain alive, Wolff notes. For this reason he recommends raising monuments, not just at the place where the remains of the dead are buried, but even in other places (these are particularly called cenotaphs). Other means include making funeral orations and inscribing epitaphs at monuments.

Funerals are not just about the simple fact of burying the dead, Wolff adds, but they often include ceremonies and rituals that are not strictly necessary for the sake of the burial itself. One such ritual is that people are not buried in nude. Wolff explains that this should be a universal custom, since it helps us to further separate dead humans from dead animals. Then again, he adds, there is no general rule whether the corpse should be wrapped in linen or whether the dead person should just wear regular clothing, but this must be decided by the circumstances. In any case, if the clothing symbolises the love and gratefulness toward the dead person, Wolff considers it appropriate that the clothed body is exposed to the eyes of the people in the funeral, for instance, by opening the coffin before lowering it to the grave.

We usually feel sad, when people dear to us have died. Thus, Wolff says, it is just natural that we show some external signs of sadness, such as crying. Furthermore, he adds, it is quite appropriate that we voluntarily choose to show further signs of mourning, such as a certain style of dress we wear.

Wolff concludes the chapter with a question controversial for a long time: is it allowed to dissect human bodies in order to learn about anatomy? He notes that dissection is essential to understand what makes humans healthy and what causes sickness. Furthermore, he adds, knowing the structure of the human body lets us also glimpse to the mind of its creator or God. Hence, Wolff sees no reason why bodies could not be dissected, as long as it is not done to living humans and as long as the dissected bodies are given a decent burial.

Christian Wolff: Natural right 6 – Right of necessity

One of the major topics of Wolff’s earlier volumes of Jus naturae was the distinction between the primaeval community of things and the later introduction of private ownership. Wolff considered the move toward the latter a good thing, but now he reveals that the ownership is not an absolute thing: there is a tacit assumption that if a person is bereft of necessities of life, they can even use things owned by another to satisfy these necessities. This right he calls a residual right remaining from the primaeval community.

This residual right, Wolff continues, is but an example of the more extensive class of rights of necessity (jus necessitatis). By this he refers to any right to do something that is usually not allowed, for the sake of some indispensable obligation that could not be otherwise satisfied. In other words, a right of necessity occurs in cases where several laws collide with one another. Indeed, he adds, all natural laws have tacit exceptions that they need not be followed, if some inevitable necessity prevents this. For instance, although we are usually obligated to help people in danger, the case is different if we are also in danger and have to first and foremost save ourselves.

While duties toward others can be overridden by right of necessity, Wolff insists, duties toward God cannot. In other words, Wolff thinks God should be worshipped, no matter what the necessity. Immediately after saying this, Wolff notes some exceptions. We should worship God internally, but we cannot do this, if we happen to be out of our mind – still, even in this case, Wolff notes, the obligation to worship exists, but it has just been suspended until we come back to our senses. In case of external worship, such as going to church, on the other hand, there might be some other duty that requires immediate satisfaction and thus prevents us from going to church for the time being.

Wolff goes into more detail investigating various cases where a right of necessity holds. One very classical example is that of shipwreck, with people trying to save themselves by using a boat that cannot carry all the passengers. Wolff thinks that, in general, first come is first served, and if all enter the boat at the same time, the stronger ones can just throw away the weaker ones. The case is somewhat different, he thinks, if the owner of the boat is present, as they have the right to decide who is to board the boat.

An example particularly relevant to rights remaining from the primaeval community occurs when a person is starving, but cannot obtain food by purchase, work or even begging. In such a state, Wolff says, the person is allowed to just take what they need from others, if necessary, even by using violence, and this is not to be seen as theft or robbery. More generally, if a person necessarily requires the use of a thing they cannot otherwise obtain, they can use such a thing belonging to someone else: for example, we are allowed to use weapons of another person, if we are threatened by an assailant and have no means of our own to defend ourselves. Even so, Wolff adds, the thing in question should be returned to its original owner, if possible. If not, for instance, if the thing is consumed by its use, like a piece of food, similar thing or at least something of equal worth should be returned.

