The Emperor of Law The Emergence of Roman Imperial Adjudication (Tuori, Kaius)

OXFORD STUDIES IN ROMAN
SOCIETY AND LAW

General Editors
PAUL DU PLESSIS THOMAS A. J. MCGINN
OXFORD STUDIES IN ROMAN
SOCIETY AND LAW
The aim of this monograph series is to create an interdisciplinary

forum devoted to the interaction between legal history and ancient
history, in the context of the study of Roman law. Focusing on
the relationship of law to society, the volumes will cover the most
significant periods of Roman law (up to the death of Justinian in 565)
so as to provide a balanced view of growth, decline, and resurgence.
Most importantly, the series will provoke general debate over the
extent to which legal rules should be examined in light of the society
which produced them in order to understand their purpose and
efficacy.
The Emperor
of Law
The Emergence of Roman Imperial
Adjudication
K A I U S TU O R I
1
3
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© Kaius Tuori 2016
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First Edition published in 2016
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Preface
This book began with a curiosity concerning the contradictory

accounts of imperial adjudication, where the same emperor might
appear at one moment as a most diligent judge issuing refined legal
opinions, and a raving, murderous lunatic at the next.
Many people helped me along the way in this inquiry. As a research
project, it started out as a side project during a post-doctoral period at
New York University in 2007–8 (funded by the Hauser Research
Scholar Program, the Kone Foundation, the Osk. Huttunen Founda-
tion and the ASLA-Fulbright Graduate Grants Program). In Helsinki,
parts of the project were presented at different ancient history, legal
history, and classics workshops and colloquia. With funding from the
Emil Aaltonen Foundation, a research project was set up on issues of
public and private in the Roman house, where I was able to develop
the book idea with Laura Nissin, Juhana Heikonen, Heta Björklund,
and Samuli Simelius, using the project as a sounding-board, especially
for my ideas of the emperor moving between the public/private
dichotomy. I would like to thank Juhana Heikonen for producing
the illustrations for this volume.
The book project took centre-stage in 2011, as the Academy of
Finland was selected me as an Academy Research Fellow. Funded in
part by the Foundation’s Post-Doctoral Pool, I returned to NYU in
2012–13, where Michael Peachin was my gracious host at the Classics
Department and Larissa Bonfante was kind enough to lend her office
to me. At NYU, in addition to Mike and Larissa, I would like to thank
Benjamin Straumann for our innumerable dinners and discussions,
Bill Nelson and Dan Hulsebosch for welcoming me to the NYU Legal
History Colloquium, and to the faculty and graduate students at the
Classics Department for their warm welcome and friendship. Mike
and Benjamin would read the manuscript in its different iterations
and offer their constructive criticisms, for which I am thankful.
Back in Helsinki, I was fortunate enough to spin off a part of the
project as a European Research Council project (ERC project Found-
Law, n. 313100), enabling me to gather my own research group. Jacob
Giltaij, Tommaso Beggio, and Ville Erkkilä have had the dubious
viii Preface
benefit of reading the chapters and debating them in our meetings.
I would like to thank them for their comments and criticism during
the making of this book.
As the work progressed, I pitched the book to OUP, where series
editors Paul du Plessis and Tom McGinn worked tirelessly to
improve the ideas and their execution. I remain very much in their
debt for making this a better book. My editors Charlotte Loveridge
and Georgina Leighton have borne the usual queries for extensions
and more words with patience and professionalism.
Parts of this study were presented at different conferences over the
years (AAH, ASLH, SIHDA, to mention just a few), as well as smaller
colloquia such as the NYU Legal History Colloquium or the Tvär-
minne Late Antiquity workshop. For all of these events, I am ever
grateful to all those who took the time to read my work, listen to the
presentations, and give their comments. Many others, like Detlef
Liebs, gave valuable insights and advice along the way. The book
has been immensely improved as a result.
This book has three academic homes: Helsinki, New York, and
Rome. In Helsinki, the numerous legal historians have been my
primary reference group and commented on my work on many
occasions. Janne Pölönen, my co-conspirator in the Finnish study
of the history of Roman law, not only shared his wide knowledge but
also read the manuscript in full. Joonas Sipilä gave freely from his
extensive knowledge of Roman administration, Kai Juntunen from
his studies on Dio. Professor Carlo Lo Zio gave his insights on the
legal implications of concentrated sovereign power. In Rome, the
Finnish Institute in Rome at the Villa Lante has been not only a
place to stay but also an academic home. Much of the research
literature came from three wonderful libraries, the École Française
de Rome, the American Academy in Rome, and the Roman Law
Library at La Sapienza.
A note on translations and literature: I have used widely available
editions and translations, on some occasions amending an existing
text. Word limits have made it impossible to compile comprehensive
lists of all literature, but I have attempted to include references to
works that allow the reader to have an understanding of the literature.
Help in the research and editing process was provided by Laura
Nissin, Phil Katz, Ville Erkkilä, and Heta Björklund. Of those, Heta
Björklund did the brunt of the work of editing the text and the notes
to house style and preparing the bibliography and the list of cases.
Preface ix
Thank you! Margot Stout Whiting ably corrected my English. Nat-
urally, the responsibility for the views and errors in this book is
entirely mine.
This book is dedicated to my mother, who remains confident that
I will eventually get a real job.
Kaius Tuori
Helsinki
15 January 2016
Contents
List of Illustrations xiii
Introduction 1
1. Caesar, Cicero, and the Models of Legal Autocracy 21
2. Augustus as Judge and the Relegation of Ovid 68
3. Divine or Insane: Emperors as Judges from Tiberius
to Trajan 126
4. Hadrian as the Ideal Judge 196
5. Caracalla, the Severans, and the Legal Interest
of Emperors 241
6. Conclusions 292
Appendix: Known Instances of Imperial Adjudication

from Caesar to Severus Alexander, and Their Sources 299
Bibliography 417
Index 458
Index Locorum 466
List of Illustrations
1.1. Forum Romanum during the trial of Ligarius.

Reconstruction by Juhana Heikonen. 26
1.2. Domus publica. Hypothetical reconstruction by Juhana
Heikonen. 50
2.1. The so-called house of Augustus, the temple of Apollo and
the area Apollonis. Hypothetical reconstruction by Juhana
Heikonen. 118
3.1. Forum Romanum during the reign of Claudius.
Reconstruction by Juhana Heikonen. 165
3.2. Relief (Plutei Traiani) of the seated emperor Trajan in
the Forum. Line drawing from the original relief by
Juhana Heikonen. 166
3.3. The Domus Flavia in Palatium, showing the large
reception halls (conventionally named Basilica and
Aula Regia). Reconstruction by Juhana Heikonen. 168
Introduction
Sometimes, the importance of something becomes apparent only

when access to it is prevented. The young emperor Severus Alexander
(ruled 222–35) wrote to the Greek community in Bithynia, reproach-
ing all who sought to limit the appeals to him by litigants unhappy
with the decisions of local judges, saying that ‘it is permissible to make
use of a better route to the same end and to reach me faster’. He
particularly prohibited procurators and provincial governors from
using violence and military force to obstruct the approach of peti-
tioners to him, maintaining that ‘I care as much for the liberty of my
subjects as I do for their goodwill and obedience’.1 This letter,
addressed to a local council in Asia Minor, was not only so well
known that it was included in the Digest by the jurist Paul, but copies
of it were even found on papyri in Egypt.2 This demonstrates how
vital the emperor considered the upholding, or the appearance of
upholding, the connection between himself and faraway petitioners,
and equally how important this connection was to the people. The
Roman emperor was considered to be the final judge, the supreme
court, and the guarantor of justice.
The focus of this book is on the way in which the Roman emperor
became a judge, emerging as a ‘supreme court’ for the Roman Empire
through a process of persuasion and assertion, beginning from the
Late Republic and ending with the Severan period. This was a
momentous change, as John Crook wrote: ‘The emergence of the
ruler as supreme judge and head of the legal order is the principal
formal difference between the Republic and Empire.’3 Previous works
1
Dig. 49.1.25.
2
MacMullen, Response to Crisis (1976), 81. POxy. 17.2104 = POxy. 43.3106.
3
Crook, ‘Augustus’ (1996), 123.
2 The Emperor of Law
have approached the process either through laws or through behaviour,
seeking to deduce fixed rules from patterns of behaviour. Formalistic
scholarship, which viewed the issue as a legal matter, starting from
nineteenth-century German Roman lawyers but extending to the
present day, assumed that the emperor was formally authorized to act
as judge by legislation or by administrative continuity from the Repub-
lican magistrates.4 Functionalistic scholars, on the other hand, looked at
the actual behaviour of the emperors as judges and drew general
conclusions out of individual cases. The functionalistic adage ‘man is
what man does’ was turned into ‘the emperor is what the emperor
does’.5 Both of these viewpoints offer a deceptively clear vision of
what the emperor could do and did do, because what they give is an
amalgamation of sources that are both contradictory and scarce.6 The
methodology of analytical jurisprudence, which would take into con-
sideration not only rules and behaviour, but also the impact of ideology
and belief, has been neglected until recently.7 This study seeks to present
an alternative approach to the problem of imperial jurisdiction through
the analysis of narratives.8 The motto for this study could thus be that:
‘The emperor is what the emperor is believed to be.’
Through the examination of narratives, this study seeks to shift
focus from an anachronistic understanding of legal change being
formulated through rules that may then be examined as laws or
behaviour reflecting law, towards the investigation of the changing
historical tradition as a sign of the emergence of jurisdiction. By
looking at both legal and historical sources, it is argued that the
emergence of imperial jurisdiction may be best observed through the
manner in which it was discussed instead of through laws or legal
4
On the contradiction between Mommsenian constitutionalism and its legal
formalism against historical and political realism, see Peachin, Princeps (2005). For
a fruitful combination of the two, see Capogrossi Colognesi, Law and Power (2014).
5
Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 6.
6
This contradiction extends to opposing views of what the Roman Empire was
like. Elizabeth Meyer has described the formalistic vision of ancient Rome as an
orderly place, something resembling modern Zurich: see Meyer, Legitimacy and
Law (2004), 3.
7
By ‘the approach of analytical jurisprudence’ here is meant sensitivity towards
ideological and cultural features in law. For one idea of the implications, see Twining,
‘Have Concepts’ (2005). On the interplay between law, communication and culture,
see Ando, Imperial Ideology (2000).
8
On the emerging field of law and narratives and its uses in pre-modern legal
history, see Bartor, Law as Narrative (2010), 2–8. On the methodological foundation
of this study, see further discussion in this Introduction.
Introduction 3
practice. Narratives of jurisdiction that describe the emperor as either
exercising jurisdiction or refraining from it, as a holder of power and
responsibility created the perception or a shared conviction of a
capability to adjudicate, in other words, jurisdiction.9 Examples of
imperial adjudication that were repeated in these narratives reinforced
the belief in the imperial authority and, thus, its legitimacy.
Instead of trying to coalesce the contradictory historical sources
into a historical narrative, this study seeks to utilize their depictions of
imperial adjudication on two levels. First, it will examine the different
contemporary narratives of emperors as judges by approaching them as
a dialogue in which different actors are presenting their own views of
imperial power.10 For example, three different narratives of Augustus
as judge will be discussed. Ovid tells his story of his unexplained
banishment by imperial fiat, an abuse of power, even if it was formally
legitimate.11 The provincials who inscribed their stories of Augustus’
legal intervention reveal the emperor as supreme court and magistrate
of the whole Empire.12 Augustus’ own narrative remains purposefully
mute, sticking to the storyline of Republican continuity, where no
extraordinary jurisdiction is mentioned. Second, the past is prone to
change, since each account of the past also reflects contemporary
concerns.13 What later authors like Suetonius and Dio relate of the
first emperors reflects a fairly ahistorical view of the past: the Roman
emperor was a creation of Augustus who did not change over time.14
They both assume that Augustus had the practices and powers of the
emperor in their own time. This bias was strengthened by the constant
reference to the past in official narratives. Because the past justified the
future through exempla, the fact that later authors said something of
Augustus’ actions was also significant in the contemporary setting.
Thus, what was said of the emperors adjudicating, settling disputes,
9
On the importance of constitutional ambivalence and argumentation, see Lintott,
Constitution (1999), 7.
10
The importance of narratives was already recognized in Harries, Law and
Empire (1999), as well as in recent studies such as Sumi, Ceremony and Power
(2005), Roller, Constructing Autocracy (2001), and Gradel, Emperor Worship (2002).
11
Ov. Tr. 2.121–40.
12
SEG IX 8; IG XII 3.174 = FIRA III 185; Chisholm and Ferguson, Rome (1981),
132, 134–5.
13
I have previously written on the flexibility of the past in legal history, for
example, in Tuori, Ancient Roman Lawyers (2007).
14
Suet. Aug. 33.1; Cass. Dio 53.17.6–7; Bleicken, Senatsgericht und Kaisergericht
(1962), 74–5.
and acting as judges worked in two ways, both in the contemporary
setting and within the historical dimension.15
The approach is thus focused on narratives of adjudication and
jurisdiction. Instead of rigid notions of law and legal procedure, what
it seeks to bring forward is the uniqueness of Roman constitutional-
ism as a discourse drawing together legalism, historical memory, and
narratives.16
The questions that this study seeks to answer are:
1) How did imperial adjudication emerge? How was it reflected in
the narratives of emperors and how did these narratives change
over time?
2) What kind of judge was the Roman emperor? On what kinds of
examples and models of rulers, judges, and arbitrators were
these convictions founded and how were these narratives con-
stitutive of the power of adjudication?
3) Why did the emperor become an adjudicator? What roles and
needs did emperors, petitioners, and administrators emphasize
and how did these develop?
The process by which the emperor became the supreme judge and,
by extension, the supreme legal authority, has not been adequately
studied. In contrast, the development that led to the emperor becom-
ing the head of the legal system at large is well documented. Imperial
will, expressed through popular legislation, senatusconsulta, edict,
letter, and rescript, replaced all other legislative forms. Through the
rescript system, imperial justice was available to petitioners from all
around the Empire.17 The imperial legal bureaucracy, such as the
appointment of city and praetorian prefects by Augustus to govern
and to administer justice on behalf of the emperor, as well as the later
appointment of iuridici and imperial legati to administer law, speak
of the way that the legal system was centred around the emperor.18
15
Even in Republican Rome, narratives had a crucial constitutive and constitu-
tional significance as a source of ancestral custom. See Lintott, Constitution (1999), 26.
16
On the emerging debate over Roman constitutionalism, see Ando, ‘Republican
Constitutionalism’ (2013).
17
Orestano, Potere normativo (1962); Marotta, Mandata principum (1991); Gallo,
Potere normativo (1982); Nörr, ‘Reskriptenpraxis’ (1981); Arcaria, Referre (2000).
18
Dig. 1.11, 1.12.1, 1.2.2.33; Capogrossi Colognesi, Law and Power (2014), 252–71;
Eck, ‘Government and Civil Administration’ (2000); Vitucci, Ricerche sulla praefec-
tura urbi (1956); Rucinski, Praefectus Urbi (2009); Woiciech, Stadtpräfektur (2010).
Introduction 5
In the provinces, governors working under the emperor would run
the legal administration. Even in Rome, the introduction of the new
cognitio process associated with imperial courts would yield justice
unconstrained by formalities and economic burdens, its only focus
being substantive truth.19
The centre of this system, the emperor as judge, has remained an
enigma despite important attempts to decipher the way that the
system was created and why.20 The main works are still Millar’s
1992 The Emperor in the Roman World 21 and Honoré’s 1994
Emperors and Lawyers,22 which focus on the activities of the
emperors in general and the imperial rescript system, respectively.
Other studies have sought to trace the process down to issues like
legal procedure, administration, punishment, power, or constitution-
ality. Some, like Bleicken, traced the growth of imperial jurisdiction
by linking it to the Senate’s jurisdiction. Others, like Kelly and Jones,
see imperial jurisdiction emerging gradually from specific areas such
as maiestas.23 In the current debate, there are essentially two schools
of thought regarding the emperor as judge, of which Millar and
Honoré are good examples. The first emphasizes the factual power
of the emperor as a leader, while the second underlines the formal
legal aspects of the emperor’s adjudicative and legislative activities.
Millar writes how the emperor’s power to kill, confiscate, and relegate,
with or without legal procedure, was an essential part of how he
functioned. However, this did not in any way hinder the emperor’s
active role as a judge adjudicating cases between citizens.24 Honoré
19
Dig. 48.19.13; Kaser and Hackl, Zivilprozessrecht (1996), 435–516.
20
Two recent studies, Randazzo, Doppio grado (2011); Fanizza, L’amministrazione
(1999), 11–60, illustrate the historical difficulties, both practical and conceptual, that
any such attempt must face.
21
Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]).
22
Honoré, Emperors and Lawyers (1994), similarly on lawyers, Bauman, Lawyers
and Politics (1989).
23
Bleicken, Verfassungs- und Sozialgeschichte (1978); Bleicken, Senatsgericht und
Kaisergericht (1962); Kelly, Princeps Iudex (1957); Jones, Criminal Courts (1972);
Jones, ‘Imperial and Senatorial Jurisdiction’ (1954). Of recent studies, see also Spag-
nuolo Vigorita, Le nuove leggi (1992); Peachin, Iudex (1996); Milazzo, Ordinamenti
giudiziari (1999); Corcoran, Empire of the Tetrarchs (2000); Wankerl, Appello (2009);
Schilling, Poena extraordinaria (2010); Connolly, Lives behind the Laws (2010); Rizzi,
Imperator cognoscens decrevit (2012); Masuelli, Giudice privato (2012); and most
recently Ferrary and Scheid (eds.) Il princeps romano (2015).
24
Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 6–7, 527–30: ‘the emperor’s role in relation to his
subjects was essentially that of listening to requests, and of hearing disputes’ (p.6).
criticized this view of the unfettered power of the emperor and
pointed to the degree to which emperors, almost without exception,
relied on lawyers while exercising their legal role as a judge or in
answering petitions. According to Honoré, the role of the emperor as
a court of appeal and the imperial rescripts as a legal aid show how
emperors actively promoted the rule of law for the entire Roman
Empire.25 However, both agree that adjudication was a central task of
the emperor. Peachin similarly stresses that the emperor spent a
considerable amount of time sitting as a judge, and that the percep-
tion of the emperor as the good judge, the final source of justice who
corrected unjust laws and unfair decisions, was formed by the second
century AD.26 Dillon demonstrates how imperial jurisdiction was an
administrative tool to spread imperial influence, a way of gaining the
loyalty of the people and for punishing corrupt officials.27 Studies on
petitioning and appealing to the emperor have recently explored it as
a bottom up procedure, emphasizing the agency of the petitioners and
their strategies.28
In earlier, mainly German, studies regarding the office of the
Roman emperor, rigid constitutional theories were presented to illus-
trate the way the emperor became a judge. This was often through the
exposition of the powers of the Roman emperor, beginning with the
assumption that there actually was an agreement on what the powers
of the emperor were or that there was a fixed constitution.29 The main
problem with the formalistic approach regarding the emperor’s jur-
isdiction is that the sources upon which it could be based are not there
and the sources that are there offer no support for this view.30 The
Hopkins, ‘Rules’ (1978), 180, already criticized him for overlooking the importance of
questions of power, legitimacy, and authority.
25
Honoré, Emperors and Lawyers (1994), 12–16, 28, 33.
26
Peachin, Iudex (1996), 4, 13. See also Kelly, Princeps Iudex (1957); Connolly,
Lives behind the Laws (2010).
27
Dillon, Justice of Constantine (2012).
28
On the process of petitioning, see Hauken, Petition and Response (1998) and
especially on the situation in Egypt, where much material has been found, see Kelly,
Petitions (2011); Bryen, Violence (2013); Anagnostou-Canas, Juge et sentence (1991).
29
von Bethmann-Hollweg, Der Civilprozeß (1866), 3. 88–103, 325–42; Mommsen,
Staatsrecht (1871–88), 2.2. 958–988; Puchta, ‘Geschichte des Rechts’ (1875), 212–34;
Kromayer, Rechtliche Begründung (1888); Siber, Führeramt (1940). See also Arangio-
Ruiz, Augustus (1938).
30
This dilemma was raised in many earlier studies, such as McFayden, ‘Princeps’
Jurisdiction’ (1923); Volkmann, Rechtsprechung (1969 [1935]); Kelly, Princeps Iudex
(1957); Bleicken, Senatsgericht und Kaisergericht (1962). The same enigma is
Introduction 7
primary legacy of this discussion has been the theory that the consti-
tutional legitimation of the normative powers of the emperors was a
combination of the powers of the different offices held by the
emperor, such as consul or tribune of the plebs.31 However, since
adjudication was not part of those powers, it has remained a dilemma
that the formalistic approach has not been able to solve.
As the traditional avenues have been exhausted, the main advance
that this book seeks to make is to show how different actors like the
emperors, imperial officials, petitioners, and litigants utilized various
narratives of adjudication to advance their causes, and while doing so
reveal, but also influence, aspects of the understanding of what the
emperor could and should do in law. These narratives worked both
through references to the concrete situation, and to the numerous
traditions on sovereign power and adjudication. Petitioners sought to
show themselves as vulnerable but virtuous, to persuade the emperor
to act in their interest, while emperors (and their sycophants) pre-
sented themselves as righteous rulers and good judges.32 Critics,
naturally, invoked the rhetoric of unjust tyranny.33 Far from being a
mere reflection of the imperial role, this dialogue and the actions of
the emperors as part of it were integral in shaping and formulating
imperial adjudication by creating custom, hopes, and expectations.34
What I argue is that imperial adjudication and, by extension, juris-
diction developed as a defining feature of the Principate and that
imperial jurisdiction is representative of the Principate itself.
While scholars favouring a formalistic viewpoint might claim that
more emphasis should be placed on laws and official sources, that is
unavoidable due to a fundamental rift in the understanding of history
between the formalistic view and what will be attempted here. The
formalistic, descriptive study of constitutional history that gives an
account of the development of formal powers and jurisdiction, div-
ided into civil and criminal matters, has been written a number of
recognized in Lintott, ‘Crime and Punishment’ (2015), 318; Rüfner, ‘Imperial Cognitio
Process’ (2016).
31
Orestano, Potere normativo (1962), 19–22; Magdelain, Auctoritas (1947); Jones,
‘Imperium’ (1951).
32
e.g. SEG XVII 759, l. 24–41; Hauken, Petition and Response (1998), 58–73. On
the imperial style in drafting, see Wankerl, Appello (2009).
33
Cic. Lig. 11.
34
This is increasingly recognized in recent studies on early emperors, e.g. Osgood,
Claudius (2011); Winterling, Caligula (2011).
times.35 Formal legal matters, such as deriving the jurisdiction of
the emperor from the jurisdictional sovereignty of the provincial
governor, by extension from the proconsular imperium maius or
that of the consul, are an important part of the story, as are the
traditional jurisdictions of the paterfamilias, the magistrate’s and
the plebeian tribune’s duty to provide auxilium, or the practice of
assigning arbitrators. In this case, the focus is simply different. What
this book seeks to offer is a fresh and unconventional approach that
sheds new light on a classical question. Formalistic legal history
concentrated on the legal sources and excluded sources that it con-
sidered legally irrelevant, such as narratives and ideology. What the
new narrativist approach demonstrates is that both the formalistic
and functionalistic methods lead to a distorted image of the Roman
emperor’s legal role, focusing either on the rules or the behaviour.
Moreover, it shows how complex the process of the development of
imperial adjudication actually was and the different elements that
influenced it. As will be argued, the existence of formal legal prece-
dents such as the governor’s jurisdiction functioned in themselves as
narratives that constituted to the development of the shared
understanding.
The time-frame of this book is the period between the Late Republic
and the advent of the so-called crisis of the third century as the
formative period of imperial jurisdiction. The starting-point is a
speech by Cicero in 46 BC in front of the dictator Caesar acting as a
judge. Through contemporary examples of cases and narratives by
Roman authors on emperors as judges, the book follows developments
until AD 235, to include the effects of the Constitutio Antoniniana
of AD 212, which is believed to have granted Roman citizenship to
most of the free inhabitants of the Empire, and the writings of Ulpian,
the most influential Roman theorist of imperial power over law. Both
in theory and in practice, by the end of the period and the beginning
of the crisis of the third century, the emperor was seen as the law
animate: the supreme judge of the Roman world, whose rulings
created new law and amended the old. The story is equally one of
tremendous growth, as is evident in the list of cases in the appendix.
By the early third century, the emperor would by some estimates
handle several cases per day, resulting in an annual tally of perhaps
35
Volkmann, Rechtsprechung (1969 [1935]) shows that even after the most
exhaustive research, the formalistic view relies on a leap of faith.
Introduction 9
over a thousand. If the idea of the emperor as a kind of a supreme
court is correct, one may assume that there would be a process of
gradual elimination where cases handled in the local courts would
make their way on appeal to the governor or prefect and then to the
emperor, while many cases, as we will see, were handled by the
emperor in the first instance.36
There were many different aspects at work in the creation of
imperial adjudication, including both a push and a pull. On the
push side, emperors were driven by a need to extend their power
and to control the administrative staff. For this purpose, accepting
petitions and making binding rulings provided an effective tool.
There was a need to respond to the expectations that some of his
subjects might have, the need to answer their petitions to appear as a
good ruler. There might even have been a need, especially in the legal
administration, to use the imperial power to harmonize law. On the
pull side, it will be argued that the petitions of subjects invited the
emperors to extend their power, to correct injustices in their favour.
All of these factors created a dialogue of power and justice, where the
participants would each play a role. The emperor would present
himself as a good king, the subjects as good and loyal citizens. This
dialogue even extended to other actors, such as the Senate, which
would present itself as powerful and the emperor as one of its
members. Similarly, in the provinces and in Rome the roles played
might be completely different.
The argument of the book is developed through a close reading of
Roman narratives of imperial adjudication. The aim is to analyse the
various ways the emperor’s activities and capabilities were seen and
commented on by both contemporary commentators, like Ovid,
Seneca the Elder, and Pliny the Younger, and historical and biograph-
ical authors such as Tacitus, Suetonius, and Dio. While contempor-
aries offer a picture that is often myopic and biased, later authors tend
to depict the emperor according to the understanding of their time,
equipped with the capabilities and powers of the emperor then.
Through a comparison between the contemporary and historical
narratives, the few existing official and legal sources, and the epi-
graphic and other documentary sources, the book offers an account of
36
Using comparative material, Pölönen, ‘Quadragesima’ (2008), 102 estimates that
just 1% of the total number of cases would end up being resolved by the emperor,
either directly or via local courts, the governors, and prefects.
the development of imperial adjudication. Equally important are the
changes in the topography of power and law, where the concrete
manifestations of the rise of imperial power were everywhere, from
the poignant reminder of the physical power represented by the
barracks of the praetorian cohorts in the city, where previously
no military force was stationed, to the visual imagery of imperial
building projects and statues that transformed the Forum and the
centre of Rome.37
The relevance of the discrepancies between the narratives of adju-
dication is that the authority of the emperor as judge was constructed
through the creation of tradition. Thus, it is important to consider
how the transformation of this administrative tradition is reflected in
the works of Roman authors. In the absence of a written, set consti-
tution or clear rules governing the functioning of imperial jurisdic-
tion or legislative capabilities, tradition as a cultural phenomenon
indicated what the emperor might do on the basis of what emperors
had done and what they were expected to do. Thus, authors such as
Seneca, Pliny, Tacitus, Suetonius, Pomponius, and Dio describe not
only what past emperors had done, but also how their position and
power was understood in their own time. As the Roman state was
built upon the foundation of examples and exemplary practices,
writing about the past was not a matter of simple description; it
also had a normative and constitutive effect.38 Therefore, tradition
was the scene of a complex interplay in which the creation and
invention of tradition coexisted. While the emperors created tradition
by their actions and the historians by recording these actions, both
also made conscious choices with a view to what they thought would
be the content of tradition. By making at times historically question-
able references to earlier practices, both engaged in the process of
inventing tradition. The past, or the version of the past that one
presented, was an argument for the future.39
37
Ewald and Norena, ‘Introduction’ (2010), 5.
38
Peachin, ‘Exemplary Government’ (2007), see 76–7 for a selection of literature;
Lowrie, ‘Vergil’ (2005), 947. On the constant constitutional change, see Lintott,
Constitution (1999); Flower, Roman Republics (2010).
39
To paraphrase the old British constitutional rule, everything was possible unless
it was done for the first time. I have discussed earlier the utilization of the concept of
invented tradition, pioneered by Hobsbawn and Ranger, in Tuori, Ancient Roman
Lawyers (2007).
Introduction 11
The power of belief and ideology has been recognized in many recent
studies on the Roman Empire.40 These forces were significant even in
adjudication and law, where law was constitutive of empire. Imperial
power rested on three foundations: the coercive power of the army, the
authority of magistrates, and the symbolic power of imperial ideology.41
Despite the fact that the emperor was often viewed as omnipotent,42 the
imperial administration was not, and the Empire could be said to have
functioned to a large degree with a combination of persuasion and
coercion.43 The functioning of the emperor as judge may be seen as a
central component in the administrative and ideological foundation of
the connection between the emperor and the people.
The role of the emperor has partly been such an enigma to legal
historians because it does not conform to modern expectations of the
separation of powers into executive, legislative, and adjudicative
branches. The fact that the emperor both adjudicated and made
law, with legal interpretation inseparable from actual transformation
through precedent, has made the legal aspect of the Principate a
conceptual minefield. Confusingly enough, the emperor was simul-
taneously above the law, within the law, and the law itself.44 Thus,
questions regarding sovereignty and executive privilege, as well as the
issue of exceptions and exceptionality, are central to the understand-
ing of emperors and law.45 One should not make the mistake of
drawing a rigid division between the application of law and its
creation; for all its virtues, ancient Rome did not subscribe to the
modern division.
How did emperors function as judges? Should the Roman emperor
even be formally called a judge because he was hardly applying existing
40
Meyer, Legitimacy and Law (2004); Ando, Imperial Ideology (2000); Woolf,
Becoming Roman (1998); Zanker, Power of Images (1990).
41
Wallace-Hadrill, ‘Emperor’ (1981).
42
Dig. 1.2.2.12; Plin. Pan. 65.1; Cass. Dio 53.28.2; SHA M. Ant. 10.2–3; Amm.
Marc. 16.5.12.
43
Harries, Law and Empire (1999), 56–7.
44
Dig. 1.3.11, 1.3.31, 1.4.1. Of the roots of this idea, see Martens, One God (2003).
45
See e.g. Agamben, State of Exception (2005). Theoretical inquiries on sovereignty
and dictatorship (and the theories of Caesarianism, Bonapartism, commissarial and
sovereign dictatorship, etc.), while enlightening on the conceptual level, are problem-
atic due to their complicated history as modern interpretations, based on early
modern theoretical understanding of classical sources, often aiming to understand
modern totalitarianism. See e.g. Schmitt, Diktatur (1964); Schmitt, Political Theology
(1988).
law to a case? In the latter part of the time-frame of this book the
exercise of imperial jurisdiction took numerous forms, where the
emperors exercised jurisdiction like magistrates, acted as judges in
civil and criminal matters, both in the first instance and on appeal,
received legal petitions from all around the empire, but also influenced
legal issues and disputes in more informal ways by assisting in adjudi-
cation and dispute resolution. Even in written form, various petitions
were answered through rescripts, subscripts, letters, and so forth by the
emperor and his representatives. However, divining the role of the
emperor in individual cases is purely descriptive, as these roles (for
example, a magistrate, an adjudicator, or a judge) did not limit the
options open to him.46 Instead of narrowly defining jurisdiction, this
book approaches the issue through a broad perspective on adjudication,
where the main interest is examining how the emperors influenced legal
issues and disputes of various kinds. Because acting as judge was,
especially later with imperial rescripts, inseparable from legislation,
giving laws, or defining legal norms, the book will demonstrate how
this process was closely tied in with the rise of imperial jurisdiction.
Even if one wishes to find a solid foundation for the practice of imperial
adjudication, many alternatives could be presented. In the provinces,
imperial jurisdiction could simply be defined as a continuation of the
governor’s jurisdiction, as the imperial imperium maius would logically
entail this. In the Roman world, there was even a long-standing practice
of arbitration, in which a vir bonus was assigned to settle a legal
dispute.47 The true enigma of the imperial adjudication was that its
foundation was almost without fail left unstated.
SOVEREIGN RULE AND ADJUDICATION
The rise of imperial jurisdiction and adjudication also presents a

theoretical issue: the idea of the ruler as the supreme judge. The
theoretical frameworks that have attempted to tackle the issue often
46
In recent scholarship, the divisions made in works like Wilcken about rescripts,
petitions, appellations, and decisions have been criticized as arbitrary. See Masuelli,
Giudice privato (2012), on the difficulty of defining these roles.
47
Broggini, Iudex arbiterve (1957); Roebuck and de Loynes de Fumichon, Roman
Arbitration (2004).
Introduction 13
begin with the nature of sovereign power and then develop the notion
of justice and jurisdiction from the power itself. Theories of sover-
eignty and sovereign jurisdiction have traditionally been divided into
classical kingship theories and theories of modern dictatorship. The
first have focused on the functioning of pre-modern rulers, ranging
from kings, pharaohs, tyrants, chiefs, and other rulers,48 whereas the
latter have been more inclined to study autocracy as an exception to
liberal democracy.49 For the study of Roman emperors and their
jurisdiction both approaches are problematic, since the historical
example of Rome is both almost unique and at the same time highly
familiar to later discussants. That said, many of the themes from both
the pre-modern and modern autocracies will be familiar to a student
of Roman legal history, from the use of trials for controlling elite
competition to the bringing of justice to the people as a way of forging
the bond between the leader and the populace against the elites.
Roman theories of sovereign rule were to a large degree products of
their time. The idea of popular sovereignty was strongly behind the
conceptualization of Roman dictatorship and imperial power. Both
gained their power from the legislative power of the people. Other
theories, such as the idea of an ideal monarch so prominent in Seneca,
are traceable to Greek precedents. Furthermore, there was a strong
undercurrent in the Roman discourse on sovereignty that similarly
emphasized the ethical and moral qualities of the ruler as a civilizing
power.50
In studies on autocratic rule and the law, three main schools of
thought have emerged. The first may be described as the economic
explanation, which sees the development of authoritarian rule as
stemming from the control over resources and their allocation. In
these models, the autocrat uses resources he has collected to reward
supporters and to punish opponents.51 As in the case of the proscriptions
48
Recently, the issue was explored in Colliot-Thélène and Portier, Métamorphose du
prince (2014).
49
Very few attempt to straddle both. Barrington Moore famously sought to trace
the origins of modern democracy and autocracy from their prehistory, such as the role
of pre-modern aristocracies. Moore, Origins (1966).
50
See references in Chs. 1 and 3.
51
Wintrobe, Dictatorship (2000); Svolik, Authoritarian Rule (2012). A famous and
much-criticized example of the economic theory of totalitarianism is the stationary
bandit model by Olson, ‘Dictatorship’ (1993), which argues that established leaders
steal less and invest more.
of the triumviral period or the maiestas trials of the early Principate,
Roman history has ample examples where law and adjudication was
an essential tool in the reallocation of vast resources to the supporters
of the autocracy.
The second theory may be seen as the theological approach, where
the mythical and transcendental aspects of autocracy are essential.
There, the sovereign ruler can first be seen as a symbol of unity and
coherence and second as an object of popular faith and trust. In the
first sense, law may be a tool to define and to protect the group by
ostracizing outsiders and defending against perceived threats, while
in the second, the ruler is the guarantor of a quasi-transcendental
invisible order of society, the upholder of truth and justice.52 In the
Roman example, the uses of imperial justice to exclude and to
persecute the perceived ‘others’ are numerous, ranging from the
proscriptions to the persecutions of Christians and other groups.
The idea of the emperor as the head of a transcendental order is
best seen in the way that justice was an essential part of the good king
myth and a vital part of the emperor’s role as living law. The good and
just ruler transcended the constraints of the law to bring ethical and
moral justice to his subjects.
The third theory may be construed as a social psychological inter-
pretation. Interesting studies have explored the impact of group
cohesion, identification, and the mechanisms of control and obedi-
ence, but also how dictators use mass media to promote allegiance.53
While there have been a number of historical studies utilizing social
psychology, the issue remains whether it is useful or not to make
deductions about the behaviour of historical figures based on theories
on modern psychology. Thus, it is questionable whether one may
draw conclusions about the impact of the terror that Roman
emperors visited upon both the imperial court and the populace, or
the imperial propaganda touting the virtues of the emperor and the
emergence of the cult of emperors and the idea of emperors being law
incarnate, tempting as it may be.
52
Much of the literature has been inspired by Schmitt and applies his theories to
various historical examples, e.g. Salter, Carl Schmitt (2012); Tralau, Hobbes and
Schmitt (2010).
53
Recent works include Moghaddam, Psychology of Dictatorship (2013), and
Haslam, Reicher and Platow, Psychology of Leadership (2011). In the Roman situation,
the psychological interpretation has been attempted in works like Baehr and Richter,
Dictatorship in History (2004), and Eckstein, ‘Spectre of Caesarism’ (2004).
Introduction 15
Is there a way of using theories and models based on historical
situations that differ wildly from the ancient Roman social, political,
and cultural experience? Instead of drawing conclusions from modern
parallels or making simplistic and superficial claims of equivalence,
I would instead posit that the value of comparative material is in the
way it enlarges our understanding of the mechanisms of power and
law and opens up analytical potential. Therefore, when modern
studies on totalitarianism speak of the personality cult of the leader
and the accompanying massive public displays of loyalty, or the
cognitive dissonance brought on by the combination of the quasi-
religious idealization of the leader and the fear of harsh repression,
studying them enables us to recognize parallel mechanisms in Roman
imperial rule, even though they are fundamentally different and
operate in a distinctly dissimilar environment. Likewise, accounts of
how the unity of the elite in the support of the ruler was of paramount
importance in maintaining control in authoritarian regimes may help
us understand the vicious punishments to which dissidents in the
imperial court were subjected. Other things are perhaps self-evident,
such as the privileges and rewards that authoritarian regimes tend to
give to members of the security apparatus.
A further issue comes from the identification and self-identification
between ancient and modern phenomena. Mussolini, the leader of
the fascists, actually forcefully promoted a similar identification
between the ancient Roman state and the modern fascist state, a
policy that had deep repercussions in the scholarly world.54 Both
were misguided in their own way. One simply cannot equate the
workings of politics and law in a modern industrial society and a
place like Rome, a strongly segmented society based on agriculture
and trade, ruled by an oligarchy. In the same way that observations
from tribal or feudal societies are non-transferrable but useful
as evidence of forms of human culture, one must tread a fine
line between what can and cannot be generalized.55 Despite these
54
Nelis, From Ancient to Modern (2011). Mussolini’s justice minister, Pietro de
Francisci, was instrumental in promoting the exemplarity of Rome, but he was also a
scholar of Roman law, studying Augustan policies. De Francisci, Principato Augusteo
(1941).
55
For example, a comparison between the consolidation of power by Vladimir
Putin of Russia and Augustus shows interesting similarities with regards to the
development of the ruler’s role in the field of law. An autocratic ruler gains power
and begins to use law in a number of ways to solidify that power. The lives and
similarities and parallellisms, is there an explanatory potential to be
utilized between the superficially similar actions and events in
fundamentally different historical surroundings?
A case in point is the very notion of petition and response that
underlies much of the scholarship on early imperial adjudication.
Central to the narrative of the growth of imperial adjudication
throughout the period under scrutiny is the flow of petitions and
petitioners towards the emperor and the willingness of the emperor to
meet them and to hear their grievances. This petitioning to the chief,
king, or ruler is a near-universal phenomenon that enjoys a privileged
position in the historical as well as mythological narratives of king-
ship. Medieval French kings would hear the petitions of their subjects
and that would be a central part of their kingship. King Louis IX
(1226–70) held his receptions in Vincennes under an oak tree, allow-
ing petitioners to approach him and treating them with exceptional
kindness and intimacy.56 In the Ethiopian monarchy, one of the
longest continuous traditions of kingship, the King of Kings was the
direct descendant of King Solomon and, like him, the supreme judge
whose rulings were the final truth on any matter. In all instances, the
approachability, benevolence, and power of the ruler are part of the
same process of popular acceptance.
NARRATIVES AND HISTORY
The concept of narrative is central to the argument that this book

seeks to make: that the practice of imperial adjudication grew out of
the spread of the common conviction that the emperor is the final
property of opponents come under threat from the minions of the ruler, who use
questionable legal means to expropriate their property, while the opponents them-
selves may be jailed, exiled, or worse. The ruler uses the control over resources to
reward his supporters and to solidify his control, installing cronies in all central
positions in society, where they become not only powerful, but extremely rich.
A concerted propaganda campaign is used to marginalize opposition and to solidify
support, drawing on patriotic themes and ideas of a revival of past ideals and glory.
See Dawisha, Cleptocracy (2014) on the extensive literature on Putin’s ‘vertical of
power’ and the central role that law had in its execution.
56
Delogu, Theorizing (2008). The medieval kings were quasi-mythical characters,
as was already noted in Marc Bloch’s famous Les Rois thaumaturges (1924), translated
as Bloch, Royal Touch (1990).
Introduction 17
arbiter of (nearly) all things, and that the stories that circulated (and
are now preserved in the historical writings of the era) were instru-
mental in the formation of that conviction. Because narratives are the
most common way of structuring phenomena and making sense of
the world, studying them and their changes offers a way to observe
changes in the understanding of the social world and the social and
legal imaginary.57
This proposition rests to a large degree on a theoretical foundation
built by narrative studies during the last decades. The tradition of
narrative theory has, from the works of Ricoeur onwards, defined
narratives as explanations of events in a form that is understandable
and acceptable, to bridge the gap between an event (or human
experience) and its explanation. The concept of narrative is used
in this study in both a historical and a legal sense, as narratives
of constitutional relevance explain not only the events and their
meanings,58 but also how this narrative could influence the shared
conviction of the possibilities available. We shall also see how the
formulation of a narrative becomes a constitutive force that has
normative effects. As noted earlier, within the study of Roman
constitutionalism the normativeness of historiography has already
been increasingly recognized, insofar as the understanding of history
was often the defining element in what was considered legitimate and
what was not. The legal formalist view operates in its own way as a
narrative that bestows and reinforces legitimacy. What narratives like
the ones explored in this book provided, constituted, and shaped were
the background understandings that made possible the formation of
the emperor’s jurisdiction and gave it a shared sense of legitimacy.59
The perhaps unsettling matter that lies between both the issue of
narratives and legal formalism is that of their reliance on belief.
Though the legal system is ultimately backed up by the use of coercive
force, for the main part it relies on the fact that the majority of subjects
57
On the historical understanding of law and narrative, see Bartor, Law as
Narrative (2010).
58
The understanding of the narrativity of history is a contested issue, to formulate
the matter mildly. For some references, see Rigney, ‘History as Text’ (2012), 183–201;
Ankersmit, Meaning, Truth, and Reference (2012); Munslow, Narrative and History
(2007); Ricoeur, Time and Narrative (1990); Carr, Time, Narrative, and History
(1986).
59
On a similar project of shared understandings, see Ando, Roman Social Imagin-
aries (2015), 4.
believe in the law, the system of laws that set the rules, the courts that
apply them, and the officials that enforce the rulings. What the laws,
courts, and officials based their legitimacy upon was a wholly other
matter of constitutionality. For Romans, constitutionality rested on
tradition, the vaunted mos maiorum, or in the later theories such as
that of Ulpian, in some kind of idea of popular sovereignty. The
traditional constitutional argument of the legitimacy of the constitu-
tion resting on long practice (the way that things have always been
done) and the newer argument of popular sovereignty are, of course,
like most constitutional legitimations, references pointing outside of
the constitution (the basic norm, if one wants to use the Kelsenian
term).60 The fundamental issue of both historical narratives and law is
that their validity and legitimacy are ultimately founded on the
acceptance and use by the members of the community.61
The point for the argument in this book is that the emperor’s
jurisdiction emerged gradually and with a number of different factors
contributing, ranging from the possible legislative inputs and other
formal legal developments, the morphing of jurisdictional tradition
from the Republic to the Empire, the established traditions of king-
ship, and the role of the ruler as judge. What we will be doing is
approaching these different elements as narratives that shape the
convictions of the various actors, beginning with the emperors them-
selves, about the capabilities that were assumed and expectations that
were placed on the emperors at different times to resolve legal issues.
OUTLINE
The first chapter lays out the numerous contradictory foundations for
imperial jurisdiction in the Republican intellectual and administrative
60
The issue is finally one that has been defined as the ‘Turtles all the way down’
dilemma. Stephen Hawking, A Brief History (1995), 1, famously defined it as the issue
of what the world and ultimately the universe rests upon. An ancient explanation was
that the world is a disk that is perched upon a gigantic turtle. When inquiring minds
wanted to ask what the turtle then rests upon, the answer is that there is another turtle.
What does that turtle then stand on, one might ask? The final answer is, naturally, that
it is turtles all the way down.
61
On historical narrative and the community, see Carr, Experience and History
(2014), 119.
Introduction 19
traditions. Through a reading of pro Ligario, one of Cicero’s Caesar-
ian speeches, the chapter analyses the contemporary meanings Cicero
gives to the emergence of sovereign jurisdiction in the Late Roman
Republic. Addressed to Caesar as dictator, the speech is the only
contemporary source for Caesar’s jurisdiction and reveals the confu-
sion and ambivalence surrounding it. Through the options Cicero
gives to Caesar, to be a tyrant, a strict Roman magistrate, or a lenient
father, the chapter outlines the many ways the past influenced the
actions of men like Caesar and his successors. The memory of Greek
and Hellenistic kings and tyrants, not to mention Roman warlords
like Sulla, served as warnings, while administrative practices like the
jurisdiction of the provincial governor or that of the paterfamilias
were not only precedents, but also formed expectations.
The second chapter approaches Augustus as judge through three
contemporary cases: the relegation of Ovid and two cases from the
provinces. In earlier literature, Augustus’ jurisdiction has been a
source of constant debate, with alternatives ranging from official
legislative authorization to usurped ad hoc jurisdiction. This chapter
maintains that instead of a clear and definite answer there were
contradictory narratives in which Ovid and the provincial petitioners
described Augustus in various ways as a sovereign judge and ruler,
while Augustus himself maintained that the Republican continuity
was dominant. While later Roman authors and most modern scholars
emphasized how Augustus possessed formal, regular jurisdiction like
his successors, what emerges from contemporary sources is a picture
of exceptional powers being used while making constant ambiguous
references to their Republican origins and framework in concepts like
auctoritas and imperium.
In the third chapter, the evolution of the narrative of imperial
jurisdiction is traced through the writings of Seneca, Tacitus, and
Pliny, which offer conflicting accounts of how the emperors adjudi-
cated. It is argued that instead of a common conviction or an agree-
ment over imperial jurisdiction, the confusion over the role of the
emperor as judge continued. Seneca depicts an all-powerful judge,
who has power over life and death, like a Roman paterfamilias, while
Tacitus describes Tiberius as an investigative sovereign judge, who
carefully finds out the truth but acts through intermediaries. Pliny, on
the other hand, shows us Trajan as a considerate judge who wisely
settles disputes from petitioners with the help of his consilium. The
recounted examples of the actions of previous emperors are, as the lex
de imperio Vespasiani demonstrates, vital to the formation of a
common understanding of imperial power. At the same time, the
historical narrative is interspersed with stories of emperors gone mad
or corrupted by their power, wrongly condemning and torturing
people. However, even these seemingly mad emperors are said to
have acted dutifully as judges. Such contradictions, far from being
inconsistencies, may be seen as fundamental to the nature of imperial
rule. In practice, acting as a judge, holding audiences, and answering
petitions is becoming a fundamental part of being a good emperor.
The fourth chapter discusses Hadrian, who has been elevated in the
literature as an ideal judge and emperor, whose enlightened rulings
brought justice even to the lowliest of petitioners while curbing the
excesses of the powerful. The discussion will focus on the praise of
Aelius Aristides about how the Roman emperors would respond to the
legal queries of petitioners, and then on a legal case in which Hadrian
punishes a father for the abuse of patria potestas. Analysing the
different narratives surrounding Hadrian, this chapter problematizes
the idealistic interpretation, arguing that some of the praise offered to
Hadrian is based on very late and inaccurate sources. However, the
individual cases by Hadrian show an emperor personally involved and
invested in offering recourse and justice to the people.
The fifth chapter will approach the growing omnipotence of
emperors in the Severan era through two cases of Septimius Severus
and Caracalla. Through an analysis of these different cases, the
chapter demonstrates the different aims of imperial adjudication.
Routine cases that had perhaps important political and economic
implications were dealt with summarily and often with little consid-
eration for the image that would be projected and its ideological
implications. In cases where people with grievances had made con-
siderable effort to get a hearing, the emperors might grant their
wishes. These hearings, clearly intended for projecting the image of
the good emperor listening to the people and righting the injustices
inflicted upon the lowliest of his subjects, were an integral part of the
good-king myth and spread the idea of the emperor as living law.
A similar image of the omnipotence of the emperor as judge, and
generally in matters of law, was conceptualized in the works of Ulpian
and Dio, with important repercussions.
1
Caesar, Cicero, and the Models

of Legal Autocracy
INTRODUCTION
It may appear strange to begin a book on the Roman emperors as

judges with a chapter devoted to Julius Caesar,1 who may have been
many things but was definitely not an emperor. However, as the
stated aim of this book is to challenge the view that imperial juris-
diction was the result of either constitutional authorization or adher-
ence to custom, and to argue for a more nuanced model that takes
into account historical development, there is a point. The fact that the
emperor became the final authority in law and the supreme judge was
one of the most significant changes between the Republic and the
Empire.2 The accumulation of administrative practice, as well as the
numerous attempts at defining the powers of emperors, were equally
important in outlining what the emperor could do and what was
expected of him. The historical figure of Julius Caesar, besides being
understood as the first emperor by, for example, Suetonius,3 and
lending his own name to the institution, was fundamental to the
process of creating imperial jurisdiction. Increasing the complexity
1
There is an abundance of literature on Julius Caesar. The main biographical
works are Gelzer, Caesar (2008); Meier, Caesar (1982), while more interesting are
Canfora, Julius Caesar (2007) and Tatum, Caesar (2008). For an overview of the life
and afterlife of Caesar, see Griffin, Companion to Caesar (2009).
2
The continuities and discontinuities of jurisdiction between the Republic and
Empire were already mentioned by Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 508, 517.
3
On Caesar as the first emperor in later Roman historiography, see Barnes, ‘First
Emperor’ (2009). See Wallace-Hadrill, Suetonius (1983) on Suetonius’ work as biography,
not history.
of any inquiry into Caesar’s jurisdiction is the fact that it is nowhere
mentioned under which official justification he is acting.
While later authors, such as Suetonius, see Caesar as a diligent judge
having a routine jurisdiction, contemporaries, such as Cicero,4 are
more circumspect. This chapter explores the understanding of what
it meant, according to Cicero, to be Caesar the judge in the tumultuous
Late Republic, navigating between contradictory demands by Repub-
lican legal and constitutional traditions and autocratic practices. One
of the main features of the Late Republican debates, especially for
authors like Cicero, is the prevalence of constitutional interpretation,
the presentation of arguments of constitutionality. Without going into
the debates over the Roman concept of constitution or its very exist-
ence, it is crucial to recognize the centrality of these arguments for the
transformation of what was considered acceptable with regard to
the constitutional framework defined by mos and ius.5 While practices
such as extraordinary commands and the exceeding of magistracies’
time-limits were seen as potentially unconstitutional, Cicero, our main
source for Late Republican constitutionalism, was adamant that the
tradition of the maiores was to respond to emergencies with new ways
of doing things.6
Seldom does one see the transformation of the concepts of law and
justice as clearly as in pro Ligario,7 one of Cicero’s so-called Caesarian
speeches, where he eloquently outlines the indeterminacy of the
situation and the various elements of Roman tradition at play. The
4
Of the vast biographical literature on Cicero, see Fuhrmann, Cicero (1992);
Everitt, Cicero (2001). There has been a resurgence of interest in the mix of history
and philosophy in Cicero’s writings, e.g. van der Blom, Cicero’s Role Models (2010);
Gildenhard, Creative Eloquence (2011); Baraz, A Written Republic (2012); Atkins,
Cicero on Politics (2013).
5
Straumann, Crisis and Constitutionalism (2016), 27–62, outlining the arguments
for Roman constitutional thought, ranging from Tacitus’ idea of an underlying power-
struggle to Livy’s idea of popular sovereignty (7.17.12) and Cicero’s own constitu-
tional framework in De legibus.
6
Cic. Leg. Man. 60.
7
Walser, ‘Prozess des Ligarius’ (1959), 95; Kumaniecki, ‘Prozess des Ligarius’
(1967), 439; McDermott, ‘In Ligarianam’ (1971), 317–47; Loutsch, ‘Ironie et liberté’
(1984), 98–110; Bringmann, ‘Caesar als Richter’ (1986), 72–88; Montague, ‘Advocacy
and Politics’ (1992), 559–74; Rochlitz, Bild Caesars (1993); MacKendrick, Speeches of
Cicero (1995), 424; Gotoff, Companion to Cicero (2002), 235–40; Johnson, ‘Dilemma’
(2004), 372–3; Lintott, Cicero as Evidence (2008), 313–19.
Caesar, Cicero, and the Models of Legal Autocracy 23
examples raised by Cicero, the tyranny of Sulla,8 the strictness of a
Roman magistrate, and the leniency of a father, are all important for
suggesting the origins of the ruler’s jurisdiction. These precedents
were also repeated in later attempts to define imperial power by
Seneca, Aelius Aristides, and others. What the evoking of precedents
achieved was the demonstration of possibilities and consequences by
outlining what was expected of a ruler and how those expectations
were met.
Equally important was the historical memory that was suggested,
and thus the public image with which rulers like Caesar could
align themselves.9 As dictator, Caesar was safely within the traditional
Roman constitutional framework. As we will see, the historical image
of Caesar was only later reduced to that of an autocrat aspiring to
the position of a Hellenistic divine king. What pro Ligario illustrates
are the expectations, the hopes, and fears that were placed on a figure
like Caesar. Consequently, there emerged two competing narratives
of the reign of Caesar that were important for the development of
later imperial jurisdiction. The first was that of Caesar as a Republican
magistrate, while the second showed him as a sovereign figure aspir-
ing to divine status. Even more essential for the future imperial
jurisdiction was the practice of appealing to the ruler in issues of
legal relevance that brought the supreme authority into the legal
sphere and created a precedent for executive influence.
The literature on pro Ligario has been fairly limited. Grouped
together with other ‘Caesarian speeches’, they are usually presented
as an interlude late in Cicero’s life before his famous last orations,
the Philippics. Though Quintilian appreciated and quoted from it
many times,10 modern scholarship has taken a negative view of pro
Ligario that has only recently changed to a more positive one.
Beginning with Walser, most scholars have held the speech
to be a mediocre performance in a staged trial, where Cicero
debases himself by publicly praising Caesar.11 The revisionist
8
It should be noted that Cicero does not explicitly call Sulla a tyrant in the speech.
9
On the uses of history and memory in Roman culture and politics, see Gowing, Empire
and Memory (2005); Flower, Roman Republics (2010).
10
Quint. Inst. 5.13.20, 5.13.31, 11.1.78–80. The speech is mentioned also by
Pomponius in Dig. 1.2.2.46.
11
e.g. Walser, ‘Prozess des Ligarius’ (1959); Drumann, Geschichte Roms
(1899–1929); Kumaniecki, ‘Prozess des Ligarius’ (1967); McDermott, ‘In Ligarianam’
(1971).
interpretation, starting with Montague, has argued that the speech is,
in fact, a brilliant rhetorical exercise that operated extraordinarily
well in difficult circumstances by using irony and ambiguous rhetorical
constructions.12
The purpose of this chapter is to demonstrate how rich the histor-
ical dimension of the speech is and how it illustrates the background
of sovereign jurisdiction in the Late Republic through the discourse
of historical elements. Cicero’s pro Ligario utilizes the power of
precedent and memory by illustrating the contradictory demands
placed on Caesar. Legal matter13 aside, Cicero elaborates the choices
available to Caesar and the fame or infamy that would result from
following those choices through to their logical conclusions. In a
sense, Cicero shows Caesar in advance the judgment of history.
While he does address the criminal matter at hand, the crucial
argument revolves around Caesar’s reputation. If Caesar were to
punish Ligarius, he would be no better than Sulla. For a leader of
the populares so conscious of his historical image as to write his own
memoirs, this was a serious charge. Of course, the aim of Cicero is to
influence Caesar’s actions in favour of his client. On a deeper level,
however, the speech is an example of the confusion surrounding the
role and powers of the leaders of the Late Republic, a situation where
the only constant was the element of change.14
The context of the case is the final transformation of the Roman
Republic, characterized by recurring civil strife and war. Intense
aristocratic competition, fuelled by imperialistic wars of expansion,
dominated domestic politics. Warlords, successful commanders of
troops, sought and gained unprecedented powers with the help of
their armies.15 The Senate, the plebs or the people of Rome, and the
provincials sought to utilize the situation to their advantage. Because
12
See Montague, ‘Advocacy and Politics’ (1992); Gotoff, Companion to Cicero
(2002); Johnson, ‘Dilemma’ (2004).
13
The fundamental analysis is still Bauman, Crimen Maiestatis (1967), 144–7. As
is typical of Cicero’s speeches, the exact charges are not discussed nor the legal rules
surrounding the case mentioned. There are numerous possibilities for what the
charges might have been based on, including the lex Iulia de maiestate of 48 BC.
14
On the era, see Gruen, Last Generation (1995); Bleicken, Zwischen Republik und
Prinzipat (1990); Christ, Krise (1984).
15
Exceptional and extraordinary military commands, while not unknown earlier,
proliferated, the first being that granted to Marius (Cic. Prov. cons. 19). Straumann, Crisis
and Constitutionalism (2016), 100–17; Hurlet, ‘Pouvoirs extraordinaires’ (2010); Vervaet,
‘Praetorian Proconsuls’ (2012); Vervaet, High Command (2014); Arena, Libertas (2012).
he is the most voluminous and detailed source for the era, this is to a
large degree a world shown to us through the eyes of Cicero, even as it
is defined by Caesar. Cicero reflects the reality of the time, but also
offers us his preferred interpretation, a kind of imaginary context,
that of the Republican ideal.
This case offers a glimpse of the concepts of jurisdiction16 and
emergence of autocracy in the Late Republic, a rare contemporary
account not coloured by what was to come. We, like Roman authors
after the Ides of March, 44 BC, know what came afterwards. Within a
few years of the trial, Caesar was dead and the man he pardoned,
Ligarius, was among his killers. He would also soon be killed in the
proscriptions that followed. Ligarius’ defender, Cicero, would be dead
as well, his hands and tongue nailed to the Rostra in the Forum.
THE CLEMENCY OF CAESAR
Of the facts surrounding the text, we know that the speech was
delivered before Julius Caesar in the Roman Forum (see Fig. 1.1) in
the autumn of 46 BC. The accused, a knight named Quintus Ligarius,
was charged with unspecified offences as a member of the Pompeian
side during the civil war in Africa. His accuser was Quintus Tubero,
who had also fought for Pompey. Ligarius had been legate to the
governor of Africa, one of Pompey’s strongholds, when the war broke
out, and had been given the task of guarding the coastline. When
Quintus Tubero and his father L. Aelius Tubero sailed to Africa,
Ligarius had denied them entry, even though the elder Tubero had
been appointed propraetor of Africa by the Senate. The reasons for
this are never explained. After the incident, the father and son sailed
on to Pompey’s camp in Macedonia, where they were caught and
eventually pardoned by Caesar after the battle of Pharsalus in 48 BC.
Ligarius, on the other hand, fought on, and was captured only after
the battle of Thapsus in the spring of 46 BC. The precise charge
used against Ligarius is not known, but possibilities are perduellio
16
We know of very few trials from the last years of the Republic; see Balbo,
‘Attività giudiziaria’ (2009), 527–75. Balbo counts just nine known trials between
49 BC and Caesar’s murder in 44 BC. Alexander, Trials (1990) reaches the number of 391
trials between 149 and 50 BC by counting every single one mentioned in passing.
26
M N
NE
E
NW
O
L
SE
W
K A SW
N S
RIUM
TABULA
J VIA SA
CRA
DOMUS
DOMUS
DOMUS
I
The Emperor of Law

