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The time is unripe for a new edition of the Lex Irnitana — more work is needed and more text might appear — but it seems desirable, given the availability via JSTOR of the text published in JRS 76 (1986), to publish a bare list of those places where that text is in serious need of correction. Most of the corrections are due to the sharp eye of Alan Rodger, who also observes that the action de sponsione in ch. LXXXIV is not an actio famosa, but an allegation that needs a causae cognitio and hence the intervention of the praetor.
The procedural rules of civil courts stimulate interest among few except the lawyers who practise in them. The procedures of the courts of the Roman world may therefore not seem an enticing topic. But procedure lies at the heart of any legal system and the Roman legal system is no exception. So when the discovery of the Lex Irnitana brought us fresh material about the jurisdiction and procedure of the local magistrates and courts at Irni, it added greatly to our understanding of one of the central institutions of the first-century Roman world. But the information is not always easy to interpret. The purpose of this article is first to try to solve an apparent mystery in Chapter 90 of the Lex and then to use the new material to fill out our picture of procedure in this period. In this way it is hoped to contribute to a fuller understanding of the Lex Irnitana as a whole.
In an important recent article, A. Rodger expounded a cogent analysis of ch. 84 of the Lex Irnitana and especially of the logic of its account of the limits of the jurisdiction of the duumviri (lines 1–25). He sums up (p. 150) his analysis of the jurisdiction of the duumviri as follows: ‘the picture which emerges is coherent, as we should expect. The duumvir has jurisdiction in cases up to 1,000 sesterces. In such cases the plaintiff may insist on his case being heard locally unless it falls into one of the exempted categories. In that event, unless both parties agree, the duumvir will have jurisdiction only for vadimonium to be made to the governor who will in turn deal with vadimonium for a hearing before the praetor in Rome. If on the other hand both parties concur, the duumvir will have jurisdiction in exempted actions of up to 1,000 sesterces, the only exception being cases where an issue of free status arises. If such an issue does arise, the jurisdiction of the duumvir is restricted to dealing with vadimonium to the governor. In cases over 1,000 sesterces the duumvir has no jurisdiction unless both parties agree. If the parties do not agree, again the duumvir has jurisdiction only for vadimonium to the governor. If, however, the parties do agree, the duumvir has jurisdiction in all matters except again where an issue of free status arises. If that issue arises, he has jurisdiction only for the vadimonium to the governor.’
In the spring of 1981, on a hill called Molino del Postero, in undulating territory 5 km south-west of El Saucejo and 3 km north-east of Algámitas, in the province of Seville, a group of men looking for ancient coins and armed with metal-detectors discovered six bronze tablets and some small fragments of other tablets, containing part of the municipal law of a hitherto unknown town, the Municipium Flavium Irnitanum. Although the name of the town was probably Irni, since ancient place-names in Spain ending with -i are very common, such as Astigi, Ucubi, Tucci, Iptuci etc, a name such as Irnium remains possible.
New discoveries are customarily hailed as events of the greatest importance; whether they always are is a matter more for the judgement of posterity than of the discoverer. But the Lex Irnitana is exceptional. Discovered in Spain in 1981, it has now been published for the first time with translation and commentary. It is the most complete copy yet discovered of the Flavian municipal law already known in more fragmentary form from Salpensa and Malaca. For Roman legal historians the detailed provisions on civil jurisdiction in the tenth and last tablet are of the greatest interest. They fall into three main areas: the first deals with the competence of local jurisdiction and the display of the relevant edictal remedies (chapters 84 and 85); next follow four chapters concerned with the selection of a pool of judges for each year and provisions on how to select them or recuperatores in any given case; finally the law regulates adjournments requested or required and the days on which cases may be heard or for which they may be adjourned. The law is notably well structured, an advantage for us since unexpected omissions may be regarded as significant rather than due to related material being scattered through many tablets, some not extant.
It is not the purpose of this paper to propose a new commentary on the legal provisions recorded in the Lex Irnitana, or to attempt to re-interpret as a whole what is certainly one of the major epigraphic discoveries of this century. Much more modestly, it employs an analysis of the diplomatic form to understand the imperial document called until now the ‘letter of Domitian’, which stands at the end of this copy of the Flavian municipal law.
(1) In Cicero, In Vatinium, § 29, occur the words: ‘ Fecerisne foedera tribunus plebis cum ciuitatibus, cum regibus, cum tetrarchis?’
With this are to be compared:
(2)Ad Fam. I. 9, 7:‘In quo omnia dicta sunt libertate animoque maximo de ui, de auspiciis, de donatione regnorum.’
(3)Att. II. 9, I:‘Irnprobitate istorum, qui auspicia, qui Aeliam legem, qui Iuniam et Liciniam, qui Caeciliam et Didiam neglexerunt … qui regna quasi praedia tetrarchis … dederunt.’
The outbreak of the Social War brought in its wake a furious succession of criminal prosecutions with important political implications. The wheels of ‘justice’ were set in motion by the notorious lex Varia, a criminal law passed on the motion of the tribune Q. Varius Severus Hybrida. It was not long before numerous prominent individuals came under attack and the Roman political scene was thrown into turmoil. The lex Varia will repay close scrutiny.