A case that intrigues Wolff very much is that of a common danger making it necessary to destroy the property of a person, say, when an impending shipwreck necessitates throwing some cargo in the sea or when preventing the spread of fire requires wrecking some building. The basic principle is simple – if the destruction is necessary, it can be done, but the damages are to be compensated – but the more intricate question is who is to contribute in each case. In the case of cargo thrown from the ship, Wolff suggests that the compensation should be the duty of the owner of the ship and of everyone who had cargo that was not thrown in the sea, and to determine how much each is to contribute, the value of the destroyed and the saved cargo and of the ship with all instruments is to be estimated. To make matters even more complicated, Wolff adds that passengers and the payment they have contributed should also be taken into account, as well as the weight of various pieces of cargo and even of the passengers (e.g. if someone has thrown away lighter, but more expensive cargo, they should be more responsible of the damages). And of course, if the ship sinks, even if cargo was thrown in sea, no contribution is required.

In the case of the house destroyed because of raging fire, Wolff explains, the owners of the buildings that the fire could have reached should first and foremost contribute to the compensation for the damages. Wolff makes two important exceptions: firstly, those whose buildings were not saved, but burned down, need undoubtedly not contribute, and secondly, if the destroyed building was already being burned to ground, no one has to compensate for anything. Finally, if there was a certain person who was responsible, either through deliberate choice or through negligence, of the fire, this person is solely responsible for the compensation.

Wolff argues that the rights remaining from the primaeval community also go further than mere jus necessitatis. This is the case with what Wolff calls res innoxia utilitas, that is, something that we can use to our advantage without harming anyone, not even the owner of the thing, An example Wolff provides is a river: its owner is not hurt in any way, if someone draws water from it. A perhaps more important case of innoxia utilitas is that of using other people's lands. Passage through those lands and their rivers, roads and bridges should be allowed for both people and their merchandise, unless there is reasonable fear for damages, Wolff insists, although the owners might ask for a fee to provide for the maintenance of the road network. Wolff even thinks one is allowed to remain for a time in the lands of others for just reasons, and homeless people should even have the right of perpetual habitation. People should even have a right to acquire things they need for living for a fair price, which requires the maintenance of inns for travelers.

Christian Wolff: Natural right 6 - How to read contracts?

After various types of contracts, Wolff considers the more general problem of how to interpret them, that is, how to decide what the persons making the contract have wanted to say with the words in it. In other words, the question is of the intentions behind the linguistic expressions.

Wolff at once notes that interpreting contracts involves something very different from interpretation in general. Usually, it is all just about clarity. If the words have a fixed meaning and the writer or speaker is known to express their intentions sufficiently, no further interpretation is required. If the words or their meanings are not clear, we can then just simply ask the writer or the speaker to explain them further, since they know best what they intended to say.

In case of contracts, Wolff points out, there is something that interrupts this simple scheme: obligations. Now the person promising to do something is not the best person to ask what they meant by their words, since they might wish to deny some obligations they had promised themselves to. Similarly, the person who the promiser is obligated to is also not fit for interpreting the words, because they might want to have the promiser provide them more than was accepted.

The interpretation of contracts, Wolff concludes, should then happen through certain rules that can be accepted by all parties involved. In the best case, he adds, these rules could be demonstrated as being the correct ones. When the rules and the corresponding right interpretation have been decided, the obligations are now determined.

To make interpreting easier, Wolff notes that people making the contract should speak in such a manner that they can understand one another. More particularly, they should use the words in such a manner that makes their speech understandable – Wolff calls this using the proper meaning of the words. More generally, they should use all terms in the received sense and they should not knowingly and willingly depart from this. From the standpoint of interpretation, Wolff continues, the words should be presumed to be received in their proper meaning and terms in their received sense, unless some urgent reasons to the contrary appear. In other words, interpretations should mostly follow the common use of words.

Wolff takes into consideration that the contracts are sometimes interpreted much later than they have been made. In such cases, he notes, the interpretation should use meanings that the words had at that earlier time. Then again, he adds, the interpretation should not follow what he calls the etymological meaning of the words, that is, the supposed original meaning of the words, from which the later meanings have evolved.