DOMUS
DOMUS DOMUS
US
OLIN
A
B VIA SACR
Q
APIT
E
STA
VE
IUS
US
US C
VIC P
H
IUGAR
C
CLIV
)
D DIA
US
VICUS
ME
IA (
G E V
VICUS TUSC
VA
NO
LUCUS VESTAE
F
5 10 20 30 40 50 100
A Basilica Fulvia J Temple of Concord FORUM ROMANUM

B Regia K Basilica Opimia
C Aedes Vestae L Carcer AND VIA SACRA UNDER CAESAR
D Atrium Vestae M Basilica Porcia (under demolition) A site plan presenting the new changes introduced by caesar in relatin with
Via Sacra and its provate buildings.
E Lacus Iuturnae and the stairs N Comitium (under demolition) General sources:
F Castores O Curia Julia (under construction) H. Broise & J. M. David 1984; E. La Rocca 1990 (E. Monaco); F. Coarelli 2007
G Basilica Julia (under construction) P Domus Regis Sacrorum Individual buildings:
A. Carandini (D. Filippi) 2010 (B,P,Q); F. Coarelli 2007 (A, G); Guldager &
H Temple of Saturn Q Domus Publica Poulsen 2008 (F); R. T. Scott 2009 (C,D); E. M. Steinby 2012 (E)
I Rostra (the new one) copyright Juhana Heikonen 2015
Fig. 1.1. Forum Romanum during the trial of Ligarius. Reconstruction by Juhana Heikonen.
or maiestas, because the Pompeians in Africa were allied with King
Juba I of Numidia.17 At the time of the trial Ligarius was in exile, but
his interests in Rome were furthered by his brothers. To summarize,
one former enemy of Caesar was accusing another former enemy of
Caesar concerning actions that took place while fighting against
Caesar. And Caesar was the judge.
The fact that Caesar acted as judge was most likely due to the fact
that he was at that time both consul and dictator;18 however, there is
little mention of the formal jurisdictional authority or the legal
framework of the case.19 Under the circumstances (the period from
48 to 44 BC), it is perhaps meaningless to ask whether Caesar exercised
jurisdiction as consul or as dictator.20 During 46 BC Caesar was consul
for the third time, with Lepidus, and after the battle of Thapsus was
made dictator for the third time, with Lepidus as his magister equi-
tum.21 The context of the trial is clearly political, and it is in many
ways comparable to the rulings over the life, death, and property of
political opponents during the civil wars, but the very public form
that it took was decidedly one of a trial or a judicial hearing.22 Some
have wondered whether the trial might have actually been a show trial
meant to advertise Caesar’s clemency.23 Others have claimed that the
purpose was to make an example of Ligarius by convicting him, but
that Caesar acquitted him as a favour to Cicero.24 A third group has
asked whether the trial might have been used to show that the
government was functioning and to discourage private vendettas.25
17
Bauman, Crimen Maiestatis (1967), 144; Johnson, ‘Dilemma’ (2004), 372–3;
Gotoff, Companion to Cicero (2002), 235–40. For maiestas, a relevant quaestio
would have naturally been available.
18
The sheer volume of literature on Roman dictatorship is immense. Some
examples are Bandel, Die römischen Diktaturen (1910); Cohen, ‘Origins of the
Roman Dictatorship’ (1957); Kaplan, Dictatorships (1977); Millon-Delson, ‘Dictature
et despotisme’ (1997); Nicolet, ‘Dictatorship in Rome’ (2004); de Wilde, ‘Dictatorship’
(2013); de Wilde, ‘Dictator's Trust’ (2012).
19
Lintott, Cicero as Evidence (2008), 318 calls it an ad hoc procedure, since in the
quaestio de maiestate Caesar would have had no place. See Cass. Dio 42.19–20 on
Caesar’s jurisdiction.
20
Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 518.
21
Broughton, Magistrates of the Roman Republic (1952), 2:284, n. 1; Cass. Dio
43.14.4.
22
Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 520.
23
Walser, ‘Prozess des Ligarius’ (1959), 95; Kumaniecki, ‘Prozess des Ligarius’
(1967), 439; MacKendrick, Speeches of Cicero (1995), 424.
24
McDermott, ‘In Ligarianam’ (1971), 323–5.
25
Gotoff, Companion to Cicero (2002), 240.
Whatever the underlying motivations for the trial were, it was an
important event for Cicero. For the first time in six long years, Cicero
had the corona of the audience in the Forum. He had prepared his
defence beforehand by appealing to Caesar at his home, accompanied
by Ligarius’ brothers, who had allied with Caesar early on and now
prostrated themselves at his feet, asking him to pardon their brother.
Meanwhile, Q. Tubero had sought Caesar’s permission to prosecute
Ligarius. Two letters by Cicero to Ligarius regarding the case are
preserved, as well as Plutarch’s description of the trial itself, according
to which Caesar agreed to hear the defence of Ligarius only out of a
desire to once more enjoy Cicero’s eloquence. Caesar’s true motives
remain, of course, unknown. That the trial was by nature political is
self-evident; however, the choice of accused and accuser were rather
surprising for a show trial.26
As in the other Caesarian speeches, pro Marcello and pro Rege
Deiotario, Cicero’s argument to Caesar was aimed at posterity, not the
present legal issue. In his unorthodox defence of Ligarius, Cicero
describes the positions Caesar could assume while judging the case,
attempting to show what kind of a man Caesar would appear to be,
not only in the eyes of those present, but also the wider Roman world
both now and in the future. This strategy would appear to be rather
obvious, aimed as it is against a man who had been publishing his
memoirs. It has been argued that after the battles in Africa, Caesar
had been uneasy about his reception in Rome, while his opponents
feared that Caesar would turn out to be another Sulla and launch into
proscriptions.27 While the speech contains ample irony, Cicero
praises Caesar’s virtues, although whether this is simple toadying to
the dictator or genuine appreciation of Caesar’s virtues is, of course,
debatable.28
What is interesting is that Cicero presents Caesar with several
options intended to show what kind of role29 Caesar wishes to play:
26
Cic. Fam. 6.13–14; Plut. Vit. Cic. 39.6–7; Gotoff, Companion to Cicero (2002),
235–40; Lintott, Cicero as Evidence (2008), 317–18.
27
McDermott, ‘In Ligarianam’ (1971), 318.
28
McDermott, ‘In Ligarianam’ (1971), 336 claims that the praise for Caesar’s
virtues is genuine. Rochlitz, Bild Caesars (1993), 126 is suspicious of Cicero’s sincerity,
and Loutsch, ‘Ironie et liberté’ (1984), 110 argues that Cicero uses irony to present his
independence from the dictator.
29
See Johnson, ‘Dilemma’ (2004), 378 for an analysis on the argument regarding
safe criticism directed at tyrants.
a tyrant, a magistrate, or a paterfamilias. Pro Ligario is in many ways a
call for clemency for the accused, but it also contains a rich subtext in
which Cicero maps out for Caesar the different forms that Caesar’s
authority in the field of law could take. The fundamental issues are
whether Caesar considers himself to be bound by laws or free to
overlook them, and whether he is advancing his private interests or
those of the public. The issue of clemency was in many ways central to
the development of imperial jurisdictions, since it was not only a
virtue that came to be associated with emperors from Augustus
onwards, but also with the whole imperial system of law.30 The fact
that the speech focuses so much on these considerations of image
shows equally how Caesar’s adjudication was free and different from
a regular quaestio.
The models that Cicero presents may be analysed through two
points of references of which Cicero may assume that his intended
audience, Caesar, is aware. One is the general historical and philo-
sophical context of Greek and Roman civilization, while the second is
Cicero’s own writings. In the following, I shall examine what kind of
intended meanings concepts like ‘tyrant’ and ‘magistrate’ would have
in pro Ligario and what significance they hold for jurisdiction. For
example, ‘tyrant’ might not only refer to a tyrannical ruler, but also be
a complex reference to the Greek historical experience. However, the
actions of a Roman magistrate could be equally tyrannical.
The first model Cicero presents, that of a tyrant, serves as a
warning against tyranny. Although Caesar can acquiesce to the
charges brought by Tubero, this would make him appear harsher
than the tyrant Sulla. Cicero presents the accusations of Tubero as
worse than the cruelty of inhuman barbarians or Greeks, for with
Ligarius already in exile, only the death penalty remains as an option
for further punishment. Though Cicero’s logic does not actually bear
closer examination from the perspective of criminal law, it does not
really matter here.31 What Cicero is arguing is that following the
advice of Tubero would lead Caesar out of the community of citizens.
Only cruel barbarians would act with such merciless hatred towards
one of their own, and while Tubero had already shown his true
colours by demanding such punishment, Cicero cautions Caesar
not to make the same mistake.
30
Dowling, Clemency and Cruelty (2006).
31
Cic. Lig. 11; Gotoff 2002, 245; May, Trials (1988), 144.
This part of the speech is a continuous character assassination of
the accuser, with Tubero first presented as a fierce opponent of
Caesar:
When your sword, Tubero, was unsheathed on the field of Pharsalus,
what was its object, at whose breast was its blade directed, what was the
significance of your weapons, upon what were your thoughts, yours
eyes, your strong right arm, your fiery spirit bent? What desires, what
dreams did you cherish? I am too insistent; my young friend betrays
embarrassment; I will return to myself. I fought on the same side.
Quid enim tuus ille, Tubero, destrictus in acie Pharsalica gladius agebat?
Cuius latus ille mucro petebat? Qui sensus erat armorum tuorum? quae
tua mens, oculi, manus, ardor animi? quid cupiebas? quid optabas?
Nimis urgeo: commoveri videtur adulescens: ad me revertar: isdem in
armis fui.32
Tubero’s accusation is then labelled as something worse than even
Sulla could conceive:
But even under the dictator who visited with death all whom he
disliked, no one did what you are doing and as you are doing it. He
ordered men to be murdered, though none accused; he lured men by
bribes to commit murders; but his cruelty was requited years afterwards
by the very man whom you today are urging to cruelty.
At istud ne apud eum quidem dictatorem, qui omnis quos oderat morte
multabat, quisquam egit isto modo. Ipse iubebat occidi nullo postulante;
praemiis etiam invitabat: quae tamen crudelitas ab hoc eodem aliquot
annis post, quem tu nunc crudelem esse vis, vindicata est.33
Cicero styles the accusation presented by Tubero as a pitiless call to
refrain from clemency and pardon, as if Tubero had actually burst
into the home of Ligarius’ brothers and cried that there should be no
mercy, no sanctuary for the poor man.34 Cicero then reasons that if
Caesar were to side with the murderous monster Tubero, who
recently tried to kill him, he would be remembered as the second
Sulla, a tyrant who murdered with abandon and greed the very people
whose champion Caesar portrays himself to be. Cicero knew surely
that Caesar himself had been forced into hiding in fear for his life
during Sulla’s reign. Alternatively, however, Caesar can become
32
Cic. Lig. 9. Tr. Watts, Cicero (1964).
33 34
Cic. Lig. 12. Cic. Lig. 13–14.
famous for his clemency and, at the same time, reward his loyal allies
by pardoning their erring brother.
The character of the tyrant was a powerful tool in the depiction of
unfettered power and one that Cicero had used on numerous occa-
sions. For Cicero, tyranny meant clearly the abuse of public power for
the advancement of private interests, not a position of power in
itself.35 As has been demonstrated elsewhere, the Romans of the
Late Republic often compared the power and position of their magis-
trates to their contemporary counterparts.36 According to Cicero, a
tyranny may even be instituted by law:
Of all laws I think that is the most iniquitous and least like a law, which
Lucius Flaccus, the interrex, passed in regard to Sulla—that all his acts,
whatever they were, should be ratified. For, while in all other states,
when tyrants are set up, all laws are annulled and abolished, in this case
Flaccus by his law established a tyrant in a republic.
Omnium legum iniquissimam dissimillimamque legis esse arbitror eam
quam L. Flaccus interrex de Sulla tulit, ut omnia quaecumque ille fecisset
essent rata. Nam cum ceteris in civitatibus tyrannis institutis leges omnes
exstinguantur atque tollantur, hic rei publicae tyrannum lege constituit.37
For Cicero, tyranny was thus a complex phenomenon. Cicero
approved the Republican form of dictatorship as the final self-defence
of a beleaguered commonwealth against its enemies, but the extraor-
dinary powers were to be used only for the common good. Sulla’s
dictatorship was based on law, but Cicero’s true constitutional dicta-
torship was based on the constitutional tradition and adhered to its
higher virtues.38 The line between the good dictator and the bad
tyrant, therefore, is defined essentially by the virtue and self-control
of the person holding the office, not the office itself:
Do you not see, therefore, how a king was transformed into a despot,
and how a good form of government was changed into the worst
35
Cicero uses the term tyrant in both a theoretical and purely situational manner,
for example, when he describes Clodius as a tyrant in pro Milone 13.35. Clark and
Ruebel, ‘Philosophy and Rhetoric’ (1985), 57–72; Béranger, ‘Tyrannus’ (1935), 85–94.
36
Rawson, ‘Caesar’s Heritage’ (1975), 148–59; Kalyvas, ‘Tyranny of Dictatorship’
(2007), 412–42.
37
Cic. Leg. agr. 3.5. Tr. Watts, Cicero (1964).
38
Straumann, Crisis and Constitutionalism (2016), 82–5. In contrast, Kalyvas,
‘Tyranny of Dictatorship’ (2007), 426, 432 maintains that, for Cicero, dictatorship
was a form of controlled, or legal, tyranny.
possible form through the fault of one man? For here we have a master
over the people, whom the Greeks call a tyrant; for they maintain that
the title of king should be given only to a ruler who is as solicitous for
the welfare of his people as is a father for his children, and maintains in
the best possible condition of life those over whom he is set. Such a
government is truly a good one, as I have said, but nevertheless it
inclines, and I may almost say, naturally tends, toward the condition
which is the most depraved of all. For as soon as this king turned to a
mastery less just than before, he instantly became a tyrant; and no
creature more vile or horrible or more hateful to gods and men, can
be imagined; for, though he bears a human form, yet he surpasses the
most monstrous of the wild beasts in the cruelty of his nature.
Videtisne igitur ut de rege dominus extiterit, uniusque vitio genus rei
publicae ex bono in deterrimum conversum sit? hic est enim dominus
populi quem Graeci tyrannum vocant; nam regem illum volunt esse, qui
consulit ut parens populo, conservatque eos quibus est praepositus quam
optima in condicione vivendi, sane bonum ut dixi rei publicae genus. sed
tamen inclinatum et quasi pronum ad perniciosissimum statum. [48.]
simul atque enim se inflexit hic rex in dominatum iniustiorem, fit
continuo tyrannus, quo neque taetrius neque foedius nec dis hominibus-
que invisius animal ullum cogitari potest; qui quamquam figura est
hominis, morum tamen inmanitate vastissimas vincit beluas.39
Though this passage is to some extent based on the ideas of Plato and
Aristotle on the pure and corrupted forms of government, it also
illustrates the choices that Cicero outlines for Caesar to make. Caesar,
who was elected as a magistrate to act in the best interests of the
people, yet turned into a warlord seeking his own advantage. After his
elevation to dictator, Cicero thus urges him to assume the role of the
good king-father, and warns against the dangers of self-interested
tyranny.40
When speaking of tyranny, the obvious point of reference for
Romans of the generation of Cicero and Caesar was Greek history.
The institution of tyranny was widespread in the Greek world, from
the archaic period to the advent of Roman rule. It should be noted,
however, that many Greek tyrants were, contrary to the traditional
view informed by Plato and Aristotle, often popular and effective
rulers. A tyrant in this sense was simply a ruler with absolute personal
39
Cic. Rep. 2.26.47-48. Tr. Keyes, Cicero (1994).
40
Canfora, Julius Caesar (2007), 137–9 points out that Cicero implicitly suspected
Caesar of seeking tyranny or regnum.
power, being unconstrained by laws, as a king would be. While
originally the term tyrannos meant a military leader, it came to signify
a specific type of sovereign power. Either as wise lawgivers, good
judges, or cruel despots, Greek and Hellenistic tyrants were often
memorable figures, and stories of their excesses became a staple of
ancient literature. Dionysios I and II, the tyrants of Syracuse, are cases
in point, as their exploits were also referred to in Roman literature.41
In contrast to hereditary monarchs, many tyrants were military
commanders who came to power via a coup and enjoyed the support
of the populace. Naturally, they used such titles as strategos, archon,
dynastes, or basileus rather than the term tyrannos, which tended to
have negative connotations even among the Greeks.42
In the Homeric world, there were already ample precedents for the
ruler’s jurisdiction. Judges were kings and kings were judges, the
responsibility of adjudication being included among the various
obligations of kings.43 Greek examples of tyranny and sovereign
power also came to have an impact through philosophy. Aristotle
and Plato are naturally the best-known constitutional theoreticians of
the time, and their writings have profoundly influenced our under-
standing of ancient governance. Plato, of course, was vocal in describ-
ing the misery that tyranny brings both to the tyrant and his subjects.
Lewis suggests that the popularity of this kind of argument among
philosophers lay in the creation of a deliberate contradiction to the
natural appeal of tyranny. That the philosopher would then propose
replacing the tyrant with a wise philosopher-king is only a natural
continuation of the allure of single rule.44
The Romans had a complex relationship with the idea of sovereign
monarchical rulers with unfettered powers. On one hand, there was
the Greek tradition of kingship, which held that kings were good and
41
Cic. Off. 3.45. Anderson, ‘Turannoi’ (2005), 173–222, argues that archaic tyrants
were not tyrants in the modern sense but simply rulers. Of the immense literature, see
e.g. Andrewes, Greek Tyrants (1971).
42
Lewis, Greek Tyranny (2009), 1–11, 31–4. Aristotle (Pol. 5.1313a–1315b) natur-
ally knew that tyrants could be popular and, in fact, discusses mockingly how a tyrant
may be, if not virtuous, then at least half-virtuous and half-base, by making sure that
he does not squander money and keeps his hands off the sons and daughters of his
subjects.
43
Hom. Il. 2.205–6, 1.238–9, 9.97-9, Od. 11.186. See also Aristotle’s (Pol.
3.1285b.8–12) and Herodotus’ (1.96–7) views about early kings and rulers as judges.
Papakonstantinou, Lawmaking (2008), 25–7.
44
Lewis, Greek Tyranny (2009), 80–101.
enlightened rulers, strengthened by the Late Republican popularity as
school texts of such books as Xenophon’s Cyropaedia, which depicted
omnipotent ideal rulers. Similarly, figures like Alexander the Great
were admired characters in Roman literature. On the opposite side
was the tradition that associated kings and tyrants with cruelty and
despotism, the opposite of liberty. Somewhere in between was the
contradictory historical memory of the kings of Rome, some of whom
were considered tyrants and some virtuous rulers.45
It is evident that while Cicero clearly drew from the multifaceted
historical memory of tyrants and tyranny, his chosen meaning in pro
Ligario was tyrannical behaviour. Thus there was no distinction
between a Late Republican warlord and a tyrant other than the title,
if they behaved tyrannically towards their subjects. Cicero illustrates
this distinction with the case of Sulla, a man who killed whomever he
disliked.46 For Cicero, the main issue was not whether someone in a
position such as Sulla’s was above or under the law, but rather
whether their powers were used to further the public good or private
interests. Even though Sulla was later vindicated for his actions, he
had, like the stereotypical evil tyrant, acted in his own interest.47
What the civil wars had shown was that in the end, at the time of
crisis, law and the security offered by it are utterly dependent upon
power.
Though Cicero portrays him as a figure of self-serving cruelty in
this speech, the historical record on Sulla is complex. Appian men-
tions how Sulla’s friends were murdered, his house destroyed and his
property confiscated. He himself was declared an enemy of the state
and his wife and children only barely managed to escape.48 While his
opponents were certainly not blameless champions of liberty, Sulla’s
historical legacy is far worse.49
45
Rawson, ‘Caesar’s Heritage’ (1975), 149–52; Kalyvas, ‘Tyranny of Dictatorship’
(2007), 428.
46
Cic. Lig. 12. On Cicero’s idea of tyranny in the context of the political and
philosophical spheres, see Lintott, Violence (1968), 57–8.
47
Cicero was clearly troubled by the way Sulla maintained the superficial legality
of his acts while disregarding the constitutional tradition of justice (mos and ius) and
safeguards like provocatio (Att. 9.15.2). Straumann, Crisis and Constitutionalism
(2016), 82–3.
48
App. B Civ. 1.73.340.
49
e.g. Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 7.54-56 describes Sulla as the only dictator to have
used his power with harshness and cruelty, as a tyrant. Similarly App. B Civ. 1.99.
Victory in the civil war made Sulla the unchallenged ruler of Rome,
a position he used with unprecedented ruthlessness to change con-
ceptions of law and justice, not to mention their relationship with
personal security and property rights. Sulla, in other words, took the
position of dictator and used it to refashion the constitution of the
Roman Republic with an ambitious legislative programme.50 More
concretely, this legislation also sanctioned proscriptions, a series of
premeditated and organized campaigns of what can only be described
as mass murder and plunder. Proscriptions not only transformed the
upper classes but also had far-reaching implications throughout the
Roman world by transferring property ownership en masse to per-
sons and groups loyal to Sulla.51 Such proscriptions carried with them
a deeper symbolism than the simple fact that certain persons were
declared outlaws and their property was to be confiscated. More
important was the notion that one’s life and the safety of one’s family
and possessions depended on the good-will of a single man, who
could at will take all of it away. No legal safeguards existed against
this; there was no appeal to the people or fair trial, simply the order of
one man.52 Though some have argued that the compatibility of the
dictatorship that was conferred on Sulla in 82 BC with the Roman
traditions of magistracy is dubious,53 his actions were formally sanc-
tioned by laws.54
Alongside such tyrannical acts stands the Sulla who is, in many
ways, an important figure in the development of the imperial system
50
Cic. Leg. agr. 3.5, Verr. II.3.82; Vervaet, ‘Lex Valeria and Sulla’s Empowerment’
(2004), 42; Ehrenberg, ‘Imperium maius’ (1953); Hantos, Res publica (1988); Hurlet,
Dictature de Sylla (1993). Kalyvas, ‘Tyranny of Dictatorship’ (2007), 428 refers to the
distinction made by Mommsen, and later, famously, Schmitt, between the archaic
dictatorship seeking to preserve the state and the Sullan dictatorship aiming to
radically change it.
51
Hinard, Proscriptions (1985); Santangelo, Sulla (2007), 9, 80–1 et passim
describes the effects at a local scale. See also Betti, Crisi della repubblica (1982).
52
Cic. Dom. 43, Lig. 12; Hinard, ‘Dictature de Sylla’ (2007), 2510–11, but see also
de Wilde, ‘Dictatorship’ (2013), 1–39. The actions of Sulla were, of course, formally
ratified by the people. There was no recourse to provocatio because a SCU would
bypass it, but whether a certain dictator was limited by it varied (dictator sine
provocatione). Straumann, Crisis and Constitutionalism (2016), 129–39; see Lintott,
‘Provocatio’ (1972); Humbert, ‘Le Tribunat de la plèbe et le tribunal du peuple’ (1988).
53
Plutarch (Vit. Sull. 33.1) famously noted that Sulla appointed himself as dictator.
There is a continuing debate over whether and how much Sulla violated the traditional
limits of dictatorship; see Straumann, Crisis and Constitutionalism (2016), 79–81.
54
Cicero (Att. 9.10.3) would state that Sulla, Marius, and Cinna acted rightfully
(recte) and even lawfully (iure); see also Flower, Roman Republics (2010), 91.
of law. He was an initiator of ad hoc jurisdiction, a phenomenon that
would prove to be central to the development of imperial jurisdiction.
The idea of ad hoc jurisdiction is that someone like Sulla would assume
jurisdiction to resolve an issue at hand with little or no actual author-
ization. Sulla is known to have acted as a judge during the civil wars, for
example, urging litigants to issue vadimonia for appearing in Rome
when the city was still in the hands of the Marians.55 According to
Millar, Sulla’s formal status in this case was at best that of a proconsul
of Asia, and there is no indication of what status he might have held if
victorious in the war. The fact that parties approached him and were
given rulings was hardly compatible with the Republican tradition of
jurisdiction.56 Jurisdiction may be seen as a sign of power, and the
fact that Sulla received these requests implies that the legalities of
jurisdictional power, just as the precise legal position of Sulla at the
time, were of little concern to persons seeking justice.
Extraordinary measures that granted jurisdictional powers or
enabled extra-judicial punishments were, of course, a regular occur-
rence in the Late Republic. Hostis declarations, quaestiones extraor-
dinariae, and the senatus consultum ultimum (SCU) were employed
in situations of grave political unrest, such as the Bacchanalian affair,
the Gracchan riots, and the Catilinarian conspiracy. The legality and
legitimacy of these legal acts and the political suppression that they
enabled are debatable at best,57 and the figure of the tyrant loomed
55
Livy Per. 86 Sylla cum Italicis populis, ne timeretur ab his uelut erepturus
ciuitatem et suffragii ius nuper datum, foedus percussit. Itemque ex fiducia iam certae
uictoriae litigatores a quibus adibatur uadimonia Romam deferre iussit, cum a parte
diuersa urbs adhuc teneretur. See Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 518–19. Vadimonia
(Gai. Inst. 4.184-187) were promissory acts made by the parties to a lawsuit, for
example, to reappear in court when the lawsuit was delayed or moved. Their forms,
use, and variations are intensely debated, see Donadio, Vadimonium (2011).
56
Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 518.
57
On the SCU, Cic. Cat. 1.4 claims that it authorizes the killing of citizens
immediately; Caes. B Civ. 1.5, 1.7; Sall. Cat. 29.3. The hostis declarations were begun
by Sulla (Livy Per. 77; Cic. Brut. 45.168; App. B Civ. 1.60), but even Cicero is not
consistent in what constituted an offence so grave as to proclaim a citizen as an enemy
(Cat. 1.27–8, a conspiracy, while Cic. Rab. Perd. 35, the raising of arms). Nicolet,
‘Dictatorship in Rome’ (2004); von Ungern-Sternberg, Notstandsrecht (1970). On the
other extraordinary commands, see Crifò, ‘Senatus consultum ultimum’ (1970), 1–15;
Guarino, ‘Senatus Consultum Ultimum’ (1970), 281–94; von Fritz, ‘Emergency
Powers’ (1976), 388–406; Lintott, Violence (1968), 149–74. Straumann, Crisis and
Constitutionalism (2016), 88–100 maintains that the real meaning of a SCU was most
likely the declaration of a state of emergency in the city, while the hostis declaration
was applicable generally.
large in the justifications of actions and counter-actions presented
during these years. For example, Sulla justified his own tyranny as a
response to the tyrannical actions of the tribunes of the plebs.58 Of
course, defining what was regular and what was extraordinary was
complicated by the fact that what counted as the constitution of the
Roman Republic was a set of traditional practices or mos maiorum,
which was malleable and certainly hard to define.59 What may be seen
as tyrannical in this context was something that differed from the
expected course of action or the common understanding of the
generally agreed rules. For example, Cicero himself, when suppress-
ing the Catilinarian conspiracy by executing the conspirators in secret
and without trial, could be seen as acting tyrannically by violating
provocatio. One may equally trace the roots of extraordinary powers
to the SCU against Gaius Gracchus that legalized the use of violence
against political opponents who were thought to act tyrannically.60
To return to the pro Ligario, the second model that Cicero offers
Caesar is that of a Roman magistrate and judge. Caesar, as a consul
and a dictator is, of course, already a Roman magistrate, but one only
nominally bound by the laws of the Roman state in the current
political and military situation.61 Even here, however, Cicero con-
tinues on the theme of Rome as a commonwealth of citizens with
shared values and destinies.
Cicero maintains that none but Tubero have claimed that Ligarius’
actions were criminal. He admits that blunders were made and acts
were committed in fear,62 but argues that both parties in the conflict
were good, upstanding Romans, who merely had a disagreement
regarding the welfare of the state. Thus the opposing parties were
not criminals, but opposing parts of a single commonwealth.63 Cicero
recognized the benefits of Caesar’s clemency, which had ensured that
58
App. B Civ. 1.57, 1.59; Wiseman, ‘Roman History’ (2002), 290.
59
See e.g. Kunkel and Wittmann, Staatsordnung und Staatspraxis (1995); Lintott,
Constitution (1999); Mouritsen, Plebs and Politics (2001); Hölkeskamp, Rekonstruk-
tionen (2004). Of the legal implications of mos maiorum, see Bleicken, Lex publica
(1975). On the malleability of mos maiorum, see Wallace-Hadrill, ‘Mutatio morum’
(1997).
60
See Gaughan, Murder (2010), 110–21 on this much-discussed issue of violence
and legality.
61
Cass. Dio (42.20) mentions how he was granted judicial powers that he had
already given himself. One could equally ask how much praetors and governors were
bound by law or by their own edicts.
62 63
Cic. Lig. 17. Cic. Lig. 19.
none but armed men were killed in the fighting.64 Thus Caesar had,
despite a civil war, maintained his position as an upstanding member
of the commonwealth, and would thus be foolish to waste this capital
on a strict interpretation of the laws. One of Cicero’s fantastic rhet-
orical flourishes is this reference to the long civil war as more a
disagreement among gentlemen than series of pitched battles inter-
spersed with bloody purges.
If Caesar would act as a strict judge mechanically applying the law,
he could choose to convict Ligarius. However, a conviction would at
the same time be tantamount to a declaration that the Pompeian
opposition was criminal in nature,65 thereby incriminating the
accuser, Tubero, as well. Having Ligarius convicted by Caesar because
he had denied entry would be ludicrous, because they were also
opposing Caesar.66
Some scholars have argued that the roles of judge and benevolent
victor are incompatible and that Cicero thus had to plead with both
options in mind. Should Caesar be a regular judge, he would find
Ligarius guilty, whereas if he is a merciful conqueror, he can forgive
the offence.67 This theory would hold only if the opponents in the
civil war were legitimate enemies, however, and as Cicero had just
framed the conflict as almost a debate between good Roman citizens,
I would suggest that a merciful conqueror is the last thing either
Cicero or Caesar would propose as a suitable role. What is more likely
is that the opposite poles are the strict observance of the law and
aequitas, a virtuous quest for the right and equitable solution, which
was elsewhere central to the writings of Cicero.68 Caesar should,
according to Cicero, strive for justice and equity instead of the letter
of the law, because following the law would lead to unbearable results.
Thus, the jurisdiction of the self-interested ruler was an exercise in
tyranny, the jurisdiction of the magistrate strictly bound by laws was
hardly better because justice and equity would be trumped by the
letter of the law.
These contradictions had a background in the Roman practice of
jurisdiction. The exercise of jurisdiction by the Roman magistrates of
64
Cic. Lig. 19 Cognita vero clementia tua, quis non eam victoriam probet, in qua
occiderit nemo nisi armatus?
65 66
Gotoff, Companion to Cicero (2002), 246. Cic. Lig. 23.
67
Craig, ‘Cicero's Speech for Ligarius’ (1984), 195.
68
e.g. Cic. Part. or. 37.130; Cic. Top. 4.23.
the Late Republic was either an activity very strictly bound by for-
malities, such as the jurisdiction of the praetors in the city of Rome, or
the free use of quasi-sovereign power such as that of the Roman
governors in the provinces. In Rome proper, regular jurisdiction
during the Late Republic rested on the praetor and other Republican
magistrates, in an arrangement that is still not fully understood.69
While the consulship was to become one of the main magistracies
that early Roman emperors would collect, it was in fact the office of
the praetor that contained many of the elements that would later
define their jurisdictional capabilities. The praetors, as the main
jurisdictional magistrates, not only adjudicated both by themselves
and as heads of the quaestiones perpetuae but also defined much of
the law with their edicts. Like the consuls, the praetors had military
commands and administrative tasks, and as holders of imperium,
their powers were quite considerable.70
Whether or not the consuls had jurisdiction of their own, and how
that jurisdiction may have overlapped with that of the praetor, are
unclear. Something may be deduced from the fact that Cicero men-
tions the relegation of L. Aelius Lamia (who had defended Cicero in
58 BC) by the consul Gabinius as something completely unprece-
dented. This shows that consular jurisdiction was not a regular
occurrence at this point.71 Sulla’s reforms meant that consuls were
to concentrate much more of their time in the administration of
Rome itself, but whether or not that included judicial activities is
uncertain.72
For the Republican officials, the key component of their formal
powers was the military command or imperium. The key jurisdic-
tional magistrates possessed it, but the underlying significance
was the coercive power that it entailed. For example, Cicero
deplored the powers of the proposed agrarian commission in that
they would exercise kingly power (regna omnia) through imperium
(Leg. agr. 2.35).
69
Mommsen, Staatsrecht (1871–88), 1:136–69 already lists coercion and jurisdic-
tion as some of the most important powers of Roman magistrates.
70
Brennan, Praetorship (2000).
71
Cic. Fam. 11.16.2. Both Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 519–20 and Pina Polo,
Consul at Rome (2011), 122–34 suggest that consular jurisdiction was more wide-
spread than previously believed, but their sources are quite meagre.
72
Hantos, Res publica (1988), 164.
The Roman provincial governors had very extensive powers of
jurisdiction and an almost complete freedom in the way to use it
within their provinces.73 Though consuls and praetors, with their
combination of military, administrative, and jurisdictional duties,
could be seen resembling the later role of the emperor, the influence
that these same magistrates enjoyed while appointed as pro-
magistrates in the provinces was even closer to the imperial powers
of jurisdiction. While the administration of justice in Rome was
constrained by complex procedures and limitations, in the provinces
adjudication was dealt with in a very straightforward fashion by
provincial governors by virtue of their imperium proconsulare.74
The governors appear to have tried both criminal cases by cognitio
and civil cases with some regularity. Valerius Maximus describes how
Dolabella, as governor of Asia, referred a criminal case to the council
of the Areopagus of Athens, because he was himself unable to reach a
decision.75 Diodorus of Sicily reports that Pompey, after he had
captured Sicily from the Marians at the age of 24 in 82 BC, concen-
trated his efforts on the long-neglected administration of justice with
a skill and incorruptibility that amazed the provincials.76 It is unclear
whether he held any magistracy at the time.77 Quintus Mucius Scae-
vola Pontifex, a noted jurist, became famous for his incorruptible and
exact administration of justice as governor of Asia in 97 BC. His
judicial examinations into the abuses of tax-collectors earned him
the respect of the provincials, who instituted games in his honour, but
angered the tax-collectors, who organized the prosecution of his
legate, Rutilius Rufus, in retribution.78
The nearly unfettered power of the governor and the tendency to
petition him directly is apparent in the evidence from the Late
Republic. Cicero, for instance, mentions that the provincials ventured
to meet him regarding their petitions and suits even before he had
reached Cilicia in 51 BC.79 The sovereignty of the Roman governor
could lead to apparent miscarriages of justice, such as that by Verres
73
Lintott, Imperium Romanum (1993), 65–9. For example, Caesar would travel
regularly to administer justice in the southern part of his province during the war in
Gallia (Caes. B Gall. 1.54.3; 5.1.5; 5.2.1; 6.44.3).
74
Faro, ‘Consilium del governatore’ (2009), 169–81; Bleicken, ‘Imperium consu-
lare/proconsulare’ (1998); Bringmann, Imperium proconsulare (1977).
75 76
Val. Max. 8.1. amb. 2. Diod. 39.20.
77
Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 517.
78 79
Diod. 37.5. Cic. Att. 5.13.
during the trial of Sopater.80 Some governors strove to appeal to the
sensibilities of provincials, such as P. Licinius Crassus in Asia, who
made the effort to learn the different Greek dialects so that he could
give rulings from the tribunal in the same dialect as the petitioners
had used.81 Cicero himself allowed the Greek cities in the province of
Asia use their own laws and courts (Att. 6.2.4).
Serving as governors, either as proconsuls or propraetors, gave the
Republican nobility ample experience in adjudication and the exer-
cise of nearly unlimited power. The governor as magistrate was thus
both sovereign in relation to the provincials and subject to the laws of
Rome, and was only liable to prosecution upon his return.
In the pro Ligario, the third and final option that Cicero presents for
Caesar is that of being a benevolent patriarch. He maintains that he will
not plead before Caesar as one would plead before a judge, meaning
that he would claim his client is innocent, but as before a father:
That is the tone to use to a jury, but I plead before a father: ‘He
blundered, he acted thoughtlessly, he is sorry; I throw myself upon
your clemency, I crave indulgence for his fault, I implore your pardon.’
Ad iudicem sic, sed ego apud parentem loquor: ‘Erravit, temere fecit,
paenitet: ad clementiam tuam confugio, delicti veniam peto, ut ignosca-
tur oro.’ 82
It has been argued that by claiming to plead before Caesar as a father,
Cicero is not questioning Caesar’s legitimacy, but rather the status of
the charges against Ligarius as criminal. Thus, the speech would not
be a rhetorical deprecatio as traditionally understood, but rather it
frames a dilemma that Cicero used to entangle Caesar by making him
choose his role: as a judge he must not condemn a man who has not
committed a crime, while as a father he must forgive the errant son. If
he chooses to be a father, moreover, that would mean positioning
himself as a paterfamilias and thus subordinating the whole Roman
world to his personal power.83 These mutually exclusive dual argu-
ments are some of the most baffling strategies of the speech, if one
approaches it from a formal forensic perspective.84
80
Cic. Verr. II.2.68–75. According to Cicero, Verres retried an innocent man and
found him guilty despite exacting a bribe from the accused. Similarly, Cic. Verr.
II.1.27, 1.71–6, 2.60–1, and 2.25.
81 82
Val. Max. 8.7.6. Cic. Lig. 30.
83
Johnson, ‘Dilemma’ (2004), 389–92, 397–8.
84
Montague, ‘Advocacy and Politics’ (1992), 572–3.
I would argue that debating Cicero’s speeches from this formal
perspective is rather futile, but another option is possible. It would
appear that Cicero is actually arguing on two levels, legal and political,
first against the formal legal charges brought against his client, and
second on Ligarius’ participation in the political opposition to Caesar.
As in a number of other speeches, it is on this underlying political
cause that Cicero places the main weight of the argument. While a
strict judge may convict on the nominal legal issue, a father has a
greater responsibility towards the familia. Thus, Cicero would not, as
such, be urging Caesar to extend his patria potestas over all of Rome,
but rather the other way around. Because Caesar’s imagined familia
consisting of his allies and clients already includes, among others, the
brothers of Ligarius, Cicero is here merely suggesting that Caesar
should also place Ligarius himself under his protection and accept
him into this familia. Of the nominal charges, Cicero implies that it is
commonly understood that they are more or less meaningless in the
grand scheme of things.
The image of the father, which clearly is the option that Cicero
would prefer Caesar to choose, is an amalgamation of the positions of
paterfamilias and pater patriae, a figure of responsibility and author-
ity, free from the need to follow the letter of the law to concentrate on
the public good. There is some similarity here to Cicero’s more widely
known ideal princeps, which in De re publica is defined after the
model of Pericles, whose rule was one of uninterrupted power and
supreme authority within the bounds of a Republican constitution.85
Even if not completely compatible with the omnipotent, wise, and
merciful father, the image of the princeps is similarly a figure expressing
primarily auctoritas, not executive power. Both are figures referring
to the Roman tradition, virtues, and institutions. It has been noted
that princeps was, even at this stage, an exceedingly ambiguous
concept which held little significance on its own, leaving modern
observers to project their interpretations onto the various sources.86
While the Ciceronian idea of the principate was clearly a political
concept, it was not a political regime as such. The princeps is a chief
whose authority is freely accepted by the people, a leader who does
not command but rather advises. Because of the great authority that
85
Cic. Rep. 1.16.25, 4.10.11, De or. 3.138, Off. 2.60; Canfora, ‘Origini del princi-
pato’ (2007), 640–2; Girardet, Ordnung (1983); Lehmann, Reformvorschläge (1980).
86
Guizzi, Principato (1971), 2.
he has gained through virtue and merit, the advice of this optimus
civis is naturally followed.87
It should be noted that Cicero’s opinion about sovereign power
changed considerably over time. Although Cicero regarded the
dictatorship of Sulla as a necessity, justified only because it helped
avoid a worse state of affairs, he is more positive on the benefits of
the extraordinary powers given to Pompey.88 The insufficiency of the
political system justified, even to that old Republican Cicero, a certain
admiration for monarchical forms of government.89 After the Ides of
March, Cicero’s tone on extraordinary powers became markedly
harsher, describing in the Philippics Caesar’s dictatorship as a way
of usurping royal power. He thus applauded the decision of Antony to
abolish the office of dictator, not simply because of the despotism that
had already been endured, but mainly because of the fear of future
despotism. The phrase Cicero employs, regni timore, implies both
the fear of royal power and tyrannical rule, as if taking them to be
indistinguishable.90
THE NATURE OF CAESAR’S JURISDICTION

IN PRO LIGARIO
Pro Ligario is fascinating in its portrayal of the different models

of leadership that Cicero offers to Caesar. However, behind the
concepts of tyrant, magistrate, and monarch looms the figure of
Sulla, a harrowing reminder to any Roman of Cicero’s and Caesar’s
generation of the misuse of unrestrained power. What these options
demonstrate is how indeterminate and fluid the understanding
regarding the exercise of jurisdiction was at the time. The fact that
87
Cic. Q. Fr. 3.5.1 de optimo statu civitatis et de optimo cive; Magdelain, Auctoritas
(1947), 2; Béranger, Principatus (1973), 117–34, criticizes earlier attempts at tracing
ideas of the Principate to Cicero.
88
Such as the imperium maius later so important in the imperial framework of
power. Vell. Pat. 2.31.2–4; Cic. Verr. II.2.8, 3.213–18. Pompey was something of a
blind spot for Cicero; while in the same speech he warns strongly against putting
everything in the hands of one man (Leg. Man. 52), later he accepts that Pompey’s
career has been one of exception (Leg. Man. 61). See also Cass. Dio 36.31.3–32.1.
89
Cic. Rosc. Am. 139, Leg. Man. 56; Orestano, Potere normativo (1962), 5–6;
Rawson, ‘Caesar’s Heritage’ (1975), 158.
90
Cic. Phil. 1.2.4.
Cicero feels comfortable presenting these hypothetical choices shows
how much the sense of normalcy had been undermined and new roles
were being sought. The multiple traditions that Cicero refers to were
all known and discussed figures in the Roman history of ideas,
being, as they were, stock characters common in the ancient world
with their ready contexts. That Cicero evokes these characters in the
articulation of Caesar’s jurisdiction is interesting, as it demonstrates
the ideological background and historical memory that influenced the
conceptualization of the jurisdiction of rulers in Rome before the
introduction of imperial rule.
In pro Ligario, Cicero shows how the actions of Caesar were, from a
contemporary perspective, experiments on an ad hoc basis. We may
say that he was driven by political expediency and the need to punish
his opponents or that he wanted a show trial to publicize his clem-
ency. These questions, just like the controversy as to whether his
jurisdiction was formal, regular, or usurped ad hoc, are ultimately
futile. He was most likely asked by the Tuberos to punish Ligarius and
obliged them as a favour, just like he would have done on campaign
or as governor. The purely constitutional argument of disputing the
jurisdiction of the dictator, even if it could have been made or have
mattered, was clearly not what Cicero had in mind. The issue was
what kind of man Caesar wanted to be and how he would like to be
remembered.
Although most modern observers acknowledge how well Cicero
manages to combine his independent republicanism with the cour-
teousness of the courtier,91 contradictory arguments have been
presented about the motives of Cicero and Caesar and the advan-
tages they derived from the trial.92 Some say the trial and the speech
were a low point in Cicero’s life, with his dignity compromised by
the praise given to Caesar, while others maintain that the outcome
was generally positive.93 One possible reason for this discrepancy is
that modern observers have a clear tendency to look at the speech
through the Republican mindset, and fairly harshly maintain that
Cicero had betrayed his principles, while ancient sources generally
approached the speech situationally.
91
MacKendrick, Speeches of Cicero (1995), 438; Drumann, Geschichte Roms
(1899–1929), 3:708.
92
Johnson, ‘Dilemma’ (2004), 380.
93
Johnson, ‘Dilemma’ (2004), 374; Montague, ‘Advocacy and Politics’ (1992).
When asked to speak, Cicero was trying to simultaneously navigate
the new political situation and concentrate on his writings. His
relationship with Caesar was, to say the least, problematic. For
example, Lintott writes that Cicero wished to find ‘an acceptable
position for himself in relation to Caesar’, and found pleading with
Caesar humiliating.94 Some scholars have accused Cicero of display-
ing incomprehensible blindness and naivety about Caesar’s political
aims by agreeing to take part in the trial at all.95 However, considering
Cicero’s political realism, the credibility of such judgment is rather
weak.96 It has also been argued that by the time of the trial, Cicero
had accepted the political situation and would not have wished to see
Pompeians return to power and institute a new round of retributions.97
Caesar himself (according to Sallust) had earlier noted how dangerous
Sulla’s proscriptions were, because they loosened the restraints against
killing fellow citizens:
But that was the beginning of great bloodshed; for whenever anyone
coveted a man’s house in town or country, or at last even his goods or
his garment, he contrived to have him enrolled among the proscribed.
Thus those who had exulted in the death of Damasippus were them-
selves before long hurried off to execution, and the massacre did not end
until Sulla glutted all his followers with riches.
Sed ea res magnae initium cladis fuit; nam uti quisque domum aut
villam, postremo vas aut vestimentum alicuius concupiverat, dabat op-
eram ut is in proscriptorum numero esset. Ita illi quibus Damasippi mors
laetitiae fuerat paulo post ipsi trahebantur, neque prius finis iugulandi
fuit quam Sulla omnis suos divitiis explevit.98
Caesar could pardon Ligarius to gain political support from Ligarius’
friends and advertise his policy of clementia. The lengthiest portion of
the speech is devoted to precisely this effect. If pardoned, not only
Ligarius but also his influential brothers and their associates would be
Caesar’s staunchest supporters.99 In fact, what Cicero is outlining
here is a political bargain, which is vital to all aspirants to single
94
Lintott, Cicero as Evidence (2008), 314–15, 320–1.
95
Walser, ‘Prozess des Ligarius’ (1959), 96.
96
Heuss, ‘Cicero’s Theorie’ (1975), 271: ‘kein illusionistischer Kindskopf ’.
97
Kumaniecki, ‘Prozess des Ligarius’ (1967), 456.
98
Sall. Cat. 51.33–4. Tr. Rolfe.
99
Cic. Lig. 31–8; Johnson, ‘Dilemma’ (2004), 377; May, Trials (1988), 148; Gotoff,
Companion to Cicero (2002), 250.
rule: gaining a power-base through favours. Of course, Cicero does
present clementia as a central part of Caesar’s policy, though else-
where in private correspondence he suspects that Caesar’s taking
these actions is not due to his good nature, humanism, and love of
peace, but rather as a more calculated way of establishing his power
through debts of gratitude.100 For the ‘new friends’ of Caesar, the
people who had accepted his clementia, this was both a moral and
political crisis, since the debt would be so overwhelming and the
enforced bond of friendship so tight that there was no possibility of
repayment or release.101
The official setting of the speech has also raised suspicions regarding
the validity of the trial, with some claiming that the trial was not a trial
at all, but rather a public hearing designed to assist Caesar in making
his sovereign decision on the matter. The main argument for such a
theory holds that although Caesar had legal backing for exercising
adjudicative power, the whole process was so far removed from any
regular court procedure that it should not be elevated to the level of a
trial, any more than Sulla’s decisions over the life and death of his
opponents.102 What this formalistic view overlooks is that what took
place was nevertheless a public judicial hearing by a competent Roman
magistrate, in which speeches were made by an accuser and a defender.
While it may be argued that comparisons with it should not be sought
from any regular trials but rather from the later imperial hearings of
conspirators and political opponents,103 the discussion is quite reveal-
ing on what counts as a trial and how the conceptions of normality
would be rewritten during the early Principate. If Cicero had qualms
about the legitimacy of the trial, he kept them to himself. Furthermore,
the combination of regular jurisdiction and political expediency was
also typical of the imperial exercise of jurisdiction in the years to come.
The role of Caesar as judge is, in this case, exceedingly complicated,
beginning with the issue of why he is judge in the first place. As
dictator, Caesar held supreme executive and military power, although
despite being supreme judge probably unconstricted by provocatio, it
100
Cic. Att. 9.7c, 9.16; Rochlitz, Bild Caesars (1993), 50–1, 125–9.
101
See e.g. Tatum, Caesar (2008), 153–4.
102
Bringmann, ‘Caesar als Richter’ (1986), 79, 87, using the arguments already
presented by Lang, is not convincing in light of Bauman, Crimen Maiestatis (1967),
146–7.
103
Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 520 called them ‘jurisdiction (or something
roughly resembling it)’.
is unclear what the powers of dictator actually meant. There had, after
all, been no dictators since the Hannibalic wars except Sulla, and the
annalistic tradition of the dictatorship mostly concerned military
matters.104 It may thus be safe to assume that precedent provided
little guidance for how a dictator was to adjudicate, and had Caesar
preferred to not take the case, he could have referred it to the regular
courts. Cicero pointedly does not once mention in which official role
Caesar adjudicates, but instead urges him to rise above the role of
magistrate and think of himself as a father.
Theories about the motives of Cicero and Caesar are, of course,
pure speculation. According to Plutarch, Ligarius was a villain. Cae-
sar, therefore, permitted Cicero to appear on Ligarius’ behalf simply
because he wanted to hear Cicero speak after such a long time.
Cicero’s speech moved the audience to tears with its pathos and
emotions, leaving Caesar no other choice than to acquit the
accused.105 Contrary to what Plutarch says, Caesar naturally could
have convicted Ligarius if necessary. Most modern observers are less
optimistic about the power of oratory and maintain that the trial and
its outcome were surely predetermined by Caesar, who was under no
obligation to bring the case to open trial in the first place.106 The
argument about the predeterminacy of the trial’s result is, upon closer
examination, unconvincing. Caesar could, of course, do as he wanted,
but that does not necessarily mean that he had made up his mind.
What is certain is that there was some pressure on Caesar to put
Ligarius on trial, either from the Tuberos or from someone else using
them as a front. Caesar acquiesced to the trial, but as the case started
to appear strange, his enthusiasm vanished. It is quite possible that
Caesar used the trial to gauge the public mood in a fairly tense
political situation. Politically, Caesar’s main aim was most likely to
appease the former supporters of Pompey, so that convicting a fairly
minor figure already in exile, while at the same time declaring that
being a supporter of Pompey was criminal, would not have achieved
the desired result.
That the facts surrounding pro Ligario are unclear, even strange,
does not make it stand out among Cicero’s Caesarian speeches. His
104
de Wilde, ‘Dictator's Trust’ (2012), 555–77, but see Lintott, Constitution
(1999), 111.
105
Plut. Vit. Cic. 39.5–6.
106
See e.g. Gotoff, Companion to Cicero (2002), 237.
speech for King Deiotarus of Galatia in November 45 BC has been
called ‘the most baffling of Cicero’s speeches’.107 What makes the
speech interesting for the current inquiry is that it was given in
Caesar’s home, with Caesar as its only audience. It is thus a forerun-
ner of the trials held in camera by later emperors that emphasized the
centrality of the ruler in the course of justice. For Cicero, this develop-
ment is unprecedented, and he laments for a lengthy portion of the
speech the lack of support from the audience and how the setting
limits his oratory.108 Beyond that, the speech descends rapidly into a
satire. The only mentioned prosecutors are Deiotarus’ son-in-law
and his slave, who accuse Deiotarus of attempting to poison Caesar
while he was his guest in Galatia. Cicero’s praise for Caesar and
his depiction of the laughable charges have been rightly described
as ‘burlesque’, aimed at amusing Caesar rather than dealing with
them seriously.109
The fact that the trial of Deiotarus took place in the home of
Caesar, or that the brothers of Ligarius and Cicero went there to
plead to him before the trial, was not uncommon in itself. Both the
private house and the forum were established loci for trials, but for a
trial of this magnitude taking place in seclusion was highly unusual.
Cicero himself delves at length into the exceptionality of the situation:
The unwonted scene of this trial, too, is not without its effect upon me: a
case of graver import than any that have ever come under discussion is
being pleaded by me within the walls of a private dwelling, pleaded in
private session and aloof from the thronging audience wherein the
enthusiasm of the orator commonly finds its support; under your eyes
and in your features I find my repose; you are all I have to look to; my
every word has regard to none save you; the same circumstances which
afford me the strongest hope of establishing the truth, are less adapted
to move the emotions and to rouse the fire and fervour of eloquence.
Were I pleading this case in the Forum, Gaius Caesar, albeit with you to
107 108
Gotoff, Companion to Cicero (2002), 251. Cic. Deiot. 5–7.
109
Gotoff, Companion to Cicero (2002), 257–60. The background of the case is
problematic. Long a Roman ally, Deiotarus had fought as Pompey’s client on his side
and lost some lands as a consequence. He had petitioned Caesar a number of times to
regain them, but without success. Why the accusation was presented is hard to say.
The original accuser was Castor, whose father’s tetrarchy had been taken by Deio-
tarus, but as a foreigner Castor could not act as the official accuser. It is possible that
Caesar wanted to settle matters in the East in anticipation of the campaign against
Parthia, but how this would have accomplished it is unclear. There was no verdict in
the case.
hear and you to weigh my words, with what enthusiasm would the
assembled people of Rome inspire me! What citizen would not feel
kindly towards a king, remembering that his whole life had been
devoted to waging the wars of the Roman people! I should have the
Senate house in my view, the Forum beneath my gaze, and heaven itself
would stand arbiter above. In such surroundings, recalling the kind-
nesses of the immortal gods and of the people and Senate of Rome to
King Deiotarus, it would be impossible for my speech to falter.
Moveor etiam loci ipsius insolentia, quod tantam causam, quanta nulla
umquam in disceptatione versata est, dico intra domesticos parietes, dico
extra conventum et eam frequentiam, in qua oratorum studia niti solent:
in tuis oculis, in tuo ore voltuque acquiesco, te unum intueor, ad te unum
omnis mea spectat oratio: quae mihi ad spem obtinendae veritatis grav-
issima sunt, ad motum animi et ad omnem impetum dicendi contentio-
nemque leviora: hanc enim, C. Caesar, causam si in foro dicerem eodem
audiente et disceptante te, quantam mihi alacritatem populi Romani
concursus adferret! Quis enim civis ei regi non faveret, cuius omnem
aetatem in populi Romani bellis consumptam esse meminisset? Spectarem
curiam, intuerer forum, caelum denique testarer ipsum. Sic, cum et
deorum immortalium et populi Romani et senatus beneficia in regem
Deiotarum recordarer, nullo modo mihi deesse posset oratio.110
Recent scholarship has convincingly demonstrated how trials could
and did take place in private homes.111 There were many different
scenarios where this could happen, ranging from the exercise of
jurisdiction by the paterfamilias among members of the household
or the arrangement of the second part of the trial after the praetor had
given his say on the matter and appointed the iudex. As is well
known, the houses of the upper classes were spaces where public
and private spheres met and where it was customary that access could
be granted freely to visitors.112 However, Caesar was not living in his
own house, which, based on the sources, appears to have been a
relatively modest dwelling in the Suburra neighbourhood, but rather
the domus publica on the Via Sacra (see Fig. 1.2), the official residence
of the pontifex maximus (Suet. Iul. 46). The domus publica was an old
atrium house that was expanded by adding a cryptoporticus during
the Late Republic, following the building fashion of the time.113
110
Cic. Deiot. 2.5–6. Tr. Watts.
111
Bablitz, ‘Bringing the Law Home’ (2015); Perry, ‘Paterfamilias’ (2015).
112
Vitr. 6.5.1–2, but Wallace-Hadrill, Houses and Society (1994).
113
De Angelis, ‘The Emperor’s Justice’ (2010), 130.
N
DO
MU
S
DO
MU
S
VIA
SA
CR
Po A
rticu
s?
DOMUS REGIS Ta
blin
SACRORUM u m
?
NOVA VIA Atr

ium
LUCUS
VESTAE
SACELLUM
Peristylium
ORBONAE
DOMUS
0 5 10 20 40m
A speculative reconstruction of Domus Publica during the late Republic based on A. Carandini 2010 (D. Flippi).
1:400, Juhana Heikonen.
Fig. 1.2. Domus publica. Hypothetical reconstruction by Juhana Heikonen.