Modern scholarship has been content with the analysis of this measure delivered by Appian. Some time after the death of M. Livius Drusus, the tribune of 91 B.C., the equites endeavoured to make his liberal policy towards the Italians a ground for malicious prosecution of their enemies, and to this end they induced Q. Varius to pass his law. The purpose was to bring the entire senatorial oligarchy under the odious charge of sympathy with the Italian insurgents and to entrench equestrian control of the state. Such is the version of Appian. It is certainly true that, as was by now customary, external crises were made the pretext for attacks upon political opponents. The charge of bearing responsibility, in some sense, for the outbreak of war could be stretched to fit a wide variety of activities. But a careful examination of the lex Varia and of the cases heard under it will demonstrate that Appian's judgment leaves much to be desired. Legal and political consequences have never yet been fully understood or analysed, and the law can shed much light on Roman internal struggles in this period.
IN THE Hebrew Bible, an individual found guilty of intentional killing was subject to the most severe penalty, execution. In our analysis of the polluting effects of homicide, we observed that the only means of removing the defilement caused by a homicide was the execution of the intentional killer or the death of the high priest in the case of an accidental killer. The execution of the intentional killer is warranted for another reason, and in order to illuminate this aspect of the punishment, we must turn to another legal text. The sole focus of Lev 24:17–21 is to highlight the punishment for assault and for killing, whether the victim is a human being or an animal:
If a man strikes another and kills him, he shall surely be killed. The one who strikes an animal and kills it shall make restitution, a life for a life. If a man maims his fellow, as he has done so shall it be done to him, a fracture for a fracture, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, as he maims a man so shall it be done to him. The one who strikes an animal [and kills it] shall make restitution, and the one who strikes a man [and kills him] shall be killed. You shall have one law for both resident alien and citizen, for I am the Lord your God.
In order to understand Lev 24:17–21, we must analyze its literary form.
It is not always easy to remember that theo-logians say their prayers and take their part in the worship of the Church. We are most likely to overlook this basic fact when we read some of the more harshly polemical writings of the early Fathers. Yet many of them were bishops, not merely participants but leaders in the liturgical life of the Church. And the fiercer the controversy in which they were involved, the more important it is to recall the influence of the Church's worship upon their doctrinal beliefs. For it is often there that the key to understanding the fervour and the bitterness of the controversy lies. Men do not normally feel so deeply over matters of formal doctrinal statement unless those matters are felt to bear upon the practice of their piety. The close interrelation of doctrine and worship is an important element in explaining the desperate seriousness with which issues of doctrine were regarded in the early centuries.
The importance of the early Church's worship as a clue to the understanding of many features of the New Testament has been much stressed in recent years. The main emphasis in such studies has lain upon liturgical practice as helping to explain the way in which different New Testament writings have come to take their present form. But the practice of worship is almost equally important for any study of doctrinal development within the New Testament period.
For the municipal jurisdiction of the Roman Republic, the bronze tablet found at Veleia, which is commonly and, as I assume, rightly called the Lex Rubria, is clearly important but it is not in all places intelligible. The law dealt with the conduct of a range of civil cases in the courts of Cisalpine Gaul, from the proceedings in iure and the granting of a formula to the appointment of a iudex (cf. ‘ex hac lege’ ch. xxi 24), the delivery of the iudicium (cf. ch. xx) and the methods of execution available to local magistrates. Together with another more carefully drafted fragment from Ateste, which is at least closely related and may be a portion of the same law (cf. ‘ex hac lege’ in lines 8–9), it offers a glimpse of the legal structure in a crucial period. The Lex Rubria is longer, less carefully drafted, and at the same time more obscure; whence some contributions are offered towards the meaning of the text (I, II, III) and its implications (IV).
We have a national law appropriate to this kingdom. If you tell me of other laws, you are gone. I will only speak of the laws of England.
Edward Coke in parliament, 1628
The appeal to precedent is in the law courts merely a useful fiction by which judicial decision conceals its transformation into judicial legislation; and a fiction is nonetheless a fiction because it has emerged from the Courts into the field of politics or of history.
A. V. Dicey, Lectures Introductory to the Study of the Law
Edward Coke was born in the reign of Edward VI to Robert Coke, himself a lawyer of Lincoln's Inn. After a period at Trinity College, Cambridge, Edward became a student at the Inner Temple, being called to the Bar in 1578. Living in turbulent times, Coke honed his views of the law into a weapon not merely by learned disquisition, but by excavation, and irrigation. ‘Out of the old fields must spring and grow the new corne’, he was to write. His learning was prodigious, his industry untiring. As a practising barrister he kept copious notes of his own cases and those of others living and dead, a treasure trove from which he would later draw immense riches. All that he said would have the veneer of precedent and antiquity. A legal titan, he is considered to have done more than any other to create the modern notion of the rule of law. 3 One recent biographer has written, ‘what Shakespeare is to those who write in English, Sir Edward Coke has been to lawyers of the English-speaking world’. To an American judge he was ‘the oracle and ornament of the common law’. He was not, however, a nice man. He was disagreeable, irascible, arrogant, and a bully. Most notoriously he whipped his own daughter into submission when she had the temerity to demur at marrying the duke of Buckingham's brother, a match made not in heaven but to further her father's frustrated ambitions.
It is often affirmed that international arbitration does not have a forum. This statement can be seen as one of the manifestations of the doctrine that considers arbitration as a purely international phenomenon, detached from national laws. I have criticised this doctrine in many writings and will not repeat my arguments here.1 What this chapter deals with is one specific aspect, namely the significance for international arbitration of the arbitration law of the country in which the arbitral tribunal has its formal seat, the lex arbitri. The analysis will show that the statement according to which arbitration has no forum cannot de understood to mean that the lex arbitri has no significance for arbitration.