Wolff observes that if the persons making the contract have expressly said how the contract should be understood and the contract has only common words with clear meanings, the interpreter should follow the common meaning of the words closely. More generally, if it becomes evident, what sense of the words agree with the intentions of the people making the contract, it is not allowed to suppose any other intentions behind the words. If the contract contains some technical terms, they should be generally interpreted by definitions common in the discipline in which they are used.

Wolff also considers homonymy, where the same word has different meanings, and amphiboly, where the same expression consisting of many words has different meanings. Obviously, homonymy and amphiboly cause difficulties for interpreting contracts. Wolff notes that in some cases different occurrences of the same word or expression might have to be interpreted in different manners. Generally, he adds, if homonymy or amphiboly make the intention of the contract obscure, the meaning agreeing best with the topic in question should be preferred.

A strict rule Wolff endorses is that any interpretation leading to something absurd should be rejected. This rule is to be followed, even if it would mean ignoring the proper meaning of the words. In particular, contradictions should be avoided.

Contracts are often long pieces of text, and while some passages might be transparent, others might still be obscure. In such cases, Wolff notes, the obscure parts are to be interpreted in a manner that agrees with the clearer passages. More generally, he continues, the different parts of the text should be usually interpreted in such a manner that they agree with one another, unless it is evident that e.g. later parts of the text change what was said in earlier parts.

Since the contracts are the expression of the volitions of the persons making it, interpreting them often involves studying the intentions of those persons. Thus, Wolff says, if we know the reason why the persons behind the contract wanted to say what they say in the contract, the words of the contract are to be interpreted in such a manner that they agree with this central reason. If there were many different reasons that all in conjunction made the persons to do the contract, the interpretation should agree with the sum of these reasons. Then again, if we know many alternative reasons that could have been behind the contract, the interpretation should agree with these reasons in separation.

Wolff notes that contracts often have what could be called favourable and burdensome parts. Favourable in contract is, Wolff defines, what cares for the common good of all sides of the contract, while burdensome is what burdens one side more than the others – an example of latter would be penalties attached to a contract. In interpreting the favourable parts, Wolff insists, words should be understood in the most extensive sense they can be, unless this interpretation would lead to some absurdities or unless a stricter reading would be more useful for all participants of the contract.

On the other hand, Wolff thinks, when interpreting the burdensome parts of the contracts, words are to be taken in a stricter sense, although even a figurative understanding of the words is admitted, if this helps to avoid great burdens. In the particular case of punishments, this rule implies that placing guilt upon a person would require stricter definitions, so that there would be more reasons not to punish anyone. Similarly, if a person has promised something quite liberally, a more lax interpretation is to be avoided if such would burden the person who promised too much.

Another general rule Wolff suggests is that interpretation should be made in such a manner that the speaker or writer would have interpreted it, if they were present and knew all relevant circumstances that had become common knowledge after the contract has been made. Thus, if the sufficient reasons behind the persons making the contract were known, the same interpretation could be extended to cases which literally are not included in the terms of the contract, but would agree with these sufficient reasons.

Continuing with the negative case, Wolff adds that if some case would literally agree with the terms of the contract, but would somehow contradict the intentions of a person in the contract, the interpretation should restrict the meaning of the words. Similar exceptions to terms of a contract can be made, according to Wolff, when following the strict meaning of the words would contradict natural law or would be too burdensome to some person involved in the contract.

An interesting case occurs when two contracts contradict one another and some exception has to be made. Wolff notes that because a contract contains promises and therefore causes obligations, it can be handled similarly as laws. Thus, following what he has said in a previous part of his study on natural law on collision of laws, he notes that if one contract e.g. permits or even orders something that another contract forbids, the forbidding contract is to be preferred. More generally, contracts involving stronger obligations trump contracts with weaker obligations. Thus, a contract with an oath or a penalty attached to it is to be preferred to a contract without them. If no reason for choosing one contract over the other is found, the decision can be made by agreement of all persons involved or even by lot.

Christian Wolff: Natural right 6 – Feudal relations

In the second chapter, Wolff continues with a special case of the dominum utile, namely, feudum or fief – we are now speaking of legal relations that work as the basis of feudalism. What differentiates feudum from other kinds of dominum utile is that both participants of the feudal contract – the owner and the vassal – agree to provide to one another fidelity, in other words, some duties that are further determined in the contract: for instance, the vassal might agree to provide military service to the owner, while the owner might then agree to protect the vassal.