The real grievance that Cicero has about the case was not that it
was held in a private house, but the lack of audience.114 Trials were
supposed to be held publicly, and even in matters where the jurisdic-
tion was private, it was thought that to be perceived just a matter
should be deliberated in public. The importance of publicity and
accessibility continued through the political and legal culture; for a
Roman in public service in the Late Republic such as Cicero it was
considered to be of utmost importance that their actions, including
those taking place in their homes, were visible and observable to the
public. Like the emperors, the political elite were as if on stage, visible
to all, and secrecy would prompt suspicion.115
HELLENISTIC KING OR REPUBLICAN

MAGISTRATE?
The images of Caesar as judge formulated by Cicero in pro Ligario

were significant in the conception of what the Roman emperor would
later be, because Cicero defines much of the debate over Caesar. An
illuminating example is the contrast between the image of Caesar as a
diligent Republican magistrate and Caesar as a usurper who aims to
assume the mantle of divine kingship, both of which have their
foundations in the writings of Cicero.116 These two narratives take
very different paths in later Roman literature. The story of the diligent
judge-magistrate taking an active interest in the advancement of the
law gradually evolved into the historical depiction of Caesar the judge
as a Roman emperor, while the latter characterization, as seen
through the works of Plutarch, Suetonius, and Dio, grew into a
story of the failed pursuit of divine honours and kingship. This
story would ultimately emerge as the chief explanation for his mur-
der. The significance of this divergence of narratives is central in the
formation of the jurisdictional powers of the emperor, because of the
difference in the nature of jurisdiction of a magistrate and that of a
114
As rightly noted by De Angelis, ‘The Emperor’s Justice’ (2010), 131.
115
On the visibility of actions in a private house, see Cic. Dom. 37.100; Vell. Pat.
2.14.3. On the importance of visibility to the emperor, see Fertik, ‘Privacy and Power’
(2015).
116
Rawson, ‘Caesar’s Heritage’ (1975), 149.
sovereign. The increasingly sovereign way in which the Caesar of
these narratives exercises his jurisdiction reflects the change in the
image of Caesar from a Republican magistrate to a Roman emperor.
The narrative of Caesar supplies precedent for the subsequent imper-
ial jurisdiction.
The first narrative, that of Caesar as an administrator and judge
intimately involved in the administration and advancement of law,
should be scrutinized both synchronically and diachronically. There
is a long-standing controversy over the reform plans of Caesar and
what he had in mind for the Roman state at the time of his death.117
In relation to law, Caesar is an enigmatic figure, made more complex
by the subsequent development of his image in Roman historical
writing. In the contemporary accounts, most notably Cicero, he is
said to have acted as judge while governor and dictator in accordance
with Roman traditions. However, in the later historical tradition
Caesar is said to have regularly adjudicated in the manner of an
emperor. A similar augmentation may be noted in the realm of
legislative activity, where Cicero mentions only some, such as Cae-
sar’s lex de urbe augenda of 45 BC,118 while Suetonius, and to a lesser
degree Plutarch and Dio, credit him with a veritable legislative
programme.119
Caesar is recorded as having acted as a judge and legislator in the
provinces both during and after the civil war.120 In pro Balbo, Cicero
praises Caesar’s actions as governor of Spain in 61 BC. Caesar had
settled disputes, established laws with the consent of the people, and
stamped out certain barbarian customs.121 In the commentary on the
Alexandrian war, ascribed to Caesar, he is shown demonstrating a
vivid interest in organizing the provinces through which he passed,
holding inquiries, and settling old disputes.122
Before Suetonius there are very few accounts of Caesar adjudicat-
ing in Rome, aside from the Caesarian speeches of Cicero. Moreover,
the cases that are in any way informative are also anecdotal and
thus devoid of any precise information on the nature of Caesar’s
jurisdiction. Valerius Maximus recounts how Servius Galba openly
117
Jehne, Staat (1987); Meyer, Caesars Monarchie (1974).
118
Cic. Att. 13.33a. He also mentions lex Julia repetundarum in In Pisonem 21.50.
119
Donati, ‘Cesare e il diritto’ (2008), 38–41.
120
Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 518–19.
121 122
Cic. Balb. 43. Caes. B Alex. 65.4.
challenged Caesar during a trial at which he was a judge at the Forum.
The incident took place after Caesar had achieved complete victory
(consummatis victoriis), suggesting a date sometime after the spring
of 45 BC. As usual, no information is given as to under what authority
Caesar exercised jurisdiction, though he was dictator at the time.
Galba announced that he had pledged money for Pompey, Caesar’s
former son-in-law, and as he is now being called upon for the
amount, he asks for advice on the correct course of action. Despite
this direct reference to both the failed alliance with Pompey and the
later sale of Pompey’s property, Caesar simply ordered the debt to be
paid from his own money.123 In the second example, Seneca refers to
a case of Caesar adjudicating a dispute between neighbours, and upon
recognizing the defendant as one of his veterans, resolving the case in
his favour.124
In the depiction of Suetonius, Caesar becomes invested with the
powers of a Roman emperor, a sovereign ruler with powers to
adjudicate and legislate. Suetonius describes Caesar generically as a
diligent and strict judge:
He administered justice with the utmost conscientiousness and strict-
ness. Those convicted of extortion he even dismissed from the senator-
ial order. He annulled the marriage of an ex-praetor, who had married a
woman the very day after her divorce, although there was no suspicion
of adultery.
Ius laboriosissime ac severissime dixit. repetundarum conuictos etiam
ordine senatorio movit. diremit nuptias praetorii uiri, qui digressam a
marito post biduum statim duxerat, quamuis sine probri suspicione.125
According to Suetonius, Caesar was also tough on crime:
He increased the penalties for crimes; and inasmuch as the rich involved
themselves in guilt with less hesitation because they merely suffered
exile, without any loss of property, he punished murderers of freemen
by the confiscation of all their goods, as Cicero writes, and others by the
loss of one-half.
Poenas facinorum auxit; et cum locupletes eo facilius scelere se obligarent,
quod integris patrimoniis exulabant, parricidas, ut Cicero scribit, bonis
omnibus, reliquos dimidia parte multavit.126
123 124
Val. Max. 6.2.11. Sen. Ben. 5.24.
125 126
Suet. Iul. 43. Tr. Rolfe. Suet. Iul. 42.
To round up the legal reforms, Suetonius has Caesar embark on a
codification project, of which nothing further is known:
to reduce the civil code to fixed limits, and of the vast and prolix mass of
statutes to include only the best and most essential in a limited number
of volumes . . .
ius ciuile ad certum modum redigere atque ex immensa diffusaque legum
copia optima quaeque et necessaria in paucissimos conferre libros.127
To be fair, this is just one of the many unfinished projects that
Suetonius mentions, including vast building projects and military
conquests. As the positive qualities of Caesar the judge are similar
to the ones ascribed to Trajan and Hadrian, one is inclined to
consider Suetonius’ description of the codification project as being
influenced by Hadrian’s codification of the praetor’s edict, the edic-
tum perpetuum. A further similarity to later emperors is the allusion
to the word of the emperor having the force of law: Suetonius states
that Caesar, in his growing arrogance, said that people should hold
his word (dicta) as law.128
The second narrative, that Caesar would have wanted to become a
divine king like the Hellenistic rulers, is also attributable to Cicero
and repeated in a long scholarly tradition. In his writings, Cicero
repeatedly implies and hints at Caesar’s willingness to play with royal
attributes and divine honours. In the Philippics, Cicero uses that to
taint Antony by association in a description of a scene at the feast of
the Lupercalia just after Caesar had been made dictator in perpetuo:
Your colleague [Caesar] was seated on the rostra, clad in a purple gown,
on a golden chair, with a wreath. You rise up, you approach the chair (if
you were Lupercus, yet you should have remembered you were consul
too), you display a diadem. There is a groan all over the Forum. Whence
came the diadem? . . . You persisted in putting it on his head amid the
lamentations of the people; he amid their applause persisted in rejecting
it. You then, traitor, were discovered to be the one who, while establishing
a tyranny and willing to have your colleague as your master, was at the
same time making trial of what the Roman people could bear and endure.
Sedebat in rostris conlega tuus amictus toga purpurea in sella aurea
coronatus. Escendis, accedis ad sellam (ita eras Lupercus, ut te consulem
esse meminisse deberes), diadema ostendis. Gemitus toto foro. Unde
diadema? . . . Tu diadema inponebas cum plangore populi, ille cum
127 128
Suet. Iul. 44. Suet. Iul. 77 pro legibus habere quae dicat.
plausu reiciebat. Tu ergo unus, scelerate, inventus es, qui cum auctor
regni esse eumque, quem collegam habebas, dominum habere velles, idem
temptares, quid populus Romanus ferre et pati posset.129
While it is clear from the speech that what Caesar was aiming at was
the honour of refusal, being offered the kingship by the people and
refusing it, Cicero uses the occasion to accuse both Caesar and
Antony of attempting to foist the tyranny of kingship upon the
Romans. This refusal, which Cicero himself describes as being
inscribed in the Fasti, was of course not the unprecedented event
that he implies it was. Refusing honours was a typical way of implying
that someone was worthy of an honour, even though accepting it
would be gauche. As we will see in Chapter 2, the art of refusing
honours was perfected by Augustus. What is different in Cicero’s
description, however, are the hints that there was a hidden agenda, a
deeper purpose of testing the waters for the real thing.130 What Cicero
is here implying had actually a very violent undertone. According to
Plutarch, the killing of Tiberius Gracchus was prompted by a misin-
terpreted gesture where he pointed to his head. While he had sought
to convey that he believed his life was in danger, his senatorial
opponents interpreted it as a sign that he wanted a royal crown.131
Later in the same speech, Cicero mentions the similarity of divine
honours given to Caesar and those accorded to major gods like
Jupiter, Mars, or Quirinus: the pulvinar, the fastigium, and finally,
the flamen, who would be Antony.132 Since the Philippics were writ-
ten after the Ides of March, Cicero is not saying that Caesar would
have aimed at divine honours during his lifetime. The interpretation
made by later authors, however, was just that.
The later significance of this narrative to the development of
imperial jurisdiction was profound, because it emphasized the extra-
ordinariness and sovereignty of the ruler. While the first narrative of
Caesar as the judge-magistrate initiating legal reforms corresponded
129
Cic. Phil. 2.34.85. Tr. Ker, Cicero (1926), with slight modifications.
130
The sinister undertones of Cicero’s vehement attack on Antony have largely set the
tone for both the Roman and the modern debate over whether Caesar was actually
seeking kingship. On the debate, and Cicero’s rather ambiguous attitude towards kingship
in general, see Rawson, ‘Caesar’s Heritage’ (1975).
131
Plut. Vit. Ti. Gracch. 19.
132
Cic. Phil. 2.43.110, Quem is honorem maiorem consecutus erat, quam ut haberet
pulvinar, simulacrum, fastigium, flaminem? Est ergo flamen, ut Iovi, ut Marti, ut
Quirino, sic divo Iulio M. Antonius.
to the practicalities of the legal role of later emperors, the narrative of
the divine king provided the ideological foundation of imperial jur-
isdiction already formulated by Seneca.133 Oversized honours and
visibility granted to one person was a feature of the Late Republic,
where already the dictator Sulla was honoured with more statues in
Rome than anybody else, while Pompey’s building project surpassed
everything before him.134
As Cicero’s Philippics demonstrate, the utility of the language of
sovereignty and tyranny continued unabated in the Late Republic.
Sallust, among others, writing a few years after Caesar’s murder,
describes the power of the patricians over plebeians as tyrannical
because the patricians disposed of them and their property like
kings wielding supreme power.135
While interest in decidedly non-republican honours was not rare
in the later Republic, especially among Romans operating in the
eastern parts of the Empire, such interest has gained an importance
of a different magnitude in the case of Caesar, due to his subsequent
murder and the fact that Cicero mentions such honours repeatedly.
In addition to Cicero, Suetonius’ depiction of the hostile popular
reaction to rumours that Caesar was seeking to install himself as
king and accrue divine honours has formed the basis of the argument
that he was indeed seeking divine kingship. Suetonius is quite clearly
following Cicero in his depiction of the Lupercalia episode, but unlike
Cicero, he explicitly mentions the divine honours granted during
Caesar’s lifetime.136
It is clear that Caesar was seen as something apart from the other
warlords of the Late Republic. Cicero does mention that, for example,
Sulla held the power of a king, but says nothing of an ambition to
become one.137 According to Eduard Meyer, while Pompey’s position
133
Stacey, Roman Monarchy (2007).
134
Eck, ‘Public space’ (2010), 90.
135
Sall. Hist. 1.11; Wiseman, ‘Roman history’ (2002), 295. Of course, Augustus in
the Res gestae 1.1 would mention how he, as a private person, raised an army at his
own expense to rid the state of the tyranny of a clique.
136
Suet. Iul. 76, 79.
137
Cic. Har. resp. 54, Idem iterum Sulla superavit; tum sine dubio habuit regalem
potestatem, quamquam rem publicam reciperarat. There were a number of other
allegations regarding previous suspected usurpers, such as Tiberius Gracchus or
Saturninus toying with regal insignia, but Rawson, ‘Caesar’s Heritage’ (1975), 157
suspects that those accounts may have been affected by what was then known of
Caesar.
was more like Augustus’, a princeps ruling with the support of the
Senate, Caesar aspired to be a divine king and a ruler of the world, a
Hellenistic monarch in imitation of Alexander.138 Even Pompey had,
of course, been given divine honours in the East after the war with
Mithridates.
However, this often-presented argument that Caesar sought some
variant of Hellenistic kingship is misleading, not least because it
assumes that such a Hellenistic king would have been all-powerful.
It is true that Hellenistic kingship and the example of Alexander were
powerful arguments in the Roman debate over single rule.139 How-
ever, though Alexander’s military command involved punishing
mutineers and other acts among his troops,140 the legal situation
was normally based on legal pluralism, the legal autonomy of cities,
and, in many cases, population groups in the Hellenistic kingdoms.
The nominal hegemony of the king was recognized following Philip
II’s Common Peace of 337 BC,141 and from Alexander onwards, the
centrality of the king and his sovereignty (and divinity) were essential,
but interpreted differently in various regions. In Asia Minor, for
example, local communities and elites had almost complete auton-
omy as long as they recognized the overlordship of the king, whereas
in Egypt, where the government took a much more active interest in
the administration of justice, there existed a hierarchy of courts for
both Greeks and Egyptians. In practice, as Greeks and Egyptians were
governed according to their own traditional laws and the kings put
their sovereign legislative power to use very rarely, the government
was content to take the route of least resistance. A similar tendency
toward legal autonomy appears to have been the case elsewhere, as,
for instance, Greek cities under Parthian rule were able to apply their
own laws.142
Though many Hellenistic states preferred to leave jurisdiction in
the hands of individual communities such as cities, the ruler still had
the last word. A famous example is the restoration of exiles to Greek
cities in 324 BC by Alexander, whose message, preserved in Diodorus,
138
Meyer sought to correct the overtly positive image of Caesar that he felt was
perverted by Mommsen. Meyer, Caesars Monarchie (1919), 463, 472–3, 508–27.
139
See Kalyvas, ‘Tyranny of Dictatorship’ (2007), 412–42.
140 141
See e.g. Diod. 17.109.2–3. Worthington, Philip II (2008), 161.
142
Jouguet, Alexander (1978), 75, 312–15, 363, 375, 395. Cassayre, Justice (2010),
121–2 notes how the king’s jurisdiction was often on appeal.
was read at the Olympic games. Alexander ordered that all exiles were
to be allowed to return, unless they had been guilty of sacrilege or
murder. Alexander further makes it clear that he will, if necessary,
authorize the use of coercion should the cities resist the restoration,
as, for example, the Athenians did.143 Quintus Curtius, moreover,
notes that the Athenian resistance stemmed from the fact that they
were used to being directed by their own laws and customs, not the
dictates of a king.144
In contrast to the practical administration of Hellenistic king-
doms, there is a long Hellenistic tradition of political philosophy
which focuses on the figure of an ideal monarch, who is not only
the source of law, but also a god and living law. The virtue of the
king must be perfect, just as the king must be governed by the law
within him.145 It is perhaps this tradition, instead of the actual
practices of the Hellenistic kingdoms, to which the claims about
Caesar refer.
Instead of a Hellenistic divine king, the description of a Greek
tyrant, who was often an accomplished military leader enjoying
popular support, would better fit Caesar. Earlier scholars have
gone as far as seeing in Caesar a true tyrant in the Aristotelian
sense, a strong leader supported by the poor in a class struggle
against the aristocracy.146 While Marxist readings of the Late
Republic have since gone out of fashion, Caesar generated a number
of policies that correspond with the image of a popular tyrant. He
cultivated the plebs of Rome, and one of his most valuable assets was
his image as a friend of the people, which none of his contenders
could or would match. Caesar’s cult, which had a considerable
grass-roots following, was founded on this perceived affinity with
the people. This popular support further accounted for the futility of
the conspirators in calling Caesar a tyrant when addressing the
people after the Ides of March. Caesar also understood the essenti-
ality of tribunicia potestas in effectively ruling Rome, a lesson that
was not lost on Octavian.147
143 144
Diod. 17.109.1, 18.8.2–7. Curt. 10.2.4–7.
145
Xen. Cyr. 8.1.22; Goodenough, ‘Hellenistic Kingship’ (1928), 55–102; Martens,
One God (2003), 31–7.
146
Yavetz, Plebs and Princeps (1988), 44–5, 53–6, 62–6, 69.
147
See e.g. Yavetz, Caesar (1983).
PETITIONS AND GIFTS AS MODELS FOR
ADJUDICATION
Making petitions and requests to patrons or in general to persons in a

position of power was a central part of the social fabric of Roman
society. The mechanisms of petition and response were ways in which
people not only operated in the society but also how they perpetuated
the social order. For example, the custom of salutatio as a defining
feature of Roman society involved both the mutual bond of cooper-
ation as well as the recognition of a position of power and patronage
that was reinforced with gifts and aid.148 The making of petitions and
the giving of gifts was thus a process with many connotations. In pro
Ligario, Cicero praises Caesar’s leniency and mild conduct during the
struggle with Pompey.149 Elsewhere, he mentions how Caesar wel-
comed and pardoned former Pompeians, but discusses these pardons
with a hint of bitterness. In order to receive a pardon, one had to
petition Caesar and ask for forgiveness.150 Innumerable former (and
future) enemies, including Cicero himself, were forced to plead for
their lives and freedom in return for allegiance. While it would be
inaccurate to describe the pardoning of enemies as a legal process, it
strengthened the tendency to plead with and petition the powers that
be. The process of directly petitioning a ruler and thus circumventing
criminal proceedings, with its questions of guilt and innocence, can of
course be seen to occur nearly everywhere. The fact that Cicero, in the
defence of Ligarius, essentially opts to ask for pardon instead of
arguing for innocence could be seen as indicative of future imperial
jurisdiction, when the irregular process of petitioning the ruler,
regardless of rules of procedure, would change the very concepts of
law and justice.
The legal aftermaths of civil wars are seldom known for their
fairness,151 and Rome was no exception. The fact that Ligarius even
ended up being subjected to a court procedure was in itself something
of an anomaly, extra-judicial executions and various kangaroo courts
148 149
Goldbeck, Salutationes (2010). Cic. Lig. 18, 29–30.
150
Cic. Fam. 6.6.10, 9.9.3, 13.19, 13.29.
151
The common thread in the vast scholarship on the legal aftermaths of modern
civil wars, such as the Spanish Civil War, is that only the losing side ends up being
prosecuted. Payne, Civil War in Europe (2011); Kekkonen, ‘Judicial Repression’
(2012).
being the faster and simpler solution.152 Even if a trial was organized,
as in this case, the political nature of the process was quite obvious,
with each side considering itself the legal government and the other
as the criminal rebels committing maiestas or perduellio. The extra-
legality, quasi-legality, or illegality in the punishment of enemies, not
to mention the whole period with its civil wars and proscriptions,
made petitions by friends of the accused very important.153 Since
all (regular) legal recourse was more or less futile, what was left was
to plead.
This process can be seen as an example of a gift exchange, in which
Caesar and his former enemies traded lives for allegiance. Similarly,
allowing his soldiers to spare lives of captives could be seen as giving
them the gift of saving their friends or relatives on the Pompeian side.
When Cicero writes to Atticus in August 47 BC about the distribution
of Caesar’s lordly gifts, namely the pardons given to former Pom-
peians, he also remarked rather acidly that these gifts of life and
liberty are in Caesar’s power to revoke, should he consider it neces-
sary.154 Thus, the pardoned men were receiving what more closely
resembled a precarious lease on life. According to Roller, because
Caesar’s policy of clementia was seen as the giving of gifts, the
assassins, including Ligarius, were portrayed as ingrates who received
the gift of life from Caesar and failed to reciprocate. However, with
his clemency, Caesar also imposed a gift-debt over those he pardoned,
in a sense binding them to him because such a gift could never be
repaid.155 A gift that was too large and asymmetrical bred hostility
instead of gratitude, and the wide distribution weakened the bond
created even further.
The clemency of Caesar was, however, a successful policy in terms
of historical legacy.156 Plutarch’s account praises Caesar’s leniency
towards Pompeians in Egypt after Pompey had been killed: they were
treated with kindness and became attached to him.157 Dio offers a
more detailed account, according to which Caesar assumed the habit
of simultaneously subjecting some of his opponents to public trials
and putting others to death secretly. Many of those who surrendered
152
Even Sulla, the champion of outward legality, did not bother to explain the
execution of 6,000 Roman prisoners of war. Plut. Vit. Sull. 30.
153 154
Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 520. Cic. Att. 11.20.
155
Roller, Constructing Autocracy (2001), 173–93; Tatum, Caesar (2008).
156
As was already argued in Dahlman, ‘Clementia Caesaris’ (1934), 20, 25.
157
Plut. Vit. Caes. 48.1.65.
to him freely were spared, while those who were captured fighting
again after a pardon were regularly put to death. Caesar also allowed
each of his soldiers to save the life of one man, and some were also
saved by petitions from his friends.158
Petitioning rulers has its own peculiar dynamics, in which the
petitioner recognizes the power and authority of the ruler, while the
ruler is tempted to oblige by showing his benevolence and power.
Petitions were often made at public receptions, making them repre-
sentations of power relations. The fact that holding a reception was
such a sign of power and authority is shown by the story, recounted
by Valerius Maximus, of a man pretending to be Marius’ grandson.
This impostor, named Herophilus, claimed that Marius was his
grandfather and managed to convince veteran colonies, municipal-
ities, and almost all of the collegia of this. When Caesar returned from
Spain and was receiving the people at his hortus, this impostor held
his own reception nearby. As a result, Caesar relegated him from
Italy, but when he dared to return and resume his activities after
Caesar’s murder, he was put to death.159 What the ceremonial peti-
tion of Ligarius’ brothers and Cicero at the home of Caesar entailed
was equally the recognition of his power and authority in this case.
The granting of honours and gifts was, of course, not purely a
process of top-down influence. It has increasingly been recognized
that praise and gifts were also used to influence leaders. For example,
a much-discussed aspect of Caesar’s status was the escalating number
of honours that the Senate bestowed on him. These honours were
distributed in three phases, the first of which occurred after the battle
of Thapsus in 46, when the Senate ordered that a chariot and a statue
of him be erected at the Capitolium. In the second phase, after the
battle of Munda, a statue with an inscription declaring Caesar an
unconquered god was placed in the temple of Quirinus. Lastly, some
time before his murder, he was said to have been declared Divus
Iulius, a state divinity with a flamen, temple, and pulvinar for his
image. While it has been suggested that behind these honours was an
agenda of Caesar’s, Gradel claims that the purpose of these honours
was not only to show reverence, but also to tie the honoured person
down, obliging him to return the favour either with benefactions or
158
Cass. Dio 41.62, 43.12–13; Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 520; Volkmann,
Rechtsprechung (1969 [1935]), 14–24.
159
Val. Max. 9.15.
by ruling well.160 It is equally possible that some of these honours
were used to demonstrate to the people the true nature of Caesar’s
aspirations. As such, linking the honours that were given to Caesar
with those given to this or that Hellenistic monarch or divinity would
be misleading. Though the reliability of the later accounts regarding
the various honours offered to Caesar is debatable, especially with
regard to the divine honours,161 which Cicero does not mention
during Caesar’s lifetime, the basic argument is sound.
There is a sense of irony that Caesar was killed by the same men
who voted for these extraordinary honours. Even Ligarius later
joined Caesar’s assassins and was killed in the proscriptions of 43 BC.
Caesar’s policy of clementia was, in this respect, hardly a complete
success.162 Suetonius’ explanation for the animosity that led to Caesar’s
murder lays great weight on a violation of the same mechanism of
reciprocity: when the senators approached Caesar in the temple of
Venus Genetrix, he failed to stand up to honour their presence. By
thus insulting the very people who were coming to honour him, Caesar
demonstrated a lack of respect for them.163
The upheavals of the Late Republic influenced different people and
areas unequally, separating winners and losers. The massive migra-
tions of people and transfers of property during the civil wars and the
triumviral period transformed not only Rome but the whole of Italy.
Some individuals prospered and made spectacular careers, while
others perished. Destruction, press-ganging into military service,
forced settlements, and heavy taxation took their toll on communi-
ties. Even in the provinces, people began to approach the triumvirs
with their requests.164 Though Syme’s concept of the ‘Caesarian
party’165 received much criticism, there is a parallel in the social
dynamics of modern dictatorships. Much like the ‘1938 generation’
of the Soviet Union, which climbed through the ranks at an unpre-
cedented rate to fill the positions vacated by the purges, Late
Republican civil wars and proscriptions provided extraordinary
160
Gradel, Emperor Worship (2002), 54–61.
161
Suet. Iul. 79, 84 being the main source in addition to Cassius Dio.
162
Kumaniecki, ‘Prozess des Ligarius’ (1967), 457. 163
Suet. Iul. 78.
164
Osgood, Caesar’s Legacy (2006), 402–3: ‘At the same time, everyone overseas
had to learn how to make requests of the almighty triumvirs, and many had to face
choosing between them when they began to quarrel.’
165
Syme, Revolution (1960), 323. Already his contemporary critics noted the
obvious parallels with the events of the 1930s.
career opportunities for those who were lucky enough to side with
the winners.
What the tumultuous years of violence meant for individuals and
how that influenced the popular perception of law and justice is hard
to measure in any general way. The individual stories, on the other
hand, may be quite harrowing. The famous funerary inscription
called Laudatio Turiae (ILS 8393), is one such account. It contains
the funerary oration of (most likely) Quintus Lucretius Vespillo, a
Roman senator, for his wife Turia, praising her tenacious fighting
spirit in the numerous misfortunes she faced, beginning with the
murder of her parents on the eve of her wedding and culminating
in the attempts to save and restore her proscribed husband. What
each of these instances show—the fact that she had to avenge her
parents herself or that she personally repulsed a gang attacking her
house when her husband was away or that she personally pleaded
with Lepidus for a pardon for her husband, only to be beaten and
thrown out violently—is that there was no justice and no security
beyond one’s own allies and the favour of the ruler. One’s life and
property were constantly under threat from brigands small and large,
from the highwaymen to the triumvirs themselves and their greedy
henchmen. Finally, the story of Turia brings to the fore the extraor-
dinary length of the period of violence and mayhem, how an entire
lifetime could be spent under threat.166
The constant threat of violence, both that sanctioned by the
authorities and violent crime made possible by the collapse of public
order, were without doubt important factors in the way peace and
security were welcomed and how the loss of political freedoms, which
were to a large degree illusory for those not part of the elite, was
perhaps seen as a trade worth making. The way that violence had
become part of the political sphere is perhaps illustrated by the fact
that Cicero, in his model constitution, sees it necessary to prohibit the
use of violence in the public arena (Leg. 3.11.3).
Private mob violence and crime were major concerns, and actions
were taken to repress them. In 78 BC, the praetor peregrinus Cn.
Octavius outlined in his edict the so-called formula Octaviana,
which gave recourse to victims of intimidation and violence. Cicero
mentions that it was used against supporters of Sulla to force them to
166
On Turia, the inscription, and its idenfication, see Osgood, Turia (2014).
restore property that they had taken through intimidation. In an edict
in 76 BC, praetor M. Lucullus formulated a plan of action for sup-
pression of gang violence carried out by the so called familiae, or
criminal gangs. Our main source is again Cicero, who in his pro Tullio
argued a case based on this edict, detailing that the penalty should be
the damages fourfold.167
The period in general was defined by a constant transformation
of the social and economic realities, and much of this transform-
ation was forced. However, it would be naive to reduce the whole
era to a purely violent political struggle; there was a civil adminis-
tration that needed to be taken care of, and it was dealt with by the
same people who were engaged in the power-struggles. This multi-
layered and complex situation combined two contradictory traits
with regard to Roman administration: on the one hand, the
straightforward way in which problems were addressed, while on
the other, the curiously legalistic way that these issues were argued
and justified. The paradox was thus that, during the period of civil
wars, the men who had power over life and death also made very
important decisions, regarding civil law.168 For example, Cicero
states how in June 44 BC, in the middle of the tumultuous aftermath
of Caesar’s murder, the consuls held a cognitio on the decision
made by Caesar regarding the Buthronians. Whether this consti-
tuted a trial is uncertain, though probable, because, on the advice
of their consilium, the consuls decided to rule in favour of the
Buthronians.169
The process of constitutional experimentation continued even after
the death of Caesar, along with the centralization of power. As the
second triumvirate (Triumviri Rei Publicae Constituendae) was
formed by Marc Antony, Lepidus, and Octavian after the murder of
Caesar, the proscriptions and general mayhem were again based on a
loose legal framework of ratification after the fact, where laws like the
167
Cic. Verr. II.3.152 and Q. Fr. 1.1.21, the action refers to ‘QUOD PER VIM AUT
(ET) METUM ABSTULERA(N)T’, i.e. to that which he (they) had taken by force or
(and) by causing fear (to the victim). See equally Cic. Tull. 3.7. The requirements of
carrying arms and forming a gang are not be found in this formula. On the formula
Octaviana, see Haubenhofer, Quod metus causa gestum erit, ratum non habebo
(2014); Ebert, Die Geschichte des Edikts (1968); Balzarini, Violento e rapina nel diritto
romano (1969); Balzarini, ‘Cic. pro Tullio’ (1968). Vacca, Actio vi bonorum raptorum
(1972); Maruotti, ‘La familia nell’editto di Lucullo’ (1993).
168 169
Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 521. Cic. Att. 16.16c.
lex Titia of 43 BC gave the triumvirs extraordinary powers. Military
might and success on the battlefield were the driving factors, and
though scholars have neatly defined the constitutional office of the
triumvir and the powers associated with it, the triumvirs themselves
were not in the least inhibited by such considerations. However,
although it would appear that the second triumvirs did avoid any
kind of extraordinary jurisdiction,170 the practice of jurisdiction and
the narratives of the exercise of jurisdiction by the triumvirs added
another layer of precedents upon which Augustus would begin to
found his own jurisdiction.
The second triumvirate gave the triumvirs powers that went
beyond those of regular Republican magistracies, such as the
imperium maius, a power first given to Pompey. Their office was
clearly consular, and they had the right to convene the Senate.
Their extraordinary powers led embassies, petitioners, and liti-
gants to appeal directly to them, creating a monarchical situation.
The monarchical element is visible especially in the blurred div-
ision between executive decisions and legal judgments, at times
making the deprecatio more important than legal argumentation.
However, the triumvirs did not have routine personal jurisdiction
in Rome, which was a small step backwards in the development
of a monarchic institution begun by Caesar and completed by
Augustus.171
What was significant in the reformation of constitutional alter-
natives was the abolition of the dictatorship by Marc Antony in
44 BC. Cicero presents this as the only good deed of his enemy, who
sought to demonstrate his odium regni, hatred of kingly power. For
the subsequent Roman tradition on dictatorship, the wording of
Cicero as well as the historical memory of the excesses done during
the Late Republic defined the office as having the potential for
despotism. Even Livy’s depiction of the selection of the first dictator
underscores the fear that the powers of the dictator aroused in
the plebs.172
170
Bleicken, Zwischen Republik und Prinzipat (1990); Lintott, ‘Review of Bleicken’
(1992), 251–2. On the many very irregular actions that were counted as legal proced-
ure at that time, see Volkmann, Rechtsprechung (1969 [1935]), 11–50.
171
Millar, ‘Triumvirate and Principate’ (1973), 59–61.
172
Cic. Phil. 1.3, 2.91; Livy 2.18.8, 2.29.9–12; Straumann, Crisis and Constitution-
alism (2016), 64–6.
CONCLUSIONS
Republican precedents were very important to the formation of the

emperor’s jurisdiction, but the nature of these influences is not
immediately clear. On one hand, the emergence of imperial jurisdic-
tion was the clearest difference between Republic and Empire, as
there had been no single supreme authority on law, either as judge
or legislator, during the Republic. On the other, exceptional measures
such as the SCU, the granting of extraordinary commands and
powers to individuals, usurped jurisdiction, and the use of coercive
power with or without legal backing, for example in proscriptions,
paved the way for the creation of the legal authority of emperors by
making exceptional measures less exceptional. Equally, growing
familiarity with the Greek and Hellenistic cultural background, both
in practice and through kingship theory, shaped expectations of the
power of the ruler.
During the Late Republic, the transformation of political and legal
culture is evident in observing Caesar’s public image and its afterlife,
the images of warlord, divine king, and magistrate that define his
historical memory. In pro Ligario, Cicero’s speech in a trial where
Caesar the dictator was judge, these expectations were laid out as
choices, along with their possible consequences. By using the
examples of tyranny and monarchy, Cicero demonstrated through
examples such as Sulla and his abuse of powers the way that one’s
actions shape historical memory. Greek tyrants as well as other
sovereign rulers were harnessed to show the dangers and possibilities
of unfettered rule. In the case of Sulla and other Roman examples, the
clearest conclusion was the way that law could be used both as a
weapon against enemies as well as a tool to transform society and to
reward one’s friends. In contrast to these examples of unrestricted
powers, the model of the Roman magistrate was a different formative
paradigm to influence imperial jurisdiction. While some magistrates,
such as provincial governors, were free in their considerations of legal
process, the praetors and other jurisdictional magistrates in Rome
were bound by formalistic procedural rules. For someone like Cicero,
this dualism was one between strict observation of the law and the
consideration for justice and equity. His final model, that of the
paterfamilias, was equally a figure of authority and responsibility, a
character bound by tradition but free in operation. Like many others,
Cicero expressed a longing for an authority figure, a princeps that
would rise above the self-serving politics and bring harmony and
justice.
This longing for a strong leader was thus present in the public
discourse of the Late Republic, and Cicero presents an example of the
elements that constituted or could constitute one. The background of
proscriptions, civil wars, and unexpected concentrations of power
had a profound influence on the perceptions of justice and the
expectations that were vested in leaders. Caesar the dictator as
judge was the culmination of many developments leading to imperial
jurisdiction. Caesar, or rather his public image both among contem-
poraries and afterwards, shaped the expectations and the limits of the
acceptable. Justice, as a gift to be given by the powerful and a gift that
one would need to elicit from the powerful, was as much the legacy of
Caesar as were the stories of his arrogance and the seeking of divine
honors.
Cicero’s pro Ligario was in many ways a speech that belonged to
the emerging new order, one defined by the sovereign power of the
ruler. The ambiguousness of the rhetorical positions taken is a direct
result of both holding up the illusion that what was going on was a
trial, but at the same time appealing to the clementia Caesaris. Thus,
when Cicero wanted to remind Caesar of the traditional constitu-
tional safeguards that prevented him from condemning Ligarius to
death, he accomplished this by raising the example of Sulla, who had
disregarded them in his persecution of his enemies. What was even
more striking was the similarity of the ambiguousness of the setting,
reminiscent of the later imperial trials, where both the form and the
justification for the trial were undefined but uncontested.
2
Augustus as Judge and

the Relegation of Ovid
INTRODUCTION
The rise of the emperor’s jurisdiction may be seen as an issue of

constitutionality. The dilemma of imperial jurisdiction is that no
clear rule authorizes it and there is no obvious point of origin
for the practice. Ever since Mommsen, many legal scholars have
assumed that the behaviour of the Romans reflected and was based
on the rules of their political and legal system.1 However, legal theory
suggests that exceptions can be even more important than the rules
themselves. In fact, administrative power or ruling may be based
completely on exceptions, such as exceptional powers or a state of
exception.2 Thus we should ask whether the Roman emperor as judge
is an exception to Republican rules. When does the exception become
the rule? When is a rule actually agreed on? In the constitutional
1
The legalistic view supposes that if an official committed an act in an official
capacity, the very existence of that act meant that he had, by assumption, a right based
on law to do so. By extension, when a change in the actions of official functionaries
occurs, the assumption was that this change has been instituted via a constitutional
process, for example, through legislation. Pure legalism is currently quite rare, and a
study such as Spagnuolo Vigorita, Le nuove leggi (1992), 94, is sceptical of both a
purely legislative basis and pure usurpation as explanations. Many contemporary
students of the Roman constitution describe it as a natural growth, where written and
unwritten norms, usages, and practices were in a constant state of change: ‘the
constitution of the Republic was not something fixed and clear-cut, but evolved
according to the Romans’ needs by more means than one. It was also inevitably
controversial: there were frequently at least two positions which could be taken
on major issues’ (Lintott, Constitution (1999), 7).
2
Even without referring to fashionable theories such as Agamben, State of Exception
(2005).
Augustus as Judge and the Relegation of Ovid 69
context of the Late Republic, the controversiality was often inbuilt
within the system since contradictory opinions of the rules were
regularly presented.3
The purpose of this chapter is to explore the contested issue of
Augustus’4 adjudication5 through the narratives of constitutional
exceptionalism.6 While during the Republic there had been no
supreme judge or court in Rome or a system of regular appeals to
the courts, in the Principate there emerges a system in which the
emperor gains jurisdiction both on appeal and in the first instance.7
There are many unanswered questions regarding the introduction of
imperial jurisdiction. What role did Augustus have in this transform-
ation? Was the new jurisdiction based on Republican precedents,
existing constitutional powers such as the proconsular imperium or
3
Lintott, Constitution (1999); Straumann, Crisis and Constitutionalism (2016).
4
Of the magistracies held by Augustus, see Suet. Aug. 27. Of the immense
biographical literature on Augustus, Bleicken, Augustus (2000) is one of the better
ones, as is Kienast, Augustus (2014); the most recent assessments of the Augustan
transformation are Richardson, Augustan Rome (2012) and Levick, Augustus (2010).
In 1975 Bertram Haller already warned readers that his 15-page bibliography of
Augustus’ policies contained only a small selection of published materials. Haller,
‘Augustus Bibliographie’ (1975), 55–74. The amount of literature is ever-growing;
F. Hurlet’s bibliography of studies on Augustus and the imperial regime between the
years 1996 and 2006, published in Anabases 6 (2007), occupies pp. 187–218 (Hurlet,
‘Recherches sur Auguste’ (2007)).
5
The term ‘adjudication’ is here used as a general term to refer to settling of
controversies with a resolution that is considered binding. In the Republic, iuris dictio
was limited to the praetors, aediles, and the provincial governors, but a iudex could
also issue a binding verdict. One of the main issues on the emergence of imperial
power over law is how jurisdiction is assumed and the ruler’s adjudication in resolving
single issues slowly turns into jurisdiction. However, within classical Roman law the
distinction between a iudex and an arbiter appears to have diminished, see Dig.
4.8.13.2; Broggini, Iudex arbiterve (1957); Roebuck and de Loynes de Fumichon,
Roman Arbitration (2004). Of course, the emperor could equally be understood as a
private judge, see Masuelli, ‘Giudice privato’ (2012).
6
The term ‘constitutional exceptionalism’ refers to the practice of Augustan
constitutionalism in referring to the exceptional position of the ruler while concealing
that the rules (or constitution) themselves had changed. On the constitutional
nostalgia, see Pani, Costituzionalismo (2010), 177–81.
7
Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 517; Crook, ‘Augustus’ (1996), 123: ‘The emer-
gence of the ruler as supreme judge and head of the legal order is the principal formal
difference between the Republic and Empire.’ That the emperor became a prolific
legislator through edicts that had permanent validity was an equally crucial change.
While it has sometimes been suggested that imperial edicts needed to be confirmed by
successive emperors, there are many instances where Augustan edicts were deemed
valid: Dig. 48.18.8.pr. or specifically abrogated (Dig. 28.2.26); Orestano, ‘Gli editti
imperiali’ (1936).
consular potestas, a legislative act that has remained unknown, or the
extraordinary authority that Augustus enjoyed? How much and what
kind of jurisdiction did Augustus actually have? Did he use his
jurisdiction only in political trials or did he have routine jurisdiction?
Much of the existing literature has sought to answer these questions
by looking at the constitutional rules or jurisdictional practice as a
source for these rules. This chapter seeks to take a new approach by
examining the narratives of jurisdiction. How did the jurisdiction of
Augustus appear to different groups and how did these perceptions
change over time? Members of the elite in Rome and provincial
petitioners had radically different views of imperial jurisdiction, but
also within these groups there circulated different narratives of the
position and powers of the emperor, some of them coming from the
administration itself. Through the analysis of these narratives, I argue
that imperial jurisdiction emerges gradually as a shared conviction
during the reign of Augustus. Petitions presented to Augustus, his
adjudication, and his growing political and legal centrality all con-
tribute to the development of this conviction. While Augustus himself
presents numerous references to Republican precedents such as
imperium, auctoritas, tribunicia potestas, and so forth (and especially
the frequent reference to his superiority, his superior auctoritas, and
his imperium maius), what is truly foundational for the creation of
jurisdiction is the emergence of a conception that the emperor was
capable, willing, and justified to exercise jurisdiction.
What has puzzled earlier scholars is that, for a change so momen-
tous in the legal history of Rome, the paucity of sources is remarkable.
The only roughly contemporary sources on Augustus as judge are a
poem by Ovid (Tr. 2.121–40), an anecdote by Seneca (Ben. 3.27), two
passing remarks by Valerius Maximus (7.7.3–4), and two provincial
inscriptions (SEG IX 8; IG XII 3.174). Beyond that, Suetonius (Aug.
33.1–3, 53.2, 97.3) and Dio (51.19.6–7, 55.33.5) make general points
about Augustus’ jurisdiction. Because there are no official or legal
sources and the historical sources are mostly anecdotal, earlier schol-
arship has relied mostly on circumstantial evidence and assumptions
about legislation. Mommsen emphasized the combination of imper-
ium and legislative grants of jurisdiction given in 27 BC (first instance)
and 30 BC (appellate), but was criticized by McFayden, who rejected
a formal grant of jurisdiction to Augustus in Rome. Volkmann is
the first to present the combination of imperium, auctoritas, and
the power of paterfamilias as a sufficient foundation for Augustus’
jurisdiction. Volkmann would finally accept the grant of appellate
jurisdiction in 30 BC and criminal jurisdiction in 27 BC. Kelly stressed
the importance of gradual evolution and the maiestas trials as leading
to imperial jurisdiction, while Bleicken held that Augustus’ jurisdic-
tion was secondary to the Senate’s. Millar further undermined the
belief in any formal grant of jurisdiction by suggesting a source
for it in both consular jurisdiction and petitions from the people.
More recently, Honoré has bluntly claimed that whatever jurisdiction
Augustus had was probably usurped.8 The following inquiry seeks to
expand the analysis to include the tremendous change in the vocabu-
lary and the narratives of jurisdiction that took place under Augustus
by exploring the ideological constructs and historical narratives that
were formulated not only during his reign but also afterwards.
Behind the conflicting accounts of Augustus as judge is the wider
controversy over the nature of Augustus’ rule. Historically, there have
been two main interpretations of the Principate: the first seeing the
new regime as tyrannical despotism, the second as a constitutional
quasi-monarchy. Whether the Principate of Augustus is seen as a
social institution, a monarchy, or a concentration of republican
powers such as imperium maius and tribunicia potestas is a question
of viewpoint.9 In the exercise of jurisdiction, the question can be
simplified to whether Augustus merely acted without any formal
authorization or was he given constitutional authorization to act as
a judge? Because we have no official sources that report any kind of
authorization, we are left with two sets of unofficial sources that
describe, on the one hand, the practice of jurisdiction, and on the
other, the ideological underpinnings that characterized the Principate
of Augustus.
Because Roman constitutionalism operated so much on the basis
of shared understandings, it is vital to observe how the Romans
8
The main earlier works on Augustus’ jurisdiction are in Mommsen, Staatsrecht
(1871–88), 2.2:958–88, but see also Mommsen, Strafrecht (1899), 260–1 (2.9.1);
McFayden, ‘Princeps’ Jurisdiction’ (1923), 231–42; Volkmann, Rechtsprechung
(1969 [1935]); Kelly, Princeps Iudex (1957); Bleicken, Senatsgericht und Kaisergericht
(1962); Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]); Honoré, Emperors and Lawyers (1994), 5–6.
9
Eck, ‘Emperor’ (2016); Peachin, Princeps (2005), 162–3, 168; Santalucia, ‘Augusto’
(1999), 261–77; Crook, ‘Augustus’ (1996), 113–23; Serrao, ‘Modello di costituzione’
(1991), 29–71; Arangio-Ruiz, Storia (1982), 215–21; De Martino, Storia (1974),
4:263–308; Millar, ‘Triumvirate and Principate’ (1973), 50–67.
themselves had understood the role of the new regime. The debate
over labelling has given way to an argument that assigning some
constitutional term such as ‘monarchy’ to the Augustan Principate
achieves very little. Of course, ancient authors such as Dio already
used the word ‘monarchy’ to describe the Augustan Principate, and
thus looking at how the Romans described it is certainly useful
in appreciating how they understood the changes taking place.10
Precisely because there were no fixed rules, the way in which imperial
capabilities like jurisdiction were discussed also had a distinct nor-
mative role in formulating the shared understanding of what the rules
and established practices were.
Many of the ancient authors, such as Dio and, to a certain degree,
Suetonius, saw the institution of the emperor as an essentially
unchanging creation of Augustus. While they have been followed by
a number of the modern historians, a new interpretation sees the
regime of Augustus as one of constant experimentation. Its sup-
porters emphasize the element of change in the development of
imperial rule and the importance of power and authority. For them,
the fact that Augustus spent an increasing amount of time building
the legitimacy of his rule speaks for the importance of authority. Far
from being a ploy to lead the gullible into thinking that the Republic
still existed, the constitutional narrative of continuity was an integral
part of the imperial system. Of course, Augustus steadfastly main-
tained his grip on coercive power, but he developed the formulations
of that power gradually, over time. The fact that the army was both
professional and loyal to him personally, and that he controlled the
material resources to support that army, secured his hold on power.
The vast fortune that was in his personal control made it possible for
Augustus to secure patronage over whole sectors of the population,
not to mention client kings and other allies.11
10
Crook, ‘Augustus’ (1996), 113–18, drawing from the work of Orestano, calls the
labelling vain and modernizing, arguing instead for a definition of the Principate as a
historical fact sui generis that was undefined by the people who formed it and
indefinable to modern historians. Starting from Mommsen’s diarchy, the hybrid
constitutional concepts have become the norm. For example, Millar, ‘Triumvirate
and Principate’ (1973), 50 saw the Principate as a monarchy arising from an aristo-
cratic basis. On the definitional debates, see also Guizzi, Principato (1971).
11
Capogrossi Colognesi, Law and Power (2014), 265 and passim. Rivière, ‘Avant-
propos’ (2012), 5 emphasizes how, for ancient authors, the early experiments of Augustus’
reign were generally uninteresting compared with the final regime. The theory of the
era of Augustus as one of constant administrative experimentation has been advanced
It may be argued that the extraordinary nature of imperial rule and
the whole position of the emperor within the Roman constitutional
framework was one of the few constants during the Principate.
However, did the exceptionality of imperial rule signify that what
constituted imperial jurisdiction was in a constant state of flux, or that
it was in fact formulated by Augustus and remained essentially
unchanged during the Principate?12 One of the most common fea-
tures of monarchical power is that of exception, which demonstrates
the degree to which they are in ultimate control of the legal and
political system. As the ruler is always capable of making an exception
to the rule, they were quite obviously the targets of various petitions.13
How much was the power of exception a part of the Augustan
concept of ruling? Did this contribute to the constant evolution of
the practices, and consequently rules, of the Principate?14 What I will
be arguing is that the power of exception may also be seen as a power
to create new practices and newly established modes of action.
Together with the ideological propaganda, they serve to create a
new constitutional practice.
In the following discussion, we shall observe this phenomenon
starting from the example of Ovid and his description of his banish-
ment.15 While the historical events are not insignificant in themselves,
the depiction of Ovid as falling victim to an edict of Augustus
that sent him into exile reveals an inherent conflict in the new
regime between republicanism and autocracy. Instead of looking
at the reasons for Ovid’s exile,16 we will analyse the conceptions of
by Eck, ‘Administrative Reforms’ (2010), 229–49 and ‘Herrschaft durch Administra-

tion’ (2012), 151–69. Similarly, Crook, ‘Augustus’ (1996), 113–18; Eder, ‘Augustus’
(1990), 77, and more generally Dettenhofer, Herrschaft und Widerstand (2000).
12
An issue discussed also by Peachin, ‘Judicial Powers’ (2015), 498–511.
13
The concept of petition is here used with a double meaning, both in reference to
the petitions presented outside the legal framework and the petitions that follow some
procedure that is not known.
14
Legal theorists like Schmitt have claimed that sovereignty is the power to decide
on the exception. Since legal rules as general norms are incapable of covering each
eventuality, power to decide what to do in situations that fall beyond the general rules is
the mark of the sovereign, regardless of what the rules themselves say. Schmitt, Political
Theology (1988), 4–7. On the centrality of the idea of the exception in Augustus’ regime,
see Rich, ‘Emergency’ (2012), 37–121.
15
McGowan, Ovid in Exile (2009); Rădulescu, Ovid in exile (2002); Williams,
Banished voices (1995); Claassen, Ovid Revisited (2008); Ingleheart, Ovid, Tristia
(2010).
16
Thibault, Mystery (1964); Luisi and Berrino, Carmen et error (2008).
Augustus as judge and the exceptional nature of Augustus’ rule in
the writings of Ovid in contrast to the view of Augustus as pre-
sented in his own account of his achievements, the Res gestae. While
Ovid portrays Augustus as an omnipotent figure that contains a
dualism between a kind father and a monster, Augustus pictures
himself as a continuation of Republican traditions, only an excep-
tional character, as Pompey was previously. However, the image of
Augustus as an active sovereign is highlighted by two cases from the
provinces in which Augustus is petitioned to resolve local quarrels
in spite of, and in opposition to, local authorities. The later Roman
authors such as Suetonius and Dio invariably invest Augustus with
the full powers of the Roman emperor, including regular jurisdic-
tion and legislative powers. What the following discussion seeks to
show is how the established views of modern historians and their
contradictions are derived from the conflicting narratives of the
ancient sources. From these two narratives, that of Augustus as a
sovereign, quasi-divine ruler as presented by Ovid, and that of
Augustus as an esteemed leader of the Roman Republic, emerge
different conceptions, in the works of later Roman authors, of what
the emperor was and what he could do. The analysis of jurisdiction
is complicated by the fact that it included such different elements,
ranging from special cases in the imperial household, political trials,
appeals from the provinces, and possibly, routine jurisdiction
involving regular cases. While much of modern historiography
has tried to resolve the conflict between the two contradictory
narratives, this chapter seeks to demonstrate how the conflict was
actually an integral part in the understanding of the Principate. The
narrative tradition on Augustus continues many of the conflicting
narratives that Cicero outlined on Caesar, but, as I will demon-
strate, the various narratives coalesce into two opposing master
narratives.
THE RELEGATION OF OVID
Ovid’s Tristia or ‘Lamentations’ reiterates how he was condemned

to his dreaded exile, in the process giving an enlightening example
of the workings of imperial jurisdiction in the Early Principate.
Ovid’s description of his relegation in the spring of AD 8 is the
only contemporary account of Augustus acting as judge in Rome.17
The portrayal is quite revealing of the position and powers of
Augustus. The section of Tristia (2.121–40) in which Ovid outlines
in elegiac verse how he fell from being an admired poet moving in
the highest society of Rome to an outcast relegated to the farthest
reaches of the Empire is surprisingly clear and straightforward:
So my house, though pleasing to the Muses, has fallen, sunk by a single
charge though no small one: yet its fall is such that it can rise again, if
only time will mellow Caesar’s anger, whose clemency in punishing me
is such that the penalty is milder than I feared. Life was granted me,
your anger stopped short of death, O Prince, how sparingly you used
your powers! Then, as if life were too small a gift, you added, since you
didn’t take it away, my family wealth. You didn’t condemn my action by
Senate decree, nor was my banishment ordered by special court. With
words of stern invective (worthy of a prince)—you yourself, as is right,
avenged the offence. And your edict, though harsh and threatening,
was still mild when naming my punishment: since it calls me relegatus
and not exile, and special words cover my possessions. There is no
punishment worse to anyone in his right senses than the displeasure of a
great man.
Corruit haec igitur Musis accepta, sub uno
sed non exiguo crimine lapsa domus:
atque ea sic lapsa est, ut surgere, si modo laesi
ematurverit Caesaris ira, queat.
Cuius in eventu poenae clementia tanta est,
venerit ut nostro lenior illa metu.
Vita data est, citraque necem tua constitit ira,
o princeps parce viribus use tuis!
Insuper accedunt, te non adimente, paternae,
tamquam vita parum muneris esset, opes.
Nec mea decreto damnasti facta senatus,
nec mea selecto iudice iussa fuga est.
Tristibus inuectus verbis (ita principe dignum)
ultus es offensas, ut decet, ipse tuas.
Adde quod edictum, quamuis immite minaxque,
attamen in poenae nomine lene fuit:
quippe relegatus, non exul, dicor in illo,
17
Most recently, Leitner, ‘Nasonis relegatio’ (2006), 150–65; Liebs, Summoned to
the Roman Courts (2012), 86–91; Schilling, Poena extraordinaria (2010), 93–103;
Luisi, ‘Vendetta-perdono’ (1997), 271–91; Verdiere, ‘Relegation’ (1973).
privaque fortunae sunt ibi verba meae.