Otherwise, the properties of the feudum are simply those of a dominium utile, for example, the vassal can use the feudal thing as they want, as long as they don’t do anything to harm its very substance, which is the property of the owner. The vassal can improve the feudal thing, unless even such changes have been explicitly denied.

The paragraphs above would really be all that can be said of a feudum in general, that is, Wolff says, its substantial determinations. Yet, when agreeing on the feudum, the owner and the vassal can add further conditions that lead to further rights and obligations. For instance, the owner can set a price or an annual payment for feudum or it could be contracted only for some period of time or e.g. for a certain family line (Wolff mentions the possibility that the feudum could be inherited by both sons and daughters or even only by daughters, but in every specific example he speaks only of sons, which was, of course, historically the most common option).

A feudal contract is usually valid, when the owner and the vassal agree on its conditions. Yet, Wolff adds, they may also agree that a certain formal document called the letter of investiture is written. He thinks that such a written document agrees well with the law of nature, since it makes the conditions of the contract explicit.

A condition Wolff considers most extensively is whether the feudal contract allows the vassal to transfer the feudum to someone else, that is, to donate or to sell it, and if it is allowed, whether the consent of the owner is required for this. In case this is allowed, the feudum must be similarly structured as it originally was, except if the feudal contract adds some additional conditions to these (for instance, the owner might demand a further payment from the new vassal). Still, if the original contract determined e.g. a certain type of service from the original vassal, the new vassal must also provide it to the owner.

Usually the owner does not need to ask the vassal, if they want to transfer their ownership to someone else – the feudum just remains valid, with the same conditions as originally. Still, the owner and the vassal can also agree, Wolff notes, that the owner cannot donate or sell the feudal thing at all or not without the consent of the vassal. If such a condition holds and the owner still does transfer their ownership to someone else, the vassal is not obligated to provide any services determined in the feudal contract to the new owner.

What kind of things can then be given as feudum? The historically most obvious example is, of course, some piece of land, but Wolff thinks that the feudal thing can be anything that is not consumed by its use, like a piece of furniture. Things consumed by use – say, a portion of wine – cannot be made a feudal thing. Yet, even such consumables can be indirectly made into a feudal thing, Wolff suggests, that is, by making a right to such consumables into a feudum. As an example Wolff gives what is called feudum de caneva (literally, a fief from cellar), where the vassal gains a right to e.g. use a certain portion of wine from the owner’s provisions during the vassal’s life.

Making a feudum of a right to some consumable things is one way to involve these consumables into a feudum, but Wolff notes also a more direct manner. That is, if a person gives some consumable – usually, a portion of money – to another, who provides as a surety something else (say, a house), we can think of the money, or whatever the consumable is, as something not consumable. With such surety in place, the owner of the money can then give the right to use the money to another person, in the sense that this other person can attempt to use the money to make more money through business deals or by loaning it with some interest. This is then a new kind of feudum, which Wolff calls both feudum pecunia (literally, fief on money) and quasi feudum, implying that this is a sort of extension of the proper sense of feudum.

Assuming it hasn’t been explicitly forbidden in the feudal contract, the vassal can create to their feudum a new feudum, which is then called subfeudum, Wolff points out: so, if the vassal has a right to use a certain piece of land, they can then hand a right to use a part of this land to someone else. What holds for any feudum obviously holds for any subfeudum, but the latter always has the further condition that the subfeudal contract someone makes with the vassal cannot contradict anything in the original feudal contract that the vassal made with the owner. The process can obviously go indefinitely further and a subfeudum can have a subsubfeudum etc.

Often a feudum runs in a family, so that when the original vassal dies, one of their descendants becomes the new vassal (usually the oldest son). Now, it may well happen that some family dies out, so that no one to have the feudum exists anymore. In such a case occurs what Wolff calls apertura feudi, which means simply that the feudal thing returns fully to its owner; in this case all possible subfeudum expire also. The same relation does not hold the other way around, that is, if the owner happens to die without any heir, the vassal does not become the owner – unless, of course, the feudal contract says so.