Nulla quidem sano gravior mentisque potenti
poena est, quam tanto displicuisse viro.18
At the outset Ovid recognized that he had provoked Augustus’ anger,
but the punishment he deemed lenient, relegation19 without loss of
property rights. There are a number of interesting points in this
depiction. First, he describes how the imperial virtue of clementia
had triumphed over the imperial ira, so that he was not crushed to
death by the full force of imperial power. It is very clear that Ovid
thought that Augustus could have killed him if he wanted to. He
portrays this punishment as a gift, the reasoning being that Ovid
could, in fact, have completely forfeited his life and property in
angering Augustus, but Augustus restored them to him as a gift in
his judgment. Second, Ovid describes the procedure of condemnation
as something that the emperor decided on personally, rather than
subjecting Ovid to a legal process in the Senate or a court of law. He
was relegated with an edict (edictum),20 in contrast to being secretly
banished or put on trial publicly. Finally, Ovid underlines how
Augustus was completely within his rights in meting out punishment.
It may be understood from the wording that there was no trial per se,
nor did Ovid get to answer whatever charges were made against him,
but rather that he received the edict in writing without any advance
warning of the accusations.
Ovid left Rome for his assigned place of exile in Tomis, but his wife
remained in the city. The intention was that she would pursue his
18
Ov. Tr. 2.121–40. Tr. adapted from both Wheeler and Kline.
19
Relegation was normally considered to be a temporary measure and the rele-
gated could keep their property, whereas exiles were banished permanently and lost
their property, though there is variance in the terminology (Dig. 48.22.7.2, 48.22.14).
Relegation was used both as a punishment and as a coercive administrative act.
Relegatio was a power limited to magistrates with imperium and it was used to
expel both foreigners and, quite rarely, Roman citizens (Dig. 48.22.14.2). In addition
to Ovid, famous cases include the relegation of Lamia by Gabinius in 58 BC, Cicero’s
threat of relegation to Catiline in 63 BC, and a few uncertain earlier cases. The use of
relegatio underwent changes even in the Principate. See also Kelly, History of Exile
(2006), 65–7.
20
An edict was normally thought to express an administrative rule with general
application, not a decision in an individual case (Gai. Inst. 1.6). While the vast
majority of the uses of the word edictum refer to this specific technical usage, in
isolated cases (such as Cic. Phil. 3.8.21), it might refer to a more general communi-
cation and imperial constitutions were equally often referred to as edicta (Ando,
Imperial Ideology (2000), 102–15).
pardon and recall through their friends in the imperial court. In the
numerous letters to his friends in Rome, Ovid expresses the view of
Augustus as a righteous monarch. He asks them to plead to Augustus:
Only beg that merciful deity, who is justly angered with me, to remove
me from the savagery of Scythian lands. I know it’s difficult, but virtue
aims for the heights, and gratitude for such a service will be all the
greater. Besides, it’s no Polyphemus in Etna’s vast caves, no Antiphates,
who will hear your words, but a calm and lenient father, inclined to
pardon, who often thunders without the flash of lightning, who is
indeed sad himself when he has ordered something sad, and for
whom to exact punishment is to punish himself. Though his mercy
was defeated by my fault and his anger was forced to display its full
strength.
Mite, sed iratum merito mihi numen adora,
eximar ut Scythici de feritate loci.
Difficile est, fateor, sed tendit in ardua virtus
et talis meriti gratia maior erit.
Nec tamen Aetnaeus vasto Polyphemus in antro
accipiet voces Antiphatesue tuas,
sed placidus facilisque parens veniaeque paratus
et qui fulmineo saepe sine igne tonat,
qui, cum triste aliquid statuit, fit tristis et ipse
cuique fere poenam sumere poena sua est.
Victa tamen vitio est huius clementia nostro
venit et ad vires ira coacta suas.21
Ovid’s intent is to show how Augustus is no monster, but rather a
deity willing to pardon his offence. This proved to be of no avail, and
Ovid’s writings in exile are full of pleading to people to get Augustus
to pardon him.22 He did not. Ovid’s depiction of the interaction
follows the model of revenge and forgiveness, in which he uses the
language of revenge (ultus est), though with a number of conditions
and softenings, and offers the role of forgiver to Augustus, a role that
Augustus did not accept.23
It is exceedingly clear, through all the praise that Ovid heaps
on Augustus—his clementia, benevolence, righteousness, and so
21
Ov. Pont. 2.2.109–20. Tr. adapted from both Wheeler and Kline.
22
Ov. Tr. 5.2.37–8 accede rogaque: Caesare nil ingens mitius orbis habet. me
miserum! See also Tr. 4.9.11.
23
Luisi, ‘Vendetta-perdono’ (1997), 285–91.
forth—that he is very, very afraid. In fact, though Ovid describes
Augustus as the opposite of Polyphemus, the monstrous Cyclops
who imprisoned the men of Odysseus in a cave, it would seem that
that is how Augustus actually appears to Ovid: a violent, omnipo-
tent creature who owns everything and eats little men for breakfast,
lunch, and dinner. It is quite understandable that the comparison
between these two figures is done in a way that does not suggest
that Ovid is even hinting that Augustus is a monster. We should
perhaps refrain from accusing Ovid of a lack of sincerity; he is, after
all, asking to be forgiven.24 Ovid can be seen as simultaneously
writing a genuine letter pleading for a pardon and, while doing that,
engaging in all kinds of double entendres. While apologizing for the
Ars amatoria, he is also giving Augustus a lesson in poetry appre-
ciation. By speaking directly to Augustus, Ovid takes the discussion
to a very personal level, at the same time regretting the potential
inherent immorality of the Ars and praising Livia as the perfect,
virtuous spouse. In the last instance, the subversive potential is
evident for all Roman readers: far from being an ideal Roman
marriage, the essentially dynastic union between Augustus and
Livia was a third marriage for Augustus, a second for Livia, and
she was far along in a pregnancy by her first husband at the time
of their wedding.25
There is no contemporary information regarding what crime or act
Ovid was accused of, or in which court, if any, he was condemned. It
has been noted that the only logical interpretation of Ovid’s words is
that Augustus had decided the case himself.26 Some interpret the
relegatio as an exercise of the imperium of Augustus, a coercitio, an
administrative act.27 If the relegation was ordered as a punishment,
the most common suggestion is that it was the same punishment as
for adultery. Because Julia, Augustus’ granddaughter, was condemned
for adultery at roughly the same time, it has been argued that Ovid, a
regular in the same circles, may have been connected to these scan-
dals or encouraged them with his writings. Thus, the traditional
explanations for the relegation have been either his collusion in the
24
Ingleheart, Ovid, Tristia (2010), 27 sees the text’s background in both the
strategic need to hide anger and resentment and, in general, in the literary tradition
of the deceitful letter.
25 26
Barchiesi, Poet (1997), 31–3. Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 523.
27
Jones, ‘Imperium’ (1951), 118; Volkmann, Rechtsprechung (1969 [1935]), 183–4.
adultery of Julia or the writing of the Ars amatoria.28 In his 1964 book
on the innumerable explanations given for Ovid’s relegation, Thibault
summed up the facts as related by Ovid: the error that he committed
is not one that is safe to describe. However, it was committed through
stupidity and naivety, but he intended no wrong, nor did he gain any
personal advantage. Nevertheless, he saw something that may be
described as a culpa, a crimen, or a funestum malum. Thus, his sin
was to have eyes to see (Tr. 1.5.42, 3.6.27).29
Despite the meagre information provided by Ovid, or perhaps
indeed because of it, much of the existing literature has been devoted
to deciphering the real reasons for Ovid’s banishment, the mysterious
carmen et error that he mentions, but with fairly disappointing
results. The retraction of the Ars amatoria in the Tristia suggests a
linkage between the banned licentious book, Augustus’ moral reform,
and the banishment, but it would appear to be somewhat strange,
since the book was only banned nearly a decade after publication.30
By the 1960s the tally of possible explanations for Ovid’s banishment
had already reached over a hundred, counting from the Renaissance
onwards.31 The various theories formulated sought to present Ovid
either as a supporter of the new regime, a subversive intellectual, or
something in between. Ovid’s pleadings for pardon have been a rich
source for double meanings and ironic overtones. Was Ovid actually
pleading for mercy, or was he simply appearing to do so in order to
present scathing criticism? Or even, was Ovid actually in exile at all or
was the theme of exile and non-being just a literary construct?32
These are, of course, all opinions that may find some support in
Ovid’s texts. Others have looked at the policies of Augustus and his
tolerance for dissent and criticism, but even here the evidence is
circumstantial.33 However, what is clear is that by continuing to
28
Liebs, Summoned to the Roman Courts (2012), 83–94; Volkmann, Rechtspre-
chung (1969 [1935]), 185.
29
Thibault, Mystery (1964), 116–18; Luisi, ‘Vendetta-perdono’ (1997), 282. For the
background of the era, Syme, History in Ovid (1978) is still informative.
30
Barchiesi, Poet (1997), 31 raises an interesting point of whether Augustus had
even read the book. Ovid would appear to assume that Augustus did not have the time
or interest in reading it.
31
Thibault, Mystery (1964).
32
For the various theories, see Nugent, ‘Tristia’ (1990). On the last claim, see
Fitton Brown, ‘Unreality’ (1985), 18–22.
33
Dettenhofer, Herrschaft und Widerstand (2000), 190–8, argues that Augustus
would have gradually cracked down on dissent and defamation.
write, Ovid also continues to demonstrate that Augustus can control
his body but not his mind. On the contrary, Ovid exerts power over
Augustus by defining his public image.34
In contrast to some suggestions,35 Ovid was hardly the clueless
poet having no knowledge of law and legal procedure. In fact, we have
a number of sources that suggest that he not only was on an official
career track (cursus honorum) before he branched out into poetry, but
served as a triumvir capitalis and a decemvir stlitibus iudicandis and
also practiced law as an advocate.36 While it has been rightly noted
that the use of an edict for sentencing was a very unusual choice, we
would be hard pressed to maintain that, after experience in the courts,
Ovid would have been mistaken on this formality.37
As stated above, that something was unusual hardly made it
unlikely in the context of the Early Principate, a period when many
of the social, moral, and legal structures were in a state of flux. In fact,
Ovid treats the point that he had been condemned by Augustus
himself rather than one of the regular courts as a personal choice
made by the emperor. Augustus was able to relegate Ovid not simply
because he had the official power to do so, or a clear reason and
justification behind his actions, but also because he had the power to
make an exception, made possible by the rules, the lack of rules, or the
flexibility of such rules. Like Caesar, who had relegated the impostor
Herophilus, Augustus clearly could make such a decision, as he had
done in the case of both Julias, his daughter and granddaughter,
without having to justify the decision. The relegation of Ovid also
set a precedent for the nearly routine relegations of persons such as
philosophers (for example, Seneca), writers, and poets, who were
banished from Rome, not to mention other important figures like
Agrippa Postumus. What this entailed was that people who were
capable of influencing public opinion were under a threat of being
removed if they began to raise uncomfortable issues.
34
Lowrie, Writing, Performance, and Authority (2009), 274 mentions that Ovid is
actually one of the authors most extensively describing Augustus as a god. Compare
Martin, ‘Res publica’ (2009), 267–79, for an analysis of Ovid’s veiled criticism of
Augustus in another instance.
35
Volkmann, Rechtsprechung (1969 [1935]), 186.
36
Ov. Tr. 2.93–6, 4.10.33–4; Fast. 4.383–4. On the potential legal career of Ovid,
see Kenney, ‘Ovid and the Law’ (1969), 241–66.
37
Liebs, Summoned to the Roman Courts (2012), 84.
THE MANY FACES OF AUGUSTUS AS JUDGE
Apart from Ovid, the sources on Augustus’ jurisdiction are limited,

with the Roman literary sources mostly mentioning anecdotal cases
involving Roman high society, while the two known inscriptions give
details on provincial appeals to Augustus. The views of Roman
authors on Augustus as judge vary greatly, from those of contempor-
aries or near-contemporaries Ovid, Seneca, and Valerius Maximus,
who depict Augustus mostly addressing issues of the elite, to those of
later historians who emphasize the regularity and volume of Augustus’
adjudication. Within the Roman elite, Ovid’s depiction of his sentence
as a gift continues an old tradition. It has been shown that gaining
gratitude through gift-exchange was an integral part of how the
emperor interacted with the elite.38 Seneca mentions how a senator
named Rufus had made some drunken utterances regarding Augustus’
safety, and after sobering up, appeared before Augustus with apolo-
gies. Upon being readmitted to favour, he asked for a large gift to prove
it.39 Neither Ovid’s nor Rufus’ cases may be held as examples of
regular imperial jurisdiction in the same sense as adjudicating civil
matters of people outside the court society. Rather than a judge,
Augustus appears as a ruler, making political decisions.40 Valerius
Maximus represents a slightly different view, as both cases he men-
tioned are closely associated with Augustus’ marriage legislation.
Valerius Maximus writes, in passing, that Augustus intervened directly
in two cases of disinheritance. He issued a decree ordering C. Tettius,
who had been disinherited in infancy, to take possession of his father’s
estate. The given rationale was that Augustus was acting in the spirit
of the father of the fatherland.41 Similarly, the disinherited sons of a
woman called Septicia approached Augustus, who disapproved of both
her remarriage at an advanced age and her will. He gave the sons
possession of their mother’s inheritance and the dowry because there
has been no intent to have children in her second marriage.42 In both
cases, Augustus issued a legally binding decree on matters of family law
38
Roller, Constructing Autocracy (2001), 179–81.
39
Sen. Ben. 3.27 Mea causa dabo operam, ne umquam tibi irascar!
40
Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 521 says one should distinguish between civil cases
and cases that involved persons who had fought or conspired against the emperor.
41
Val. Max. 7.7.3 patris patriae animo usus. Kelly, Princeps Iudex (1957), 86.
42
Val. Max. 7.7.4.
that would normally have been dealt with in the centumviral court.43
The problem with all of the near-contemporary literary sources is that
they only mention rulings in passing,44 and the references contain little
legally relevant information. Only the cases mentioned by Valerius
Maximus may be understood as the exercise of jurisdiction in any
formal sense, though even there it is unclear whether these inheritance
cases were brought to Augustus through a direct petition or by an
appeal from the regular courts.
In addition to Roman literature, we have two important epigraphic
sources which attest to Augustus settling legal disputes in the prov-
inces. If the cases mentioned above were instances where Augustus
was operating in areas where he had distinct political interests, these
are petitions or administrative requests directed to the ruler. The first
is the second Cyrene Edict (SEG IX 8),45 known from an inscription
found in Cyrene in 1927. It has conventionally been dated to 6 BC,46
regarding apparently an accusation against the Roman proconsul
who sent four persons to Rome for questioning. These cases testify
to the petitions that were directed to Augustus by the people of the
Empire, seeking his aid in lawsuits. The inscription contains Augustus’
answer to the petitioners.
The Emperor Caesar Augustus, pontifex maximus, in his seventeenth
tribunician power, declares: Publius Sextius Scaeva does not merit
reproach or censure for ordering Aulus Stlaccius Maximus son of
43
Val. Max. 7.7.3: Augustus in bona paterna ire decreto suo iussit, 7.7.4. On this
case, see Kelly, Princeps Iudex (1957), 84–6; Spagnuolo Vigorita, Casta (2010),
149–50. While Jones, ‘Imperial and Senatorial Jurisdiction’ (1954), 476 and Volkmann,
Rechtsprechung (1969 [1935]) consider these to be cases in the first instance, we cannot
rule out that these were petitions after the ruling of the regular court, as suggested by
Mommsen and Kelly. Fanizza, L’amministrazione (1999), 38–9 suggests that these were
decisions of magistrates.
44
How legal may one hold some cases, for example, on conspiracies, is debatable.
Seneca’s account of Cinna’s pardon is a case in point, see discussion in Ch. 3. Sen.
Clem. 1.9.
45
Oliverio, ‘Stele di Augusto’ (1927), 13–67; Anderson, ‘Augustan Edicts’ (1927),
34–8; Stroux and Wenger, ‘Augustus-Inschrift’ (1928), 1–145; von Premerstein,
‘Neugefundenen Edikte’ (1928), 419–531 and von Premerstein, ‘Kyrenäischen
Edikten’ (1931), 431–59; de Visscher, Edits d’Auguste (1940), 16–27; Oliver, ‘Edict
at Cyrene’ (1949), 107–8; Ehrenberg and Jones, Documents (1955), n. 311; Oliver,
Greek Constitutions (1989), 40–55; Mantovani, ‘Rivelazioni’ (2011), 195–214.
46
The only chronological information is his tribunician power, which he is
reported to have had in 36 and 30 BC and from 23 BC onwards continuously, but the
information is not consistent.
Lucius, Lucius Stlaccius Macedo son of Lucius, and Publius Lacutanius
Phileros, freedman of Publius, to be sent on to me from the province of
Cyrene under guard because they had said that they had knowledge
concerning my security and the commonwealth and wished to declare
it. In so doing, Sextius performed his duty conscientiously. However,
since they have no information that concerns me or the commonwealth,
but have declared and convinced me that they had misrepresented and
lied about this in the province, I have set them free and am releasing
them from custody. But as for Aulus Stlaccius Maximus, whom the
envoys of the Cyrenaeans accuse of having removed statues from public
places, among them even the one on the base of which the city inscribed
my name, I forbid him to depart without my order, until I have
investigated this matter.47
Αὐτοκραίτωρ Καῖσαρ Σεβαστὸς ἀρχιε | ρεὺς δημαρχικῆς ἐξουσίας τὸ
ἑπτακαιδείκατον λέγει· φθόνος ψόγος | τε εἶναι Ποπλίωι Σεξστίωι Σκεύαι
οὐκ ὀφέλει, ὅτι Αὒλον Στλάκκιον Λευ | κίου υἱὸν Μάξιμον καὶ Λεύκιον
Στλάκκιον Λευκόυ υἱὸν Μακεδόνα καὶ Πόπλι | ον Λακουτάνιον Ποπλίου
ἀπελεύθερον Φιλέρωτα, ἐπειδὴ ἑατοὺς οὗτοι, ǁ ὃ πρὸς τὴν ἐμὴν σωτηρίαν τά
τε δημόσια πράγματα ἀνῆκεν, ἐπίστασθαι καὶ | βούλεσθαι εἰπεῖν ἔφησαν,
δεσμίους πρός με ἐκ τῆς Κυρηναικῆς ἐπαρχήσας{α} | ἀναπεμφθῆναι
ἐφρόντισεν· τοῦτο γὰρ ἐποίησεν Σέξστιος καθηκόντως καὶ ἐ | πιμελῶς. λοιπὸν
ἐπειδὴ τῶν πρὸς ἐμὲ καὶ τὰ δημόσια πράγματα ἀνηκάν | των οὐδὲν
γεινώσκουσ{ι, τ}οῦτο δὲ ἐν τῆι ἐπαρχήαι εἶπαν ἑαυτοὺς πε ǁ πλάσθαι καὶ
ἐψεῦσθαι φανερόν τε ἐποίησάν μοι, ἐλευθερωθέντας | αὐτοὺς ἐκ τῆς παρα-
φυλακῆς ἀφείημι. Αὖλον δὲ Στλάκκιον | Μάξιμον, ὃν Κυρηναίων οἱ πρέ-
σβεις αἰτιῶνται ἀνδριάντας ἐκ τῶν | δημοσίων τόπων ἠρκέναι, ἐν οἷς καὶ
τὸν ὧ ἡ πόλεις τὸ ἐμὸν ὄνομα ὑπέγραψεν, ἓως | {ς} ἂν περὶ τούτου τοῦ
πράγματος διαγνῶ, ἀπελθεῖν ἄνευ τῆς ἐμῆς ἐπιταγῆς κω ǁ λύω.
The case is, to say the least, complicated. The ruling given by
Augustus is first and foremost on a complaint against the proconsul
Scaeva, who had sent the men to Rome. Apparently, the ruling
was given to the envoys of the city of Cyrene, who then had it
inscribed along with a number of other documents and edicts of
Augustus. The role of the envoys is unclear. If the envoys are
working to release the men from captivity, it would be strange
that they would then provide fresh accusations of maiestas against
one of them. A possibility is that the men had gotten into trouble and,
by purporting to have important information, secured a ticket to
Rome, and the envoys pursued them to bring them back to Cyrene,
47
Tr. Lewis, Greek Historical Documents (1974), 6–7.
for whatever reason.48 What happened to the three men afterwards is
not clear, as our sources are silent on any further developments. The
important matter is that Augustus exercises his jurisdiction on two
crucial issues. First, he settles the complaint of provincials against a
Roman official, dismissing the charges of abuse of power. Second,
while he releases two of the informants on a possible conspiracy, the
third is held under suspicion of maiestas for removing a statue of the
emperor. Based on this case, the jurisdiction that he is asserting
appears to be linked exclusively to the actions of Roman officials
under his authority and his public persona. The controversy is
moved to Rome and new arguments are presented to Augustus, per-
haps because it is assumed that they will be effective in convincing him.
It is possible that the accusations of maiestas are made because it is
believed that they would be valuable in gaining Augustus’ attention.49
While what is absent from the discussion is any reference to the powers
or jurisdictional duties of Augustus, it is clear that what the parties
present is what they think will be relevant to Augustus himself. Augus-
tus could settle the matter and a number of other disputes conclusively
with his letters and edicts, even though this was formally one of the
provinces belonging to the Senate.
While both of these legal issues referred to above were linked
directly to Augustus or to the imperial administration, we have
another inscription containing a provincial case that had reached
Augustus on appeal. This is a case from Knidos in 6 BC about the
death of a man in a quarrel. What we have is a letter of Augustus
engraved in marble (IG XII 3.174 = FIRA III 185).50 The letter51
48
As suggested by Mantovani, ‘Rivelazioni’ (2011). Giving wrongful information
would make them liable for calumnia, though. See also Peachin, ‘Judicial Powers’
(2015), 542–5.
49
Peachin, ‘Judicial Powers’ (2015), 545–9. Because the case is provincial, it does
not shed light to the dispute between Kelly and Bleicken over the origins of imperial
jurisdiction in the maiestas cases.
50
See Oliver, Greek Constitutions (1989), 34–5 on the inscription and its publica-
tion. The editio princeps is Dubois, ‘Lettre aux Cnidiens’ (1883), 66–7, other editions
FIRA III 185; Blümel, Inschriften von Knidos (1992), nn. 34–5. On the inscription, see
also Wankerl, Appello (2009), 2–16. On the earlier history of interpretations, see
51
Imperial letters were to become the main form of transmission of imperial legal
interpretations. The strict division between epistulae and rescripta, i.e. letters to
functionaries and shorter answers to petitioners, as established by Wilcken, has
recently been questioned, see Arcaria, Referre (2000), 3–25.
begins with a greeting, a statement of the matter at hand and the
immediate actions taken by Augustus:
Imperator Caesar Augustus, son of the deified (Julius), pontifex max-
imus, consul designate for a twelfth time, in his eighteenth tribunician
power, to the chief magistrates, council, and people of Knidos, greetings.
Dionysios II and Dionysios II son of Dionysios appealed to me in Rome
and, giving me your decree, charged Euboulos son of Anaxandrides,
now deceased, and his surviving wife Tryphera, with the death of
Euboulos son of Chrysippos. I ordered my friend Asinius Gallus to
question under torture those of the slaves involved in the charge.52
[δημι]οργοῦ δὲ Καιρογένευς Λευ[κ]αθέου. Αὐτοκράτωρ Καῖσαρ θεοῦ υἱὸς
_
Σεβαστὸς _ __
ἀρχιερεὺς ὕπατος τὸ δωδέκατον ἀποδεδειγμένος καὶ δη-
μαρχικῆς ἐξουσίας τὸ ὀκτωικαιδέκατον {ὀκτωκαιδέκατον} Κνιδίων
ἄρχουσι βουλῆι δήμωι χαίρειν· οἱ πρέσβεις ὑμῶν Διονύσιος βʹ καὶ Διονύ-
σιος βʹ τοῦ Διονυσίου ἐνέτυχον ἐν Ῥώμῃ μοι καὶ τὸ ψήφισμα ἀποδόντες
κατηγόρησαν Εὐβούλου μὲν τοῦ Ἀναξανδρίδα τεθνειῶτος ἤδηι {ἤδη},
Τρυφέρας δὲ τῆς γυναικὸς αὐτοῦ παρούσης, περὶ τοῦ θανάτου τοῦ
Εὐβούλου τοῦ Χρυσίππου. {vac.} ἐγὼι {ἐγὼ} δὲ ἐξετάσαι προστάξας
Γάλλωι Ἀσινίωι τῶι ἐμῶι φίλωι τῶν οἰκετῶν τοὺς ἐνφερομένους τῆι
αἰτίᾳ διὰ βασάνων.53
_
Augustus begins by addressing the magistrates, the council, and the
people of Knidos, who had appealed to him. The embassy of the city
of Knidos, consisting of two men, had delivered an official request to
Augustus to bring murder charges against Tryphera in the killing of
Euboulos son of Chrysippos. Tryphera, whose now-dead husband
had been equally charged, apparently had been consulted as well. It is
unclear from the wording and the context whether Tryphera was
actually in Rome at the time and present while Augustus was settling
the matter.54 Augustus appointed Asinius Gallus to investigate the
case. The consul of 8 BC, Gallus was the proconsul of Asia at the
time.55 The torture of slaves was standard procedure, as their
52
Tr. Chisholm and Ferguson, Rome (1981), 132, 134–5.
53
IG XII 3.174, ll. 1–13.
54
See Oliver, Greek Constitutions (1989), 37, on the variations on the translation of
the word παρούσης in the text. Though the casual meaning would be ‘present here’,
some have argued that in the context it would mean simply ‘still alive’, in contrast to
her dead husband. Wankerl, Appello (2009), 6.
55
While he would have an good career under Augustus, later under Tiberius
Gallus would be disgraced by charges of adultery, arrested, and would die of starvation
while in custody (Tac. Ann. 6.23). Volkmann, Rechtsprechung (1969 [1935]), 164
maintains that Gallus acted as the emperor’s friend, not as proconsul. Millar, Emperor
testimony was acceptable only if given under torture.56 Augustus then
describes the findings made by Asinius Gallus:
I learned that Philinos son of Chrysippos had three nights in a row
violently attacked the house of Euboulos and Tryphera, besieging them
as it were. On the third night he brought with him his brother Euboulos.
The owners of the house, Euboulos and Tryphera, as they were unable
to enjoy safety in their house either by negotiating with Philinos or by
barricading themselves against his attacks, ordered one of their slaves,
not to kill him outright (as one might be impelled in justifiable anger),
but to drive him off by emptying their chamber pots. But the slave,
whether intentionally or not (he persists in denial), let go the pot as well,
with the result that Euboulos fell struck, though he would deserved to be
spared more than his brother. Enclosed are the depositions themselves.
ἔγνων Φιλεῖνον τὸν Χρυσίππου τρεῖς νύκτας συνεχῶς ἐπεληλυθότα τῆι οἰκίᾳ
τῆι Εὐβού λου καὶ Τρυφέρας μεθ’ ὕβρεως καὶ τρόπωι τινὶ πολιορκίας,
τῆι τρίτηι δὲ συνεπηιγμένον {συνεπηγμένον} καὶ τὸν ἀδελφὸν Εὔβουλον,
τοὺς _ δὲ τῆς οἰκίας δεσπότας Εὔβουλον καὶ Τρυφέραν, ὡς οὔτε
χρηματίζοντες πρὸς τὸν Φιλεῖνον οὔτε ἀντιφραττόμενοι ταῖς προσβολαῖς
ἀσφαλείας ἐν τῆι ἑαυτῶν οἰκίαι τυχεῖν ἠδύναντο, προστεταχχότας {προσ-
τεταχότας} ἑνὶ τῶν οἰκετῶν οὐκ ἀποκτεῖναι ὡς ἴσως ἄν τις ὑπ’ ὀργῆς
οὐ[κ] ἀδίκου προήχθηι {προήχθη}, ἀλλὰ ἀνεῖρξαι κατασκεδάσαντα τὰ
κόπρια αὐτῶν· τὸνδὲ οἰκέτην σὺν τοῖς καταχεομένοις εἴτε ἑκόντα εἴτε
ἄκοντα—αὐτὸς μὲν γὰρ ἐνέμεινεν ἀρνούμενο[ς]—ἀφεῖναι τὴν γάστραν,
τὸν Εὔβουλον ὑποπεσεῖν δικαιότερον ἂν σωθέντα τἀιδελφοῦ {τἀδελφοῦ}.
πέπονφα δὲ ὑμεῖν καὶ α[ὐ]τὰς τὰς ἀνακρίσεις. {vac.}57
The investigation of Gallus revealed that, far from being the culprits,
Tryphera and her now-dead husband had actually been the victims of
unlawful attack. For reasons that are unclear, their house had been
attacked by a man and possibly his companions. Whether he had a
legitimate grievance or he was just a nuisance is not stated, but he
could not be negotiated with. Since Tryphera and her husband
decided that throwing faeces at the attackers was a suitable recourse,
it is unlikely that this attack was a mortal danger. However, because
of a mistake in throwing the vessel with the contents, a relatively
innocent man was dead and the city of Knidos wanted to punish the
(1992 [1977]), 235 ponders whether Gallus was actually in Rome or investigated the
matter in Knidos.
56
For an overview, see Pölönen, ‘Plebeians and Repression’ (2004), 217–57.
57
IG XII 3.174, ll. 13–28.
culprits. What follows is that Augustus criticizes them harshly for
accusing the innocent and protecting those who had disturbed the
common security:58
I should have been at a loss to understand why the defendants were so
fearful of your questioning their slaves, if you had not given them strong
evidence of being hard and hostile to opposition, angry not at those
deserving to suffer any and every punishment for thrice launching a
nocturnal attack with force and violence against another’s house and
(thereby) threatening the common safety of you all, but at those who
did no wrong but suffered misfortune even when they tried to defend
themselves. Now, you would do well, in my view, by seeing to it that the
records in your public archives conform to my judgment in this matter.
Farewell.
ἐθαύμαζον δ’ ἄν, πῶς εἰς τόσον ἔδεισαν τὴν παρ’ ὑμεῖν ἐξετασίαν τῶν
δούλων οἱ φ[εύ]γοντες τὴν δίκην, εἰ μή μοι σφόδρα αὐτοῖς ἐδόξ[ατε]
_
χαλεποὶ γεγονέναι καὶ πρὸς τὰ ἐναντία μισοπόνη[ροι], μὴ κατὰ τῶν
ἀξίων πᾶν ὁτιοῦν παθεῖν, {vac.} ἐπ’ ἀλλο[τρίαν]οἰκίαν νύκτωρ μεθ’ ὕβρεως
καὶ βίας τρὶς ἐπεληλυ[θό]των καὶ τὴν κοινὴν ἁπάντων ὑμῶν ἀσφάλειαν
[ἀναι]ρούντων ἀγανακτοῦντες, ἀλλὰ κατὰ τῶν καὶ ἡν[ίκ’ ἠ]μύνοντο
ἠτυχηκότων, ἠδικηκότων δὲ οὐδ’ ἔστ[ιν ὅτι]. ἀλλὰ νῦν_ ὀρθῶς ἄν μοι
δοκεῖτε ποιῆσαι τῆι ἐμῆι π[ερὶ τού]των γνώιμηι {γνωμηι} προνοήσαντες
καὶ τὰ ἐν τοῖς δημ[οσίοις] ὑμῶν ὁμολογεῖν γράμματα.ἔρρωσθε.59
While even this inscription is ambiguous, the basic outline is
unproblematic. For whatever reason, the officials of the city of Knidos
had charged Tryphera and her husband with murder instead of
charging the nocturnal disturbers of peace. From Augustus’ choice
of words regarding the questioning of slaves, it is clear that Tryphera
claimed that they would not be able to get justice in Knidos. With no
evidence on the attackers or the context of the case, it is impossible to say
why the interrogation of slaves in Knidos would lead to a miscarriage
of justice, but it is evident that Tryphera was up against some powerful
men in Knidos. What is noteworthy is that Augustus underlines that
the judgment has to be entered into the public records, thus forcing the
city to acknowledge the decision. The fact that the inscription was not
found in Knidos but on the beautiful island of Astypalaia may be
because Tryphera or her descendants thought it better to move there
after the case. Why the case came to Augustus is unclear; possibly
58
Discussed also in Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 443.
59
IG XII 3.174, ll. 28–39.
because Tryphera had fled the city after being accused of murder.60
Nonetheless, Augustus takes up the case, appoints a very high-
ranking official to investigate the matter, chamber pots and all, and
gives a ruling, clearly intended to be the final word on the matter.
A further interesting point is that Knidos is a free city, which would
entail that it enjoyed considerable autonomy, even in jurisdiction,
and it is debatable whether imperial jurisdiction would be recog-
nized. As was typical of imperial jurisdiction later on, Augustus
would introduce himself into the case with little regard for whatever
privileges the city of Knidos had and resolve the issue where he saw
justice and public peace threatened by the corrupt rulers of the city.61
In the letter, Tryphera plays the part of the vulnerable widow, driven
from her home by ruffians, while Augustus appears as the avenging
good king.62
It is hard to say whether Augustus actually applied Roman law
strictly speaking to the case, as there is no mention what law would
have been applied. The letter of Augustus prominently uses the
terminology of Roman criminal law, speaking of manslaughter,
accusations presented, interrogation under torture, and disturbing
of the public peace. The principle that Augustus seems to be applying
is that of lawful self-defence, which was also recognized by the Roman
jurists.63
60
Wankerl, Appello (2009), 6 assumes that she was originally from Astypalaia.
61
On this, see Colin, Villes libres (1965), 49, 86–9, but see also the review by
H. W. Pleket (Pleket, ‘Review of Les Villes libres’ (1966), 155). Colin argues, following
Viereck, that the free cities had capital jurisdiction. Because Tryphera was a citizen of
Astypalaia, the case would have been between cities, not internal to Knidos. The case
was given to Augustus because Tryphera was in Rome, giving Rome jurisdiction.
Pleket and Bowersock, Augustus (1965), 88, argue that a ‘free status was little more
than a honorific title’. Augustus and Roman provincial governors would interfere in
cases in free cities, especially when petitioners argued that the courts were controlled
by their opponents. Oliver, Greek Constitutions (1989), 38 curiously maintained that
Knidos actually did not have capital jurisdiction and thus the case came to Augustus
in the first instance. For example Nörr, Imperium und polis (1966), 29 writes that
speaking of problems of competence is wrong, since both the polis and Rome had, in
principle, universal competence and thus any conflict between the two was in essence
political.
62
It has been noted that the letter contains no formal sentence as would have been
typical later on, possibly reflecting the informality of the procedure. Volkmann,
Rechtsprechung (1969 [1935]), 161–3; Wankerl, Appello (2009), 10.
63
Ulpian writes in Dig. 43.16.1.27: Vim vi repellere licere Cassius scribit idque ius
natura comparatur: apparet autem, inquit, ex eo arma armis repellere licere. See also
Dig. 9.2.45.4.
Both of the cases demonstrate not only that there were petitions to
Augustus from the provinces but also that Augustus could choose to
respond to them.64 He was, in both cases, unfazed by possible pro-
cedural hindrances caused by jurisdictional issues or questions of
what law should be applied to each case. Intervening in the affairs
of cities, in both cases obviously against the wishes of the local
magistrates and the powers that be, was not a concern, or if it was,
it was not mentioned. However, Augustus did not undertake these
incursions lightly, but sought to investigate the matter himself and
underlines the care that he has taken in resolving the cases in his
answers. In both instances there is an element of personal interest for
Augustus, in the Cyrene case the suspicion of maiestas, and the
personal appeal to him in the Knidos case. Augustus also demon-
strates a personal interest in both cases, clearing the Roman official in
Cyrene accused of wrongdoing and forcefully reproaching the offi-
cials of Knidos for allowing the disturbance of public peace. It is
unclear whether Tryphera had been present at the time when the
embassy of Knidos approached Augustus or at the sentencing, though
she had clearly been heard personally, in writing or by proxy, and
thus it is certain that she had at least had the opportunity to present
her own petition to Augustus.
Apart from these contemporary or near-contemporary accounts,
most of the information on Augustus’ jurisdiction comes from
Suetonius and Dio, both of whom present an image of Augustus as
a hard-working judge. A challenge is to evaluate whether they are
depicting Augustus along the lines of the emperors of their own era,
one of whose major tasks was jurisdiction. It has been suggested that
later writers like Suetonius were not interested in gradual historical
development, and thus did not differentiate between adjudication
during the triumvirate and the Augustan Principate and that Dio
did not really understand or care about the development of imperial
powers during the Early Principate.65 That is the main paradox of the
evidence for Augustus as judge: we are left with two sets of sources,
one from contemporary and near-contemporary authors which show
him informally settling accounts among the elite or the provincials,
the other from later sources depicting him as the diligent ideal judge.
64
Lintott, Imperium Romanum (1993), 116–17 suggests that the case came to Augus-
tus outside any formal procedure for appeals.
65
Bleicken, Senatsgericht und Kaisergericht (1962), 74–5.
In the legal sources, Augustus is mentioned to have acted in two cases
regarding the validity of fideicommissa, but in both cases ordered the
consuls to enforce their validity.66
Suetonius’ Augustus is a hard-working judge who heard appeals
from all of the people. He judged regularly, sometimes late into the
night, even in old age:
He himself administered justice regularly and sometimes up to nightfall,
having a litter placed upon the tribunal, if he was indisposed, or even
lying down at home. In his administration of justice he was both highly
conscientious and very lenient . . .
Ipse ius dixit assidue et in noctem nonnumquam, si parum corpore
valeret lectica pro tribunali collocata, vel etiam domi cubans. Dixit
autem ius non diligentia modo summa sed et lenitate.67
According to Suetonius, Augustus referred to the city praetor appeals
cases between citizens, whereas cases between foreigners went to ex-
consuls.68 Suetonius maintains that Augustus was detained in Rome
by litigants, who brought case after case to his tribunal.69 His morn-
ing receptions were open to all, even the commoners. In keeping with
the role of munificent patron, Augustus made a point of appearing
generous while responding to petitions.70
Dio paints a surprisingly similar image of the judge Augustus as
this indefatigable duty-bound monarch. He says that Augustus con-
tinued to sit in judgment personally, even in old age, seated in the
tribunal in the palace surrounded by his assistants.71 On the roots of
Augustus’ jurisdiction, Dio writes that as part of the honours voted
him when his victory over Antony and Cleopatra was complete in
30 BC, with the conquest of Alexandria, it was decreed that he should
judge appeals cases and that his should be the deciding vote in a case
where the jurors are tied in all courts:
They also decreed that Caesar should hold the tribunician power for life,
that he should aid those who called upon him for help both within the
pomerium and outside for a distance of one mile,—a privilege possessed
by none of the tribunes,—also that he should judge appealed cases, and
that in all the courts his vote was to be cast as Athena’s vote.
66 67
Inst. Iust. 2.23.1, 2.25pr. Suet. Aug. 33.1.
68
Suet. Aug. 33.2–3; Volkmann, Rechtsprechung (1969 [1935]), 172–7.
69 70 71
Suet. Aug. 97.3. Suet. Aug. 53.2. Cass. Dio 55.33.5.
[6] [σφᾶς ἐπ᾽ αὐτοῖς δέον, ὠνόμασαν. τήν τε ἡμέραν ἐν ᾗ ἡ Ἀλεξάνδρεια
ἑάλω, ἀγαθήν τε εἶναι καὶ ἐς τὰ ἔπειτα ἔτη ἀρχὴν τῆς ἀπαριθμήσεως
αὐτῶν νομίζεσθαι], καὶ τὸν Καίσαρα τήν τε ἐξουσίαν τὴν τῶν δημάρχων
διὰ βίου ἔχειν, καὶ τοῖς ἐπιβοωμένοις αὐτὸν καὶ ἐντὸς τοῦ πωμηρίου καὶ
ἔξω μέχρις ὀγδόου ἡμισταδίου ἀμύνειν, ὃ μηδενὶ [7] τῶν δημαρχούντων
ἐξῆν, ἔκκλητόν τε δικάζειν, καὶ ψῆφόν τινα αὐτοῦ ἐν πᾶσι τοῖς δικαστηρ-
ίοις ὥσπερ Ἀθηνᾶς φέρεσθαι.72
The passage contains a fairly extensive list of jurisdictional duties for
Augustus, from aiding (ius auxilii) to adjudication. While scholars
have been sceptical about the historical veracity of the grant of
appeals jurisdiction and the emperor being the final arbiter in all
courts, they agree that it reflects the general development where the
emperor would be the final decider of appeals.73 In describing the
settlement of 28–27 BC, Dio portrays the creation of the role of
emperor as a monarch in all but name, mentioning that he is able
to put to death even equites and senators in the city of Rome:
By virtue of the titles named they secure the right to make levies, to
collect funds, declare war, make peace, rule foreigners and citizens alike
everywhere and always,—even to the extent of being able to put to death
both knights and senators inside the pomerium,—and all the other
privileges once granted to the consuls and other officials possessing
independent authority; and by virtue of holding the censorship they
investigate our lives and morals as well as take the census, enrolling
some in the equestrian and senatorial classes and erasing the names of
others from these classes, according to their will.
[6] καὶ εἰρήνην σπένδεσθαι, τοῦ τε ξενικοῦ καὶ τοῦ πολιτικοῦ ἀεὶ καὶ
πανταχοῦ ὁμοίως ἄρχειν, ὥστε καὶ ἐντὸς τοῦ πωμηρίου καὶ τοὺς ἱππέας
καὶ τοὺς βουλευτὰς θανατοῦν δύνασθαι, τά τε ἄλλα ὅσα τοῖς τε ὑπάτοις
72
Cass. Dio 51.19.6–7. Tr. Cary. Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 509; Peachin,
‘Judicial Powers’ (2015), 500–1; Fanizza, L’amministrazione (1999), 11–60.
73
Mommsen (Mommsen, Staatsrecht (1871–1888), 2.2:958–9; Strafrecht (1899),
260–1 (2.9.1)) already saw it as the foundation of imperial jurisdiction, while among
others Kelly, Princeps Iudex (1957), 15–24 rejected the reference being to a general
grant of appellate jurisdiction. Since then, the issue of appellate jurisdiction or the
calculus Minervae has been discussed at length; for a summary, see Reinhold, ‘Calcu-
lus Minervae’ (1981), 137–40. For various theories on the potential background, see
Fanizza, L’amministrazione (1999), 11–60; Guizzi, Principato (1971), 114–20; Lintott,
‘Provocatio’ (1972), 263–6; Lintott, Imperium Romanum (1993), 117, discusses the
possibility that the passage is an unhistorical retrojection, but maintains that it reflects
the growth of the appeals, while Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 509 accepted the
granting of appeals jurisdiction and the general possibility of offering aid, but regards
the Athena’s vote as a theoretical possibility.
καὶ τοῖς ἄλλοις τοῖς αὐταρχήσασί ποτε ποιεῖν ἐξῆν, λαμβάνουσιν: [7] ἐκ δὲ
δὴ τοῦ τιμητεύειν τούς τε βίους καὶ τοὺς τρόπους ἡμῶν ἐξετάζουσι, καὶ
ἀπογραφὰς ποιοῦνται καὶ τοὺς μὲν καταλέγουσι καὶ ἐς τὴν ἱππάδα καὶ ἐς
τὸ βουλευτικόν, τοὺς δὲ καὶ ἀπαλείφουσιν.74
What we have here again is another list Augustus’ of rights and duties.
For Mommsen and his many followers, this was the foundation of his
criminal jurisdiction.75 While Suetonius’ Augustus appears like a
conscientious, though overworked, magistrate, Dio’s Augustus takes
on a more monarchical air of being prone to whim and extra-judicial
influences. Dio illustrated Maecenas’ good influence on him with an
example: Augustus was holding court, preparing to condemn several
people to death, when Maecenas walked in. Maecenas wrote on a
tablet: ‘Pray rise at last, executioner!’ and threw the tablet into Augustus’
lap. Augustus read it and left, imposing no death penalties.76
The paradox of the two models of Augustan jurisdiction is thus the
disagreement over its regular nature and execution. Nevertheless,
there are a number of issues prohibiting the making of straightforward
assumptions on the discrepancy. First of all, the authors, the elite
poets, philosophers, historians, and others who represent our main
sources are hardly comparable in their objectives. It is safe to say that
Ovid and Seneca were not intending to say anything in general about
Augustus’ jurisdiction, and thus that they turned their attention to
highly unusual, irregular, and political trials is not surprising. How-
ever, it is remarkable that, according to both Suetonius and Dio,
Augustus acted more or less like previous warlords, even as judge,
during the triumviral period and the civil war.77 Even when speaking
74
Cass. Dio 53.17.5–7. Tr. Cary. The main issue is whether Dio is here speaking of
the emperors in general or the powers granted to Augustus in 27 BC, or whether there
is a difference.
75
See Peachin, ‘Judicial Powers’ (2015), 499–511, for a discussion around legisla-
tive grants of jurisdiction and other Mommsenian constructs.
76
Cass. Dio 55.7.2.
77
According to Suetonius, during the ten years he was triumvir Octavian first tried
to prevent proscriptions, but since they had begun he participated in them with the
greatest severity, insisting that no one should be spared. He also killed and tortured
people on the flimsiest excuses. Suet. Aug. 27 Triumviratum rei constituendae per
decem annos administravit. After his victory over Antony, Dio writes that Augustus
punished some of Antony’s allies while pardoning others, either for personal reasons
or as favours for his friends. Of the senators and equites, many were fined, others put
to death, while he spared all the Egyptians. Cass. Dio 51.16.1, 51.16.3, 51.2.4–5.
Josephus and Plutarch mention that Herod had tried to get Octavian to pardon
of later periods, they distinguish between regular jurisdiction and
political necessities.78 Finally, one needs to take into account the
absence of information on Augustus as judge from the more contem-
porary historians.
However, argumentation based on the silence of sources is not good
history. Thus, we cannot say that contemporary sources prove that
there was no real constitutional basis for Augustus’ jurisdiction, that it
was mostly based on response and ad hoc actions. Nor can we say
conclusively of the later accounts of Augustus that the image of
Augustus as judge reflects more the Antonine and Severan conven-
tions of virtue and prerogative than the actions of Augustus himself.
Instead of trying to argue from the absence of sources, we are left to
work with what the sources actually tell us, namely the understanding
of their authors that may or may not reflect the common understand-
ing at the actual time of the historical situation. Ovid’s eyewitness
account is his take on the historical situation in which he was tragically
embroiled, and it reflects the idea of ad hoc jurisdiction. The inscrip-
tions reveal Augustus as the supreme ruler in the eyes of the provin-
cials, controlling single-handedly both Roman administration and
lawsuits in the provinces. What the accounts of Suetonius and Dio
show is that, according to their historical understanding in their time,
Augustus already had routine jurisdiction, but they are the first to
mention it. It is, of course, debatable whether the strict separation
between routine and ad hoc jurisdiction is purely a modern preoccu-
pation, but the difference between contemporary and later sources is
drastic even in the Roman sources.
IDEOLOGICAL CONSTRUCTION FOR AN IMPERIAL

LEGAL ROLE: LIVY AND AUGUSTUS’ RES GESTAE
In the example of Augustus, we are in the fortunate position that we

do not need try to balance later sources based merely on the writings
of a whiny poet like Ovid or a couple of provincial inscriptions. The
Alexas, but despite the lavish gifts he otherwise gave Herod, Octavian would not grant
this wish. Joseph. AJ 15.6.7; Plut. Vit. Ant. 72.3–4.
78
In 18 BC Augustus executed a few men because they were involved in plots
against him and Agrippa. He kept Lepidus alive to be taunted. Cass. Dio 54.15.4.
reason for this is that we do have Augustus’ own account on how to
define the constitutional basis of his rule. In the Res gestae,79 Augus-
tus presents his own view of his position and powers in the newly
formed Roman state. Also called ‘The Queen of Inscriptions’ by
Mommsen, the epigraphic text contains the full account of the public
life of Augustus. The work is traditionally divided into three parts:
honores, the honours or offices he held; impensae, the expenses or
how he enriched Rome and its people; and res gestae, the things he
had done—though the division is not rigid.80 If both his contempor-
aries and later observers were confused regarding the nature of
Augustus’ Principate, Augustus has not really helped to clarify things.
His opaque prose subdues clarity with grand words and is a challenge
to understand. However, the account also tells of experimentations in
finding a suitable relationship with the Senate and the people. The
impression one has from this is that the rule of Augustus was
legitimized by references to various powers and offices that Augustus
held, but it was not actually based on any of them. Even though the
account lacks any reference to Augustus’ jurisdiction, it is central to
any understanding of his role in Roman society and law. In the
following discussion I will explore the inner contradiction or dualism
in Augustus’ relationship to law in the text, where he is presented both
as a regular Roman magistrate and an exceptional leader with extra-
ordinary authority. Through a reading of the legally relevant passages
of the Res gestae, I will argue that it offers a constitutional blueprint for
the new regime that rejects sovereign power while embracing the
centrality and superiority of Augustus. What emerges is Augustus’
exceptionality, whose actions are exemplary in the sense that they
create a constitutional narrative of power. This reveals a curious
construct, that can be defined as republican exceptionalism combined
with an adherence to legalism and tradition with the extraordinary
honours, offices, and powers that were granted to Augustus.81
79
The most recent texts are Cooley, Res Gestae (2009); Scheid, Res Gestae (2007).
See also Brunt and Moore, Res gestae (1967); Belloni, Res Gestae (1987); Gagé, Res
gestae (1935) and Mommsen’s editio princeps (Mommsen, Res Gestae (1883)). New
fragments of the RG were found recently: Thonemann, ‘Copy of Res Gestae’ (2012),
282–8. The references are to Scheid, Res Gestae (2007).
80
Ramage, Nature and Purpose (1987), 17. For a historiography and commentary
of the text, see also Ridley, Emperor’s Retrospect (2003).
81
All this was naturally joined with the idea of a restored Republic; Hurlet and
Mineo, Principat (2009). As Sulla had already found out, claiming to be restoring the
The importance of looking at the image presented by Augustus of
his position and his powers in understanding the creation of imperial
jurisdiction stems from the very fact that there are no reliable con-
temporary sources that attest to how Augustus gained jurisdiction in
the first place. Of course, the existence or non-existence of this
jurisdiction is quite independent of any justification that either
Roman or modern authors would devise for it. Thus it is vital to see
how Augustus positioned himself towards and within the Roman
legal system in order to understand his impact on it. It is not the
individual powers and justifications, but rather the totality of his
approach upon which the revolutionary change in the Roman legal
system was founded.82
The contradictory images of Augustus as a Roman magistrate or a
despotic ruler, as a benevolent father or a cruel monster, presented by
Ovid and elsewhere in Roman literature were, of course, rhetorical
constructs reflecting not only a facet of what Augustus was thought to
have been but also what was expected, hoped, and feared of him.
While we may concur with the view that the Principate of Augustus
not only defied definition but that defining it would accomplish very
little, as the crucial question is not what it was but what it did,
such definitions were not without significance in determining what
it could do.
The way Augustus portrays his resurrection of the Republic in the
Res gestae is complemented by Livy’s portrayal of the Early Roman
Republic in his Ab urbe condita. Livy presents an idealized image of
the Republic with a pertinent moral admonition on the dangers of
self-interested sovereign rulers. The portrayal of Cincinnatus the
dictator, who serves purely the interest of the commonwealth
(3.26–9), and other superheroes of early Roman history is contrasted
with the figures of Tarquinius Superbus and the second set of decem-
viri. Both of these are clear warnings of the dangers that unchecked
powers of evil rulers may bring, with the unfortunate, if stereotypical,
figures like Lucretia and Verginia serving as sacrificial lambs on the
altar of freedom (1.57–60; 3.44–8). The truly remarkable feature of
the Livian narrative of the exalted days of early Rome is its outright
Republic while changing it was extraordinarily hard without an appealing ideological

foundation. Flower, Roman Republics (2010), 95–6, 137–8.
82
This was already argued forcefully by Orestano, L’appello civile (1952), 181, 195.
hostility towards sovereign power held by individuals. The repeatedly
underlined lesson of history in Livy is that unlimited power leads
invariably to tyranny. The fact that this narrative proved to be so
prominent exactly when the unlimited power held by an individual
was being consolidated makes it even more noteworthy. In the Res
gestae, Augustus parallels the Republican narrative of Livy in a way
which most likely is not coincidental, but rather a conscious counter-
narrative to the tradition of single rule reflected in Ovid’s writing
to Augustus.83
While Augustus is silent about his own jurisdiction in the Res
gestae, the narrative of Livy utilizes the exercise of jurisdiction as a
focal point in which the tyrannical nature of the ruler is revealed
or where the magistrate upholds his virtue and honour. Two of
Livy’s villains, Tarquinius Superbus, the last king of Rome, and
Appius Claudius the decemvir, are brought down by their misuse of
jurisdiction to their own advantage. In the first case, the rape of the
virtuous matron Lucretia by Sextus Tarquinius, the son of Tarquinius
Superbus, and her subsequent suicide because of the impossibility
of getting justice in any other way, led to the overthrow of kings.84 As
judge, Appius Claudius decemvir made a sovereign ruling in the case
of Verginia, a virtuous and beautiful plebeian girl he wanted, reducing
her to slavery. In the story, the girl’s father uses his paternal power
and kills her to preserve her freedom and virtue, leading to a revolt
against the decemvirs.85 In both cases, the corruption of justice by
despotic rulers becomes a fundamental rupture in the whole regime,
leading to its violent collapse. The good magistrate, on the other
hand, is incorruptible and judges according to the law, despite any
personal feelings or considerations. Thus, the last of the Horatii is
sentenced to death after the killing of his sister, despite having saved
Rome from defeat.86
The importance of examples is highlighted by Augustus’ claim in
the Res gestae that new laws were passed on his proposal that brought
back many exemplary practices which were disappearing, and that he
83
Luce, ‘Livy, Augustus’ (1990), 123–38 doubts the close connections between Livy
and Augustus and points out the significant ways in which their narratives of early
Rome differ. Pausch, Livius und der Leser (2011) explores the position of Livy between
history and literature.
84 85
Livy 1.57–60. Livy 3.44–8.
86
Livy 1.24–6. The decemviri would make more constitutional overreaches, abol-
ishing provocatio and ignoring term limits.
himself created exemplary practices for posterity to imitate.87 This
enigmatic statement has prompted numerous interpretations, which
are impossible to repeat here. Following the two versions of the text in
Latin and Greek, they may refer to Augustus wishing to be seen as an
example himself or that he referred to his policies. While the term
‘new laws’ has, since Mommsen, been understood as meaning Augus-
tus’ moral legislation, lately this has been seen as a reference to
Augustus himself, his legislation and reforms, as well as his evocation
of the past.88 The exemplarity of the past is also evident in the Forum
of Augustus, where the summi viri were collected as an idealized
version of Roman virtue.89 What is important for our purposes is
that Augustus stressed the exemplarity of his own actions, underlin-
ing the significance of practice.
One of the most problematic references to the virtuous past is the
much-discussed restoration of the Republic.90 In the Res gestae,
Augustus claims that in 28–27 BC he was, ‘with universal consent’,
in complete control of affairs and transferred the Republic back to the
Senate and the people of Rome.91 Because of this he was given the
name Augustus, the laurel wreaths, and the civic crown.92
This build-up leads to what is constitutionally the most significant
passage: then he excelled all in influence (auctoritas), though not in
87
RG 8.5. Legibus nouis me auctore latis multa exempla maiorum exolescentia iam
ex nostro saeculo reduxi et ipse multarum rerum exempla imitanda posteris tradidi.
88
The main problem is, of course, that the Greek version says that Augustus
himself was the example, whereas the Latin speaks of many examples. See Ridley,
Emperor’s Retrospect (2003), 109–12 for an overview of the various interpretations.
Grelle and Fanizza, Diritto (2005), 366, argue that RG 8.5 was one of the final
instances where imperial law would use the oligarchical model of exemplum and its
metahistorical horizon, as the later imperial norms would be seen as statutes.
89
Geiger, Hall of Fame (2008); Shaya, ‘Public Life’ (2013), 83–110.
90
The whole idea of Augustus claiming to be restoring the Republic is somewhat
dubious; see Rich, ‘Emergency’ (2012), 106–11. A coin by Augustus was minted with
the legend leges et iura p(opulo) R(omano) restituit (Mantovani, ‘Leges et iura’ (2008),
5 ff.).
91
RG 34.1 per consensum universorum potitus rerum omnium . . . For the widely
different ways of seeing concepts like consent and power either legally or ideologically,
see e.g. Börm and Havener, ‘Octavians Rechtsstellung’ (2012), 202–20; Cascione,
Consensus (2003), 82–127 and Lobur, Consensus (2008). Earlier interpretations of
this passage, such as by Premerstein, Werden und Wesen (1937), 43, 63, interpreted it
as a way of saying that there had been a coniuratio.
92
RG 34.2. He was also presented the clipeus aureus, on which the virtues of
Augustus, virtus, clementia, iustitia, and pietas, were inscribed. A similar shield, a
marble clipeus virtutis, has been found in Arles, Musée départemental Arles antique,
inv. CRY 51 00 95.
power (potestas), that he had as much as the other magistrates.93
This passage has produced a flurry of explanations that see the
juxtaposition of these two elements as keys to understanding the
Augustan Principate.94 The scholarly explanations can be divided
into two groups, based on their view of Augustus’ motivations. The
first group sees the resurrection of the Republic as a cynical charade.
They claim that this formulation is simply Augustus’ attempt to
convey the traditional nature of his powers and it shows Augustus at
his most deceitful. What the content of the text in fact referred to was
not the universal agreement of the Roman people but the extermin-
ation of the armed opposition to Augustus by the end of the civil
wars. With regard to the extraordinary honours, powers, and magis-
tracies bestowed upon Augustus, they claim that the whole Res gestae
is monarchical, identifying the personal life of Augustus with that of
Rome, and that the passage about universal consent is an attempt to
counteract that image.95 Of course, Augustus was hardly the first to
claim to be restoring the Republic. The triumvirs had declared
already their task as the confirming of the Republic (Triumviri Rei
Publicae Constituendae), an echo of Sullan dictatorship and what
Cicero expected of Caesar.96 Nonetheless, what Augustus does is to
combine two very different things, a very charismatic statement of
common support with the re-establishment of the pre-existing
order.97
The second group of explanations maintains that instead of being a
devious plot to disguise the true despotism of the regime, there was
some truth to the preservation of the Republic presented in the Res
gestae. Some explain that the reference to auctoritas was a sign of
Augustus’ superiority to all contemporaries that is constantly adver-
tised in the text. Auctoritas in its various forms was the only form of
93
RG 34.3. Post id tempus auctoritate omnibus praestiti, potestatis autem nihilo
amplius habui quam ceteri, qui mihi quoque in magistratu conlegae fuerunt. See also
Woodman, ‘Note on Res Gestae’ (2013), 154–5.
94
See Ridley, Emperor’s Retrospect (2003), 220–1 on the futile attempts at finding a
distinct moment or event of consensus.
95
Ridley, Emperor’s Retrospect (2003), 222–7.
96
Kienast, Augustus (2014), 33; Flower, Roman Republics (2010), 137. What, for
example, Flower, Roman Republics (2010) maintains is that the idea of restoration is
deeply imbedded in the whole idea of the Roman Republic, which is by itself a wholly
illusory concept linking together completely different political and social regimes.
97
Guizzi, Principato (1971), 70. Arangio-Ruiz, Storia (1982), 220–1 maintained
that the main gist of the passage was the protection of the established order.
supremacy that was compatible with the republican context,98 and
that consensus was already a crucial concept in the Roman political
discourse during the Republic.99 Constitutionally, this would mean
that the princeps was considered to be bound by laws in his actions.100
Instead of being a defined power, auctoritas was a social quality, the
ability to exert power through appearances.101 It has been noted that
the rise of auctoritas as the pre-eminent quality of the Augustan
Principate rests on the Res gestae itself, as the word has no similar
prominence elsewhere.102 For the foundation of Augustus’ jurisdic-
tion, this passage is important as it appears to deny any official grant
of jurisdiction, but leaves open the influence of authority.
A similar theme continues in Augustus’ portrayal of the virtues
that he represents and honours bestowed on him. Of his virtues,
iustitia underlined both Augustus’ constitutional and legal adherence
to the Republican model: he both obeys the institutions and follows
the laws, not accepting extraordinary positions.103 Others argue that
Augustus had the supreme skill of having it both ways, being both
extraordinary and ordinary at the same time.104 According to the Res
gestae, the Senate, the equestrian order, and the people of Rome gave
him the title pater patriae (Father of the Fatherland) in 2 BC.105
Augustus was thus an ordinary magistrate who had accomplished
extraordinary things, as did Livy’s Republican heroes. This extraor-
dinary ordinariness, of being of the people but possessing a superior
authority, and making these almost theological distinctions of
character and status was a way of establishing superiority without
resorting to the obvious, the language of sovereignty. This appearance
is strengthened by the fact that, in general, the text of the Res gestae
is straightforward and to the point, and very pointedly uses the
first-person narrative, concentrating the reader on Augustus and
Augustus alone as the focus of action, even when it is the Senate
98
On this discussion, see Ramage, Nature and Purpose (1987), 43–54; Scheid, Res
Gestae (2007), 91–2; Fanizza, Autorità (2004), 51–6.
99
Lobur, Consensus (2008), 31, 221, emphasizes the teleology of the idea.
100
Eck, ‘Emperor’ (2016).
101
Lowrie, Writing, Performance, and Authority (2009), 286.
102
Rowe, ‘Reconsidering Auctoritas’ (2013), 3.
103
Ramage, Nature and Purpose (1987), 86–91.
104
Galinsky, Augustan Culture (1996), 49.
105
RG 35.1. Alföldy, Vater des Vaterlandes (1971).
that orders him to do something that he himself had quite certainly
instigated.106
The contrast between the insistence on the republican model and
what even insiders to the imperial system like Ovid felt to be a correct
assessment of the situation is quite striking. It does not even occur to
Ovid—who was, after all, masterful in his use of irony and nuances—
to use the republican model insisted upon by Augustus. Instead, he opts
naturally for the language of unfettered single rule, where Augustus, as
the wielder of sovereign power, is a godlike figure possessing godlike
powers over the life and death of all mortals. Like Cicero before him and
Seneca after him, Ovid conceptualizes the omnipotent sovereign ruler as
having two natures, the kind father and the savage monster.
How much may the Res gestae be seen as a constitutional model? In
the recent literature there has emerged a theory that the Res gestae
may be understood as a constitution of sorts, in that it imposes a model
of the Principate both on Augustus’ successors and the Roman people,107
and that it employs the forms of presentation normally reserved for legal
texts, being inscribed in bronze in the West and in marble in the East.108
This issue is closely linked with the underlying purpose of the Res gestae,
which has been much debated. We know that after his successes in the
civil wars Octavian found himself with a reputation for cruelty and
vengefulness. It is possible that he wished to counter these allegations
with a propaganda offensive, parading his virtus, clementia, and iustitia
in an account of his own. Much like the coinage he issued, the Res gestae
portrayed a new self-representation of Augustus the ruler and his past,
now that there was no one left to contradict him.109
The constitutionality of the text is embedded into the narrative,
where themes like the title of the ruler or his powers are mentioned.
For example, the title of princeps, the accepted depiction of Augustus’
role as the leader of the Roman Republic, comes up in an oblique
106
Ramage, Nature and Purpose (1987), 21–7, 36.
107
Scheid, Res Gestae (2007), lii–liii. Cf. e.g. Hahn, ‘Neue Untersuchungen’ (1958),
137–48.
108
Peachin, ‘Augustus’ (2013), 255–76.
109
Another thorny issue is the intended audience of the Res gestae. A theory by
Gagé maintained that the Res gestae was meant for the Roman plebs was already
criticized by Belloni, Res Gestae (1987), 54–7, who maintains that there were passages
aimed at the Senate and the equites as well. Yavetz, ‘Augustus’ Public Image’ (1984),
2–3, 5, 8, 19–20, supported by Ridley, Emperor’s Retrospect (2003), 232, claims that it
was the youth of the nobility of Rome, the future leaders, that Augustus wished to
educate with his exemplum.
fashion three times. It is first mentioned while describing the closing
of the temple of Janus: it took place three times when he was the
leading citizen or princeps.110 It is perhaps not a coincidence that the
chosen title of Augustus, princeps, contained a reference to Cicero’s
ideas of the princeps as the suitable way of combining republican and
autocratic models.111
On the powers of the ruler, the Res gestae offers guidelines on what
was acceptable in terms of auctoritas, imperium, and other forms of
power.112 Auctoritas could be supreme, but imperium as the power to
command should be limited.113 According to the Res gestae, the
Senate gave Octavian imperium when he was 19. This imperium
was unrelated to an office, though he was given consular rank.
Between the years 27 and 19 BC, the issue of Augustus’ imperium
and its factual, temporal and geographical limits was a source of
constant constitutional adjusting.114 What is clear is the extraordin-
ary accumulation of powers that the Res gestae demonstrates.
The use of the imperium should be tempered with clementia, as
Augustus mentions how, in war, he spared the lives of citizens who
asked for mercy.115 As has been noted, evidence to the contrary
abounds.116 It is perhaps this glaring contradiction within the public
perception of Augustus that Ovid sought to utilize, seeking to take
110
RG 13. Slightly later, it comes up twice, when the Pannonians are subjugated for
the first time and when foreign kings seek friendship. RG 30.1, 32.3. See also Serrao,
‘Modello di costituzione’ (1991), 36 on the numerous titles and the apparent difficulty
in finding a suitable concept for his hegemonic position.
111
Bleicken, Senatsgericht und Kaisergericht (1962), 133: ‘Augustus wollte in den
Augen der Öffentlichkeit auctoritate princeps sein—wie etwa Cicero—und nicht
potestate Monarch.’ See also Cooley, Res Gestae (2009), 161. The term princeps was
probably also an appropriate term because consulships and other magistracies were
liable to change.
112
Cf. also Serrao, ‘Modello di costituzione’ (1991), 39–42.
113
The centralization of the power to command had been a central feature in the reigns
of Sulla, Pompey, and Caesar, see Vervaet, ‘Monopolisation’ (2012), 123–47.
114
RG 1.2. The imperium maius quam proconsulare was granted in the settlement
of 23 BC and given for life in 19 BC (Cass. Dio 53.32). On the imperium proconsulare,
there is now an interesting new source, the tesserae Paemeiobrigensis, an edict of
Augustus: Costabile and Licandro, Tessera Paemeiobrigensis (2002). Before that,
Augustus was a consul from 27 to 23 BC. On the development of Augustus’s imperium,
see Girarder, Rom (2007); Cotton and Yakobson, ‘Arcanum imperii’ (2002); Ferrary,
‘À propos’ (2001).
115
RG 3.1.
116
See Ridley, Emperor’s Retrospect (2003), 169 on the killing of captured enemies.
See also the list in Volkmann, Rechtsprechung (1969 [1935]), 14–24 on the people
punished between 44 and 27 BC.
advantage of the desire of Augustus to cleanse his reputation from the
horrors of the proscriptions. As noted by authors like Seneca, or even
Dio two centuries later, Augustus was known as a cold, greedy, and
ruthless killer as a young triumvir, the kind of omnipotent monster
that would eclipse Polyphemus. Similar references to Augustus’ par-
ticipation in proscriptions were highly effective because they, for a
moment, exposed the fundamental crime of the new regime. For
example, the story repeated later by Macrobius goes that, when
Asinius Pollio heard that Octavian had written some verses against
him, he replied in private that he would stay silent, because it is not
easy to write about someone who can have you killed.117
The rejection of sovereign power is the main thread running
through the Res gestae, but within the refusals there also lies the
honour of refusing an honour. In the detailed display of the offices
and honours that are clearly rejected, such as dictatorship and the
legum et morum cura, there is an unspoken assumption that Augustus
thinks himself worthy of such a position. The dictatorship was offered
by both the Senate and the people in 22 BC, and refused twice, first in
his absence and second when he was present.118 The appointment to
the legum et morum cura, to be the supervisor of laws and morals
without a colleague and with supreme power, he refused as incon-
sistent with mos maiorum in 19, 18, and 11 BC.119 Remembering the
vicious attacks on Antony by Cicero on the offering of the diadem to
Caesar, it is likely that Augustus ensured that the honours he accepted
did not stray far from the Republican tradition.120
117
Macrob. Sat. 2.4.21 non est enim facile in eum scribere, qui potest proscribere.
118
RG 5.1.3. Dictaturam et apsenti et praesenti mihi delatam et a populo et senatu,
M. Marcello et L. Arruntio consulibus, non recepi. . . . Consulatum quoque tum an-
nuum et perpetuum mihi delatum non recepi.
119
RG 6.1 ut curator legum et morum summa potestate solus crearer, nullum
magistratum contra morem maiorum delatum recepi. See Eder, ‘Augustus’ (1990),
103–4, 116, on how the relationship between the princeps and law was defined by both
Caesar’s unfortunate dictatorship and the propaganda war with Antony.
120
The tendency of Augustus to favour Republican forms of operation was even
recorded by later historians. Tacitus (Ann. 1.2) describes Augustus’ rule as domin-
ation, in which the tired Republic submits to servility while the shell remains.
According to Suetonius, Augustus strictly prohibited deviations from the Republican
forms of address and forbade using the word dominus (master, also master of slaves),
which was used, for example, of Caesar’s autocratic ambitions (Suet. Aug. 53.1).
Suetonius gives the impression that Augustus wished to appear as much a common
man as he could, giving testimony in court as any man and voting with his tribe like a
regular citizen (Suet. Aug. 56.1).
As mentioned, there is a glaring absence in the text of the Res gestae
to any reference to Augustus as judge or exercising jurisdiction. While
tempting, to make such arguments as that the exercise of jurisdiction
was a routine part of the duties of consul and thus not mentioned,
amounts to filling the silence with imagination, a practice little better
than an argumentum ex silentio. One possible explanation is that the
sovereign adjudication was a part of the model based on the unfet-
tered power of the ruler and thus ill combined with the Republican
model that Augustus sought to present.121
Thus the main issue was not the real or factual character of the
regime, but the appearance that it presented. According to this
theory, Augustus as princeps regarded his role as a performer on the
public stage, conducting ceremonies and performances as represen-
tations of his role. Consequently, how it was seen was more important
than what was done.122 Augustus wanted to be seen as the leading
citizen of a Republic of Virtue, who led by his auctoritas. Thus one
should not interpret the theme of the good emperor as simply a
façade that masked the realities of power. Though the imperial
power was increasingly absolute and the model of a combination of
individual powers and general auctoritas began to fade, the following
emperors kept up this image. The theme was formed by senatorial
hopes and demands for the emperor to be just the first among equals,
and for a very long time emperors acted against it only at their own
peril.123 In fact, Tiberius and a number of other emperors explicitly
mentioned that they were emulating the way Augustus ruled.124 The
afterlife of Augustus as the example of imperial legal rule would
become a fundamental aspect of the creation of imperial administra-
tion.125 The strong emphasis that Augustus laid on the Republican
tradition was without doubt a reason why it continued to be such a
central part of the self-understanding of the imperial system of
121
It has been claimed that, with the first offer of legum et morum cura in 19 BC, the
Senate had recognized the Principate. Though a number of theories have been made
on the possible implications that the offer had, Syme’s point of it being a power not
needed is still accurate. Ridley, Emperor’s Retrospect (2003), 106–7; Parsi-Magdelain,
‘Cura legum’ (1964), 373–412; Syme, Revolution (1939), 443.
122
Sumi, Ceremony and Power (2005), 220–62; Hurlet and Mineo, Principat
(2009).
123
Gradel, Emperor Worship (2002), 109–10.
124
Tac. Ann. 4.37.3; Peachin, ‘Exemplary Government’ (2007), 80.
125
As already noted in Hahn, ‘Das Kaisertum’ (1913).
governance. What Ovid and later Seneca demonstrate is the ascen-
dance of the model of sovereign rule as a way of conceptualizing the
emperor’s power, a model which directly contradicted the concept of
republican exceptionalism used by Augustus. The final iteration of
Augustus’ judicial powers, the famous speech of Maecenas in Dio
(52.31–3), not only establishes jurisdiction as one of the key pillars of
imperial power, but equally underlines Augustus’ sovereignty towards
the law.
There are, of course, numerous constitutional models and theories
that could be used to describe the historical development initiated by
Augustus. One of the main distinctions is whether the aim is to
restore the existing order through the use of exceptional means
such as the state of exception, or to establish a new social order to
replace the old one.126 Another issue is the relationship between the
ruler and the people, whether the sovereign ruler seeks the support of
the people for his regime or whether its main support is the armed
forces and the administrative elite.127 The chief difficulty in utilizing
these theories is that they were formulated to explain and analyse
modern totalitarianism.128 Some of these theories are based on the
idea of popular sovereignty expressing itself through the actions of
the sovereign ruler. Augustus, of course, did all of these things, or at
least alluded to them. He created a new order, but claimed to be
restoring the old through exceptional means. Support for the regime
was sought by courting the people, the equites, and at times the
Senate.
The imperial ideology coupled with the pomp and circumstance of
the imperial court was one of the main components of the new rule
that distinguishes it from the Republic and undermined the argument
of republican continuity. In Augustus’ formulations, many of the
important elements of the later monarchical system of the Principate,
126
Schmitt, Diktatur (1964) calls these commissarial and sovereign dictatorship.
127
On the intellectual history of Caesarism and Bonapartism, see Baehr and Richter,
‘Introduction’ (2004), 2–7. While Syme had used the dominant political parties of Fascist
states as a parallel to the reliance of the Augustan state on the new elite, Yavetz, ‘Augustus’
Public Image’ (1984), emphasized the connection between Augustus and the people as a
whole.
128
However, analysis of modern totalitarianism was founded on a reading of early
modern scholarship, which was based on a reading of ancient sources. The classical
analysis is still Schmitt, Diktatur (1964). On the issues this causes, see e.g. Cobban,
Dictatorship (1971).
such as the cult of the ruler, the divine family, the idealization of the
house of Augustus, the collegia, issues of coinage idealizing the
emperor, and so on can be found in their early forms. Similarly,
Augustus’ massive building programme crystallizes the new centrality
of the ruler.129 Thus it is not surprising that observers could easily be
confused. The schizophrenic nature of the imperial regime, which
presented the two radically conflicting narratives of continuing
republicanism and the near-divine imperial glory, led to repeated
conflicts between the ideals and practices linked with both narratives.
A good example of this nature is the use of adjudicative power by
Augustus in the case of Ovid. Contemporary sources, such as Ovid’s
own description of the events and Augustus’ Res gestae, lead to the
conclusion that this was far from being a case of routine administra-
tion, but rather a personal choice on the part of Augustus. As such,
the act of relegating a person through imperial fiat strengthened the
impression of justice being solely dependent on the will and favour of
the emperor and thus the narrative of omnipotent monarchy.
CONFLICTING NARRATIVES OF JURISDICTION
In modern scholarship, opinions have been divided over the consti-

tutional foundation and the exact nature of Augustus’ jurisdiction:
there appears to be an agreement that the sources are ‘extremely disap-
pointing’,130 but whether we have the ‘slightest basis for statements’131
about it has been contested. I will approach this very complicated
situation through the analysis of the different narratives that form
our main sources. Ever since Mommsen, the answer has been that
Augustus’ jurisdiction was based on a combination of reformulated
Republican powers and some new additions through legislation.
Because the only source for the new additions is Dio’s account of
jurisdiction over appeals (51.19.7), the weight of the arguments has
been on the reformation of the Republican concepts of imperium
and auctoritas, based on Augustus’ Res gestae. In the most recent
interpretations, there have been suggestions that instead of a single
129
Crook, ‘Augustus’ (1996), 133–8; Zanker, Power of Images (1990).
130
Peachin, ‘Judicial Powers’ (2015), 507.
131
Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 509–10.
grant of jurisdiction, there might have been a process through which
Augustus would have gradually gained jurisdictional powers.132 In
this section, I will first survey the potential constitutional foundations
for Augustus’ jurisdiction such as imperium, auctoritas, and the power
of paterfamilias, and evaluate the theories on legislation as a foundation
for this jurisdiction. Then I will discuss whether Augustus’ jurisdiction
was a regular feature or a power used on an ad hoc basis. Through this
foundation, I will argue that instead of being purely a continuation
of old practice or new innovation, jurisdiction emerged through a
complex discourse where different elements of various traditions and
practices were experimented with, combined, and changed. Thus, it is
vital to examine not only the foundation of Augustus’ jurisdiction or
how he used it, but also how it appeared to the Roman world and how
it was discussed.
The relevance of this issue stems from the idea of legality. It would
appear that, especially among the older generation of scholars, few
would accept Honoré’s succinct statement that we know that Augus-
tus acted as a judge, but whether he had any formal authorization to
do so, such as a magistracy at any given point, is unclear. Thus, for
lack of evidence, we should consider his jurisdiction usurped.133 If
there was no constitutional foundation for his jurisdiction, can one
even call Augustus a judge? If a judge is understood as a magistrate
applying the rules of law to individual cases, or a iudex, in contrast to
a sovereign ruler making ad hoc political decisions regardless of law
or legal precedent, where does Augustus stand?
There are a number of grounds for saying that Augustus could
have formally and constitutionally exercised jurisdiction. The first is
that his imperium would have included jurisdiction; second, that his
auctoritas would have given him jurisdiction; or third, that he would
have had the jurisdiction of a paterfamilias.134 Additionally, because
Augustus had since 23 BC the tribunicia potestas, it could be under-
stood to have contained the power of auxilium and jurisdiction on
appeal. The perplexing feature of all of these explanations is that they
132
Peachin, ‘Judicial Powers’ (2015), 506–8.
133
Honoré, Emperors and Lawyers (1994), 8.
134
These theories were already summarized in Volkmann, Rechtsprechung (1969
[1935]). What is noteworthy is that many of these powers were completely separate
from a magistracy.
are all more or less convincing, rest more or less on actual Roman
sources, and finally, are not mutually exclusive.
To confuse the matter further, an example may be presented to
show that the jurisdiction of Augustus would have been general and
not limited in any way, that it would have been special and thus
limited to members of the imperial household or issues of maiestas, or
that it was ad hoc, meaning that Augustus could have taken cases as
he saw fit. What I am trying to demonstrate is that the formalistic and
realistic arguments, arguments based on what Augustus was author-
ized to do and what he actually could do or did, are parts of a complex
narrative of power in which references to certain traditional offices
and powers were utilized in a polyphonic discourse engaging Augustus,
his advisers, the Roman and provincial elite, and the various sectors
of the Roman people. While Augustus may advance a narrative in
which he exists in a continuum of republican tradition, for those, like
Ovid, who meet the business end of his executive power, the view is
markedly different. For the provincials, whose experience of Roman
power had always been the all-powerful governor, petitioning the lord
and master of all governors was no different than petitioning a
sovereign, no matter what that sovereign might be among his own
people. Augustus, when resolving a case such as the one presented in
the Knidos inscription, corrected an obvious injustice and, like a
provincial governor, punished those who had disturbed the peace.
However, the possibly unintended consequence was that he also
assumed the role of the good king promoting peace and justice for
the provincials.135
The theory of jurisdiction based on imperium is the oldest of the
three. Theodor Mommsen saw the criminal and civil jurisdictions of
the emperor as facets of his personal powers. He claimed that imperial
jurisdiction was based on the ancient imperium of the kings, which
included jurisdiction.136 Later it was suggested that Augustus received
135
The Hellenistic narrative of the ruler as the bringer of law or law incarnate
would reinforce the image of the good king in the eastern provinces. But as Martens,
One God (2003), 53 maintains, these influences on the Roman tradition should not
be overestimated. As Volkmann, Rechtsprechung (1969 [1935]), 149 claims, the
princeps would also in practice become the final court of appeals for the provinces.
The role of the Senate in this development is crucial, but does not overshadow the
centrality of the emperor.
136
e.g. Mommsen, Staatsrecht (1871–88), 1:163; 2.2:958–88; Volkmann, Re-
chtsprechung (1969 [1935]), 206; Peachin, Princeps (2005), 173. Mommsen’s views
jurisdictional authority in civil cases in 19 BC as a part of his perpetual
consular imperium,137 or that the emperor’s jurisdiction in the prov-
inces relied on his imperium. In the imperial provinces the basis
would have been the emperor’s imperium, while in the Senate’s
provinces jurisdiction relied on the emperor’s proconsular imperium
maius. In Rome and Italy jurisdiction was exercised through imper-
ium consulare and its voluntary jurisdiction, though he had also,
according to Dio, proconsular imperium within the pomerium.138
For all of these theories, the evidence is more or less anecdotal.
A similar process of elaboration can be observed in the theory of
jurisdiction based on imperial auctoritas. Its proponents saw the
auctoritas of Augustus as a constitutional concept giving the emperor
a wide range of powers, including universal jurisdiction.139 Its critics
have maintained that this conception would wholly destroy the
idea, pioneered by Mommsen, that Augustus created a monarchical
power structure by combining individual powers, replacing it with
the Severan conception of imperial powers.140 The constitutional
understanding of auctoritas would also give Augustus the power
to change the law through his edicts and to instruct magistrates
on how to exercise their jurisdiction.141 Auctoritas was, of course,
a central concept in the public image of Augustus. Defined as a
para-constitutional term, it was used to connote a number of things,
beginning with moral and intellectual authority to being an auctor,
an initiator, and guarantor. In traditional Roman constitutional thought,
on the origins of jurisdiction were not consistent, see also Mommsen, Strafrecht
(1899), 260–1 (2.9.1). The monarchical powers including jurisdiction in both criminal
and civil matters would have been granted in the settlement of 27 BC (based on Cass.
Dio 53.17.6), whereas appellate jurisdiction would have been voted to him as part of
the honours granted in 30 BC (based on Cass. Dio 51.19.6–7, the famous passage
relating to calculus Minervae). A criticism of Dio’s account, see Reinhold, ‘Calculus
Minervae’ (1981), 137–40. Jurisdiction in the provinces would have been based on the
imperium maius and so on. Mommsen’s theories were criticized early on by scholars
like McFayden, ‘Princeps’ Jurisdiction’ (1923), 231–42.
137
Siber, Führeramt (1940), 5, based on Cass. Dio 54.10.5, recognizing the contra-
dictions of Mommsen and others.
138
Cass. Dio 53.32.5; Wieacker, Römische Rechtsgeschichte (2006), 26. Jones, ‘Imper-
ial and Senatorial Jurisdiction’ (1954), 476–88 seeks to trace the way in which imperium
resulted in jurisdiction.
139
Volkmann, Rechtsprechung (1969 [1935]), 217–19.
140
Review of the Volkmann 1969 first edition published in 1935: Siber, ‘Zur
Rechtsprechung’ (1937), 449.
141
the Senate was the traditional repository of auctoritas by virtue of being a
body of experienced former magistrates and statesmen. Possessing auc-
toritas provided influence that was in turn crucial in bringing the various
actors to consensus, as was the way Augustus operated. Even during
the civil wars, he had sought the assistance of the Senate in gaining
auctoritas, and always recognized its importance.142 One of the issues
troubling the imperium or auctoritas approach is that they both rely
heavily on Augustus’ Res gestae,143 which is a work of justification
after the fact. How much it casts light on the actual situation is
questionable, since it does not mention Augustus having jurisdic-
tion at all, because that would have been inconsistent with the idea
of the Republic. Of course, Augustus was equally the princeps
senatus, a position that would have given him a role in the use of
the jurisdiction of the Senate itself.
The third option, jurisdiction derived from patria potestas, has a
number of advantages, but its limitations are even greater. The theory
goes that Augustus as pater patriae was the paterfamilias of the
Empire, which would have made his court a household court and
him the supreme arbiter of all things due to paternal power.144 The
ideological position of Augustus as a patron of Rome, presiding over
his familia, the Romans, has been established in fields like public
munificence.145 Critics have recognized the role of Augustus as pater-
familias presiding over a household court, but limit its use to the
familia and amici.146 How would this factor in with the instances
where, for example, Augustus acts as the pater patriae in deciding
inheritance cases, as mentioned by Valerius Maximus? Would Ovid,
as a member of the court society, be considered a member of the
familia Caesaris?
Finally, we come to the formalistic theory that such a momentous
change as the creation of the powers of the emperor could not have
142
Galinsky, Augustan Culture (1996), 12–14, 44.
143
See Rowe, ‘Reconsidering Auctoritas’ (2013) on how much the RG’s use of
auctoritas deviates from the norm.
144
RG 5.6.35; Sen. Clem. 1.10.3 compares Augustus as ruler to a father. The theory
of the jurisdiction based on the power of paterfamilias was already outlined by
Volkmann, Rechtsprechung (1969 [1935]), 217. See also Roller, Constructing Autocracy
(2001), 244. Gradel, Emperor Worship (2002) discusses the idea of Augustus as pater-
familias of Rome.
145
Zanker, ‘By the Emperor’ (2010), 78.
146
Peachin, ‘Judicial Powers’ (2015), 502–3. Volkmann, Rechtsprechung (1969
[1935]), 107 places strict limitations on the scope of this kind of jurisdiction.
been executed without legislation. While earlier scholarship had been
committed to the idea that the powers of the emperor were conferred
through a lex regia, as understood by Ulpian in the third century,147
from Mommsen onwards the role of legislation has been restricted to
partial grants of jurisdiction, such as the oblique reference to appel-
late jurisdiction in Dio (51.19.7). The problem with these theories is
that the laws are purely hypothetical, without any concrete founda-
tion in ancient sources. Another way of approaching the conundrum
has been through the lex de imperio Vespasiani. This is based on the
interpretation that the lex de imperio Vespasiani would have been
tralatician, meaning it would have been preceded by a series of similar
laws, the earliest of which would have granted the powers of juris-
diction to Augustus by legislative act. The fact that the whole theory is
based on the assumption of the existence of these earlier laws has
limited its credibility, though it has its supporters. Because the only
known lex de imperio, that of Vespasian, has no mention of imperial
jurisdiction, the theory rests on a very shaky foundation.148
While much of previous scholarship was founded on the convic-
tion that somewhere there lies a key to the emerging imperial juris-
diction, a key that is clearly defined and logical, what emerges from
the sources is a much more complex picture. I would assert that
instead of being solely dependent on any of the alternatives, the
jurisdiction of Augustus relied on all of them (with the exception of
the lex de imperio). While the underlying fact of the concentration of
coercive power in the hands of Augustus ensured that, in the end, the
will of Augustus would prevail, such blunt instruments were only a
last resort. Instead, Augustus employed both the concepts and the
practices of the Republican tradition to create something new. There
were numerous precedents for the holder of executive power also
being the supreme judge, for example, in the case of provincial
governors being the last instance in adjudication, or that of petitions
being directed to whoever was in a position of power in irregular
conditions, as was discussed in the previous chapter. In addition to
147
Ulpian (Dig. 1.4.1) maintains that popular sovereignty was transferred to the
emperor via the lex regia on his accession.
148
Hurlet, ‘Lex de imperio’ (1993), 261–80; Mantovani, ‘Les clauses’ (2005),
25–43; Ferrary, ‘À propos’ (2001). See also Michael Crawford’s review of Capogrossi
Colognesi and Scandone, Lex de imperio (2009), where he wonders how chapters in
the same volume disagree in whether there was a lex regia and whether the lex de
imperio Vespasiani was it (Crawford, ‘Review’ (2012)).
the customary ways of petitioning and responding to petitions, when-
ever litigants and people with complaints detected the opportunity of
gaining an advantage, they were liable to take it. Thus, one should not
underestimate the spontaneous element of seeking aid and, in the
process, the hope of assigning jurisdiction to the person being
petitioned.149
The Republican tradition of jurisdiction had, in addition to the
practices of adjudication and petitioning, close links to the concepts
of imperium and auctoritas utilized by Augustus in his quest to
appropriately define his role. The main jurisdictional magistrates of
the Republic, the praetor urbanus and the praetor peregrinus, held the
imperium, which was the source of their power to command. The
Senate, also an occasional court of law, held auctoritas, as did the
magistrates. By assuming the same concepts as the defining attributes
of his public persona, Augustus could either knowingly or inadvert-
ently create the image of himself as the supreme jurisdictional authority.
Since he maintained that his imperium was greater than that of
regular magistrates and that his auctoritas was likewise greater than
anybody else’s, all roads for those seeking a final arbiter on any matter
lead to Augustus.
Thus if one wishes to find a model of the practice of imperial
jurisdiction, that would probably be the governor’s jurisdiction in
the provinces,150 not least because the emperor used the cognitio
process that had previously been used by provincial governors and
had the power to choose his cases.151 In jurisdiction, authority and
imperium were interlinked, because both auctoritas and imperium in
themselves were perhaps deemed insufficient foundations for the
creation of new jurisdiction. While Ovid’s case may be understood
as a simple administrative act made by Augustus under his imperium,
the provincial cases show Augustus responding on appeal to actual
149
Harries, Law and Empire (1999) depicts a similar process taking place in late
antiquity, when various, originally extra-legal, forms of settlement were slowly
formalized.
150
Ferrary, ‘À propos’ (2001), 129. Jones, ‘Imperium’ (1951), 117 sees jurisdiction
as an element of imperium.
151
Buti, ‘Cognitio’ (1982), 35; Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 517; Bleicken,
Senatsgericht und Kaisergericht (1962), 80. The use of formulary process in the
provinces was possible, see Kaser and Hackl, Zivilprozessrecht (1996), 466–71, with
Hackl, ‘Zivilprozess’ (1997) arguing that the regular form of process in the provinces
was the formulary process.
legal cases. If there was a need to seek a foundation for Augustus
taking up such cases, it would have probably been found in his
imperium maius. However, since no such decision is known, we
should be wary of ascribing such formal justifications where none
may have existed.
How did Augustus then use his jurisdiction? Augustus obviously
had some jurisdiction, but scholars disagree whether this jurisdiction
was a regular feature of imperial powers or something usurped when
situations arose. The issue is complicated by the phenomenon that
contemporary sources support the irregularity, whereas later sources
and the weight of tradition support the regularity. There are virtually
no contemporary sources showing that Augustus routinely exercised
jurisdiction, and no direct source sheds light on the basis of his
jurisdiction, constitutional or otherwise, as the main source on the
constitutional powers of Augustus, the Res gestae, is silent on
the matter. This leads to the suspicion that Suetonius and Dio, who
portray him as regularly sitting in judgment, are actually reflecting
the situation during their time of writing in the second and third
centuries AD, respectively. According to some, with Augustus one
already sees the routine nature of imperial jurisdiction: when the
emperor took his place at the tribunal, he was directly approached
by litigants with both civil and criminal cases.152 Critics say that,
based on the evidence on the actual cases, it would appear that
Augustus used his jurisdiction only for political purposes.153 The
problem is that there are rather few references to Augustus exercising
his jurisdiction, and consequently, estimating its regularity is difficult.
The supporters of the idea of regular jurisdiction claim that the
beginnings of imperial jurisdiction were based on Augustus’ deliber-
ate policy of encouraging people to present their appeals to him. The
appeals jurisdiction itself would have been sanctioned by his consular
imperium and the Republican practice of consul’s jurisdiction, as well
as the law of 30 BC mentioned by Dio (51.19.7). Suetonius’ (Aug. 33.3)
comment on the delegation of appeals to consulars has been seen as
proof of the policy of inviting appeals.154 The primacy of imperial
152
Routine jurisdiction, as described in the Digest, has been the traditional assump-
tion among legal scholars, but is also supported by historians like Millar, Emperor (1992
[1977]), 530.
153
Kelly, Princeps Iudex (1957), 44, 62; Peachin, ‘Judicial Powers’ (2015).
154
Discussed in Volkmann, Rechtsprechung (1969 [1935]), 173.
jurisdiction would mean that the Senate’s jurisdiction would have
been secondary, with the Senate operating as consilium to either the
emperor or the consuls. There are a number of problems with this
theory, the foremost being the complete lack of sources regarding any
encouragement, let alone instructions, to magistrates. Two references
in the Digest to lex Julia on vis publica confirm the ongoing relevance
of the right of appeal, the first (Dig. 48.6.7) holding liable any
magistrate who executes or tortures a Roman citizen contrary to the
right of appeal, the second prohibiting the accused from reaching
Rome and exercising the right to appeal (Dig. 48.6.8). However,
neither of the references mention whether the appeal would have
been to Augustus. The crucial change in the development of appeals
was the extension of the right of appeal beyond the circle of Roman
citizens and the city of Rome.155 One of the main difficulties in the
theories of regular jurisdiction appears to be how the universal
imperial jurisdiction could be combined with the existing courts of
law.156 To this, one may add the Augustan creation of the office of
the prefect of the city, who had equal jurisdictional authority, but
how the cases ended up with either of them is disputed, especially
during the early years.157 In many situations, it is clear that modern
observers are perplexed by the fact that there appears to be both
155
Lintott, Imperium Romanum (1993), 117. See also Garnsey, ‘Lex Iulia’ (1966),
167–89.
156
There are numerous hypothetical constructions regarding the issues that might
have occurred if these jurisdictions were combined. For example, Jones claims that the
fact that Augustus is mentioned as having delegated appeals from Italy to the urban
praetor would mean that appeals would have been possible only from the decisions of
the iudex. Augustus’ jurisdiction in the first instance would have been limited and
supplementary to that of the regular magistrates. The significant change would have
been in the capital jurisdiction, where the regular jurisdiction would have rested on
the iudicium publicum, but the emperor and consuls could take cases at their own
discretion. Because the change in the basic principle of provocatio is so great, Jones
claims that such a change could not have taken place without legislative basis. Again,
sources attesting to that are not to be found. It is true that there was a significant
change from the provocatio ad populum to appellatio ad Caesarem. However, even
here the claim ‘This change again can hardly have come about without legislation.’
(p. 485) is unwarranted. Jones, ‘Imperial and Senatorial Jurisdiction’ (1954), 471–87.
Kelly, Princeps Iudex (1957), 85, argues that apart from the maiestas trials, during the
reign of Augustus imperial jurisdiction did not extend over the jurisdiction of regular
courts, but fails to convince Volkmann, Rechtsprechung (1969 [1935]), 68.
157
Direct appeal by litigants seems to be a possibility, see Kaser and Hackl,
Zivilprozessrecht (1996), 445–51; Vitucci, Ricerche sulla praefectura urbi (1956);
Garnsey, Social Status and Legal Privilege (1970), 90–8; Jones, Criminal Courts
(1972), 90–118.
jurisdiction in the first instance and top-down delegation in which the
emperor is petitioned and he delegates the case to subordinates, as
well as bottom-up appeals in which the emperor is asked to re-
examine the verdict of a lower court.
What is clear is that, under Augustus, the civil and criminal courts
continued to function as they had before, only that the emperor had
become the supreme and ultimate judge, if he so wished. The crucial
thing is that it was a shared conviction among Romans that the
emperor was now the final arbiter and he could be appealed to in
all cases.158 The attempts at explaining this role using formal Repub-
lican precedents such as the provocatio have by and large failed, as
have endeavours to find some legislative basis for this role, beyond the
account of Dio. Nevertheless, the emperor as the supreme judge and
head of the legal order is the main formal difference between Republic
and Empire.159 Willingly or unwillingly,160 Augustus managed to
produce the appearance of being the final arbiter and jurisdictional
authority through his policies, and that appearance was recognized in
the Roman world.
Despite the meagre sources, there is extensive hypothetical schol-
arship attempting to combine the accounts of Suetonius and Dio on
Augustus’ regular jurisdiction, the delegation of jurisdiction to other
magistrates, and his handling of appeals cases. One way of combining
imperial and regular jurisdiction—the fact that, for example, imperial
jurisdiction in criminal affairs was concurrent with several regular
courts—was to elevate imperial jurisdiction to the position of a
supreme court that would handle cases that had value as precedent.
According to this theory, a case received imperial cognitio if the
plaintiff or a court official so petitioned. The imperial intervention
would be dependent not on the emperor’s political interest in the
case, but rather the difficult nature of the legal problem.161 The other
option would be that a case would come to Augustus if and when
158
Volkmann, Rechtsprechung (1969 [1935]), 171–3; Orestano, L’appello civile
(1952); Spagnuolo Vigorita, ‘Repubblica restaurata’ (2007), 542. Again, it is very
much an open question whether a regular appeal to the emperor existed in the strict
legal sense during the time of Augustus.
159
Crook, ‘Augustus’ (1996), 122–3.
160
Mommsen, Strafrecht (1899), 277 (2.9.3), already doubts whether Augustus
would really have wanted the burden of becoming the final instance in all cases in
the empire.
161
Augustus so wished, based on petitions and pleading directed towards
him.162
The main problem with the supreme-court theory is precisely this:
it is probable that many cases coming to Augustus contained import-
ant, contested points of law, which he himself was incompetent to
adjudicate satisfactorily without the help of jurists. The fact that
Augustus apparently was so liberal in hearing petitions from the
people (Suet. Aug. 33.1, 53.2, 97.3; Cass. Dio 55.33.5) would have
made his involvement in the legal process potentially problematic.
Though, according to Suetonius and Dio, Augustus delegated many
questions to the urban praetor and ex-consuls, we know of no official
who would have been given the task of answering petitions. Honoré,
for example, is clearly uncomfortable with the idea that the emperor
would have answered legal queries with unlimited power, potentially
tending to find in the appellants’ favour.163 What Honoré has in mind
is the classical Roman legal system working according to the rules of
law as determined by legal experts. On this established system is
imposed a sovereign ruler, who has the power to intervene in any
case and on any level, and who could probably produce endless
disruptions as his tendency to wish to please the appellants would
lead to ever more litigants coming to him, hoping to get an advantage
over their opponents.
Despite the numerous theoretical assumptions on the regularity or
irregularity of Augustus’ jurisdiction, the evidence on the practice of
jurisdiction is very limited, and thus these theories remain theories.
Even if we take the evidence provided by later historians like Sueto-
nius and Dio at face value, which, as we have seen, many modern
scholars do, there are no cases to which to link these assumptions. It
would thus appear that the position of the emperor as the supreme
judge was, for the most part, a theoretical possibility that would only
later be actualized. How often petitioners did gain access to Augustus
is a completely different matter, a matter that we are unable to
address quite simply because we lack the cases. We should also
162
Kelly, Princeps Iudex (1957), 89, like Orestano, L’appello civile (1952) draws this
power from the auctoritas of Augustus.
163
Honoré, Emperors and Lawyers (1994), 5–6: ‘the text does point to a freewheel-
ing attitude on the part of some first-century emperors towards the granting of
petitions in cases where, as here, the rights of others would necessarily be affected’;
7: ‘There seems no evidence that under Augustus there was an official concerned with
receiving petitions from private individuals, as there was from Tiberius onwards.’
remember that the Augustan system was mainly a work in progress,
where modifications were constantly made based on previous
experiences.
Where would Augustus then exercise the jurisdiction that he is
almost unanimously believed to have had? While many scholars,
following later sources that speak of a tribunal on which Augustus
sat, have assumed the existence of an imperial court of law,164 others
saw the establishment of a specific imperial court as being totally
contrary to the programme of republican restitution.165 Augustus
would have also understood that a special court established by an
autocratic ruler would evoke memories of the triumvirate and pro-
scriptions, and he had mastered the indirect influences too well to
make such a blunder. Instead, they suggest that Augustus and his
immediate successors primarily used the Senate as a court of law.166
This theory is supported by the fact that there are no references in
laws, edicts, letters, or other legal texts from the time of Augustus to
an imperial hearing as a potential recourse. On the contrary, the
senatus consultum from the Cyrene edicts details the creation of a
legal recourse for Rome’s allies through the Senate. The instigator of
this reform was Augustus, but it was executed by the consuls and the
Senate.167
Like any other Roman magistrate, Augustus was not constrained to
any particular place or format for resolving issues such as legal
matters. Wherever he was, he could decide to have a cognitio with a
council of his own choosing, for example, in his public reception
rooms or wherever he might be when the occasion arose.168 That is
not to say that Augustus did not have a profound impact in the spaces
of justice in Rome. With the construction of the Forum of Augustus,
164
e.g. Jones, ‘Imperial and Senatorial Jurisdiction’ (1954). Bleicken, Senatsgericht
und Kaisergericht (1962), 80 and Volkmann, Rechtsprechung (1969 [1935]), 64
emphasize how the imperial court was, like the court of the paterfamilias, not
bound by place or certain procedure. Kelly, Princeps Iudex (1957), 44 restricts this
to the cases of maiestas.
165
McFayden, ‘Princeps’ Jurisdiction’ (1923); Bleicken, Senatsgericht und Kaiser-
gericht (1962), 73.
166
The main text is Bleicken, Senatsgericht und Kaisergericht (1962), 72–3. On the
Senate’s jurisdiction, see Willems, Sénat (1968), 271–98; Talbert, Senate (1984).
167
SEG IX 8, section 6.
168
On the emergence of the consilium, see Amarelli, Consilia Principum (1983);
Crook, Consilium Principis (1955); Cicogna, Consigli (1910).
much of the legal business was moved there. This included the seats of
the praetors, as may be deduced from the vadimonia Romam in the
Sulpicii tablets, where the assigned place is set in the Forum of
Augustus.169 There are a few indications to where Augustus himself
sat in judgment. Suetonius (Aug. 33) wrote that he would be normally
sitting in a tribunal, and when indisposed, on a litter or lying down, or
he could also be sitting in judgment at home in a cubiculum (domi
cubans). Suetonius also refers to a jury (cognoscenti) that would
have assisted him. Some, like de Angelis, maintain that the primary
location for Augustus and his immediate successors’ jurisdictional
activities would have been the Forum Romanum, which had been
monumentalized in a grandiose fashion. Many of the jurisdictional
activities that had been taking place in the Forum, such as the
operation of the praetor’s tribunals and the questions, were moved
elsewhere, for example, to the Basilica Julia and the Forum of Augus-
tus. In fact, much of the extensive new monumentalization and
building programme in the Forum was focused on Augustus and
the imperial family. The Senate, which increasingly took the role of
a court, had its Curia beside the Forum Romanum, a building also
linked with Augustus. In trials in the Senate, Augustus could have
taken the role of consul, the princeps senatus, or a regular member of
the Senate. However, there is also a second location for Augustus’
trials, the Palatine (Cass. Dio. 55.33.5 speaks of a tribunal located
there when he got old and feeble). Seneca’s depiction of the trial of
Cinna has it take place in Augustus’ cubiculum, having him dismiss
his consilium and address the accused personally. The trials intra
cubiculum like this took place within the emperor’s residence, while
other trials and receptions could take place in the temple of Apollo
(see Fig. 2.1), in conjunction with the imperial palace. The account of
Josephus (AJ 17.11.1; BJ 2.6.1) of the dispute between Archelaus and
the Jewish delegation in AD 4 locates the event in the temple of Apollo,
where it was attended by over 8,000 people.170
The main problem with giving a balanced contemporary assess-
ment of Augustus’ jurisdiction is that there are no contemporary
169
Camodeca, TPSulp (1999), 51. Kondratieff, ‘Urban Praetor’s Tribunal’ (2010),
120–2 on the symbolic dimensions of the move of the praetor’s tribunals to the Forum
of Augustus. Neudecker, ‘Forum of Augustus’ (2010), 174–7; Suet. Aug. 29.1 on the
construction of the forum to ease the congestion in the law-courts.
170
De Angelis, ‘The Emperor’s Justice’ (2010), 136–46; Färber, Römische Gericht-
sorte (2014), 69–74.
OLLONIS
VICUS AP
VESTIBULUM
ARCUS C. OCTAVI
ATRIUM
PERI-
STYLIUM
DOMUS PUBLICA?
AEDES
APOLLONIS
OECUS
LARARIUM
HORTUS
ARA BIBLIOTECA
PORTICUS DANAI
AREA/SILVA APOLLONIS
N
MAENIANUM
0 5 10 20 50m
Domus Augusti and temple of Apollo based on A. Carandini 2010. Juhana Heikonen.
Fig. 2.1. The so-called house of Augustus, the temple of Apollo and the area
Apollonis. Hypothetical reconstruction by Juhana Heikonen.
sources apart from Ovid, the two inscriptions, and Augustus himself.
Ovid mentions that he could have also been judged by the Senate or a
special court. For the purposes of the current inquiry, we may restrict
ourselves to what Ovid has to say about his judge, Augustus. He
describes Augustus as a patient father who is eager to forgive, while
at the same time mentioning the man-eating Polyphemus in his
cave. The inscriptions show a kingly sovereign adjudicating from
afar and bringing justice to the provinces. Both of these figures are
all-powerful creatures with radically different characters, but they
may also be compared with the divergent depictions of Augustus in
modern historiography.
The constitutional role of Augustus can be viewed from two opposing
positions that may be defined as formalism and realism. These positions
can be illustrated based on the writings of Mommsen and Syme.
Mommsen described the Principate of Augustus as a magistracy that
was formed by the collection of numerous Republican offices into the
hands of one man. The constitutional powers of Augustus would have
been what one got if one combined a consul, a tribune of the plebs, a
pontifex maximus, and added a smattering of proconsular imperium
and superior auctoritas, among other things. In contrast to this consti-
tutional approach was Syme’s realistic view of despotism, which portrayed
the constitutional arrangements as a convenient setting, which made
no real difference to the factual power of Augustus. Behind the façade,
the rituals, and the official definition, stood a despot whose true power
and position they completely fail to describe, as was already explained
by Tacitus. However, the juxtaposition of Mommsen and Syme,
and elevating one over the other, misses the real point: Mommsen’s
and Syme’s models are not mutually exclusive but rather complemen-
tary, describing the legal and real worlds of the Early Principate. The
aim of Mommsen was to describe the constitutional arrangement, the
legal edifice that was the official self-understanding of the Augustan
Principate, while Syme sought to uncover the reality behind this
façade.171 A similar complementarity is evident in the juxtaposition
between the formalistic and functionalistic approaches to Augustus’
jurisdiction. Even Ovid is interesting, in that he describes a similar
paradoxical discrepancy between the image of the virtues of Augustus
and the historical record of Augustus. Realizing that his relegation
contrasted with what he was writing of Augustus himself led Ovid
to embrace the paradox of the Jekyll-and-Hyde character of the
regime. Consciously or unconsciously, Ovid actually captures a simi-
lar polarity that Mommsen and Syme describe in their respective
characterizations of the Augustan regime.
171
Linderski, Mommsen and Syme (1990).
It has been noted that there are interesting similarities between
Cicero’s pro Ligario and Ovid’s Tristia II. The most obvious ones are,
naturally, that they are appeals made on behalf of exiles, and though
the circumstances are different, in both cases the injured party is also
the judge and the leader of Rome. Making their appeals simultan-
eously to a judge and a father, both texts call for clemency more than
for justice.172 Through this formulation, they are making both an
admission and a statement of how the actual power of jurisdiction
resides in one man alone.
While the roots of Augustus’ jurisdiction have been sought in his
imperium, auctoritas, or some legislative act, all attempts at finding
a conclusive formal authorization have been unsatisfactory. The reasons
for this lie in the lack of sources attesting to the fact that a formal act
granting jurisdiction to Augustus had taken place. Attempts at tracing
the formal recognition based on allusions in the work of Dio (51.19.7,
53.17.5–7) have been largely rejected because of the total lack of
corroboration in other sources. What appears to be the most promising
avenue, should one seek a formal authorization for jurisdiction, is either
seeing Augustus’ jurisdiction as usurped or an extension of the juris-
diction of the provincial governor. This is also the solution supported
by the wording of Ovid’s text.
Nevertheless, I argue that the emergence of Augustus’ jurisdiction
may not be reduced to any formal model, even that of the provincial
governor. Despite their similarity, imperial adjudication was depicted
as an existing fact, and its roots were left undefined. The adjudication
of Augustus, based on the evidence, appears more dependent on
the current needs and interests of Augustus rather than anything
formalized. The growth of the demand for imperial adjudication
was probably something beyond the intent of Augustus himself, if
the upholding of the Republican façade in Res gestae is any guide. The
stories that began to circulate about Augustus as judge and Augustus
responding to appeals worked to create a conviction that he had
jurisdiction and would use it. Thus, like the case of the provincial
governor, the general power of Augustus was transformed into
expectations of jurisdiction.
However, this does not in any way mean that the construction of
authority by the Augustan propaganda of Republican exceptionalism
172
Ingleheart, Ovid, Tristia (2010), 13–15.
would have been insignificant. On the contrary, what it provided was
an ambiguity of power. This ambiguity or indeterminacy of formal
power, coupled with the very determinate real or coercive power, was
a way of maintaining the illusion that nothing had changed, while
everything had changed. By recognizing the superior imperium and
auctoritas of Augustus, the system also recognized that from within
the Republic had emerged a new figure, who, much like Polyphemus,
was capable of anything, but chose not to do certain things. While the
litigants recognized the power of the princeps and sought to take
advantage of it, for the system to recognize the supreme holder of
executive power as the supreme judge, as it was in the provinces,
would have made the upholding of the Republic appear a charade.
Instead, Augustus himself sought to bend the Republican system to
accommodate this change. However, to outside observers and peti-
tioners the view was very different, one of unlimited power in the
hands of one man.173 As Tacitus already noted, the change towards
monarchy was a welcome one for the provincials, because for them
the Republican system had brought only instability, lawlessness, and
greedy governors. The provincials (and the provincial governors)
provided Augustus with early popular support as well as seeking
his aid and assistance. Augustus, meanwhile, eagerly seized this
opportunity and consolidated his personal role in the most important
provinces.174
As Augustus is the most important creator of the imperial legal
tradition, issues of what he wrote and did and how it appeared to
outside observers are of vital importance, because tradition is created
by both actions and narratives. The ‘restored Republic’ of Augustus is
a curious creature in which Republican forms remain in altered
shapes. Thus, instead of keeping with the traditional Republican
rules, the status of Augustus is even formally recognized, though still
shying away from the full monarchical system, as a kind of recognized
exception. Nowhere is the exceptionality more pronounced than in
adjudication, where it is evident that Augustus is able and, at times,
willing to intervene in cases, sometimes resolving them himself, some-
times delegating them to a magistrate. While much of the earlier
literature has sought to search for consistency and clear rules in the
173
Guizzi, Principato (1971) argued that the new regime was founded on an
existential fear shared by the elite.
174
Tac. Ann. 1.2; Lintott, Imperium Romanum (1993), 111–16.
creation and utilization of Augustus’ adjudicative capacity, it is clear
that the underlying principle is one of exception and experimentation.
Regardless of what Augustus’ original intent was, relegating Ovid
without trial or explanation was probably an efficient way of signal-
ling how seriously the administration took the matter. In the absence
of any real communication, people would have to guess, rightly or
wrongly, what the reason for Ovid’s relegation was. The message that
would come across was that public opposition to the regime could
lead to indefinite sojourns in the Scythian hinterlands, leading to
increased uncertainty about the safety of real or perceived opposition.
We have to acknowledge that there is no certainty regarding the
reasons for Ovid’s relegation, or even whether Ovid himself knew
why he had been relegated. He certainly had an idea, but whether
that idea is the correct one is anybody’s guess. Whatever Augustus’
intention, leaving Ovid, his contemporaries, and the later world
guessing had the effect of spreading insecurity.175
The importance of keeping up appearances makes it all the more
intriguing why Augustus chose to deal with Ovid the way he did,
because what is significant is the power of appearances; even the
suspicion created by the timing of the events would have been strong
enough to create the appearance of a moral backlash. The fact that he
single-handedly banished a well-known public figure to a remote
town in the borderlands was not unprecedented within the imperial
household, but to subject a poet who was outside the political circles
to the same treatment was. However, even more surprising is that
Ovid was allowed to write to Rome and to plead his case in a very
public manner. Though Ovid paid lip-service to the virtuous mon-
arch, there was no mistaking that his Roman readers would have seen
through the praise to the horrible injustice to which Ovid considered
himself being subjected. It is almost ironic that justice was one of the
virtues that Augustus’ public image was based on.176
175
A comparison of sorts is the Nacht und Nebel (‘Night and Fog’) degree
instituted by Nazi Germany on 7 Dec. 1941. Under the rule, perceived and real
opponents of German occupation were taken from their homes during the night
and transported away. The destiny and the whereabouts of the vanished were kept
secret, with the explicit intention of creating uncertainty and terror.
176
Kienast, Augustus (2014), 198. Iustitia was mentioned as his official virtue in
the Res gestae and elsewhere in the imperial propaganda. In AD 13 a cult figure was
erected for Iustitia Augusta, one of the new conceptual godheads that celebrated the
link between Iustitia and Augustus.
Despite the conceptual hurdles, one may confidently maintain that
jurisdiction, instead of being founded on legislation or some official
conception of imperium maius or auctoritas, rested ultimately on the
simple fact that Augustus had real executive power and people sought
his resolution of their problems or he wished to solve a problem of his
own. Similarly, Augustus’ legislation followed the Republican pat-
terns of operation; it was only that the balances of power were
perpetually tipped in his favour. What the immense modern litera-
ture that has sprung up to explain the constitutional position of
Augustus mostly demonstrates is his genius in being all things to all
men. The allusions to various constitutional concepts that were
always lofty and Republican allowed interpreters, both Roman and
modern, to project, to hear what they wanted to hear. It would be
safer to assume the position of Serrao, who describes the Augustan
constitution as a typically Roman institution, where the new is con-
structed on the basis of old materials, like a new building built from
reused stones and pillars.177 The example of Ovid’s relegation was not
only an exercise in imperial discretionary power, but also a sign of
how transparent the veil of republicanism was.
CONCLUSIONS
The continuing debate over the nature of the Principate of Augustus