Wolff has already spoken of the possible selling or donating of a feudum, but a case of pawning requires more discussion. Of course, if the feudum cannot be sold or donated without the consent of the owner, it cannot also be pawned without this consent. The vassal can pawn the use of the feudum or its products, and this is what they must have understood to have implicitly pawned, if they pawn the feudum without the consent of the owner. Yet, Wolff adds, if the apertura feudi is near, that is, if the feudum is about to return to the owner, since the vassal has no heirs, pawning is forbidden even with the consent of the owner. Furthermore, even if the vassal has heirs and the owner does consent to the pawning, the heirs do not have to. Then again, only the right to use and the products of the feudum are pawned, and once the vassal has died, the heirs of the vassal are in no way obligated to provide anything else to the debtor of the vassal.

Another concept Wolff investigates is revocatio feudi, where the person who has the power to do so asks to retrieve the feudal thing. This does not usually mean the owner asking the vassal to return the feudum, since the owner does not have such a right, unless the feudal contract says that the owner can do so whenever they want. The more usual case is when the vassal has sold or donated the feudal thing without the consent of the owner or heirs, who then can ask the new holder of the thing to return it to them, once the vassal has died. In that case, the owner or the heirs need not refund the price of the feudal thing to its holder.

Another question Wolff considers is whether the vassal can refute the feudum, that is, to reject the right to use the feudal thing and to be freed of all the obligations involved in the feudal contract. In refuting the feudum, the vassal can either want to return the right to use the feudal thing to the owner or then to transfer it to someone else. In the prior case, the vassal can refute the feudum, unless this is against the rights of the owner, for instance, when the refutation is done, because the vassal wants to escape military service that the owner requires from the vassal according to the feudal contract. Furthermore, although the vassal has returned the right to the feudal thing to the owner in refuting the feudum, the heir of the vassal can later demand its return, when the vassal has died.

When the vassal refutes the feudum and intends to transfer the feudal thing to someone else, the important question is whether this intended new vassal is some heir of the vassal or just any outsider. In the latter case, the refutation of the feudum would simply mean its donation, which Wolff has already considered. In the previous case, the refutation can simply happen if the feudum is to go to the immediate heir of the vassal. Then again, if it should go to some other heir – say, a grandson, instead of the son – the immediate heir can insist the restoration of the feudum to them, once the original vassal has died.

An interesting case arises, when the vassal refutes the feudum and wants it to go to their immediate heir, who then at once wants to transfer the feudum to their heir. In that case, Wolff says, the important question is whether the vassal wanted the feudum to go specifically to the immediate heir or whether they just wanted to get rid of it. In the prior case, the feudum returns to the original vassal, in the latter case, it goes to the second heir.

The last thing Wolff investigates of feudum is the possible breaches against the obligations of the feudal contract. Obviously, any duties left unfulfilled mean a breach, such as if the owner does not provide the agreed protection to the vassal or the vassal the agreed military service to the owner. Wolff does note an exception to the latter case: if the owner is engaging in an unjust war, the vassal does not need to help them, even if the feudal contract would say so.

More serious breaches occur, if the substantial determinations of a feudum are broken, for example, if the vassal does not show any fidelity to the owner. This would happen, if the vassal does not want to avert damages to the owner or promote their advantage, when they can, and even more so, if the vassal causes damage to the owner or wants to do something against their health or in any manner conspires to do something like this. Thus, the vassal breaches the feudal contract, if they threaten the life of the owner, plan an ambush or enter into a destructive agreement with the enemies of the owner. They even commit a breach, if they desert the owner in battle or other hazard or do not help them.

Wolff notes some exceptions. If the vassal and the owner are in a common danger and the vassal prefers to save their own life over the life of the owner, no breach occurs. Similarly no breach happens, if the vassal kills the owner when the owner has first attacked the vassal with superior force and the vassal could not avoid being killed or mutilated, unless by killing the owner first.

Whatever the breach is, Wolff says, it does not lead to the vassal losing the feudum or to the owner losing their ownership, unless it is particularly agreed so. Even if such an agreement exists, the one behind the breach can still pay for their crime. In case of the vassal committing the breach, if they do not make any amends, the feudum would still continue in the sense that their heirs have a right to ask the feudum to be given to them, once the original vassal has died.