either as despotism or some kind of constitutional monarchy is
directly reflected in the issue of the emergence of imperial jurisdiction
and adjudication. The main question is: was the emperor officially
granted jurisdiction through some legislative act or process or did he
simply assume it? The answers to this query depend heavily on one’s
reading of the different narratives in the sources. The second issue
builds upon the first: was imperial jurisdiction created out of nothing
and did it emerge, mainly as it would stay for much of the Principate,
in the reign of Augustus (as Dio and historians like Mommsen
who followed him believed), or was it a result of incremental steps?
We have in the sources two influential but contradictory narratives,
where the first emphasizes the unfettered and capricious power of the
177
Serrao, ‘Modello di costituzione’ (1991), 48.
emperor as judge, the narrative recounted by Ovid and provincial
authors of inscriptions. The second narrative was one of Republican
continuity, the insistence that nothing significant had changed and
the institutions and values of the Republic remained intact, a narra-
tive strongly supported by Augustus himself.
In the narrative created by Ovid regarding his banishment, the
image of the unpredictable ruler emerges, a ruler whose power one
simply cannot resist. Though much energy has been spent on divin-
ing the reasons for the relegation of Ovid, this is in vain, since what
matters is the power of the emperor. The possibilities open to the
persons in his position are limited to begging for mercy (clementia)
from the father figure. The provincial inscriptions of Augustus’ adju-
dication show a similar figure, that of an avenging king who brings
justice, or at least an all-powerful monarch who inserts himself into
cases and resolves them as he see fit. For the historians, Augustus
comes across as a dutiful judge, a combination of a monarch and a
magistrate. The way that Augustus himself portrays his power in the
Res gestae is a kind of blueprint for the ambiguous nature of imperial
rule. Like Livy’s histories, extraordinary powers and unprecedented
actions are frowned upon, but instead the language of authority and
imperium is used to convey the appearance of Republican continuity.
In providing different narratives to different audiences, it was pos-
sible to maintain the appearance of continuity while at the same time
touting the imperial ideology of exceptionalism. While this may have
worked in theory, the veil of Republican continuity was thin and
failed the conceal the memory of proscriptions in which Augustus
himself had taken part.
Securing a firm foundation for the emergence of imperial jurisdic-
tion at the time of Augustus is and will remain a futile attempt. The
quests to find authorization, to derive jurisdiction from imperium,
auctoritas, patria potestas, or some other key element, have been
doomed to fail. It is most likely that the jurisdiction of Augustus
emerges as a necessity, a way of resolving issues. In that way, it is very
similar to the jurisdiction of the provincial governors, who had a
general authority to resolve issues and from that grew the practice of
jurisdiction.
How regular this exercise of jurisdiction and adjudication was is
unclear, but the number of historical examples indicate that there
emerged a shared conviction that the emperor was judge. The way
that imperial jurisdiction was tied to the Senate was a similar case of
utilizing existing practices, such as magistrates consulting the Senate,
to spread the task and the responsibility as long as the issues were
linked to the senatorial elite. While there might not have been official
decisions to give jurisdiction to the emperor, the very concrete actions
that were taken to construct the authority of the emperor and the
appearance of continuity were considerable. The way that the
emperor physically took over the spaces of justice in the Forum
underlined the centrality of the emperor to law. The growth of the
actual practice of jurisdiction, linked with the exceptionality and
indefinite nature of imperial power, were enormously significant in
conveying the message of imperial legal authority.
3
Divine or Insane
Emperors as Judges from Tiberius to Trajan
INTRODUCTION
The greatest threat to a new regime is the death of its first leader.
Augustus created, not ex nihilo but nevertheless, a new system of
governance for Rome. After his death, the fact that continuity pre-
vailed was in itself a welcome exception to the Late Republican
pattern of collapse and civil strife. The arrangement instituted by
Augustus that the princeps devoted a considerable amount of his time
to hearing petitions and adjudicating lawsuits continued unchanged.
Moreover, adjudication became gradually a central arena for the
continuing dialogue between the emperor and the people. Individuals
and cities petitioned the emperor on various matters and sought an
advantage over their opponents, bringing to the administration of
justice a whole new power dynamic. Sources from this era are also
unanimous that the practice of imperial adjudication was still prone
to irregularities, emperors sometimes being eager either to assume or
to delegate jurisdiction in particular cases. However, in earlier schol-
arship there has existed some confusion over what the period between
Tiberius and Trajan actually meant for imperial adjudication. Some,
like Bleicken, have argued that it meant the true formation of imperial
jurisdiction, while for others it has been a period of irregularities and
experiments by unhinged emperors, before the imperial administra-
tion of law was regularized under Hadrian.1
1
Bleicken, Senatsgericht und Kaisergericht (1962); De Martino, Storia (1974),
4:505–16; Honoré, Emperors and Lawyers (1994), 8.
Emperors as Judges from Tiberius to Trajan 127
The main focus of this chapter comes from the same conundrum
that caused this discrepancy: the irreconcilable differences between
the idealized portrayals of emperors adjudicating and the images of
abuses of power by the same emperors. In the sources we meet
successive emperors from Tiberius to Trajan engaging in adjudica-
tion, for the most part diligently and industriously. However, there
emerges a new trend in the narratives: imperial insanity as an explan-
ation for the injustices and terror. In effect, the image of the emperor
in the historiography of the Principate is twofold: an ideal ruler who is
wise and equitable, and an insane monster engaging in arbitrary acts
of terror. In both variations of the imperial image, the role of judge is
essential; the good emperor demonstrates his virtues to the people
through his wise rulings, while the mad emperor terrorizes people
and especially the elite with arbitrary executions and trials for treason
(maiestas).
In this chapter I shall explore this duality of the imperial judge
through several contemporary narratives. What will be shown is how
much the use of the unlimited powers of the emperor was guided by
the examples of earlier emperors. There are, however, several distinct
layers in this assemblage of imperial activities in law. The first section
explores Seneca’s De clementia, which is the earliest attempt to come
to grips with what the unlimited imperial powers actually entailed
and how the emperor was supposed to use them. While it utilized
Stoic conceptions of the emperor as the good king, it mainly rested on
demonstrative capabilities of the positive and negative examples of
kings and emperors. The second section traces the evidence of imper-
ial adjudication from this period, from the routine cases involving
ordinary people to the political cases often dealing with the elite.
From the practice of imperial jurisdiction, there is a curious pattern
where writers such as Tacitus, Suetonius, and Dio dwell on cases
involving the highest Roman elite, while mentioning how individual
emperors acted diligently and dutifully as judges. In addition to these
historians, we will also look into evidence from inscriptions and
papyri, such as the senatus consultum de Pisone patre from the
reign of Tiberius or the acta Isidori tracing a trial conducted by
Claudius. What emerges is often contradictory narratives of historical
reputation that were formed on the basis of this ideal of imperial
adjudication. The third section explores the only legislative source
to elaborate on the powers of the emperor during this period. At
the accession of Vespasian, a period of rupture at the end of the
Julio-Claudian dynasty, a law, now called lex de imperio Vespasiani,
was drafted. It is the only official attempt at defining the capabilities
of the emperor, but it remains silent on imperial jurisdiction. How-
ever, it is highly relevant to the study of imperial adjudication since,
even though the power of the emperor was considered to be nearly
limitless, the law sought to bind the emperor to the examples
of his predecessors.2 The fourth and fifth sections deal with the
historical images of imperial adjudication in Tacitus and Pliny, our
most influential contemporary sources. Tacitus portrays nearly every
emperor as a tyrant or fast becoming one, whereas Pliny depicts
Trajan as an ideal emperor. As with all of our literary sources, they
also have distinct biases that influence their views. While Tacitus is all
about the power battles within the senatorial elite with the emperor
always in the middle of them, the supremacy and enlightened sover-
eignty of the emperor are prominent in Pliny. Tacitus’ emperors
pervert the legal world, while Pliny’s Trajan brings justice, even to
the provincials.
Within this chapter the main weight of the argument is on the
development of the historical narratives. The major part of the
historical vision of the time as presented in the above outline comes
from the historians Suetonius and Dio, the first of whom completed
his imperial biographies early in Hadrian’s reign. The era brings also
the first rescripts found in the Digest of Justinian, the first being a
rescript of Tiberius.3 However, emperors such as Tiberius still sought
to present the image of Republican continuity by acting like regular
citizens in the courts of law, including aiding in private jurisdiction.
For example, Seneca’s depiction of Tarius’ trial of his son in the family
court was a similar case in which the emperor, Augustus, seeks to
appear like a normal friend of the family. Seneca saw this as an
interesting example of imperial jurisdiction, because Augustus pains-
takingly avoided any suggestion that he was encroaching on the
father’s jurisdiction and acted more as a member of the father’s
consilium. However, Seneca said it was unclear under whose authority
the son was finally banished. While the case may be seen as an
illustration of Augustus’ virtue, the measures that Augustus took,
including the declaration that he would not accept an inheritance
from Tarius, show what kinds of elements would be in play in a
2 3
Crawford, Statutes (1996), n. 39; CIL 6.930. Dig. 48.5.39.10.
situation like this. The emperor was, even though he wanted to
appear innocuous, like an elephant in the room.4 What the case
demonstrates is how difficult it was to combine the practically unlim-
ited power that the emperor had come to have and the idea of
Republicanism.
The literature dealt with in this chapter emphasizes the super-
human nature of the emperor, which manifested itself not only in
his sovereign power over the life and death of everyone in the Roman
world, but also in the extent of his virtues and vices. As the virtues of
good emperors were beyond comparison, so was the emperor capable
of horrible abuses and vices. This understanding does not mean that
the idea of Republican continuity was without supporters; for authors
like Tacitus the continuity was focused on the ongoing influence of
the Senate. Equally, the poet Martial rejects the flatterers of emperors
who call him dominus and deus, likening them to turbaned Parthians
who supplicate lofty kings. There is no dominus in Rome, just an
imperator, the most just of all the senators.5 However, the facts were
sometimes hard to connect with the ideals.
For example, Josephus mentions how Tiberius crucified everyone
involved in the plot against Paulina, including the priests of Isis, and
ordered the destruction of the temple of Isis. Paulina was the wife of a
senator, who had been deceived into having sex with another man
through a ruse that might appear to be quite unbelievable.6 While the
story might or might not be a crude excuse for the persecution of the
cult of Isis, it demonstrates how it was believed that the emperor
could get involved in matters of minor importance and act decisively.
SENECA AND THE OMNIPOTENT EMPEROR
In terms of the publicly declared understanding of the position of the

emperor, there is a momentous change taking place in the decades
after the death of Augustus. Seneca, in his writings on the imperial
rule, discards completely the carefully maintained idea of the con-
tinuity of the Republic and replaces it with a theory of kingship based
4
Sen. Clem. 1.15.2–7; Frier and McGinn, Casebook (2004), 197–8.
5
Mart. 10.72.
6
Joseph. AJ 18.65–80; Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 524.
on Stoic philosophy. In terms of imperial adjudication, the change is
even greater. Instead of being a judge implementing laws, the person
of the emperor is elevated as the embodiment of law. Central to the
emperor’s adjudication, not to mention all his other acts, was the
imperial virtue of clementia, which Seneca saw as superior to the laws
themselves.7
The purpose of this section is to explore the depiction of the
emperor as judge in De clementia, and through it, the development
of the ideals and practices of imperial jurisdiction. While the text has
normally been approached as a philosophical treatise, the aim here is
to evaluate the implications it had for the nature of imperial adjudi-
cation, a power subject to only the control by imperial virtues. The
image of the quasi-divinity of the emperor stemming from theories of
ideal kingship is then contrasted with a very different image of
Seneca’s, the one of Apocolocyntosis. As is commonly known, Seneca
wrote many of his works while a tutor of Nero,8 and his writings are
inextricably linked with the politics of the time. Threatened by Caligula
and banished by Claudius, Seneca was able to return to Rome after
Claudius’ death and became one of the central figures in Nero’s reign.
Though he was a provincial from Hispania, he rose to the consulship in
AD 57 and amassed enormous wealth. While he was later idealized as a
philosopher, ancient writers like Tacitus and Dio present him in a
mostly negative light, due to the glaring discrepancy between his
teachings and his actions.9
7
Favez, ‘Roi et le tyran’ (1960), 346–9; Fuhrmann, ‘Alleinherrschaft’ (1963), 481–514;
Büchner, ‘Clementia’ (1970), 203–23; Grimal, ‘Royauté solaire’ (1971), 205–17; Fears,
‘Nero as the Vicegerent’ (1975), 486–96; Mortureux, ‘Les idéaux stoïciens’ (1989),
1645–85; Grimal, Sénèque (1991); Campanile, ‘Seneca’ (1991), 513–28; Rilinger, ‘Seneca
und Nero’ (1996), 130–57; Soverini, ‘La clemenza dei potenti’ (2000), 48–61; Lana,
‘Riflessione sulla securitas’ (2001); Manuwald, ‘Fürstenspiegel’ (2002), 107–26; Könczöl,
‘Clemency and Justice’ (2008), 61–9; Beltrami, ‘De Clementia’ (2008); Braund, Seneca, De
Clementia (2009). On the role of clementia in Stoic philosophy, see Brouwer, ‘On Law
and Equity’ (2011), 32–8.
8
Griffin, Nero (1987); Champlin, Nero (2003).
9
Cass. Dio 61.10.1; Tac. Ann. 13.2, 11, 20, 42. There is a considerable literature on
Seneca, e.g. Griffin, Seneca (1976); Abel, ‘Seneca’ (1985), 653–775; Veyne, Seneca
(2003); Inwood, ‘Seneca’ (1995), 63–76; Griffin, ‘Political Thought’ (2002), 325–37;
Bartsch and Wray, Seneca and the Self (2009); Ker, ‘Tacitus on Seneca’ (2011); Wilson,
Greatest Empire (2014); Romm, Dying Every Day (2014). On the apotheosis of Seneca,
see Ker, Deaths of Seneca (2009). Some have refused to condone Seneca’s accommo-
dation of a murderous tyrant; see e.g. Rudich, Political Dissidence (1993). See also
Rawson, ‘Philosophic Adviser’ (1989), 233–57.
In his De clementia Seneca presents a description of the virtues of a
good emperor in a self-congratulatory speech by Nero. He begins the
speech by announcing his godlike power:
Have I of all mortals proved good enough and been chosen to act as the
gods’ representative on earth? I make decisions of life and death for the
world. The prosperity and condition of each individual rests in my
hands.
Egone ex omnibus mortalibus placui electusque sum, qui in terris
deorum vice fungerer? Ego vitae necisque gentibus arbiter; qualem quis-
que sortem statumque habeat, in mea manu positum est . . . 10
The speech continues to underline the unprecedented physical coer-
cive power that has been concentrated on the emperor and his power
over the life and death of whole nations:
These myriads of swords now restrained by my peace will be drawn
with a nod from me. I have the power to decide which nations should be
annihilated and which saved, which granted liberty and which deprived
of it, which kings should become slaves and whose heads should be
crowned with royal glory, which cities shall fall and which cities shall
rise.
. . . haec tot milia gladiorum, quae pax mea comprimit, ad nutum meum
stringentur; quas nationes funditus excidi, quas transportari, quibus
libertatem dari, quibus eripi, quos reges mancipia fieri quorumque capiti
regium circumdari decus oporteat, quae ruant urbes, quae oriantur, mea
iuris dictio est.11
The use of this almost unlimited coercive power is, however, con-
strained by the virtues of the emperor, the most important of them his
clementia:
In this position of enormous power, I have not been driven to unjust
punishments by anger or by immature impulse or by people’s reckless-
ness and obstinacy (which has often wrenched the patience out of even
the calmest hearts) or even by that glory so horrifying but so common
in great commanders of demonstrating power by means of terror. In my
case, the sword is hidden—no, sheathed, I am extremely sparing of even
the cheapest blood. There is no one, whatever else he may lack, who
10
Sen. Clem. 1.1.2. Tr. Braund, Seneca, De Clementia (2009).
11
Sen. Clem. 1.1.2.
does not win favour by the fact of his being human. I keep sternness
concealed by clemency ready on standby, I guard myself just as if I were
going to have to justify myself to those laws which I summoned from
their neglect and darkness into the light.
[3.] In hac tanta facultate rerum non ira me ad iniqua supplicia compu-
lit, non iuvenilis impetus, non temeritas hominum et contumacia, quae
saepe tranquillissimis quoque pectoribus patientiam extorsit, non ipsa
ostentandae per terrores potentiae dira, sed frequens magnis imperiis
gloria. Conditum, immo constrictum apud me ferrum est, summa parsi-
monia etiam vilissimi sanguinis; nemo non, cui alia desunt, hominis
nomine apud me gratiosus est. [4.] Severitatem abditam, at clementiam
in procinctu habeo; sic me custodio, tamquam legibus, quas ex situ ac
tenebris in lucem evocavi, rationem redditurus sim.12
Clementia is clearly the prime virtue, while the law is relegated as a
secondary yardstick against which the behaviour of the emperor is com-
pared. The emperor, as a good king, delivers justice through his virtue.
Written during the early years of Nero’s reign, between late 55 and
late 56, the work presents an idealized image of Nero as the best of
emperors. De clementia is a curious work of political philosophy that
is the earliest known Latin example of the speculum principis genre
(often awkwardly translated as ‘mirror for princes’ literature), that
combines kingship theory, panegyric, and philosophy. What Seneca
depicts is a vision of an absolute monarchy guided by an enlightened,
humane, and virtuous ruler. While the obvious contradiction between
the historical reputation of Nero and the image of him provided by
Seneca has elicited a fair amount of sarcasm from commentators,
what is significant for this inquiry is how much Seneca has shut out
the Republican tradition and how wholeheartedly absolutist his con-
ception of the Principate is. Instead of being nostalgic about the
Republic, he actually explains how the Principate has liberated the
state from the tyranny of discord and civil wars, not subjugated it.13
Later in De clementia the position of the emperor is compared with
that of a paterfamilias:
No one arrives at the point of inflicting punishment without exhausting
all available remedies first. That is how a parent ought to act—and an
12
Sen. Clem. 1.1.3–4.
13
Stacey, Roman Monarchy (2007), 3–4; Braund, Seneca, De Clementia (2009),
16–23; Braund, ‘Praise and Protreptic’ (1998), 53–76; Rilinger, ‘Seneca und Nero’
(1996).
emperor too; when we have named him ‘Father of the Fatherland’ we
have done so not induced by meaningless flattery. . . . But the name
‘Father of the Fatherland’ we have used to make him aware that
he has been granted a father’s power, which is the most restrained in
the way that it cares for his children and subordinates his own interests
to theirs.
Nemo ad supplicia exigenda pervenit, nisi qui remedia consumpsit. [2.]
Hoc, quod parenti, etiam principi faciendum est, quem appellavimus
Patrem Patriae non adulatione vana adducti. . . . Patrem quidem Patriae
appellavimus, ut sciret datam sibi potestatem patriam, quae est temper-
antissima liberis consulens suaque post illos reponens.14
If the first quotation presents the emperor as a godlike superhuman
ruler, the second passage shows him as a father, a paterfamilias
endowed with the power to decide over the life and death of citizens,
his children (ius vitae necisque), but at the same time always submit-
ting his own interest to theirs. The father is the holder of absolute
power that is wielded with no self-interest, a figure that we may see
Seneca equating with both the Roman paterfamilias and the Stoic
wise king.
The description presents the emperor as an all-powerful sovereign
who is ruled only by his own superhuman self-control. The emperor,
as the holder of unfettered military and administrative power and the
supreme jurisdictional power, is actually his own guardian, his virtu-
ous self-control being the only limitation he has. Thus he watches
over himself as if the laws that he has summoned would be guarding
him. Seneca outlines how the princeps is both above the law and
unbound by it, but due to his virtue chooses to follow the rules of law
that he himself has set.15 The image of the emperor as judge is
fortified by legal terms as allusions, such as the mention of his
universal powers over nations, kings, and cities as literally being
under his jurisdiction (Clem. 1.1.2, mea iuris dictio est). Like in the
Hellenistic kingship literature, the problem Seneca addresses is the
taming of absolute monarchical power when it comes to law and
justice, turning the monarch from a tyrant to a provider of law and
justice.16 As Pliny would write about Trajan (Pan. 65.1), the good
emperor voluntarily subjects himself to law.
14 15
Sen. Clem. 1.14.1. Stacey, Roman Monarchy (2007), 41.
16
Martens, One God (2003), 53.
The emperor has thus a godlike power, and he is the gods’ vice-
gerent on earth (deorum vice), and on many occasions Seneca gives
him divine attributes, comparing him to Jupiter or the sun.17 He is the
vitae necisque gentibus arbiter and able to make cities prosper or to
wither away. Though he has the powers of a god, he is able to control
himself as if he was subject to the same laws that he has resurrected
from the neglect that they fell into during the reigns of previous
emperors. Inversely, it is clear that he is not subject to the laws, he
only upholds them. This godlike creature is incapable of anger, no
matter how provoked by the stupidity of the people, and thus he is the
most clement of beings. The main duty of the emperor as judge is to
be lenient in meting out punishment. Perhaps, for Seneca, resolving
issues of contract law would not have the same rhetorical flourish, or
would raise the issue of whether Nero himself would be bound by it.
The holder of all this power, Nero, is the best of emperors because
of his superior moral and ethical qualities. In De clementia Seneca
suggests that Nero’s goodness is innate, since no one can hold up a
mask of decency very long and hide their true nature. Therefore, it
would be foolish to suggest that Nero would try to imitate Augustus
or the early years of Tiberius, not to mention the later years of
Tiberius, Caligula, or Claudius.18 Seneca compares Nero favourably
with Augustus, saying that Augustus himself was a brutal youth, but
found peace only with clemency and gained divine honour with it,
along with the name of ‘father’.19 It is ironic that Seneca urges Nero to
be true to oneself while at the same time offering him a mask, an
idealized figure of himself.20
As a political philosophy of kingship, De clementia follows the
Stoic concept of ideal kingship as an embodiment of divine law.21
For Seneca, it is the virtuous goodness of the emperor that justifies the
absolute power given to him. Seneca’s enlightened monarchy is that
of a universal ruler whose power is upon all peoples and nations. The
universalist understanding is, of course, a reflection of the Stoic
doctrine and its conception of the cosmic city defined by higher
moral laws. On this level, the emperor’s power is justified by his
17
See e.g. Sen. Clem. 1.19.9 calling him optimus and maximus; or 1.8.4 comparing
him to the sun; Campanile, ‘Seneca’ (1991), 517.
18 19
Sen. Clem. 1.1. Sen. Clem. 1.9.1–1.10.3.
20
Stacey, Roman Monarchy (2007), 45.
21
Braund, Seneca, De Clementia (2009), 64–5.
virtue alone, validated by the principle of universal law.22 This coup-
ling of moral uprightness, virtue, and goodness was an essential tenet
of Roman Stoicism of the Early Principate.23
Based on this, it is hardly surprising that instead of seeking to limit
him, Seneca actually encourages his protégé Nero to embrace the idea
of enlightened absolutism. Seneca appears to advocate a Hellenistic
ideal monarchy in which the masses are benevolently guided, the
intellectuals are encouraged, and Stoic philosophy valued. It would
have been strange if the man the emperor’s sister had chosen to
educate the future ruler would have publicly shown strong Repub-
lican tendencies.24
In Seneca, the concept of the good king was complemented by the
figure of the evil tyrant as its necessary counterpart. The tyrant was
simply a king whose behaviour had lapsed from the ethical and moral
standards of kingship. It is evident that monarchy contained no
repugnancy in itself for Seneca, but on the contrary, was seen by
him as both a necessary and inevitable form of government for
Rome.25 According to Seneca, the difference between tyrants and
kings is not in the name but rather in their actions: tyrants kill out
of brutality, kings out of necessity.26
From the passages in De clementia it is possible to parse together
the image of the emperor as an ideal judge. The duties of the
emperor-judge towards the people are threefold. First, he has to be
available for the people to approach with their queries. Second, the
emperor has to provide security for the people by curtailing offences.
Third, the duty of the emperor is to use punishment to guide the
behaviour of people, both in individual cases and generally, by setting
an example.27 In all of these actions, the good emperor-judge is led by
his clementia, which entails that he would naturally restrict himself
from engaging in revenge and cruelty. However, the acts of adjudi-
cation may be seen as an interaction between himself and the people,
a kind of gift exchange in which the good deeds and benevolence of
22
Stacey 2007, 30–1; Adam, Clementia Principis (1978).
23
Wilson, ‘Tacitus, Suetonius, Juvenal’ (2003), 536.
24
Campanile, ‘Seneca’ (1991), 519.
25
Stacey, Roman Monarchy (2007), 59; Braund, Seneca, De Clementia (2009), 65,
68–9.
26
Sen. Clem. 1.12.1–2.
27
See also Könczöl, ‘Clemency and Justice’ (2008); Lana, ‘Riflessione sulla secur-
itas’ (2001).
the emperor are rewarded by the affection and devotion of the
people.28
The accessibility of the emperor is entwined in maintaining his
good public image. Because the public image of an emperor is vital to
ruling, an emperor should always be courteous, accessible, and avail-
able.29 The ideal of the accessibility of a ruler is one which crosses
boundaries through Greek, Hellenistic, and Roman cultures of gov-
ernance. The ruler should recognize that each encounter is unique to
the subject he meets, and thus each moment is important in its own
right. Because everyone notices what an emperor does, he is con-
stantly in the spotlight, meaning that each act and discussion is
performed as if on a stage.30
The duty of security was clearly a reciprocal relationship where the
emperor both provides and receives in return. For an emperor, his
own safety is ensured by the safety and security given to others. Real
happiness comes from giving safety to others.31 According to Seneca,
the main argument for imperial power in the early Julio-Claudian era
was security.32 By demonstrating his clementia, the emperor would
follow the ideal of the rex iustus, the model of good ruler, and would
guarantee not only the happiness of the ruled but also his own
safety.33
The ethical duty of avoiding revenge, anger, and cruelty is in
accordance with the Stoic idea of punishment. An emperor may
exact punishment either to avenge himself or to avenge someone
else, but in avenging himself, there is no compensation that can be
had or position to be restored, because the emperor is so powerful to
begin with. To avenge someone else, a lenient punishment is usually
better for all.34 According to Seneca, clemency best suits a king or an
emperor because anger debases a king to the level of a commoner.
Even to shout is not appropriate to a king’s standing.35 Thus the very
display of anger is a sign of imbalance and, possibly, madness.36 It is
possible that this pairing of the display of anger and madness was a
28
Beltrami, ‘De Clementia’ (2008). 29
Sen. Clem. 1.13.4.
30
Sen. Clem. 1.8.4–5. On the centrality of visibility, see Fertik, ‘Privacy and Power’
(2015).
31
Sen. Clem. 1.19.5, 1.26.5. 32
Lana, ‘Riflessione sulla securitas’ (2001), 39.
33
Beltrami, ‘De Clementia’ (2008), 16–17.
34 35
Sen. Clem. 1.20.1–1.23.1. Sen. Clem. 1.3.3., 1.5.6, 1.7.4.
36
poke in the direction of Claudius, who was known to lose all dignity
and composure when angered.37
The main aim of De clementia was to warn how cruelty harms an
emperor. Seneca evokes the phrase commonly associated with Calig-
ula: oderint, dum metuant (‘they can hate me, so long as they fear
me’) as the worst attitude an emperor can have.38 Seneca differenti-
ates between various types of authority, that of emperor, father,
instructor, and tribune or centurion, and concludes that in all situ-
ations, clemency is better than savagery at inducing obedience.39 The
king gets no glory from savage punishment because everybody is
aware of what he is capable of doing.40 Unwarranted recourse to
cruelty is loathed even in slave-masters, such as Vedius Pollio, who
fed his slaves to his eels and was censured by Augustus.41 Cruelty is
inhuman in that it blurs the distinction between man and beast, since
morally there is no difference in having someone thrown to the lions
and tearing them apart with one’s own teeth.42 Many observers have
seen the purpose of De clementia to commit Nero to the idea of
clemency and dissuading him from becoming another Caligula.43
That may have been the case, but I would argue that Seneca outlines
the way that absolute power would be compatible with justice in
adjudication.
Seneca raises clementia to a cardinal virtue that is the embodiment
of justice. The value of clementia is such that it trumps the letter of the
law, meaning that the ruler exercising his clementia is not bound by
law.44 The concept of clementia is the connection between the praise
for Caesar by Cicero and Seneca, but there are fundamental differ-
ences. For Seneca, clementia was an absolutist concept which entailed
the use of unlimited power tempered by complete self-control.45
However, the Ciceronian virtue of clementia was an ethical term
without such connotations.
Much of the practice of ruling was based on the idea of reciprocity
between the ruler and the ruled as a kind of gift exchange. For Seneca,
37
Seneca says so himself in Apocol. 6, while Suet. Claud. 30 and 38 mentions how
he would drool and make hasty and cruel decisions.
38
Sen. Clem. 1.12.4, 2.2.2; De Ira 1.20.4 oderint, dum metuant. The phrase was
ascribed to Caligula by Suetonius (Suet. Calig. 30.1).
39 40 41
Sen. Clem. 1.16.2–3. Sen. Clem. 1.17.3. Sen. Clem. 1.18.2–3.
42 43
Sen. Clem. 1.25.1. Griffin, Seneca (1992), 136.
44
45
A distinction discussed by Stacey, Roman Monarchy (2007), 35, 55.
this exchange even extended to the administration of justice. Seneca
mentions how Caesar was also petitioned to honour debts of alle-
giance to his veterans, which he once paid by resolving a case in
favour of one of them. The veteran was entwined in a trial against his
neighbours, and the case was going badly for him. Suddenly the man
turned to Caesar, who was adjudicating the case, and asked him
whether the imperator remembered (meministi) the time he sprained
his ankle in Spain and needed to lie down in the shade. A soldier had
helped him by spreading his cloak on the ground. Caesar replied that
he also remembered that the same soldier had brought him water in
his helmet when he was dying of thirst. The veteran said that he was
this soldier, only his face had been mutilated to the point of being
unrecognizable by wounds at the battle of Munda. Caesar ordered
that the man should not be troubled anymore, and gave him the piece
of land that the trial was about.46
Seneca provides another enlightening example of gift exchange as a
part of imperial adjudication. Rufus, a man of senatorial rank, had at
dinner said that he wished that Augustus would not return safely from
the trip he was planning. Because he had been drunk, he did not
remember this in the morning. However, his slave reminded him of
it and urged him to go first to the emperor and volunteer charges
against himself. Rufus rushed to meet Augustus while he was on his
way to the Forum, begging him for forgiveness for his drunken utter-
ances. As Augustus agreed to this, Rufus insisted that Augustus give
him a sizable gift to show that he had indeed been restored to favour.
Augustus consented, but said that: ‘For my own sake, I shall take pains
never to be angry with you!’47 It was clearly not sufficient to restore
Rufus’ status that Augustus would have simply ignored his mishap.
Thus the idea of the exercise of justice as gift exchange was not
limited to a positive exchange of favours, but extended also to nega-
tive gifts. In another example, the case of the scheming Cinna,
Augustus ended the exchange of negative gifts with his clementia.
Cinna had been involved in a plot against Augustus, and Augustus
was contemplating why harsh punishments were not enough to deter
conspirators. His wife suggested taking another approach and to try
leniency. The idea of negative gift exchange would mean that he
would have repaid the gift of betrayal by Cinna with a gift of
46
Sen. Ben. 5.24.
47
Sen. Ben. 3.27, Mea causa dabo operam, ne umquam tibi irascar! Tr. Basore.
punishment. Instead, he broke off the exchange and pardoned Cinna,
who remained his loyal friend henceforth.48
While in the case of Julius Caesar the failure of the gift exchange
has been suggested to have been caused by the extraordinary nature of
the gifts of life given by Caesar, which failed to bind the receivers into
a reciprocal relationship of gratitude, this time things were different.
The role of the father assumed by the emperor would have been an
acceptable way to illustrate the asymmetrical position of the parties in
the gift exchange.49 His opponents considered Caesar as their equal
and despised him for the gifts, whereas the position of Augustus in his
later years was so far above that of the ordinary people that he could
be considered peerless.
What Seneca manages to do in his portrayal of the emperor’s power
and position is to neutralize the antipathy that is traditionally—largely
due to Cicero—associated with kingship among Romans. Instead, he
brings into the discussion the principle of universal justice in the form
of the emperor, utilizing the Greek and Hellenistic traditions of king-
ship from Isocrates and Xenophon.50
It is clear that for Seneca imperial power demanded supernatural
powers of self-control. Thus it is only natural that much of De
clementia consists of anecdotes of men holding similar power, be
they Greek tyrants or Persian kings, who fail miserably at living up to
the demands of the office. Much of the history of the Julio-Claudian
emperors has been seen as proof that very few, including Seneca’s
pupil Nero, acquired the power of the emperor and remained in full
mental equilibrium. It is curious whether there is actually an ironic
substratum beneath the laudatio with which Seneca begins his
book.51 The text could be read as a subtle warning that the office of
the emperor is not a stable vehicle of power, but rather a racecar
which mere mortals would drive into a ditch in seconds.
This unpredictability meant that virtue, the ethical and moral qualities
of the emperor, was supremely important. Stacey has recently argued
that this virtuous rule would be one executed according to natural law,
48
The concept of negative gifts has also been examined by Beltrami, ‘De Clementia’
(2008), 39.
49
Beltrami, ‘De Clementia’ (2008), 32.
50
51
Romm, Dying Every Day (2014), 66 calls the Principate the ‘great magnifier of
mental flaws’.
with justice and legitimacy.52 My claim is that Seneca presents jurisdic-
tion as one of the main areas where the virtue of the emperor is exposed
and thus his clementia and justice are put to the test. What he underlines
repeatedly is how this virtue was equally in the emperor’s own self-
interest, that it guarantees the security of the emperor.
Seneca’s depiction of the imperial office is far more nuanced than
even the positive and negative examples of De clementia show. In an
earlier text he writes of Caligula’s murderous excesses that: ‘It seems
that Nature produced him as an experiment, to show what absolute
vice could accomplish when paired with absolute power.’53 We may
compare the idealized illustrations of De clementia to the scorn
heaped on Claudius in the Apocolocyntosis.54 The satirical depiction
of the judgment of Claudius in the heavens and hell is not only an
illustration of his vices and crimes, but also precedes the exemplary
type of narrative of De clementia. In the satire, Claudius dies and is
taken to heaven for a trial in front of the gods (in fact, a senate of the
gods, replicating in its procedure that of the Roman Senate), regard-
ing whether he should be elevated among them. The testimonials are
favourable until Augustus rises to testify. His speech starts with an
obvious parody of the Res gestae (‘Was it for this I gave the city of
Rome a foundation of laws, and an embellishment of public works, so
that . . . ?’),55 but moves quickly to the condemnation of Claudius:
This man, honourable members, who gives you the impression of not
being able to startle a fly, used to kill people as effortlessly as a dog
squats on its haunches.
Hic, p.c., qui vobis non posse videtur muscam excitare, tam facile
homines occidebat, quam canis adsidit.56
52
Stacey, ‘Princely Republic’ (2014), 150.
53
Sen. Helv. 12.10.4 C. Caesar [Augustus], quem mihi uidetur rerum natura
edidisse ut ostenderet quid summa uitia in summa fortuna possent. Tr. Romm,
Dying Every Day (2014), 11. On Seneca and the memory of Caligula, see Barrett,
Caligula (1989), 156–8, on the curious phenomenon where many senators are said to
have been executed but the details of who and when are contradictory.
54
There is a considerable volume of literature on this delightful text. Mac and Currie,
‘Purpose of the Apocolocyntosis’ (1962), 91–7; Kraft, ‘Politischen Hintergrund’ (1966),
96–122; Bringmann, ‘Senecas Apocolocyntosis’ (1971), 56–69; Leach, ‘The Implied
Reader’ (1989), 197–230.
55
Sen. Apocol. 10, Ideo legibus urbem fundavi, operibus ornavi, ut . . . Tr. Eden,
Apocolocyntosis (1984).
56
Sen. Apocol. 10.
Augustus then pushes aside public concerns in favour of family,
listing the innumerable members of Augustus’ family that were killed
by Claudius. What was most disturbing was that they were killed
summarily, without trial and a chance to defend themselves:
Tell me, deified Claudius, why did you convict any these men and
women, whom you killed, before you could examine the case, before
you could hear the evidence? Where is this the customary practice? It is
not so in heaven.
Dic mihi, dive Claudi, quare quemquam ex his, quos quasque occidisti,
antequam de causa cognosceres, antequam audires, damnasti? Hoc ubi
fieri solet? In caelo non fit.57
Thus Claudius is sent to Hades, where he is mercilessly tried by
another kind of jury, the men he had murdered, under the lex
Cornelia for murderers. As his misdeeds are listed, the murders of
thirty-five Senators, 221 Roman knights, and innumerable others,
he is denied a chance to defend himself and sentenced with the
accusers’ words.58
Claudius is condemned not merely because he had killed his
friends and relatives, but because he had done so without any con-
sideration for justice and equity or the customary process of law.
Seneca had, of course, been relegated by Claudius, and had a score to
settle, but the larger picture is quite clear.59 Furthermore, what is
interesting is how much the narrative of the judgment of Claudius
utilizes the vocabulary and procedure of a trial in the Senate. The gods
refer to each other as patres conscripti and their assembly hall as the
curia (Sen. Apocol. 8–10).
Even though the emperor was all-powerful and his actions were
guided by his virtues, and his virtues only, there were certain expect-
ations of justice placed on him. What the judgment of Claudius
illustrates is that the emperor was considered bound by positive and
negative examples, and while he was supposed to operate with the
moral compass of his clementia and other virtues, exempla were a way
to educate him who needed no guidance.
What makes De clementia so interesting for the study of the
narratives of imperial adjudication and power is its context. As is
57 58
Sen. Apocol. 10. Sen. Apocol. 14.
59
Leach, ‘The Implied Reader’ (1989), 214–17 argues that the Apocolocyntosis and
De clementia should be seen as parts of a whole, meant to appease the Senate and to
bring them to accept the new political reality.
well known, Nero was not the paragon of virtue advertised in the text,
and Seneca was not simply a philosopher writing a learned treatise.
Instead, the book has been described as a cynical piece of writing
intended to mollify Rome after the murder of Britannicus. By having
his half-brother murdered as a part of his struggle with his mother
Agrippina, Nero was continuing the slow-motion mass murder that
annihilated the imperial family. One of the aims of De clementia may
have been to erase the memory of the fratricide, with two audiences in
mind. The first was the population of Rome, whom Seneca sought to
assure that the new regime would not continue on the path of
Claudius and Caligula, the lawlessness of their reigns highlighted by
the use of maiestas trials to remove real or perceived opponents and
to plunder their property. The second audience may have been Nero
himself, warning of the dangers of unrestricted power. Far from being
an impartial observer, Seneca took part and aided the young princeps
in some of the questionable deeds that were committed to uphold the
new regime.60
While a treatise like De clementia and a satire like Apocolocyntosis
are at their heart about ruling and power, they and the events that
they depict are very pertinent to the field of law, because many of
them are instances of adjudication. I have argued that the jurisdiction
of the emperor and the rulings he issued were highly visible presen-
tations of his virtues, his clementia and justice. Though the murders
and sham political trials of Caligula, Claudius, and Nero were actions
that are chiefly significant regarding the battle for power, influence,
and money, for the outside observer they are striking demonstrations
of the imperial power over the law, that ultimately the emperor held
sway without restraint over the life, liberty, and property of everyone
within his power. De clementia was the first influential text that put
the same principle down in writing. Even though at the time of
writing Rome had been ruled first by autocratic rulers and then by
emperors for over a century, the official line was still that Rome was a
republic ruled by a princeps, the first among equal senators. What is
clear is that Seneca’s theory brought a new connection to Greek and
Roman political theory, a theory intended to underline the link
between the emperor, law, and justice and the emperor as their
guarantor.61
60
Romm, Dying Every Day (2014), 88.
61
As indicated also in Fuhrmann, ‘Alleinherrschaft’ (1963), 507.
DEALING WITH THE CRAZY: EARLY IMPERIAL
JURISDICTION
The historical image of early imperial jurisdiction is a baffling mix of

the extension of imperial jurisdiction and the crucial importance of
imperial sanity in the exercise of that jurisdiction. The expansion of the
emperor’s personal jurisdiction is demonstrated by the growing num-
ber of examples of emperors acting as judges and the mention of
emperors appointing officials to deal with routine jurisdiction. If one
looks at the extant sources and literature as a whole, it is evident that a
composite picture of the jurisdictional activities of the early emperors is
quickly summarized.62 The aim of this section, however, is to present
the different narratives of imperial adjudication that have come down
to us from various sources, from the historians to the documentary
evidence such as inscriptions and papyri, and to demonstrate how
narratives of adjudication and, by extension, those of imperial insanity
could serve a number of different purposes and aims.
Following the example of Augustus, his successors had a regular
presence in the law-courts as judges. The descriptions of Tiberius’
(r. AD 14–37) early reign are unanimous on his insistence on uphold-
ing the Republican ways of legal process in the regular courts. Of
his private jurisdiction, some evidence indicates that Tiberius had
criminal jurisdiction at least in cases of maiestas, though possibly
concurrent with the Senate. It has been a matter of debate whether the
jurisdiction of the Senate was in fact an innovation of the period of
Tiberius or whether this is simply a reflection of the Tacitean narra-
tive. The personal jurisdiction of the emperor would appear to have
been to a great extent elective. From the record left by Tacitus, it
seems that Tiberius was active in the pursuit of cases but left the final
decision to be made by the Senate.63 While Tiberius would respect the
62
In fact, both Honoré’s and Millar’s description of the first emperors and their
activities with regard to justice are to a large extent a description of the sources.
Honoré, Emperors and Lawyers (1994), 9–10; Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 523–5.
63
e.g. Tac. Ann. 3.10 (Tiberius investigates, the Senate passes the judgment), 3.38
(Tiberius active, but case handled by other courts), 3.70 (Tiberius judged himself,
leading Capito to protest that the right to pass judgment would have belonged to the
Senate), 4.22 (Tiberius investigates, case resolved by suicide before Senate hearing);
Joseph. AJ 18.65–80. On criminal cases under Tiberius, see Schilling, Poena extra-
ordinaria (2010), 119–88. On the jurisdiction of the Senate, see Arcaria, Senatus
censuit (1992); Garnsey, Social Status and Legal Privilege (1970), 18–42; Kunkel,
‘Die Entstehung’ (1974), Bleicken, Senatsgericht und Kaisergericht (1962) De Marini
authority of the Senate, he instituted a rule by which he would be
informed of all decisions made, and the decisions should not be
executed before the passage of ten days.64 This would allow him
time to intervene in matters like trials. Some claim that Tiberius
selected a consilium of senators to assist him in adjudication
instead of Augustus’ senatorial committee chosen by lot. As Tiberius
retreated to Capri, even this consilium ceased to act.65 A rescript of
Tiberius is preserved in the Digest in which it is decreed that a charge
of adultery against the holder of a public office or honour will be
postponed until after the term of office has expired.66
The view on the early reign of Tiberius has undergone a significant
change after the recent discovery of the text of the so-called senatus
consultum de Pisone patre. The text was inscribed on bronze tablets.
While the fragments were found in unlicensed digs from the 1980s
onwards, they were collected, edited, and published only in 1996.67
This remarkable text contains what appears to be the decision of the
Senate on the complicated affair relating to Gnaeus Calpurnius Piso
(consul of 7 BC) and Germanicus, son of Tiberius. The details of the
case are murky, but Piso had been in conflict with Germanicus over
the control of the province of Syria. After the sudden death of
Germanicus, Piso was suspected of poisoning him and having trea-
sonous intentions after an armed conflict among Roman troops in
Syria. Tiberius recalled Piso to face an inquiry in Rome, but he
committed suicide.68
The senatus consultum itself condemns the actions of Piso and his
aides and accomplices, while showering Tiberius and the whole
imperial family with praise. Though the true course of events is
unclear, as are the charges that Piso was facing, what the text shows
is how strongly even the Senate’s jurisdiction was bound not only to
Avonzo, Funzione giurisdizionale (1957). On Tiberius and the jurists, see Bauman,
Lawyers and Politics (1989), 56–75.
64
Tac. Ann. 3.51; Suet. Tib. 75.
65
66
Dig. 48.5.39.10.
67
The text was published simultaneously in two editions: Caballos, Eck, and
Fernández, El Senadoconsulto de Gneo Pisón Padre (1996); Eck, Caballos, and Fernán-
dez, Das senatus consultum de Cn. Pisone patre (1996). Review by Harriet I. Flower,
Bryn Mawr Classical Review 97.7.22. On the context, see Schilling, Poena extraordinaria
(2010), 134–8.
68
The episode is also covered by Tacitus (Ann. 3.1–19).
the emperor but to the imperial house. While the insolence of Piso
and the illegality of his actions are strongly condemned, his family is
spared. The reason for this was that Tiberius had interceded at his
mother’s request to spare Plancina, Piso’s wife, from punishment.
Thus, though the Senate has jurisdiction over the matter, it is
exercised according to the wishes of the princeps.69 While the text
is a legal one, it has a deep ethical and moral subtext, where the
virtues of the emperor and his family are extolled while Piso’s moral
failings are condemned. This has been interpreted in many ways, the
foremost being that Piso, who was related to the imperial family,
posed a threat that had to be neutralized.70 By his own actions, Piso
had forfeited his life, forcing Germanicus to renounce his friendship
(l. 28–9), demonstrating the way that imperial friendship had become
mixed with the right to live. Conceptually, it is fascinating how the
offence of maiestas combined the maiestas domus Augustae and the
ius publicum, in effect equating offending the imperial family with
the slighting of the Roman people (l. 32–3). There are two further
details that underline the role of imperial power in the condemnation
of Piso: the emphasis on imperium and the final word of Tiberius. On
the first count, the SC contains a very curious outline of the insolence
of Piso, who sought to challenge the authority of Germanicus, fram-
ing it around the concept of imperium. What the SC stated was that
Piso had offended not only the maiestas of the imperial house,
but also public law in not recognizing that, in all circumstances,
Germanicus had a higher imperium than he did, while Tiberius had
an even higher imperium (lines 28–37), perhaps a reference to the
imperium maius proconsulare. The second detail is the strangely
personal ending of the SC, where Tiberius writes in the first person
that he had, on his own motion, presented the text to the senate and
now wishes the SC to be entered into the public records (l. 174–6). In
Tacitus’ depiction of the events leading to the accusation of Piso, it is
shown how Piso initially waited for the summons to appear in the
regular courts and sees the taking of the case to the Senate as raising
Germanicus above the law.71
69
ll. 109–20. On the legal dimension of the affair and its implications to the
Senate’s jurisdiction, see Richardson, ‘SC de Cn. Pisone patre’ (1997).
70
Cooley, ‘Moralizing Message’ (1998), 199–212; Potter, ‘Political Theory’ (1999),
65–88.
71
Tac. Ann. 2.79, 3.12; Garnsey, Social Status and Legal Privilege (1970), 24–5.
The text illustrates how much dynastic and monarchical policies
influenced not only politics but also law and, especially, the percep-
tion of law in the Roman world.72 What the personal intercession of
Tiberius underlined was the important role of the emperor in deliver-
ing justice. In the case of Piso, imperial intervention acted to alleviate
the sentence with clementia. In the same way, the emperor was hoped
and expected to intercede to the formalistic way of regular legal
procedure by providing remedies and equity. While persons appeal-
ing to the emperor no doubt hoped that the majesty of the emperor
would aid them in gaining justice which was so easily lost in the
regular courts prone to corruption, a second reason for the appeal to
imperial justice was the procedure of cognitio. In the formulary
procedure used in the regular courts, process was bound by inflexible
rules and set formulae that provided the grounds for suits, and a
person of sufficient standing would have to act as accusator. In
contrast, the cognitio of imperial courts was inquisitorial, aimed at
attaining the material truth, and the judge was not bound by set
solutions or penalties.73
The reign of Tiberius was central to the continuance of the
Augustan tradition of the Principate, but the historical reputation of
Tiberius was also a first in what was to become typical of the depiction
of the developmental arc of emperors as a downward slide. This was
true especially of the emperors of the Julio-Claudian era, when the
trope of the emperor’s gradual descent into what was understood by
contemporaries as insanity was common. The typical storyline would
begin with the newly appointed emperor who was benevolent,
worked hard, and listened to his advisers and the Senate. Slowly,
this emperor would become accustomed to the unlimited power
and divine honours vested in him, being surrounded by sycophants
and parasites, and begin to lose touch with reality. Finally, the sense of
unrestrained power and unlimited responsibility would drive him to
reckless acts and senseless abuses of power. The emperor would thus
begin a reign of terror that would last until he was disposed of with a
palace coup or, more rarely, died of natural causes. The historical
72
Rowe, Princes and Political Cultures (2002), on the systematic promotion of princes
and imperial succession during the reign of Tiberius and how that changed the policies,
institutions and values of Rome and its elite.
73
Brouwer, ‘On Law and Equity’ (2011), 36–7; Garnsey, Social Status and Legal
Privilege (1970), 6, 24–5, 65. Kaser and Hackl, Zivilprozessrecht (1996), 435–45;
Lauria, ‘Accusatio-inquisitio’ (1983).
images of Tiberius, Caligula, Claudius, and Nero all follow the same
pattern, though with substantial variations, leading to persistent
theories about hereditary insanity in the Julio-Claudian family or
the instability of the combination of hereditary monarchy and a
republican constitution.74
In the exercise of imperial jurisdiction, this duality of the official
and the paranoid sides of the emperor is apparent. On the official side
we see the expanding imperial legal apparatus and growing legal
responsibilities of the emperors, while on the paranoid side there
are stories of the jurisdiction of the emperor being used in the
persecution of his real or perceived enemies by the liberal use of
maiestas charges.75 It would appear that the early emperors were,
for the most part, combinations of diligent administrators and mon-
sters. This duality is, of course, a narrative and partly due to the
differing roles of emperors in adjudication. Within the imperial court
and among the elite, the emperor had a delicate position, balancing
different factions against each other, seeking to ensure that none of
them gained a dominant position. Within these power-struggles, not
to mention disputes over imperial succession, law was used as a
weapon against opponents. However, this highly limited struggle
had little bearing on the legal issues of the general population that
the emperor was asked to resolve.
This duality of the imperial narrative is most pronounced in
Suetonius’ depiction of Tiberius. Suetonius states that when Tiberius
had taken the throne, all business was carried out through the magis-
trates and the ordinary process of law.76 Nevertheless, Suetonius hints
that there was a sense of unease over what the powers of Tiberius
were, in the same way as in the story (discussed in Ch. 2) of Seneca
about Augustus aiding Tarius, a paterfamilias, in a trial of domestic
jurisdiction. One such story tells how Tiberius attended the trials
74
A roughly similar narrative on the emperors is given by Seneca, Tacitus,
Suetonius, and Dio, making it so prevalent that it was long considered to be the
only true assessment. Winterling, Caligula (2011) attempts to show that what
the actions of the ‘mad’ emperors show is not the insanity of the emperor, but rather
the insincerity of the situation and the doublespeak that it involved.
75
From the outline of criminal cases given by Schilling, Poena extraordinaria
(2010), it is clear that maiestas cases are probably highly over-represented due to
their political importance. Of the maiestas cases, see Bauman, Crimen Maiestatis
(1967).
76
Suet. Tib. 31.2.
presided by other magistrates, assuming the role of an assessor,
insisting that the judges remain in their normal places. Suetonius
saw this as his attempt to covertly influence judicial procedure.77 The
stories are similar in the sense that, despite the fact that the regular
magistrates are acting as they should, there is an elephant in the room
in the shape of the emperor. What Suetonius is eager to demonstrate
is the havoc caused by the elephant running loose, meaning the
coercive powers of the emperor being abused by an unpredictable
and unconstrained individual. Suetonius’ descriptions of Tiberius’
excesses in themselves form a pattern typical of imperial abuse of
power by torture, rape, and killings, where torture was so common
that even visiting guests were tortured by accident and then killed to
hide the mistake.78 Their true significance in the storyline is to form a
contrast to the peaceful regularity of affairs when Tiberius was able to
curtail his violent urges.
The image provided by Dio is very similar to that of Suetonius in
terms of emphasizing the positive characteristics of imperial jurisdic-
tion. Dio informs us that a tribunal was erected for Tiberius in the
Forum where he adjudicated in public. In adjudication, Tiberius
would have followed the advice of his consilium and allowed free
discussion among its members.79 However, Dio also mentions that
Tiberius refused to hear appeals on cases decided by M. Junius
Silanus, because he valued him so highly.80
Modern research has attributed the fact that the image of the latter
part of the reign of Tiberius in ancient historiography has been largely
negative to the strained relationship between the senatorial aristoc-
racy and Tiberius. Tacitus especially, but also Suetonius and Dio,
were critical of his lack of respect for the Senate. It is likely that the
contrasting motifs, that of Tiberius as the consolidator of imperial
rule and that of the aristocracy maintaining their privileges, led the
aristocratic historians to have a decidedly negative view of Tiberius.81
A similar combination of a good judge with regards to the
common people and a cruel tyrant to the elite is apparent in the
historical images of other early emperors. Caligula, Claudius, Nero,
77
Suet. Tib. 33.
78
Suet. Tib. 61–2; Shotter, ‘Trial of Clutorius Priscus’ (1969), 14–18.
79
Cass. Dio 57.7.2–6.
80
Cass. Dio. 59.8.5; Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 510.
81
and Vespasian are all described as having acted dutifully as judges,82
and even Domitian is described as a diligent and hardworking judge.83
The historical narrative of Caligula84 (r. AD 37–41) contains one of
the most striking contrasts between well-performed routine jurisdic-
tion and a reign of terror among the elite. Caligula spent whole days
sitting in judgment by himself and with the Senate.85 He also allowed
magistrates to have unrestricted jurisdiction without appeal to him-
self.86 When the Caligula of these stories, in the typical fashion of
early emperors, reverts to cruelty and becomes mad with unchecked
power, the list of excesses, ranging from torture, public humiliation,
and executions to assaults on established authorities, is quite typical
of Suetonius.87 What he demonstrates is the danger of unlimited
coercive power in the hands of a person who clearly cannot handle
the sense of power.
The reign of Caligula has been seen as a watershed in the relation-
ship between the emperor and the legal system. Some hold that
Caligula’s threat of not accepting appeals from magistrates showed
that even an emperor as unhinged as he was felt restrained by the law
and his own duties as judge.88 However, others see that the accession
of Caligula meant that the relationship between the emperor and the
Senate in adjudication changed because of the utter unpredictability
of the emperor. Because the mood of the emperor and his wishes
could not be predicted, most cases tended to end up in the emperor’s
court. The process was not an appeal in the real sense, since the emperor
mostly took the cases to solve. Caligula apparently used no consilium,
and thus there was no continuity in the imperial chancellery.89 The
true nature of the situation is probably lost to us, but what the narratives
of Caligula’s excesses demonstrate is the growing conviction of the
centrality of imperial decisions and the irrelevance of other judicial
mechanisms against the caprice of the emperor.
Unlike Tiberius, who referred most high-profile political cases to
the Senate, Caligula was content to issue rulings on his own. The cases
that have been preserved are of dubious relevance in the legal sense,
82
Suet. Calig. 16; Suet. Claud. 14; Suet. Ner. 15; Suet. Vesp. 10; Cass. Dio 59.18.2–3.
83
Suet. Dom. 8.
84
Winterling, Caligula (2011); Barrett, Caligula (1989).
85
Sen. Apocol. 7.4–5; Cass. Dio 59.18.2.
86 87
Suet. Calig. 16.2. Suet. Calig. 33–5.
88
Suet. Calig. 16.2; Honoré, Emperors and Lawyers (1994), 9.
89
because they are mostly short examples of Caligula’s trampling on the
senatorial elite. Thus, short mentions of arbitrary rulings on the
marriage of elite women,90 accusations of maiestas,91 banishment,92
or conspiracy,93 are hardly enough to let us see the ordinary practice
of jurisdiction.94
There are essentially three conflicting schools of thought on how to
approach the supposed insanity of Caligula and, by extension, other
early emperors. The traditional approach has been to accept the
judgment of ancient authors, namely that Caligula was simply mad
and that his insanity got progressively worse. The traditional view
has no shortage of backing in ancient literature; for example, Athe-
naeus relates that Caligula dressed up as Dionysus when he sat in
judgment.95 The revisionist approach has seen imperial madness as a
senatorial depiction that misunderstands an actually shrewd strategic
choice, strengthening the traditional alliance between the emperor
and the people. This alternative reading of Caligula’s exploits suggests
that it was actually the emperor playing to the masses, who enjoyed
seeing the rich and powerful humiliated.96 The third interpretation is
the most recent, and continues the strategic line of thought. Accord-
ing to this theory, conflicts that were a constant feature of the whole
of Caligula’s reign stemmed from the contradictions inherent in the
Augustan settlement and the recognition of the absolute powers of
the emperors. Before, the indefinite formal status of the emperor had
allowed for the emperor, the court, and the Senate to play along and
hold separate views of the constitutional status quo. Caligula’s
attempts at solving the conflict would have been the main reason
why he was stamped as a madman. Some suggest that in the Hellen-
istic kingdoms the normal course of action was to label the emperor a
paterfamilias of Rome and bestow on him divine honours. This was,
in fact, the course of action that Seneca would propose in De clem-
entia. That would have solved the conflict between the formal and
real powers, but the Augustan tradition of refusing these honours
was too imbedded to allow the Senate to take this course, like the
90
Suet. Calig. 25.1; Cass. Dio 59.8.7 (Orestilla and Piso).
91
Suet. Calig. 30.2; Cass. Dio. 59.10.4, 59.10.7, 59.11.6.
92
Cass. Dio 59.20.6; Juv. 7.204–5 (Carrinas Secundus); Cass. Dio 59.23.9; Schol.
Juv. 1.155 (Ofonius Tigellinus).
93
Suet. Calig. 24.3; Cass. Dio 59.22.5–9.
94
On these, see also Schilling, Poena extraordinaria (2010), 188–200.
95 96
Ath. 4.29. Yavetz, Plebs and Princeps (1988), 114–15.
municipalities had already done. Instead, Caligula ended up demon-
strating his limitless powers by constantly humiliating the Senate and
senators.97 Others suggest that the entire trope of the emperor
humiliating the Senate was a way for Caligula to demonstrate his
power to the Senate and the people. What acts like promoting his
horse to the Senate achieved was to show that he is actually omnipo-
tent and the Senate was a meaningless relic.98 For the purposes of the
Republican narrative that was held in such high esteem by Augustus,
the actions of Caligula would thus appear to be insane. While all three
alternatives may have some truth in them, the most convincing
explanation for the narratives of insanity is the violation of the
expectations and conventions that were placed on imperial adjudica-
tion and administration.
The portrayal by the ancient historians of imperial jurisdiction
during the reign of Claudius99 (r. AD 41–54) follows a similar pattern.
Claudius would routinely sit in judgment, either in the company of
the Senate or by himself, usually in the Forum. He renewed the
practice, abolished by Tiberius, of having advisers with him while
judging. He also joined the consuls and the praetors in their investi-
gations, and rarely turned over cases to the other courts. Suetonius
mentions two examples where Claudius was physically abused by
litigants in the Forum, perhaps to underline his lack of dignitas.
Whatever the narrative purpose, it hardly tells of a rare visit from a
godlike figure, feared and respected, but rather a routine event.100
Claudius, according to Dio, made efforts to limit the number of
pending lawsuits by ruling that cases may be decided even if one of
the parties is absent. He even enforced this rule, since the number
of lawsuits had grown.101 It is perhaps indicative of the routine
nature of his public adjudication that Seneca has Claudius talk to
Hercules, reminiscing over the entire days that he spent in July and
August sitting in judgment in front of Hercules’ temple.102
From the time of Claudius we have also the intriguing text of the
so-called acta Isidori, a part of the third-century collection known as
acta Alexandrorum. The text relates to a complex dispute of status
97
Gradel, Emperor Worship (2002), 140–2, 144–5, 158. See also Roller, Construct-
ing Autocracy (2001), 260–1.
98
Winterling, Caligula (2011).
99
Levick, Claudius (1990), 115–26; May, ‘L’Activité juridique’ (1936).
100
Cass. Dio 60.4.3–4; Suet. Claud. 15.
101 102
Cass. Dio 60.28.6. Sen. Apocol. 7.4–5.
in AD 38–41 between the Greek and Jewish inhabitants of Alexandria,
which led to both parties sending embassies to first Caligula and then
Claudius. Both emperors met with embassies and held hearings,
sending letters that sought to restore peace and resolve the issues.
Members of the embassies wrote their own accounts and published
documents that they had secured from the emperor. The text of the
acta Isidori purports to be the transcript of a trial between Isidorus
(one of the Alexandrian Greek ambassadors and a noted prosecutor)
and King Agrippa, whose visit to Alexandria had triggered riots. The
date of the trial was probably AD 41, and the location was one of the
imperial gardens of Rome.103 The surviving text opens with the
beginning of the trial, a day’s postponement and the opening of
proceedings:
The sixth day of Pachon: the second day. Claudius Caesar hears the case of
Isidorus, gymnasiarch of Alexandria, v. King Agrippa in the . . . gardens.
With him sat twenty senators (and in addition to these) sixteen men of
consular rank, the women of the court also attending . . . Isidorus’ trial.
Isidorus was the first one to speak: ‘My Lord Caesar, I beseech you to
listen to my account of my native city’s sufferings.’
The emperor: ‘I grant you this day.’
All the senators who were sitting as assessors agreed with this,
knowing the kind of man Isidorus was.
Claudius Caesar: ‘Say nothing . . . against my friend. You have already
done away with two of my friends, Theon the exegete and . . . ’
Lampon to Isidorus: ‘I have looked upon death . . . ’
Claudius Caesar: ‘Isidorus, you have killed many friends of mine.’
Isidorus: ‘I merely obeyed the orders of the emperor at the time. So
too I should be willing to denounce anyone you wish.’
Claudius Caesar: ‘Isidorus, are you really the son of an actress?’
Isidorus: ‘I am neither slave nor actress’s son, but gymnasiarch of the
glorious city of Alexandria. But you are the cast-off son of the Jewess
Salome! And therefore . . . ’
103
Musurillo, Acts of the Pagan Martyrs (1954), 18–31; Rodriguez, ‘Acta Isidori’
(2010), 1–41; Harker, Loyalty and Dissidence (2008), 9–24; Magnani, Il processo di
Isidoro (2009). The dating is controversial and the main options are AD 41 or 53,
depending on the identification of the participants and their locations at different
times. The location is known as the ‘[ . . . ]lian gardens’, which may refer to the
Lucullan, Lollian, Statilian, or the Servilian gardens. The text is preserved in five
fragments: BGU II 511, P.Lond.Inv. 2785, P.Oxy. 42.3021, P.Berol. 8877, and P.Cairo
10448.
Lampon said to Isidorus: ‘We might as well give in to a crazy
Emperor.’
Claudius Caesar: ‘Those whom I told (to carry out) the execution of
Isidorus and Lampon . . . ’104
[col. ii] ἡμέρα [δε]υτ[έ]ρα. Παχὼ[ν ϝ.]
ἀκούει Κλαύδιος Καῖσα[ρ τὸ τοῦ Ἰσιδώρου]
γυμνασιάρχου πόλεως Ἀ[λεξανδρέων]
κατὰ Ἀγρίππου βασιλέω[ς ἐν τοῖς -]
λιανοῖς κήποις, συνκα[θημένων αὐτῷ] 5 (25)
συνκλητικ[ῶ]ν εἴκο[σ]ι, π[ρὸς δὲ τούτοις]
ὑπατικῶν δέκα ἔξ, πα[ρουσῶν δὲ καὶ]
τῶν ματρωνῶν εἰς.[ τό τοῦ]
Ἰσ[ι]δώρου. Ἰσίδωρ[ο]ς ἐν πρ[ώτοις ἔλεγεν.]
κύριε μου Καῖσαρ, τῶν γονά[των σου δέομαι] 10 (30)
ἀκοῦσαί μου τὰ πονοῦν[τα τῇ πατρίδι.]
ὁ αὐτοκράτωρ. μερίσω σο[ι ταύτην τὴν]
ἡμέραν. συνεπένευ[σαν καὶ οἱ συν-]
καθήμενοι [π]άντες σ[υνκλητικοὶ ]
εἰδότες ὁποῖό[ς ἐσ]τιν ἀ[νὴρ ὁ Ἰσίδωρος.] 15 (35)
/ Κλαύδιος Καῖ[σαρ. μηδὲν]
κατὰ τοῦ ἐμοῦ [φίλου εἴπῃς. ἄλλους γάρ]
μου δύο φίλ[ους ἀνῄρηκας ἤδη. ]
Θέωνα ἐξηγη[τὴν καὶ Ναίυιον ἔπαρχον]
[col. iii] [. . . . ]ε πρέσβεα[ . . . . . . . . . . . ] ἡ πατρίς. (40)
[Λά]μπων τῷ Ἰσ[ιδώρῳ . . . . . . ] ἐφεῖδον
[ἤδη] τὸν θάνατ[ον. . . . .Κλαύ]διος Καῖσαρ.
[πολ]λούς μου φίλους ἀπέκτ[ει]νας, Ἰσίδωρε.
[Ἰσί]δωρος. βασιλέως ἤκουσα τοῦ τότε 5
[ἐπ]ιτάξαντος. καὶ σὺ λέγε τίνος θέλεις (45)
[κα]τηγορής `ω´. Κλαύδιος Καῖσαρ. ἀσφαλῶς
[ἐ]κ μουσικῆς εἶ, Ἰσίδωρε; Ἰσίδωρος.
[ἐγ]ὼ μὲν οὔκ εἰμι δοῦλος οὐδὲ μουσικῆς
[υἱ]ός, ἀλλὰ διασήμου πόλεως [Ἀ]λεξαν- 10
[δρ]εί[ας] γυμνασίαρχος. σὺ δὲ ἐκ Σαλώμη[ς] (50)
[τ]ῆς Ἰουδα[ίας υ]ἱὸς [ἀπό]βλητος. διὸ `καὶ´ ἀπο[.]
.ειας ἐπ[ . . . ]ατη[. .]ως. ἔφη Λά[μπ]ων
104
This translation is from the most complete text, Recension A (Chrest. 14),
Musurillo, Acts of the Pagan Martyrs (1954), 24–5. Of the different versions and
traditions, see Rodriguez, ‘Acta Isidori’ (2010); Magnani, Il processo di Isidoro (2009).
The authenticity of the text, which became the foundational text of all acta literature,
is debated. See Harker, Loyalty and Dissidence (2008), 179–211 on the numerous
editions of the acta Alexandrinorum and related texts.
[τ]ῷ Ἰδιδώρῳ. τί γὰρ ἄλλο ἔχομεν ἢ παρα-
[φ]ρονοῦντι βασιλεῖ τόπον διδόναι; 15
[Κ]λαύδιος Καῖσαρ. οἷς προεκέλευσα (55)
[τ]ὸν θάνατον τοῦ Ἰσιδώρου καὶ Λἀμπων[ος].
Considering that the probable aim of the text was to advertise the
pride and valour of the Alexandrian envoys, it manages to underline
their nerve. Isidorus, who was mentioned in the literature as a
troublemaker, proceeds to insult the emperor almost immediately.
The killing of Claudius’ friends is possibly a reference to Isidorus’ role
in some local quarrels or as his role as a prosecutor in Rome. It comes
as no surprise that Claudius would order both Isidorus and Lampon
to be executed. However, how much historical truth can be deduced
from the different versions is questionable.105 What is most interest-
ing for our purposes is how the text describes the trial. The emperor,
while he sat with an extensive consilium, felt free to engage with the
defendants and spend time listening to them speak. The information
that Claudius granted Isidorus the whole day for his speech may
perhaps be a rhetorical exaggeration.106
While the issues themselves are interesting, the literary tradition
that grew up in relation to this matter, the long and acrimonious
dispute between the Greek and Jewish populations of Alexandria,
shows how difficult the administrative task of the emperor was.
Each side sought to present their version of the case, not only to the
emperor but also to their supporters, resorting to distortions and
outright lies. Thus, for example, Josephus cites an ‘edict’ of Claudius,
which is actually just an abbreviation of a letter of Claudius that
emphasized the parts that were favourable to his party.107 What this
meant was that even though the emperor attempted to resolve an
issue, there was no guarantee that the parties would not have dis-
torted his message to their advantage.108
105
Harker, Loyalty and Dissidence (2008), 15–16, 23; Rodriguez, ‘Acta Isidori’
(2010).
106
Magnani, Il processo di Isidoro (2009) 147 presupposes preceding readings of
documents.
107
Harker, Loyalty and Dissidence (2008), 26.
108
The textual tradition that stemmed from the acta Isidori mixes documentary
style and prose description and its purpose was clearly to glorify the Alexandrian
Greek struggle against both the Jews and the Romans. Harker, Loyalty and Dissidence
(2008); Rodriguez, ‘Acta Isidori’ (2010).
The way Claudius used his jurisdiction has received a contradictory
verdict. Suetonius maintains that he was a dutiful adjudicator.109 Dio
reports that Claudius reversed many unjust decisions of Caligula,
such as relegations and sentences of maiestas, and he ended the use
of maiestas charges as political tools.110 Both Tacitus and Dio men-
tion how Claudius sentenced a number of people to death because of
charges brought by Messalina, but did not pursue charges against
people plotting against himself.111 Despite the avowed promise to end
charges of maiestas, those took place even relatively early in his
reign.112 Claudius executed at least one of the murderers of Caligula.113
Otherwise, the known cases are, to a large extent, the familiar
mix of punishing provincial governors,114 conspirators,115 or the
bizarre claims of incest relating to the arrangements of dynastic
succession.116 In contrast, we know of cases from inscriptions that
belong to the other extreme in their mundane nature. For example,
Claudius resolved a boundary dispute in Pisidia in Asia, where his
involvement stemmed from the fact that he was the owner of one of
the estates in question.117
Modern interpreters of imperial legal policy have considered
Claudius’ reign as a turning-point in the consolidation of imperial
jurisdiction as a regular feature and the rise of imperial legal bureau-
cracy. The fact that Claudius had routine jurisdiction exercised both
by himself and with other magistrates has been understood to mean
that he was inclined to accept, rather than to decline, jurisdiction, like
his two immediate predecessors.118 Others interpret Claudius’ reign
as the decisive ending of the Senate’s influence as a court of law and
109 110
Suet. Claud. 14. Cass. Dio 60.3.7–4.2.
111
Tac. Ann. 11.1–3; Cass. Dio 60.29.4–6a.
112
C. Appius Silanus (Suet. Claud. 29.1, 37.2; Cass. Dio 60.14.2–4; Sen. Apocol.
11.2–5); L. Vitellius (Tac. Ann. 12.42).
113
Cassius Chaerea (Suet. Claud. 11.1; Joseph. AJ 19.266–71; Cass. Dio 60.3.4).
114
Most of these were handled in the repetundae process, but at least one by
Claudius himself (Cass. Dio 60.24.4).
115
Asinius Gallus (Suet. Claud. 13.2; Cass. Dio 60.27.5); C. Silius and Messalina
(Sen. Apocol. 11.1, 11.5, 13.4; Tac. Ann. 11.26–38; Suet. Claud. 36; Cass. Dio 60.31.1–5;
for other sources, see Schilling (2010), 215–16).
116
The accusation of incest against L. Junius Silanus and Junia Calvina, instigated
by Agrippina to pave the way for Nero’s accession (Sen. Apocol. 8.2, 10.4, 11.2–5; Suet.
Claud. 29.1; Tac. Ann. 12.3.4–8; Cass. Dio 60.31.7).
117
Levick, Government (1985), 55; Smallwood, Documents (1967), 387 (SEG XIX
765).
118
the beginning of the imperial bureaucratic apparatus. The Senate
played its hand badly during Claudius’ accession, and the relationship
between it and Claudius was never repaired. The imperial legates and
officials took ever more important regular positions, and the imperial
power and the state power started to become indistinguishable. Thus
the reign of Claudius released imperial power from its foundation in
the republican magistracies. The imperial power became institutional-
ized and independent, and consequently the imperial cognition
was even theoretically unlimited.119 Despite this, Suetonius maintains
that Claudius sometimes exercised his jurisdiction as a consul.120
However, the sources on the early imperial legal bureaucracy are
ambiguous. For example, Claudius sought a grant of jurisdiction for
his procurators from the Senate (Tac. Ann. 12.60). It is very difficult, if
not impossible, to determine what this meant; for example, did the
grant refer to procurators who acted as governors or to procurators
who handled the imperial estates? One theory is that the grant meant
fiscal jurisdiction.121 I would be sceptical about the claims of the reign
of Claudius as a revolutionary development. Based on the sources, this
is very hard to justify, as most of his practices of adjudication (sitting as
a judge in the Forum, reining in the elite through legal charges, and
admitting important cases from the provinces) were already used by his
predecessors. Beyond the diminishing references to the Senate as a
court of law, Claudius’ policies may be seen as a process of stabilization
and consolidation of imperial adjudication as a routine.
The early emperors, of course, used the Senate to fulfil legislative
functions. More than a dozen legislative senatusconsulta are known
from the period between the death of Augustus and the ascension of
Hadrian. They were clearly tools of imperial policy alongside laws and
imperial constitutions and used for making new laws or clarifying
interpretations of existing laws.122
119
Bleicken, Senatsgericht und Kaisergericht (1962), 104–15. The origins of the
imperial cognitio process were already traced to Claudius by May, ‘L’Activité juridi-
que’ (1936), 78–9. Kunkel, ‘Review of Bleicken’ (1964), 371 doubts whether one can
make very large claims regarding the extent of Claudius’ legal activities due to the lack
of sources. Claudius has been credited with humane policies, such as liberating slaves
abandoned to die through his edict (Cass. Dio 60.29.7; Volterra, ‘Intorno’ (1956),
211). On Claudius’ role in giving jurisdiction to his procurators, see Brunt, ‘Procura-
torial Jurisdiction’ (1966).
120
Suet. Claud. 14. 121
Brunt, ‘Procuratorial Jurisdiction’ (1966), 461–87.
122
Schiller, ‘Senatus Consulta’ (1958), 499–502, 508. Especially of Claudius, see
Buongiorno, Senatus Consulta Claudianis (2010); Volterra, ‘Senatus Consulta’ (1993),
Though Seneca presented an image of Nero (r. AD 54–68) as
completely free of legal restrictions, according to Tacitus, Nero felt
that he had to conform to the expectations of the laws.123 Tacitus says
that Nero adjudicated by himself,124 but Suetonius mentions that he
insisted that members of his consilium give their opinions in writing
and he would then present his own opinion as that of the majority.
Though Suetonius presents this as a sign of Nero’s insecurity as a
judge, his insistence on having the opinions of his councillors in
writing does not necessarily make him a bad judge.125 According to
Tacitus, Nero attempted to restrict appeals to him, telling the Senate
that he would not become ‘a judge of all cases’ (negotiorum omnium
iudicem, Ann. 13.4). However, one of the major complaints of the era
from the reigns of Caligula to Nero was the influence of persons in the
imperial court, especially women and imperial freedmen, who used
maiestas charges in political power-struggles. These claims, coming as
they do from authors like Tacitus, also represent their dislike of the
influence of persons they considered their inferiors.126
During the time of Nero another important feature appeared: the
rise of the jurisdiction of the urban prefect. Tacitus (Ann. 14.41)
records that a case regarding the forgery of a will was contested in
front of both the urban prefect and the quaestio de falsis, only to end
up in the Senate.127 Whether or not this should be interpreted as a
sign of how the regular appeals process went or a sign of forum
shopping by litigants is debatable. There are a few other examples
of appeals during the reign of Nero. One is a scandalous case related
by Tacitus, involving magic and incest by members of a senatorial
family.128 The other is the appeal of the apostle Paul in the court of
the procurator of Judea, Festus, to be heard by the emperor.129 The
appeals of provincials were not always successful; Tacitus mentions
222 maintains that Claudius began the practice of having the Senate approve his
orationes held by a legate.
123 124
Tac. Ann. 13.33. Tac. Ann. 14.50.
125
Suet. Ner. 15; Bauman, Lawyers and Politics (1989), 134–6.
126
See e.g. Dinsberg, Representing Agrippina (2006). Beyond misogyny, the sen-
atorial class had plenty to oppose in the situation, see McAlindon, ‘Senatorial Oppos-
ition’ (1956), 113–32.
127
128
Tac. Ann. 16.8.2–3; Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 510.
129
Acts 22.25–6, 23.27, 25.6–22; Lactant. De mort. pers. 2.6; Euseb. Hist. eccl.
2.22–3; Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 510–11.
how Nero would let a case against his procurator drag out until the
man died of old age. However, a few years later Nero banished a
senator who had used imperial favour for financial gain.130 He con-
victed Fabricius Veiento, relegated him, and ordered his books to be
burned.131 Most of the cases that are known from the time of Nero are
the familiar mixture of power-struggles and conspiracies.132 The
persecution against Christians and the mass executions that followed
in AD 64 were possibly overseen by Nero himself, but how much the
case can be seen as a trial is questionable.133
Similarly, in the famous AD 61 case debated in the Senate about the
punishment of the slaves of the murdered city prefect, Pedanius
Secundus (Ann. 14.42–5), the role of Nero is unclear, as his insistence
is the final word on both the execution of the 400 slaves as well as the
sparing of his freedmen, so as not to tarnish the ancient custom with
brutality (per saevitiam). It is not known what role in his decision was
played by the crowds of people demonstrating outside the Senate
against the killing of so many innocents, especially women and
children. While the main thrust of the argument was the putative
mos maiorum and the need to keep slaves under control, the case
highlighted the way that even the Senate’s jurisdiction was ultimately
under imperial control. Even though the Senate debated extensively
about the correct interpretation of the law, with eminent lawyers like
Cassius Longinus participating, the end result demonstrated how free
the emperor’s resolution was in relation to law. Nero would later
underline the point further by exiling Cassius Longinus in 65.134
130
Tac. Ann. 13.33.1, 14.50; Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 526.
131
Tac. Ann. 14.50. He had originally been accused of libel in the Senate, but Nero
took the accusation for misappropriation of his own judgment.
132
A large number of these kinds of cases were handled by the Senate. The
accusations against Agrippina in 55 resulted in calumny trials and sentences against
her accusers, but it is uncertain whether they were judged by Nero himself (Tac. Ann.
13.19–22). Piso’s conspiracy in 65 was handled by Nero (Tac. Ann. 15.66–74; Suet.
Ner. 36.2).
133
Tac. Ann. 15.44; Suet. Ner. 16.2; Tert. Apol. 4.4, 5.3; Lactant. De mort. pers. 2.5;
Euseb. Hist. eccl. 2.25.5–7; Schilling, Poena extraordinaria (2010), 250–1; Liebs,
Summoned to the Roman Courts (2012), 114–24.
134
Of the controversies regarding the SC Silanianum and its application in the
case, see Harries, ‘Senatus Consultum Silanianum’ (2013), esp. 60–3; Nörr, ‘Cassius
Longinus’ (1983), 187–96 (with reference to the ample earlier literature). See also
Kajanto, ‘Tacitus’ (1970) on the curious reference to the vetus mos and the fact that the
SC Silanianum dates from AD 10.
The common image parsed from the sources is that law was
beginning to be a central preoccupation of the emperor, whether or
not he was so inclined. Of the early emperors, only Galba (r. AD 68–9)
had apparently studied law among other liberal arts,135 but his short
reign was plagued by the injustices of his freedmen.136
From the time of Vespasian (r. AD 69–79) onwards, approachability
and openness to the people for consultation as well as industrious
adjudication are central virtues of the emperor, who was expected to
act as a judge, hold audiences, and answer petitions.137 Only a few of
Vespasian’s cases are known, such as one where he sentenced the
Cynic Demetrius to be banished.138 Demetrius had earlier gained
notoriety for defending Publius Egnatius Celer, who had acted as an
informer for Nero against his former student Barea Soranus and
became famous for his ingratitude to his benefactor and the vast
reward he received from Nero. In this famous case, Celer was sen-
tenced to death by the Senate during the time of Vespasian. After this
judgment, Celer’s accusers turned their attention to the persons
involved in the case and asked the emperor to reveal their names
from the imperial chancellery.139 What this case demonstrated is that
while the delatores could in theory gain much from accusing
the enemies of emperors, they were very vulnerable after a change
of power.140
While approachability was a central virtue and one behind the
popularity of appealing to the emperor on legal matters, reaching
the emperor was, in practice, not as simple as one might assume from
the general statements. Access was easier for those with friends and
connections. One of the issues deriving from both the centrality of the
emperor and challenges in gaining an audience past the cubicularii is
the way that persons near the emperor gained importance precisely
due to their proximity to him. The imperial officials, caesariani, but
also minor characters, were thought to be invaluable in the process, a
conviction that was richly reflected in the narratives about emperors
135 136
Suet. Galb. 5.1. Cass. Dio 64.2.1–2.
137
Suet. Vesp. 10; Cass. Dio 65(66).10.5.
138
Suet. Vesp. 13; Cass. Dio 65(66).13.1.
139
The episode is mentioned in Tac. Hist. 4.40, where the issue comes up during
Domitian’s first entrance to the Senate. He wisely defers the matter to Vespasian.
140
The figure of the delator was not purely an invention of the empire, but its
centrality was unparallelled in the narratives of Tacitus. On the extensive literature on
delatores, see Robinson, ‘Delators’ (2007).
and the imperial court. Epictetus, a Greek philosopher, provides a
telling viewpoint of the way that a worthless cobbler would suddenly
become a person of great importance after becoming the emperor’s
cobbler. Epictetus shows how a vast number of persons both in Rome
and in the provinces both depended on the emperor and feared him,
since promotion and punishment were equally possible for those
taken to meet the emperor.141
Though a number of sources portray the time of Domitian (r. AD
81–96) as a reign of terror, we have little indication in the sources to
suggest that his adjudication was particularly bad. On the contrary, as
emperor, Domitian was a conscientious and scrupulous judge, though
he behaved unpredictably towards his courtiers. Suetonius even
writes that he had, on appeal, reversed verdicts of the centumviral
court. From the reign of Domitian we also hear of projects in which
he undertook the correction of public morals by punishing Vestal
Virgins for immorality.142 Similar moral campaigns included the ban
on castration and other legislation.143 Several trials for maiestas were
handled by the emperor himself.144 Philostratus provides a lengthy
account of the trial of Apollonius of Tyana for sorcery and conspir-
acy, in which he was tried by Domitian himself.145 However, the
image of the emperor could be very different in the provinces. For
example, in Syria the inhabitants inscribed an order of Domitian
that forbade the requisitioning of pack animals by corrupt officials
travelling through the area. The officials were also in the habit of
demanding lodgings, which was equally censured.146 These kinds of
complaints about the repressive burdens placed on local people by
officials are a common feature in just about every pre-modern state.
141
Epictetus, Discourses 1.19. Epictetus was slave to Epaphroditus, a one-time a
libellis of Nero. Millar, ‘Epictetus’ (1965). On access and privilege, see Garnsey, Social
Status and Legal Privilege (1970), 85.
142
Suet. Dom. 8.1–3; Plin. Ep. 4.11; Cass. Dio 67.4.2, 67.17.
143
See Grelle, ‘Correctio morum’ (1980).
144
Mettius Pompusianus (Suet. Dom. 10.3; Cass. Dio 67.12.2), Acilius Glabrio
(Suet. Dom. 10.2; Cass. Dio 67.14.3; Juv. 4.94); Salvidienus Orfitus, the future emperor
Nerva and a man simply known as Rufus (Suet. Dom. 10.2; Philostr. V A 7.8–10);
Ephaphroditus (Suet. Dom. 14.4; Cass. Dio. 67.14.4); Flavius Clemens (Suet. Dom.
15.1; Cass. Dio 67.14.1).
145
Philostr. V A 8.1–4; De Angelis, ‘The Emperor’s Justice’ (2010), 148–51. The
reliability of the account is debatable at best due to the panegyric style.
146
MW 466; Lewis, Greek Historical Documents (1974), 28; Oliver, Greek Consti-
tutions (1989), 125–8.
Even the response of Domitian followed the stock reply of a ruler far
away who seeks to show his concern.
With regard to Trajan (r. AD 98–117), a similar picture of an
industrious judge who sat with his consilium emerges. Cases from
provincials began making their way to the emperor, who, in his
rescripts, begins to outline imperial policies as well as replies to
individual cases in the provinces.147 Trajan also gave a great deal of
attention to civil administration. He conducted trials in the Forum of
Augustus, the Portico of Livia, and elsewhere on a tribunal.148
A number of historians paint an admiring picture of Trajan’s legal
reforms: that he curbed the influence of delatores, ended the maiestas
trials, and protected the rights of minors. Trajan is called ‘the per-
sonification of supreme justice’, who thought that although ‘the letter
of the law was supreme . . . the spirit of humane justice should pre-
vail’.149 Trajan is also one of the first emperors from whose reign
there are cases mentioned at length in the legal sources.150 These
rescripts appear to confirm the enlightened opinion on Trajan’s
adjudication. A rescript of Trajan to Julius Fronto decrees that in
criminal cases a person should not be condemned in absentia. To
Adsidius Severus he wrote that no one should be condemned on a
suspicion, that it was better for a guilty man to go free than an
innocent man to be condemned.151 Another rescript of Trajan in
the Digest admits that greed had led the imperial treasury to confis-
cate the property of relegated persons.152
The positive view of Trajan’s jurisdiction in the ancient sources is
not confined to Pliny and the legal sources. Even Dio Chrysostom
says of Trajan that the one above the law must have the best sense of
justice, just as the one to whom all is permitted must have the best
self-control.153 As ideal kingship theories go, Dio’s view was quite
close to that presented by Seneca earlier and reflects the view of the
emperor as the law animate.
Much of our knowledge of Trajan comes from the letters of Pliny,
especially in the depiction of his time in Trajan’s consilium in
147
Plin. Ep. 4.22, 6.22, 6.31, 7.6, 10.97; Dig. 37.12.5.
148 149
Cass. Dio 68.10.2. Bennet, Trajan (1997), 118–37.
150 151
Dig. 37.12.5. Dig. 48.19.5.
152
Dig. 48.22.1. Another rescript of Trajan’s in the Digest (Dig. 29.1.24) deals with
military wills.
153
Dio Chrys. Or. 3.10.
Centumcellae.154 On the formal aspect of Trajan’s jurisdiction, Pliny
remarked that Trajan abided by formalities and laws with utmost
punctuality and reverence. For example, if he was holding the con-
sulate and someone approached him with a case and addressed him
as emperor, he would respond that he was a consul. He would equally
forward to the praetors cases that he thought belonged to them.155
To sum up: The emperor, as described by the sources, is busy and
surrounded by his advisers. The availability of the emperor is funda-
mental to all administration, including the administration of law,
because everyone who had access to the emperor could potentially
influence his decisions. Thus, one had better chances to prevail in a
legal case if one could present the case to the emperor in person.156
This naturally led to more petitions being presented to him. During
the period from Tiberius to Trajan, law emerged as the personal
responsibility of the emperors. Though the Senate functioned as a
court of law in many cases, its jurisdiction was closely linked with that
of the emperor.157 According to Pomponius, several of the early
emperors advanced the functioning of the law by appointing prefects
and additional praetors to deal with specific issues.158
However, the form that imperial jurisdiction took has been
debated. Some have argued that the process was more or less ad
hoc and depended on the circumstances, while others have main-
tained that there was a regular imperial court of law. It is probable
that the factor of distance reduced the volume of petitions and
accusations by provincials that made their way to the emperor.
However, it is clear that the emperor was approachable by anyone
with sufficient persistence. How the cases were dealt with, and what
procedure was applied, might have depended on the suggestion of
the parties.159 It has been suggested that there were two parallel
developments in imperial legal practice, one being the private
response to petitions and the other the regular imperial court.
According to this theory, the emperor’s voluntary jurisdiction partly
evolved from private arbitration and partly from his imperium,
and that should not be confused with the later regular imperial
154
Plin. Ep. 6.22, 6.31, 7.6; Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 525–6.
155
Plin. Pan. 77.3–4.
156
Eck, ‘Government and Civil Administration’ (2000), 195, 212.
157
158
Dig. 1.2.2.32.
159
Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 524–5.
court. The imperial appeals system has similarly a confused proced-
ural background, being both an appeal before and after sentencing.160
In contrast to this theory of spontaneous and irregular jurisdiction,
there are a number of theories on the creation of a designated
imperial court of law. One of the more substantial ones is Bleicken’s
theory of the Senate as the supreme court of the Early Principate that
is gradually replaced by the emperor’s own court.161 Bleicken’s theory
has been disputed, with critics maintaining that seven known trials
involving the Senate during the time of Augustus hardly constitutes
proof of it being a regular supreme court.162 Kunkel argues that only
during the reign of Tiberius does the Senate gain such a central role,
while Garnsey maintains that though the Senate was not a court for
the senatorial elite alone, the cases are very much biased towards it.163
Richardson, on the basis of the SC de Pisone patre, argued that the
Senate’s jurisdiction was based on a gradual encroachment on areas
under the quaestiones perpetuae, especially maiestas.164 What these
theories overlook is how divided the narratives of imperial and
senatorial jurisdiction are. Most of the narratives depict actions
within the imperial court circles in Rome, where cases had a high
political significance. Senatorial authors like Tacitus would emphasize
the role of the Senate, but equally the way that emperors influenced
legal proceedings unofficially. It is not a coincidence that the theories
of the Senate’s jurisdiction are mostly based on material from Tacitus.
Suetonius and Dio, as is typical of their narratives, focus on the
emperor as sole judge. Similarly, the sources outside Rome tended
to concentrate on the emperor and his jurisdiction. What all of these
sources agree upon is that the will of the emperor was crucial in
whatever form that imperial adjudication took.
There is other, indirect evidence that the emperor was a regular
presence in the law courts. Quintilian’s Institutio oratoria offers
advice to pleaders in different courts of law. In the private cases in
front of a iudex, one is recommended to take one’s time in getting up
and arranging one’s toga. In the public courts, in front of the
160
Wieacker, Römische Rechtsgeschichte (2006), 26–7.
161
Bleicken, Senatsgericht und Kaisergericht (1962), 74, 79–81.
162
Bleicken, Senatsgericht und Kaisergericht (1962), 93–100; Kunkel, ‘Review of
Bleicken’ (1964), 365.
163
Kunkel, ‘Die Entstehung’ (1974); Garnsey, Social Status and Legal Privilege
(1970), 33–42.
164
Richardson, ‘SC de Cn. Pisone patre’ (1997), 517–18.
emperor, a magistrate, or a tribunal, that is not allowed.165 If it is
necessary to give advice on how to appear while pleading a case in
front the emperor, we may safely assume that this was more or less a
regular occurrence.
Pleading in front of an emperor could take place in many different
locations. The fact that Claudius heard the Alexandrian embassies in
a park was not unusual in itself. From the indications in Roman
literature, it would appear that during this period most of the trials
presided over by emperors took place in the Forum (Fig. 3.1). De
Angelis convincingly claims that the imperial intrusion into the
Forum and other public places was not coincidental, and served to
highlight the growing power of the emperor over the law and the
sidelining of Republican institutions.166 The fact that the emperor
was dispensing justice in the Forum would not only be interpreted in
the way that imperial power had taken over the Forum, the traditional
political and legal centre of Rome, but it is equally a sign of how much
openness and accessibility were a part of the emperor’s role. Sueto-
nius’ account of Claudius being harassed by petitioners, even though
exaggerated, is indicative of the physical closeness that petitioners
gained to the emperor (see Fig. 3.2). The pleaders:
would not only call him back when he left the tribunal, but would catch
hold of the fringe of his robe, and sometimes of his foot, and thus detain
him. . . . a Roman knight . . . hurled the stylus and tablets which he held
in his hand into the emperor’s face with such force as to cut his cheek
badly, at the same time loudly reviling his cruelty and stupidity.
adeo causidicos patientia eius solitos abuti, ut discedentem e tribunali
non solum voce revocarent, sed et lacinia togae retenta, interdum pede
apprehenso detinerent. . . . Equitem quidem Romanum . . . graphium et
libellos, quos tenebat in manu, ita cum magna stultitiae et saevitiae
exprobratione iecisse in faciem eius, ut genam non leviter perstrinxerit.167
It is interesting that while these episodes are presented as signs of
Claudius’ weakness, the underlying assumption is that the emperor
165
Quint. Inst. 11.3.156.
166
De Angelis, ‘The Emperor’s Justice’ (2010), 127–59. Dispensing justice in the
Forum: Cass. Dio 57.7.2–6 (Tiberius); Tac. Ann. 12.43 (Claudius); Cass. Dio 65
(66).10.5 (Vespasian); Suet. Dom. 8.1 (Domitian); Other places: Suet. Claud. 33
(Claudius in the Forum of Augustus); Cass. Dio 69.7.1 (Trajan at the Forum, Portico
of Livia, and in the Pantheon).
167
Suet. Claud. 15. Tr. Rolfe.
O
L
Emperors as Judges from Tiberius to Trajan

M
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A Basilica Fulvia J Temple of Concord FORUM ROMANUM

B Regia L Carcer
C Aedes Vestae O Curia Julia AND VIA SACRA UNDER CLAUDIUS
D Atrium Vestae P Domus Regis Sacrorum A site plan presenting the new changes introduced after Caesar in relation
with Via Sacra and its private buildings.
E Lacus luturnae and the stairs Q Domus Publica General sources:
F Castores R Temple of Divus Julius H. Broise & J. M. David 1984; La Rocca 1990 (E. Monaco); F. Coarelli 2007
G Basilica Julia S Arch of Augustus Individual buildings:
H Temple of Saturn T Porticus of Julia A. Carandini (D. Filippi) 2010 (B,P,Q); F. Coarelli 2007 (A, G); Guldager & Poulsen
2008 (F); R. T. Scott 2009 (C,D); E. M. Steinby 2012 (E, S)
165
I Rostra copyright Juhana Heikonen 2015
Fig. 3.1. Forum Romanum during the reign of Claudius. Reconstruction by Juhana Heikonen.
Fig. 3.2. Relief (Plutei Traiani) of the seated emperor Trajan in the Forum. Line drawing from the original relief by Juhana
Heikonen.
was expected to tolerate the closeness and the turbulence of the court
situations, but that the attacking of the person of the emperor crossed
the line. A similar account by Tacitus of Claudius being harassed by
people in the Forum while sitting in judgment showed him being
attacked by the mob and forced to retreat to a corner before being
rescued by troops (Ann. 12.43).
In Tacitus’ narrative, exceptional trials could take place in the
imperial cubiculum, outside the view of the public. For example, the
trial of Valerius Asiaticus by Claudius was held intra cubiculum,
which Tacitus clearly presents as one of the many troubling features
of this case instigated by Messalina.168 These trials were used to
demonstrate the murky nature of political justice. Thus, when Nero
comes to the throne, one of his first promises would be to limit his
judicial activities and to abolish trials in cubiculum:
He [Nero] would not constitute himself a judge of all cases, secluding
accusers and defendants within the same four walls and allowing the
influence of a few individuals to run riot. Under his roof would be no
venality, no loophole for intrigue: the palace and the state would be
things separate.
non enim se negotiorum omnium iudicem fore, ut clausis unam intra
domum accusatoribus et reis paucorum potentia grassaretur; nihil in
penatibus suis venale aut ambitioni pervium; discretam domum et rem
publicam.169
Philostratus relates that the trial of Apollonius under Domitian took
place in the imperial palace as well, but not in cubiculum. The
location is described by Philostratus as an auditorium, a large hall
purpose-built for rhetorical presentations. A large audience of not-
ables would have gathered to hear the trial. In the account of Philos-
tratus, it is precisely this audience, with its applause, that forces
Domitian to acquit Apollonius, despite his intention to convict him.
Though the duality of imperial adjudication has often been seen as
that between the Forum and the cubiculum, that distinction was
slowly being eroded by the monumentalization of the Palatine and
the vast reception halls built there (Fig. 3.3).170
168 169
Tac. Ann. 11.1–2. Tac. Ann. 13.4.
170
Philostr. V A 8.1–4; De Angelis, ‘The Emperor’s Justice’ (2010), 148–53. On the
change of imperial places and justice and their perceptions, see also Färber, Römische
Gerichtsorte (2014), 69–91.
0 5 10 20 50m
DOMUS FLAVIA DOMUS AUG.
PORTICUS
“BASILICA” “AULA REGIA” “LARARIUM” N
PERISTYLIUM
MYMPHAEUM
CENATIO IOVIS
Domus Flavia. 1:1000. Juhana Heikonen

Fig. 3.3. The Domus Flavia in Palatium, showing the large reception halls
(conventionally named Basilica and Aula Regia). Reconstruction by Juhana
Heikonen.
DEFINING IMPERIAL POWERS: LEX DE
IMPERIO VESPAS IANI
There were even official attempts to legally define the powers of the
Roman emperor. The only such attempt to have left us with a text of
the law is the lex de imperio Vespasiani from the year 70. However,
even that rare law demonstrates the importance of precedent and
history in the understanding of the duties and powers of the
emperor. While Seneca and the practice of imperial adjudication
emphasize imperial sovereignty and unlimited scope in the field of
law, the lex de imperio Vespasiani (CIL VI 930, 31207=ILS 244) was
the first instance where these principles were stated outright. The
purpose of this section is to investigate the lex de imperio Vespasiani
in light of imperial adjudication and jurisdiction. While the law
remains silent on adjudication, its emphasis on discretionary powers
and exempla are indicative of how one may approach the gradual
development of imperial adjudication through exceptionality and
new practices.
The famous lex de imperio Vespasiani,171 known from epigraphic
evidence, was a piece of comitial legislation that granted the powers of
the emperor to Vespasian in December 69. The text is known from a
large bronze tablet discovered by Cola di Rienzo in the fourteenth
century and currently held at the Musei Capitolini in Rome. The text
of the law is partially preserved, in that there would have been
another tablet preceding the surviving one, which Cola di Rienzo
may or may not have seen at the time of discovery but has since been
lost. Thus the title of the law, lex de imperio Vespasiani, is a modern
reconstruction, the original being unknown. From the historical
records we can gather that the promulgation of the law was a speedy
affair. Just a day or two after the killing of Vitellius, the previous
emperor, the Senate recognized Vespasian as the new ruler, and a lex
rogata containing the preserved passages was probably issued in
171
Last, ‘Princeps and the Constitution’ (1936), 404–8; De Martino, Storia (1974),
4:462–467; Brunt, ‘Lex de imperio Vespasiani’ (1977), 95–116; Lucrezi, Leges super
principem (1982); Hurlet, ‘Lex de imperio’ (1993); Purpura, ‘Tavola perduta’ (1998);
Mantovani, ‘Les clauses’ (2005); López, Poder del príncipe (2006); Mantovani,
‘Le clausole’ (2006); Malavolta, ‘Sulla clausola discrezionale’ (2008); Levick, ‘Lex de
imperio Vespasiani’ (2009); Mantovani ‘Lex «regia» de imperio Vespasiani’ (2009).
January. Vespasian was still in Alexandria, and even the commander
of his forces in Italy was not yet present in Rome.172
The surviving text of the lex is arranged in eight clauses and a
sanction. The beginning of the text is missing, including the preamble
and possibly a whole tablet’s-worth of material.173 The extant text
begins with a list of what Vespasian is lawfully allowed to do and the
precedent from earlier emperors for each right. He may make treaties
(like Augustus, Tiberius, and Claudius); he may hold a session of the
Senate and propose motions to the Senate (like Tiberius and Claud-
ius); that even decisions of extraordinary sessions of the Senate
convened by Vespasian had the power of law (no precedent is cited
here); he may endorse candidates in elections (no precedent), and he
may extend the pomerium (like Tiberius). Then the text moves on to
the potentially most interesting part, the sixth clause, also known as
the discretionary clause:
And that whatever he shall deem to be according to the custom of the
res publica and the ‘greatness’ of divine and human, public and private
matters, there be right and power for him to undertake and to do, just as
there was for the divine Augustus, Tiberius Iulius Caesar Augustus, and
Tiberius Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus; . . .
utique quaecunque ex usu rei publicae maiestateque diuinarum |
huma<na>rum publicarum priuatarumque rerum esse {e} | censebit, ei
agere facere ius potestasque sit, ita uti diuo Aug(usto), Tiberioque Iulio
Caesari Aug(usto), | Tiberioque Claudio Caesari | Aug(usto) Germanico
fuit; . . . 174
To underline the point about the wide discretionary powers of Ves-
pasian, the rest of the text states that not only is the emperor not
bound by laws, but also whatever he did before this law was enacted
was also legal:
And that in whatever statutes or plebiscites it is written down, that the
divine Augustus, or Tiberius Iulius Caesar Augustus, and Tiberius
Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus should not be bound, the
172
Malavolta, ‘Sulla clausola discrezionale’ (2008), 105–6; Levick, ‘Lex de imperio
Vespasiani’ (2009); Brunt, ‘Lex de imperio Vespasiani’ (1977). On the discovery of the
inscription by Cola di Rienzo and the possibility of reconstructing the missing
passages from the account of the anonymous chronicler (Anonimo Romano), see
Bruun, ‘Riflessioni’ (2009).
173
Purpura, ‘Tavola perduta’ (1998).
174
Tr. Crawford, Statutes (1996), 553.
emperor Caesar Vespasian should be released from those statutes and
plebiscites; and that whatever it was appropriate for the divine Augus-
tus, or Tiberius Iulius Caesar Augustus, or Tiberius Claudius Caesar
Augustus Germanicus to do according to any statute or rogatio, it be
lawful for the emperor Caesar Vespasian to do all those things;
And that whatever before the proposal of this statute has been
undertaken, carried out, decreed or ordered by the emperor Caesar
Vespasian Augustus or by anyone according to his order or mandate,
they be lawful and binding, just as if they had been undertaken accord-
ing to the order of the people or plebs.
utique quibus legibus plebeiue scitis scriptum fuit, ne diuus Aug(ustus), |
Tiberiusue Iulius Caesar Aug(ustus), Tiberiusque Claudius Caesar Aug
(ustus) | Germanicus tenerentur, iis legibus plebisque scitis imp(erator)
Caesar | Vespasianus solutus sit; quaeque ex quaque lege rogatione |
diuum Aug(ustum), Tiberiumue Iulium Caesarem Aug(ustum), Tiber-
iumue | Claudium Caesarem Aug(ustum) Germanicum facere oportuit, |
ea omnia imp(eratori) Caesari Vespasiano Aug(usto) facere liceat; |
utique quae ante hanc legem rogatam acta gesta | decreta imperata ab
imperatore Caesare Vespasiano Aug(usto) | iussu mandatuue eius a
quoque sunt, ea perinde iusta rataq(ue) | sint, ac si populi plebisue
iussu acta essent.175
To summarize the convoluted legalese, the rights given are: (1) the right
to make treaties, (2) the right to convene the Senate and to pass decrees,
(3) that these decisions are made as if sanctioned by law, (4) the right to
extend the pomerium, (5) the right to select and endorse candidates for
office, (6) the right to do whatever he holds to be customary for the
advancement of the public good, (7) that the emperor is not bound by
laws and what was permitted by law for his predecessors, he shall also
be permitted to do, and (8) what he had done before is also lawful and
binding.176 It is, of course, highly debatable how much one could define
the imperial powers by the concept of rights, just as the concept of law
was problematic in this context.
There are some notable omissions that may or may not be due to
the fact that the first part of the law is missing. For the purpose of this
book, the most notable absence is that of any reference to the emperor
as judge. From the regular imperial powers, the absence of tribunicia
potestas and imperium proconsulare is equally noteworthy, though it
175
Tr. Crawford, Statutes (1996), 553.
176
Crawford, Statutes (1996), n. 39.
is possible that they were either conferred by a separate assembly or
that it was seen to be included in rights (2) and (3).177 Clause 6, the
first of the discretionary clauses, has obviously caused the most
discussion, as the wording of the text is less than clear: ex usu rei
publicae maiestate divinarum humanarum publicarum privatarum-
que rerum esse censebit, ei agere facere ius potestasque sit (ll. 17–19). It
has been suggested that this was either an emergency clause or a
clause raising the emperor above the law. The first is not indicated in
the text, while the second option would make the rest of the law
logically redundant. It is true that the clause limits the emperor’s
options to what is customary in Rome and what he considers to be
to the greater majesty of matters divine and human, public and
private.178 That is not much of a limitation. Another theory is that
the clause was simply a show of trust, an authorization for the
emperor to act for the public good as he saw fit, regardless of existing
laws, but simultaneously noting that the emperor was legibus solutus.
Brunt even suggested that this would include not only legislation, but
by extension adjudication.179 The only limitation would have been
created by the description of the area in which the emperor is
supposed to act, limiting him through precedent and expectation.180
If the adjudicative duties of the emperor were not covered in a clause
in the missing part of the law, they would clearly be covered by the
discretionary clause. The genius of the wording in clause 6 is that it
simultaneously gives a blanket authorization but prohibits actions
that are unprecedented. In sum, everything is possible unless it is
done for the first time.
Much of the debate over the law has been whether the law actually
was a restatement of the customary powers and duties of the emperor
or if it gave new powers to Vespasian. Underlying this debate was the
177
Mantovani ‘Lex «regia» de imperio Vespasiani’ (2009), infers that it is possible that
the lex de imperio was just one of many acts that were used to confer to Vespasian the full
rights of the emperor. Whether there was a shared understanding of any fixed ‘rights’
that the emperor had is, of course, another issue.
178
Crawford, Statutes (1996), 549–50. The theories of it as an emergency clause are
quite popular, e.g. Last, ‘Princeps and the Constitution’ (1936), 404–8; De Martino, Storia
(1962), 4:443–4; Hurlet, ‘Lex de imperio’ (1993), 271–3. The raising of the emperor above
the laws was supported by Mommsen, Staatsrecht (1871–88), 2.2:909; Magdelain,
Auctoritas (1947), 92.
179
Brunt, ‘Lex de imperio Vespasiani’ (1977), 109–15.
180
Ando, Imperial Ideology (2000), 156–7; Crawford, Statutes (1996), 549–50;
Hurlet, ‘Lex de imperio’ (1993), 271–3.
larger issue of whether the law was a unique phenomenon or that
there were a series of similar laws conferring rights to successive
emperors.181 The theory that the law was tralatician found support
in the fact that the law mentioned the previous emperors who had
had the same rights. The theory that Vespasian would have been
granted rights surpassing his predecessors was similarly founded on
the basis that three of the existing clauses have no mention of
precedent.182
One major theory is that the document is tralatician and did not
limit or enlarge rights given to Vespasian. The fact that all but three
clauses cite the precedents of previous emperors conforms to this
theory, indicating that there would have been a series of laws for
different emperors. Even the three clauses with missing precedents
were not new rights, but rights that were given to emperors such as
Caligula or Nero, who were, either formally or in practice, not
remembered.183
One of the more recent theories claims that Vespasian wanted to
found his rule on a legal basis as a magistracy in addition to the
unstable hereditary autocracy.184 Based on the information about
previous grants of imperium, supporters of this theory assert that
Vespasian did not ask for and did not receive powers that exceeded
those voted to previous rulers.185 Would that mean that Vespasian
sought to limit the emperor’s power or that the emperor’s power had
some formal limits? Even Seneca had written that everything is
allowed for the emperor (Ad Pol. 7.2) and that he had absolute
authority (Clem. 1.1–3), but only under certain conditions.
This theory has recently been challenged by suggestions that the
three clauses were not about rights at all, but instead were for
the purpose of regulating the acts of the princeps and the effects
that they had.186 This would amount to a conscious reversal from
181
López, Poder del príncipe (2006), 204–5, outlines the very long discussion
on the tralatician nature of the lex de imperio. Mommsen, Staatsrecht (1871–88),
2.2:876–81) would appear to be the founder of the tralatician school, while
Hirschfeld, Kaiserliche Verwaltungsbeamten (1975), 475 initiated the theory of
the unique nature of the law. On the debate on the grant of imperium, see Levick,
‘Lex de imperio Vespasiani’ (2009).
182
Mantovani, ‘Le clausole’ (2006).
183
Brunt, ‘Lex de imperio Vespasiani’ (1977), 103–7.
184
Lucrezi, Aspetti giuridici del principato (1995), 166–7.
185
As demonstrated already by Brunt, ‘Lex de imperio Vespasiani’ (1977), 97–102.
186
Mantovani, ‘Les clauses’ (2005), 42–3; Mantovani, ‘Le clausole’ (2006).
the traditional interpretations that see the lex in the light of Ulpian’s
legal writings on the position of the emperor.187 It is true that the lex
de imperio Vespasiani is followed by later references to a lex regia
described by jurists,188 who allude to a lex granting powers to the
emperor. Such allusions, as well as the theories of the tralatician
nature of the lex de imperio, are tempting as they would provide an
answer to the mystery of the legal powers of the emperors and the
solitary extant law that explained how those powers came to be.
The fact that in clause 7 Vespasian was freed from the same laws as
his predecessors did not necessarily mean that he was freed from
observing all laws. Even though the law claims that there was prece-
dent extending all the way back to Augustus that the emperor was
limited by only his own good judgment, this was a normative state-
ment rather than a historical interpretation.189
While much of the older scholarship had emphasized the powers
and rights that the law granted to Vespasian, there have recently
emerged suggestions that the purpose of the law was not to say what
the emperor could do but what he should do. The significance of
examples is a recognized part of the Roman experience of governance,
and the early Principate is no exception. Emperors from Tiberius
onwards employed Augustus as a model in their governance. This
theory suggests that the meaning of exemplary governance extends
well beyond the reputation of individual rulers to defining the legality
and legitimacy of imperial positions. Therefore, it was vital to define
good and bad emperors, to delimit acceptable and unacceptable behav-
iour. This also explains why the bad emperors do not get mentioned in
the lex de imperio Vespasiani. Rather than using a strict and exhaustive
catalogue of powers that an emperor may possess, the tradition extend-
ing from the Republic stressed the use of exempla in a normative but
innovative fashion to show what was possible.190
The use of exempla is attested elsewhere in legal texts. For example,
the Flavian municipal law called lex Irnitana contains an interesting
general degree referring to legislation. According to this degree, the
187
Malavolta, ‘Sulla clausola discrezionale’ (2008), 112–19.
188
Gai. Inst. 1.5; Dig. 1.4.1; Cod. Iust. 6.23.3; Inst. Iust. 1.2.6; Const. Deo auctore 7.
189
Brunt, ‘Lex de imperio Vespasiani’ (1977), 108, 114–15. Brunt suggests that the
model of the lex de imperio dates from AD 37 and reflects the situation at the time, but
see equally Levick, ‘Lex de imperio Vespasiani’ (2009).
190
Peachin, ‘Exemplary Government’ (2007), 80–1, 85, 88–9; Hurlet, ‘Lex de
imperio’ (1993), 279; Ando, Imperial Ideology (2000), 156.
acts of the local magistrates should not be in contradiction to statutes,
plebiscites, decrees of the Senate, edicts, judgments or constitutions
of Augustus, Tiberius, Claudius, Galba, Vespasian, Titus, or Dom-
itian.191 The emperors notably absent from this list are Caligula,
Nero, Otho, and Vitellius. Though the absences may be explained
by damnatio, it should be noted that Caligula is absent both from here
and the lex de imperio Vespasiani, despite the fact that his memory
was not officially condemned. One possibility is that Caligula was not
thought to be a suitable exemplum.
Pliny is, as we will see, a staunch supporter of the theory of
exemplary government as a way of encouraging correct behaviour
instead of fixed constitutional rules. In a letter to Aristo, Pliny
mentions how practice was the Roman constitution, how the educa-
tion of a Roman gentleman involved so much observation of how the
state worked, how legislation was passed, the privileges of senators,
the powers of magistrates, and so on.192 Even Tacitus, who writes how
the selection of Vespasian was done with a near-routine procedure,
with the Senate voting to grant the emperor the usual honours and
privileges (cuncta solita),193 appears to support the idea that the
standard operating procedure was followed.
There is an interesting point about authorship of the senatuscon-
sultum that was passed a day after Vitellius, his son, and his brother
were killed, and that formed the basis of the lex de imperio Vespasiani.
While the exact events and the main actors that took part in them are
unclear, it is interesting that such a law would be passed immediately
after the transfer of power. Vespasian, being in Alexandria, could
hardly have been in a position to have influenced the content of the
law. Even the commander of his forces in Italy had not arrived in
Rome.194 There are, in essence, two options that are in any way
probable. The first is that the law was tralatician, and thus what the
Senate did was a copy-and-paste job; it took the old lex de imperio,
revised the list of precedents, and passed it without any debate on or
major changes in the content.195 The second option is that the Senate
191
Lex Irnitana IIIA (Ch. 19); González, ‘Lex Irnitana’ (1986), 147–243.
192 193
Plin. Ep. 8.14. Tac. Hist. 4.3.
194
Tac. Hist. 3.83–6, 4.2–4. The theory that the Lex de imperio Vespasiani followed
the preceding SC can be traced to Mommsen, Staatsrecht (1871–88), 2.2:877–8, but
has been supported by recent scholars like Hurlet, ‘Lex de imperio’ (1993) and
Lucrezi, Leges super principem (1982).
195
López, Poder del príncipe (2006), 204–5.
quickly formed a list of the powers of the emperor and the exempla
that the Senate thought were worth following. Since the incoming
emperor was an outsider, outlining in writing what was previously
thought to have been commonly understood was seen to be neces-
sary to uphold the legal and administrative traditions that had
developed.196
At the same time, one is faced with the issue of what the true
significance of such a law was. This relates to the issue of whether it
was a foundational text or a statement recognizing what already had
existed.197 Was there any sense in making a law to state that someone
is not bound by the law? What is clear is that such a text, with its legal
formulations and precedents, was important, at least in the same
sense as legal rituals and formalities were considered to have a value
of their own. If the fulfilment of rituals and formalities was not
important, it is hard to see why the Arval Brothers, a secretive priestly
collegium led by the emperor, made six different sacrifices connected
to the different powers granted to the emperor Otho (his election to
the consulate, priesthoods, tribunician power, acclamation as imper-
ator) during his four-month-long reign in AD 69.198 Formal legal acts
and the observation of what was thought to be correct procedure were
clearly not simply decorum, but a large part of what was considered
the right and proper way for an emperor to act and the Roman polity
to function.
Scholars have long recognized that the ambiguous nature of the law
was a crucial sign of the emperor’s advent into the Roman constitu-
tional structure. While some claim that the law was a contract
between the emperor, the Senate, and the Roman people, others
maintain that the contract was actually a dictate willed, constructed,
and imposed by the new emperor.199
The main point about the importance of lex de imperio Vespasiani
to the development of imperial jurisdiction is that it would reinforce
196
Eck, ‘Senatorische Führungsschicht’ (2009) has noted that Vespasian adopted a
policy of advancing the careers of the senatorial elite by elevating them to suffect
consulships, but used the same method to reward his own military allies.
197
Lanza, ‘Sovranità’ (2009), 184: ‘La lex de imperio ha una funzione importante
ma non centrale, non fondativa.’
198
Scheid, Fratrum Arvalium (1998), vol. 1, no. 40, pp. 99–105; Ando, ‘Republican
Constitutionalism’ (2013).
199
Lucrezi, Leges super principem (1982), 148–51 suggests that the text of the lex
would already have been formulated in the summer of 69.
both the discretionary powers of the emperor and the relevance of
examples in the way that imperial power was used. Both of these were
crucial components of the way in which imperial jurisdiction evolved.
While this theory is supported by the fact that it was clearly the
new emperor that held the factual power, as was evident from the fact
that his agents had just eliminated the competition, what it overlooks
is that while Vespasian had the power and the army, the Senate was
still the guardian of tradition and had access to lawyers. If the
authorship of the text lies in the Senate and the aristocracy, its aim
would thus not be to consolidate the power of the emperor, which
would have been largely redundant due to his victory in the field, but
to tie the newly minted emperor into the existing tradition. As the
clauses grant considerable retroactive powers and immunities to
Vespasian, it is understandable to ascribe authorship to his circle.
However, the rest of the text seeks to tie the emperor both to the
Republican framework of constitution and the actions of previous
emperors that were deemed acceptable by the aristocracy. Far from
the unfettered powers of the emperor presented by Seneca and Pliny,
the emperor of lex de imperio Vespasiani is constrained in his actions
by the weight of tradition. Even though the discretionary clause gives
him considerable liberty of action, that liberty is meant to be exercised
only in the way the imperial exempla demonstrate. Vespasian does, of
course, have the power to do whatever he wishes, but the aim of the
text is similar to Seneca’s De clementia and Pliny’s Panegyric of
Trajan: it illustrates how the emperor should act in order to be
counted among the good, exemplary emperors.
TACITUS AND TIBERIUS AS JUDGE
For the period from Tiberius to Domitian, Tacitus forms our most
important historical source. However, his presentation of history,
reflecting as it does his own values and prejudices, is problematic,
in ways which we will examine in the following section through his
portrayal of Tiberius’s adjudication. Tacitus’ portrayal of Tiberius is
rather hostile, but it nevertheless contains important information
about the understanding of the legal capabilities of the emperor.
While it has commonly been suggested that the depiction of Tiberius
is, for Tacitus, an image of Domitian and reflects the uneasy balance
of power between the emperor and the Senate,200 beyond this main
narrative Tacitus reveals a wealth of practical details on how the
emperor acted in the legal world. Reading the Tacitean narratives, it
should be kept in mind that Tacitus’ Tiberius is shown as a judge only
in high-profile cases involving the upper echelons of society. The
cases that Tacitus mentions are those that are decidedly not routine
or unremarkable, but rather events that were discussed and remem-
bered years afterwards. Consequently, it remains unclear whether this
reflects the actual situation or the conventions of historiography that
accentuate the exceptional and forget the routine.201
In general, Tacitus recounts a plethora of trials; a recent inquiry has
listed some 200 cases that were cited. Tacitus equally shows the rise of
the delatores and their central role in the trials for maiestas.202
However, the majority of trials are mentioned only briefly, often in
a barrage of trials to convey dramatic effect.203 The image one gets
from Tacitus is that imperial jurisdiction was largely optional and
linked to the Senate in its execution. That this is due to Tacitus’
emphasis on the rights of the Senate is possible, especially since
Pliny does not mention the Senate at all. On the other hand, Pliny
does mention routine cases and how they were handled, which are
invisible in Tacitus.204 On the whole, there is a dualism in the
description of imperial jurisdiction that reflects more generally the
image of emperors in Tacitus. On the one hand there is the routine of
jurisdiction, on the other, the cruelties and injustices that the
200
Syme, Tacitus (1958), 420–34. However, see Yavetz, Tiberio (1999) and Mellor,
Tacitus’ Annals (2011) for a reinterpretation of Tacitus’ predispositions in general and
about Tiberius specifically. See also Henry, Annals of Tacitus (1968); Mehl, Tacitus
über Kaiser Claudius (1974); Luce and Woodman, Tacitus and the Tacitean Tradition
(1993); Griffin, ‘Tacitus as a Historian’ (2009).
201
Devillers, Tacite et les sources (2003).
202
While the Tacitus’s narrative shows the delatores as universally despised, their
importance to imperial adjudication was great. They were given monetary rewards
and specific rules allowed their testimony to be presented in cases of maiestas even
though they would have otherwise been barred from making accusations (Dig.
48.4.7–8). On delatores, see Robinson, ‘Delators’ (2007); Rivière, Délateurs (2002)
and the references therein.
203
Bablitz, ‘Tacitus on Trial(s)’ (2014). Only four trials are treated with more than
45 lines (p. 70).
204
Especially in the early years, important cases were handled by the Senate: Tac.
Ann. 2.32, 2.67, 3.22, 4.15. On the criminal cases, see Schilling, Poena extraordinaria
(2010), 119–88.
emperors engaged in. A similar pattern is visible in the narratives of
the reigns of Tiberius, Caligula, Claudius, Nero, and Domitian.
The majority of lawsuits that Tacitus mentions Tiberius as having
handled are exceptional criminal cases. Tacitus records how Tiberius
examined a case of a praetor who had killed his wife:
About this time, the praetor Plautius Silvanus, for reasons not ascer-
tained, flung his wife Apronia out of the window, and, when brought
before the emperor by his father-in-law, Lucius Apronius, gave an
incoherent reply to the effect that he had himself been fast asleep and
was therefore ignorant of the facts; his wife, he thought, must have
committed suicide. Without any hesitation, Tiberius went straight to
the house and examined the bedroom, in which traces were visible of
resistance offered and force employed. He referred the case to the
senate, and a judicial committee had been formed, when Silvanus’
grandmother Urgulania sent her descendant a dagger. In view of
Augusta’s friendship with Urgulania, the action was considered as
equivalent to a hint from the emperor: the accused, after a fruitless
attempt with the weapon, arranged for his arteries to be opened.
Per idem tempus Plautius Silvanus praetor incertis causis Aproniam
coniugem in praeceps iecit, tractusque ad Caesarem ab L. Apronio socero
turbata mente respondit, tamquam ipse somno gravis atque eo ignarus,
et uxor sponte mortem sumpsisset. Non cunctanter Tiberius pergit in
domum, visit cubiculum, in quo reluctantis et impulsae vestigia cerne-
bantur. Refert ad senatum, datisque iudicibus Vrgulania Silvani avia
pugionem nepoti misit. Quod perinde creditum quasi principis monitu ob
amicitiam Augustae cum Vrgulania. Reus frustra temptato ferro venas
praebuit exolvendas.205
The case is significant in a number of ways. First of all, the accused is a
praetor, the chief jurisdictional magistrate responsible under the
Republican system and very high in the official hierarchy of the
Principate. The second is that the victim’s father appealed directly
to Tiberius, possibly immediately after the event. Tiberius rushes
right away (non cunctanter) to the scene of the crime as a one-man
imperial crime-scene unit and examines the traces of violence, ruling
205
Tac. Ann. 4.22. Tr. J. Jackson. Urgulania had even an earlier run-in with the
law, when she refused to obey a summons because of her friendship with Livia and
had to be coaxed to appear by a public display by Tiberius (Tac. Ann. 2.34), see also
Rogers, Criminal Trials (1935), 188–9. On Tacitus and the trial, see Hicks, ‘Prosecu-
tion of Silvanus’ (2013), 55–64; Bablitz, ‘Tacitus on Trial(s)’ (2014), 73. On Urgulania
and the law, see Sailor, Writing and Empire (2008), 30–2.
out suicide that the husband suggested. Case solved, Tiberius then
referred the case to the Senate, possibly due to the high rank of the
accused or the fact that cases such as these were normally within the
Senate’s jurisdiction. Nevertheless, the active agent in the case is
clearly Tiberius, who, after being appealed to, takes action.
It is unclear from the depictions of Tacitus what the relative
jurisdictions of the emperor and the Senate actually were. For
example, Tiberius also referred the trial of Piso to the Senate after
hearing the accusations and the answers of the accused with some
friends sitting as his assessors.206 In the case of Silvanus, despite the
fact that the trial had been assigned to a judicial committee of the
Senate, the emperor resolved it though indirect means (by the sug-
gestion of suicide). That Tiberius was actually behind the sending of
the dagger is naturally Tacitus’ interpretation that perhaps mirrors
the popular understanding at the time. Whether or not that reflects
the actual situation is, of course, debatable. However it may have
been, what is clear is that the emperor, despite recusing himself and
the case being assigned to the Senate, is understood as the invisible
hand whose presence is seen to influence the case.
Tacitus describes the inclusion of the emperor into the legal system
as a process of the gradual degradation of the Republican tradition.
During the early years of his reign, Tiberius would have been adam-
ant in restricting the involvement of the emperor in legal affairs. He
has Tiberius say that the old Romans had ruled that an offence should
be followed by a penalty, and this wise system should be followed:207
Princes have enough burdens—enough, even, of power: the rights of the
subject shrank as autocracy grew; and, where it was possible to proceed
by form of law, it was a mistake to employ the fiat of the sovereign.
satis onerum principibus, satis etiam potentiae. minui iura quotiens
gliscat potestas, nec utendum imperio ubi legibus agi possit.208
What Tiberius is saying is that it is unnecessary to use imperial power
where regular legal procedure is sufficient. Even here, Tacitus hints
that this pronouncement of republicanism was as rare as it was
politically calculated. The true intentions of Tiberius were obvious
to Tacitus, and it has been rightly claimed that Tacitus used the
murder of Agrippa Postumus after the death of Augustus to show
206 207
Tac. Ann. 3.10. Tac. Ann. 3.69.
208
Tac. Ann. 3.69. Tr. Jackson. This took place in the year 22.
that secrecy would be the guiding principle of Tiberius’ reign.209
What Tacitus intends to show is how this tendency became more
pronounced over time.
His opinion on the emperor’s entry into the legal world mirrors
Tacitus’ view of Tiberius’ rule in general as a process of constant
deterioration. At first the Senate was in charge, the discussion free,
and flattery was curtailed by the emperor himself. The magistrates
operated normally and the laws were not misused, with the exception
of cases of treason. The imperial staff was small and unassuming. If
there was a case between the emperor and a private citizen, the case
was resolved in a court of law. This happy state of affairs lasted until
the death of Drusus and the ascendancy of Sejanus.210
The case of Ennius in AD 22 is a good example of the defence of
senatorial interests in Tacitus. Lucius Ennius was, according to Taci-
tus, accused of maiestas because he melted a statuette of the emperor
into a silver plate. Tiberius barred the case from the court, though
Ateius Capito protested, saying that decision should have been one of
the Senate, not the emperor. Tiberius persisted in his decision, which
was a significant setback for Capito, a noted legal authority and a
favourite of the emperor.211 The interesting matter of principle
behind the dispute has not received too much attention, so it is
perhaps enlightening to elaborate on it. What Capito is suggesting
is that the image of the emperor is a symbol of the state and the office
of the emperor, and thus insults against it should have been in state
jurisdiction, that is, the jurisdiction of the Senate. However, Tiberius
had the opposite view, equating himself as a person and as the holder
of the office, giving him the power to decide whether his majesty had
been insulted or not. Thus, while the traditional view, as implied in
the SC de Pisone patre, was that the understanding of maiestas
equalled the majesty of the Roman people and the majesty of the
emperor,212 in this case Tiberius unilaterally severs this connection.
Because there was a widespread assumption that the emperor had
influence beyond the official and visible channels, as was seen in the
case of Silvanus, Tiberius became wary of even the appearance of an
influence behind the scenes over actions that he had nothing to do
with. For example, Tacitus mentions how Cocceius Nerva chose to
209
Kehoe, ‘Tacitus and Sallustius Crispus’ (1985), 247, 253.
210 211
Tac. Ann. 4.6–7. Tac. Ann. 3.70.
212
Ando, Law, Language, and Empire (2011), 105.
end his life by starvation. Because he was one of Tiberius’ closest
friends, his position was unchallenged, and his health good, the
decision caused some consternation. In fact, Tiberius went to plead
with him to choose life and to give some reason for wanting to die.
Furthermore, he said that it would cause serious damage to both his
own conscience and his reputation if one of his closest associates
chose death over life. Nerva refused all conversation and continued to
opt for death.213
While Tiberius, especially early in his reign, was respectful of the
authority of the Senate and sought to limit his own jurisdiction,
similar self-control was not typical of his later reign and the reigns
of his followers. According to Tacitus, Tiberius began the practice of
charging opponents with maiestas, but the use of maiestas trials
expanded under Claudius. Tacitus sees Claudius as a weak and
indecisive character who was guided by unscrupulous freedmen and
his scheming wife, Messalina.214
Tacitus shows the increasing corruption of imperial jurisdiction
during the time of Claudius through several notorious cases. He raises
the trial of Valerius Asiaticus by Claudius as an example of Messalina’s
corrupting influence. Asiaticus was tried intra cubiculum, in the
imperial bedchamber, not in the Senate as would have been customary.
Messalina, who was clearly behind the charges, was present to watch
her protégé Suillius present the accusations against her former lover
Asiaticus in order to destroy his mistress Poppaea, who was noted for
her beauty. Suillius presented charges of corrupting the military and
every form of infamy, including sexual effeminacy. The last accus-
ation provoked Asiaticus to defend his manhood, and his defence
clearly moved Claudius. This troubled Messalina, who had already
driven Poppaea to suicide before the trial. Claudius, who dined with
Poppaea’s husband a couple of days later, was completely unaware of
this, and asked why Poppaea had not joined them for dinner.215
Finally, when Messalina’s plot to kill Claudius was exposed, Messa-
lina, her lover Silius, and their associates were tried by Claudius and
executed; the trial was carefully orchestrated by his freedmen to
prevent Claudius from pardoning his wife.216
213
Tac. Ann. 6.26.
214
Mellor, Tacitus’ Annals (2011), 145 remarks that Tacitus was both misogynist
and xenophobe, not to mention his antipathy towards the lower classes.
215 216
Tac. Ann. 11.2. Tac. Ann. 11.34–8.
While Tacitus mentions numerous cases decided by emperors,
most of them give little information about the functioning of imperial
jurisdiction. Nevertheless, there are some indications of how cases
came to be judged by the emperor. Two were already mentioned
earlier in relation to Nero, the cases of imperial functionaries
who overstepped their limits. Tacitus recounts how Nero convicted
L. Fabricius Veiento because he had composed a series of books with
libellous attacks on senators and priests. Because the accuser had
added to the charges the accusation of selling imperial property,
Nero adjudicated the case himself.217 Tacitus mentions that when
Publius Celer was accused by the province of Asia, Nero could not
acquit him. Instead, he kept the case in abeyance until the defendant
died of old age.218 If the emperor was the supreme judge and enjoyed
unfettered power, why would Tacitus suggest that Nero could not
have acquitted him?
Tacitus clearly had a contradictory relationship with the laws in
general. The extent to which the law is equated with the emperor is
shown when Tacitus describes how after Pompey’s time, for two
decades, law and custom (mos) ceased to exist, but Augustus brought
laws that gave Rome both peace and imperial rule.219 However, of the
first triumvirate, Tacitus notes that when the state was at its most
corrupt it had the most laws.220
Tacitus’ image of the emperor’s jurisdiction and its transformation
is a reflection of the way that he approaches imperial power in
general. For him, the emperor is, or should be, clearly the princeps
senatus, the first among equal senators. Thus he emphasizes, with
clear determination, the role of the Senate in adjudication. Whether
this is an accurate reflection of the historical situation is, of course,
something that we cannot know for certain. However, the cases that
he relates are so clearly focused on the imperial family, the senatorial
elite of Rome, and their power-struggles and strife that imagining that
they reflect the whole of imperial adjudication would be misguided.
Like the panegyric literature that we will turn our attention to next,
the heavily critical approach of Tacitus to the growing imperial power
and the abuses of emperors can be seen as a form of flattery—an
217 218
Tac. Ann. 14.50. Tac. Ann. 13.33.
219
Tac. Ann. 3.28. See also Christ, ‘Tacitus und der Prinzipat’ (1978), 449–87.
220
Tac. Ann. 3.27 corruptissima re publica plurimae leges.
inverted flattery, to be precise.221 This means that the criticism he
presents is not unlike the criticism that Pliny aims against the ‘bad’
emperors, negative examples of unacceptable behaviour. However,
part of the blame Tacitus apportions to the weakness of the Senate
itself, which was unable to exert any kind of restraining influence on
the excesses of emperors in their adjudication.222
PLINY AND THE OPTIMUS PRINCEPS
Pliny’s good emperor is Trajan,223 with whom he worked on numerous

occasions as an assessor or a member of the consilium.224 Because of
this background, the judicial side is pronounced in Pliny’s letters as
well as in the panegyric to Trajan. In the following section I shall
explore the idealized image of Trajan as judge in the works of Pliny.
Like Seneca’s Nero should have been, Pliny’s Trajan is the proverbial
good judge, who is simultaneously conscientious and follows proced-
ure, but wisely seeks the advice of his council and tries to find the most
equitable solution, not only in Rome but through his correspondence,
for the whole empire.
Pliny’s story of working as Trajan’s councillor in Centumcellae
pictures him as an ideal judge. The story, contained in a letter to an
otherwise unknown Cornelianus and dated with some probability to
mid-107, is an interesting, though probably somewhat unusual,
depiction of imperial adjudication:225
I was delighted to be summoned by the Emperor to act as his assessor at
Centumcellae (as this place is called). Nothing could give me more
pleasure than to have first-hand experience of our ruler’s justice and
221
Wilson, ‘Tacitus, Suetonius, Juvenal’ (2003), 527.
222
Ginsburg, ‘In maiores certamina’ (1993), 102 argues that this impotence of the
Senate is evident in the case where Pedanius’ 400 innocent slaves were sentenced to be
killed (Tac. Ann. 14.42–5). However, this is perhaps not completely accurate, because
while some senators were able present only a weak protest, it was the majority of the
Senate that insisted on the execution.
223
Fell, Optimus princeps? (1992); Wolf, Politik und Gerechtigkeit (1978). On Trajan’s
style of government, see Millar, ‘Trajan’ (2004).
224
On Trajan’s consilium, see Tissoni, ‘Consilium principis’ (1965).
225
Sherwin-White, Letters of Pliny (1966), 391; Fell, Optimus princeps? (1992),
119–20.
wisdom and also to see his lighter moods, in the sort of country
environment where these qualities are easily revealed. There were
several different types of cases which tested his judicial virtues in
various ways. The first one was that of Claudius Ariston, the leading
citizen of Ephesus, popular for his generosity and politically harmless;
but he had roused the envy of people of a vastly different character who
had suborned an informer against him. He was accordingly cleared of
the charge and acquitted.
Evocatus in consilium a Caesare nostro ad Centum Cellas (hoc loco
nomen), magnam cepi voluptatem. Quid enim iucundius quam principis
iustitiam gravitatem comitatem in secessu quoque ubi maxime reclu-
duntur inspicere? Fuerunt variae cognitiones et quae virtutes iudicis per
plures species experirentur. Dixit causam Claudius Ariston princeps
Ephesiorum, homo munificus et innoxie popularis; inde invidia et a
dissimillimis delator immissus, itaque absolutus vindicatusque est.226
It would appear that the course of adjudication was also an intellectual
exercise in which the emperor and his counsellors were not pressed for
time or other constraints. Instead, the image is one of a pleasant holiday
pursuit.227 Pliny describes with some detail the three cases that were
examined, which shed light on a number of interesting issues.
While the first case was clearly one of political expediency and
wisdom, the second and third cases were more traditional, a case of
adultery and a case of a forged will. The second one concerned a
charge of adultery against one Gallitta, the wife of a military tribune,
who had had an affair with a centurion. The case had come to Trajan
from a governor to whom the husband reported it, probably because
the husband and wife were of senatorial rank. First, Trajan dismissed
the centurion and relegated him, which left the punishment of the
wife and possibly the husband. Despite the fact that the husband was
unwilling to divorce his wife and to press charges, Trajan nonetheless
convicted her according to the law. What is significant is that Trajan
made a statement on military discipline because he did not want all
cases of this kind to be referred to him.228 What the nature of the
226
Plin. Ep. 6.31. Tr. B. Radice, with slight modifications. Syme, ‘People in Pliny’
(1968), 139 recognizes Ariston as Ti. Claudius Aristion, known from epigraphic evi-
dence. Saylor, ‘Emperor as Insula’ (1972), 47 sees the narrative as a series of progressive
demonstrations of the emperor’s virtues.
227
Saylor, ‘Emperor as Insula’ (1972).
228
Plin. Ep. 6.31 commemorationem disciplinae militaris sententiae adiecit; Sherwin-
White, Letters of Pliny (1966), 394.
statement was is unclear, but it is clear is that the emperor did not
want to deal with such issues. Despite this, he obviously thought it
necessary to see the case through and not refer it forward to the
Senate, as he could have done.
The third case mentioned in the same letter was one of a forged
will, which had caused a number of public rumours since it involved a
Roman knight named Sempronius Senecio and an imperial freedman
procurator called Eurythmus. While the case was interesting in and of
itself, the situation surrounding the litigation was even more so:
The heirs had written a letter together to the Emperor while he was in
Dacia, begging him to conduct the inquiry. He had agreed to do so, and
had fixed a date for the trial on his return. Then he found that some of
the heirs were reluctant to appear against Eurythmus and intended to
drop the case, but he had very properly declared that ‘He is not
Polyclitus nor am I Nero.’
Heredes, cum Caesar esset in Dacia, communiter epistula scripta, petier-
ant ut susciperet cognitionem. Susceperat; reversus diem dederat, et cum
ex heredibus quidam quasi reverentia Eurythmi omitterent accusatio-
nem, pulcherrime dixerat: ‘Nec ille Polyclitus est nec ego Nero.’ 229
Only two of the heirs had appeared at the trial, and asked that either
all of them should be forced to act as accusers or that they would be
allowed to drop the case altogether. When the advocates of Senecio
and Eurythmus complained that they should be given a hearing
lest their reputation be tarnished by the accusations, Trajan noted
that he is more worried about his own reputation, an apparent
reference to the fact that influential imperial functionaries were
involved in the case.230
There are two very remarkable things that should be noted. First of
all is the very fact that one could write to the emperor while he is out
on campaign or in the provinces, and that the emperor would actually
answer and follow through with the promise he made. That would
imply that there was an imperial legal structure that actually worked.
The emperor answered the pleading of the heirs, and instead of
simply referring the case to the courts, commits himself to resolving
it at a later date. Second is that the emperor is acutely conscious of the
power of appearances. A powerful imperial freedman is being
accused, and the accusers are so afraid of him that, even in front
229 230
Plin. Ep. 6.31. Tr. Radice, altered slightly. Plin. Ep. 6.31.
the emperor, they would rather withdraw the charges than risk the
consequences of revenge. A claim like this held a double conundrum,
one which no doubt both the accusers and Trajan were aware of. The
first is the historical memory of mighty imperial freedmen and their
abuses, which Trajan himself refers to while mentioning Nero and his
notorious freedman Polyclitus. The second is the challenge that the
accusers present to Trajan’s power, implying that the all-powerful
emperor would be unable or unwilling to protect them from his own
freedman. This double conundrum may be the reason why he chose
to take the case under his personal review.
It is evident from Pliny’s published correspondence, even without
taking into account Book 10 that contains his correspondence with
Trajan, that Pliny was within the emperor’s inner circle. In another
letter Pliny mentions how he sat in the emperor’s council when
Trajan was adjudicating.231 Being a member of the imperial consilium
was normally reserved for the most valued amici, a factor that Pliny
does little to hide.232
The published letters are a unique source of information of the
actual workings of the imperial legal and provincial administration,
not least because they tell of real cases and how they were dealt with
(with the obvious limitations posed by Pliny’s embellishments). At
times, the allusion that the letters convey is one of unsettled forms of
action and jurisdictional issues.233 For example, one of Pliny’s letters
details the workings of the imperial legal procedure in a case of
inheritance that was brought to Trajan by the deceased’s mother.
Trajan appointed Julius Servianus to try the case, and Pliny was
counsel for the defendants. After they had won the case, the mother
appealed to Trajan again, claiming to have new evidence. Trajan
appointed another man, Suburanus, to try the case.234 Another case
mentioned in the same letter, in which Varenus was prosecuted by
the Bithynians, was first brought to the consuls, who on the request of
the provincials referred the case to the emperor.235
231
Plin. Ep. 4.22. Interfui principis optimi cognitioni in consilium adsumptus. Also
Plin. Ep. 6.22. On the correspondence, see Stadter, ‘Pliny and the Ideology’ (2006).
232
Hammond, ‘Pliny on Government’ (1938), 118. On Pliny’s self-promotion, see
Gibson, ‘Pliny and the Art of (In)offensive Self-praise’ (2003).
233
Sherwin-White, ‘Trajan’s Replies to Pliny’ (1962) discusses whether or not
Trajan actually wrote the correspondence with Pliny. Henderson, ‘Portrait of the
Artist’ (2003), 116–17.
234 235
Plin. Ep. 7.6. Plin. Ep. 7.6.
Pliny’s image of Trajan corresponds with what Seneca describes as
the qualities of a good emperor-judge. He is wise, demonstrates
clementia, consults his advisers, and so on.236 The depiction of Trajan
as the ideal emperor was, of course, the main point of the Panegyric, a
speech Pliny delivered on 1 September of the year 100 on the occasion
of his attainment of a consulship (consul suffectus). It is noteworthy
that, although the literary genre of the panegyric was to become
popular, Pliny’s gratiarum actio, a version of a laudatio, was the
first speech by a consul or consul designate to be published. Pliny
himself mentions that the aim of publication was to encourage Trajan
to continue on what he considered to be the right path:237
I hoped in the first place to encourage our Emperor in his virtues by
sincere tribute, and, secondly, to show his successors what path to
follow to win the same renown, not by offering instruction but by
setting his example before them.
primum ut imperatori nostro virtutes suae veris laudibus commendar-
entur, deinde ut futuri principes non quasi a magistro sed tamen sub
exemplo praemonerentur, qua potissimum via possent ad eandem glor-
iam niti.238
In the Panegyric, Pliny mentions how it is said that the emperor is
above the laws, though it should be that the laws are above emperors:
non est princeps supra leges, sed leges supra principem.239 According to
one theory, Pliny here contrasts Trajan favourably with Domitian,
who held himself to be above the laws.240 In a way, the praise
showered on Trajan was a very senatorial portrait of what was
hoped and expected of the emperor. The emperor had supreme,
unrivalled power, but he should consider himself as equal to the
236
Saylor, ‘Emperor as Insula’ (1972), 47 on Trajan as the personification of
iustitia and gravitas.
237
Plin. Ep. 3.18; Roche, ‘Pliny’s Thanksgiving’ (2011), 3–5; Radice, ‘Pliny and the
“Panegyricus” ’ (1968); Bruère, ‘Tacitus and Pliny’s Panegyricus’ (1954). The views of
the older generation of scholars on Pliny may be summarized by the opening sentence
in Hammond, ‘Pliny on Government’ (1938): ‘Pliny the Younger was not a profound
thinker.’
238 239
Plin. Ep. 3.18.2. Plin. Pan. 65.1.
240
Brunt, ‘Lex de imperio Vespasiani’ (1977), 109; Hammond, ‘Pliny on Govern-
ment’ (1938), 124 shows that Trajan is seen as both Stoic law animate, but also a
consul who took the oath to obey the laws. On Stoicism and the virtues of the ruler, see
Braund, ‘Praise and Protreptic’ (1998). Radice, ‘Pliny and the “Panegyricus” ’ (1968),
166 notes how Pliny elsewhere deplored the idle flattery of such speeches. For the use
of negative examples, see Roche, ‘Pliny’s Thanksgiving’ (2011), 10–11.
senators. Thus there should be no excessive honours bestowed on
him, and he should avoid acting tyrannically, which most likely
translates that he should respect the Senate. The emperor’s accessi-
bility and his iustitia were directly important for the use of imperial
jurisdiction.241
While the circumstances are different, the aim, style, and function
of the speech is to a certain extent similar to Cicero’s Caesarian
speeches and Seneca’s De clementia. All of them sought to utilize
praise to guide the actions of the ruler by presenting to him images
and allusions of virtues that they felt the ruler should aspire to and
emulate. While part of the almost adulatory tone of both the Pan-
egyric and Pliny’s correspondence with Trajan may be due to literary
convention, Pliny was also part of the new aristocracy of the empire
that were raised to prominence by their connection with the
emperor.242
It is no surprise that the correspondence of Pliny with Trajan
strengthens the image of the emperor as a legal multi-functional
tool, who legislates, administrates, and adjudicates, but also acts as a
handy legal reference guide to whichever rules should be applied. The
role of the emperor is thus so central that for him to embellish it
further would be bad form. The ruler should strive for the public
good, and not consider his own status but rather seek to limit it. As an
example, Pliny mentions how Trajan restricted by law the infamous
bribery by unsavoury candidates, but had been acting at the request of
the Senate and the consuls.243
The final issue, that of the emperor acting as a kind of legal
librarian, is quite astonishing. For example, Pliny writes to Trajan
that several edicts and letters ranging from Augustus to Domitian
were read to him, but that he shall not repeat them since they were
bad copies and the originals are at the imperial scrinia. Trajan, in his
response, states that he did not find any general rules laid down by his
predecessors in the archives.244 Yet on another occasion Pliny adds a
law by Pompey and an edict of Augustus to his letter. Trajan notes
that the latter has repealed the former.245
Most of the legal issues dealt with in the letters to Trajan were cases
of political significance or involving the imperial treasury. Pliny wrote
241
Roche, ‘Pliny’s Thanksgiving’ (2011), 6–7.
242
Hammond, ‘Pliny on Government’ (1938), 116.
243 244 245
Plin. Ep. 6.19. Plin. Ep. 10.65–6. Plin. Ep. 10.79–80.
to Trajan asking for direction in a case involving the return of a
donation by a community to an individual. Trajan writes to Pliny that
though he had mandated (in an edict) that largesse should not be
given out of public money, donations given long ago should not
be revoked because it would be unreasonable to individuals.246
In some cases, cities would petition the governor to present their
case to the emperor. For example, Pliny sent a petition by the
Nicaeans regarding intestacy for Trajan to resolve. Trajan responded
that while the Nicaeans claim that an edict of Augustus entitles them
to the estate of intestate citizens, Pliny should resolve the issue by
summoning the interested parties and, with the assistance of imperial
procurators, go through the arguments in a formal inquiry.247 While
it is clear from Pliny’s rather apologetic cover letter to the petition
that forwarding such petitions was neither regular nor recommended,
Trajan’s reply underlines the point further.248
Trajan also refused to intervene in some cases. Pliny asked him to
settle a dispute over the applicable law on the recovery of debts in
Pontus and Bithynia, because the local ordinances did not have
sufficient weight and imperial authority would be needed to settle
the matter. Trajan referred to their respective laws and informed
Pliny that he did not think it would be proper to interfere in private
matters (in iniuriam privatorum).249
Several of Pliny’s letters to Trajan relate to disputes surrounding
the philosopher Flavius Archippus. In the first case, Archippus asked
to be let out of jury duty because he is a philosopher, teachers being
relieved of this obligation. This petition was not supported by his
townsmen, who maintained that he was actually an escaped fugitive
and should be thrown back in prison. Archippus then produced a
number of responses to petitions by Domitian, who called him a good
man and requested that he should be treated well. Archippus also
presented an edict of Nerva on the renewal of edicts and beneficia,
which Pliny repeats in addition to Domitian’s letters. Furthermore, in
a separate letter to Tullius Justus, he states that in all affairs, begun
or accomplished, the rules of the previous reign will be observed.
Therefore, even the letters of Domitian will be binding over him.
Archippus’ argument is that he should be restored to good standing,
and he begs Pliny to present the case to Trajan. In his response,
246 247
Plin. Ep. 10.110–11. Plin. Ep. 10.83–4.
248 249
Williams, Pliny: Epistles X (1990), 113. Plin. Ep. 10.108–9.
Trajan notes that it is possible that Domitian was wholly unaware that
Archippus was an escaped fugitive, but he is willing to give the man the
benefit of the doubt. However, the previous letters and benefits were
not in any way to interfere with the proper treatment of the more
recent accusations.250 It is thus possible that the provinces were full of
eloquent scoundrels who had managed to get letters in response to
petitions to emperors and could use them to get out of trouble.
Interestingly enough, when Pliny was about to leave Prusa, the
advocate of the same Archippus made another appeal to Pliny regard-
ing another quarrel, an appeal that amounted to an accusation of
maiestas. The noted rhetorician Dio Cocceianus or Chrysostom had
hoped to transfer a library he had built in Prusa to be maintained by
the city. Through his attorney, Archippus announced that Dio kept
Trajan’s statue in the same building where his wife and son were
buried. When Pliny said he would hear the case at once, the accusers
began stalling and asking for adjournments and more time to present
memorandums on the matter. Dio, on the other hand, had promptly
produced the documents. Trajan did not wish to become involved in
a local quarrel, but wrote to Pliny that the aim of his government is
not to create reverence of his person by severe measures and making
every offence treasonous (an obvious reference to his predecessors).
Instead, he instructs Pliny to set the matter aside and resolve only the
monetary issue.251 It is unclear whether or not the two things are
related, but Dio Chrysostom praises Trajan’s clemency and his abil-
ities as judge, calling him a judge more observant of the law than a
panel of jurors, more equitable than the magistrates.252
What the case once again illustrates is how difficult it was to
administer a situation where unscrupulous individuals exercised
their rhetorical skills to gain letters, any letters, from the emperor
and used them to their advantage. The importance of this skill was
not limited to petitioners from the provinces; even members of the
elite, like Pliny, adopted the rhetorical posture of a humble petitioner
when writing to the emperor.253
Due to their contemporary importance, much attention has been
given to the seemingly benevolent letters in which Trajan advises
Pliny on the handling of Christians. Trajan stresses that repentance
250
Plin. Ep. 10.58–60. See also Kokkinia, ‘Philosopher and Emperor’ (2004).
251 252
Plin. Ep. 10.81–2. Dio Chrys. Or. 3.5.
253
As noted by Millar, ‘Trajan’ (2004), 32.
should be allowed and anonymous accusations are not to be
accepted.254 While Trajan’s correspondence with Pliny reveals an
almost angelic patience in answering queries of sometimes mundane
proportions, the same kind of attitude is evident even in the rescripts
of Trajan preserved in the Digest of Justinian.255
CONCLUSIONS
When one is confronted with the baffling mix of images that one gets
from the Roman sources of the Principate regarding imperial juris-
diction, perhaps the only way to approach the issue analytically is to
disentangle the various narrative traditions from each other. On one
hand, there is a prominent tradition which describes and evaluates
the emperors and their actions (including, and very prominently,
adjudication) among the senatorial elite. This tradition may be seen
as a formulation of the historical reputation of the emperor, and
equally as a way of controlling the sovereign ruler by emphasizing
ill-advised and unacceptable courses of actions. The ideal that this
tradition reflects is that the civilis princeps, the emperor as a leading
citizen and the princeps senatus. On the other hand, one has the
tradition of the emperor adjudicating as the centre of a huge empire,
resolving issues far away and, at the same time, attempting to discern
between liars and cheats and honest applicants. In this period the
dangers of remote control are already apparent, and obtaining rea-
sonably accurate information concerning the actual situation was a
perennial problem. As a side-effect, individuals and communities
embarked on campaigns of praise and adulation of emperors, no
doubt wishing to imprint upon the emperors the impression that
they were expected to be all that they were praised as being: kind, just,
wise, and favourable to the requests of petitioners. The language of
petitioning is being formed with equal aims, to produce the dramatic
effect of humble petitioners approaching the wise and all-powerful
king. What is surprising is that this language is evident even between
supposed (almost-) equals such as Pliny and Trajan.
254 255
Plin. Ep. 10.97. Dig. 48.19.5, 48.22.1.
What the narrative tradition further produces is the idea of exem-
plarity, which comes out from the writings of Seneca, Tacitus, and
Pliny. In Seneca, the aim of De clementia was to suggest a kind of
rehabilitation of Nero in the eyes of the Senate after the internecine
violence among the imperial family. What the text does not hide is the
absolute nature of imperial power and, for the first time, the sovereign
power of imperial adjudication. Reflecting a Stoic idea of virtue, it
shows an enlightened sovereign who is bound to his moral and ethical
virtues for the greater good of humanity. The two central tenets of the
text are clementia and its implications in imperial jurisdiction, a kind
of strange pairing of the Hellenistic ideal monarch and the Roman
context. The praise that is showered upon Nero and the criticism of
Claudius in the Apocolocyntosis are to be seen as pairs, like the pairing
of the divinity and the insanity of the emperor in the narratives of
imperial adjudication. What they both produce is a relentless focus on
the emperor and his power to adjudicate.
Concerning the cases, what the sources are filled with are strange
and curious instances involving the elite. Cases of maiestas, misuse of
power and inheritance, mixed up with the involvement of imperial
freedmen and women fill the annals of the era. They often seek to
present the image of a reign of terror, of an insane emperor perse-
cuting the elite. For the use of imperial jurisdiction in weeding out the
unfortunate who were thought to represent a threat to the emperor,
or simply to humiliate them, there have been numerous theories to
explain what contemporary observers deemed as imperial insanity.
The humiliation of the senatorial class, or members of it, has been
variously seen as the emperor seeking to curry favour with the general
populace, or to demonstrate his unlimited power to the elite or
something similar. In short, instead of insanity, it has been seen as a
strategy. What are evidently missing are the routine cases, the legally
significant issues or even the ordinary issues that cannot be reduced
to the power-struggles of the elite. In this respect, many of the
‘mad’ emperors, such as Caligula, Claudius, Nero, or Domitian,
were reported as having spent whole days diligently adjudicating in
a public place. At least in the cases relating to the elite, it would
appear from the evidence that the Senate played a key role, either as a
court of law or as a consilium of the emperor. From Claudius
onwards, mentions of cases in the Senate decrease. For imperial
jurisdiction in general, the old virtues of the Republican elite, such
as approachability, continue to be significant for the way in which an
emperor is expected to act. For provincials, the emperor continued to
represent a target for petitions, who would adjudicate cases like bound-
ary disputes or unjust requisitioning by corrupt officials. Whether
imperial jurisdiction may at this stage be considered a regular court
of appeal or a court of first instance is debatable, as there is evidence for
both and no known rules of how a case would end up with the
emperor. A similar irregularity is also notable in the places where the
emperor sat in judgment. There are mentions of sessions taking place
in the fora, in temples, and in other public places.
While the imperial sovereignty and close-to-universal jurisdiction
was becoming rooted, what was still missing was a formal justification
for it in law or recognized constitutional discourse. The first official
statement to recognize the emperor’s powers was the lex de imperio
Vespasiani, which stated how the emperor’s legal scope was based on
precedent and discretionary powers. Large parts of the text are miss-
ing, and unfortunately for the purposes of this investigation there are
no references to jurisdiction. As there was also no mention of other
central features like the proconsular imperium or tribunician power,
this cannot be seen as evidence of absence. The most central feature is
the role that the law gave to precedent and historical reputation.
Predecessors not worth mentioning as precedents are simply not
mentioned. What the law equally demonstrates is the power of
the Senate in establishing boundaries and defining the limits of
acceptable.
A similar role of defining the acceptable and what is expected from
emperors in the exercise of their jurisdiction may be seen in the
writings of historians like Tacitus or authors like Pliny. What Tacitus
manages to demonstrate in his dramatic history of the empire is not
just a view of the ruination of the Republic, by a disgruntled senator,
but an exposé of unacceptable behaviour for an emperor (trumped-
up charges of maiestas, killing of senators, giving too much influence
to women and freemen). The work of Tacitus has been described as
an exercise in inverted flattery, a way of showing better emperors the
way not to do things. What Tacitus shows, perhaps inadvertently, is
the centrality of imperial jurisdiction in the interactions between the
emperor and the elite, how much the control over the elite was
managed through the law. Equally, he shows how much perceptions
mattered, how the image of imperial disfavour could have the same
effect as an official punishment by the emperor. The emperors oper-
ated in an echo chamber that reinforced and distorted whatever they
did, said, or did not do or say. While Tacitus seeks to show the
principle of security at work in imperial administration and adjudi-
cation, in trials intra cubiculum or otherwise, what he perhaps inad-
vertently shows is how much such secrecy worked to announce and
advertise the actions that were attempted to be concealed. In com-
parison to Tacitus, the idealizing of Trajan by Pliny reveals another
side of imperial adjudication, how the diligent and wise emperor
appeared to provincial petitioners. The same powerful imperial freed-
men would still appear, but more as negative examples of practices
that the wise emperor would get rid of. Thus the judge-emperor in
Pliny is like Seneca’s personification of the idealized emperor, an
enlightened judge guided by his virtues and justice.
4
Hadrian as the Ideal Judge
INTRODUCTION
The dilemma of autocracy during the reign of Hadrian may be

illustrated with two conflicting depictions of the role of the ruler by
contemporary authors, one by Plutarch and the other by Aelius
Aristides. Plutarch’s essay To an Uneducated Ruler presents the
principle that kings fear for their subjects, but tyrants fear their
subjects. Good kings rule with reverence and self-restraint, observing
the commands of justice and right. Their main anxiety is in case they
should do evil, not that they should suffer evil. The evil tyrant will
forever fear his subjects and find no peace, like Clearchus, the tyrant
of Pontus, who crawled into a chest to sleep there.1 In contrast, in a
speech probably delivered in the 140s, Regarding Rome, Aelius Aris-
tides presents the Roman emperor as an ideal judge who, guided by
justice and equality, rights wrongs. A subject, if he has even the
smallest doubt over a lawsuit or legal privilege, needs only to write
to the emperor and wait for his message. There is no need to travel to
petition the emperor personally, the message will come swiftly and
regardless of rank, assisting everyone equally.2 The contrast between
Plutarch’s tyrant and Aristides’ emperor is that the tyrant retreats
into himself, whereas the ideal emperor is an ever-present judge that
brings justice to his people.
This fourth chapter discusses Hadrian3 and his successors, the
Antonines: Antoninus Pius, Marcus Aurelius and Lucius Verus, and
finally, Commodus. In earlier literature Hadrian was idealized as the
1 2
Plut. Mor. 781.4. Aristid. Or. 26.33, 26.39.
3
Gregorovius, Hadrian (1851); Henderson, Hadrian (1923); Birley, Hadrian
(1997).
Hadrian as the Ideal Judge 197
stereotypical legal emperor because of his enlightened adjudication
and his legal reforms, such as the appointment of new imperial judges
and giving jurisdiction to select imperial magistrates, the stabilization of
the praetor’s and provincial governors’ edicts. These reforms brought
imperial power to previously unaffected areas of law.4 For the narratives
of imperial adjudication, it would almost appear that the emperors felt
the need to respond to the expectations placed on them and to act as
enlightened and conscientious sovereigns looking after the well-being of
their subjects and bringing them justice. It is equally possible that while
the imperial narratives of adjudication emphasized the sovereign power
of the emperor and the dichotomy between a good king and a tyrant,
modern observers were prone to project their ideals on emperors they
thought reflected their own views.
The purpose of this chapter is to explore how petitioning and the
seeking of imperial rescripts becomes a central cultural and legal
phenomenon in the narratives of the reigns of Hadrian and his
successors. This phenomenon entails two interlinked features: first,
the way in which cultural practices and historical understanding
began to reflect the centrality of imperial adjudication, especially in
the Greek East; and second, how imperial adjudication grows to
become the defining feature of the Roman legal system and its
development. The question is thus how both of these developments
reinforced the narrative of the emperor as judge and affected private
persons seeking imperial aid and favour, how the narratives created a
normative understanding of imperial jurisdiction. I shall explore the
spread of this narrative, extending even to the visions of the past by
Roman historical writers such as Suetonius and Pomponius.
I shall begin with the first feature through a reading of the afore-
mentioned speech to Rome by Aristides. Aristides illustrates how, for
the Greek elite, the Roman Empire appeared as something unprece-
dented, a functional global administration that serves its subjects.
What Aristides equally illustrates is how this admiration for the
emperor and the seeking of imperial favour was mixed with compli-
cated sentiments regarding Roman superiority. From the narrative of
Aristides, it is evident how novel and unprecedented the idea of the
emperor’s jurisdiction executed from afar and available for his
4
Pringsheim, ‘Reforms of Hadrian’ (1934), 148; Wieacker, ‘Hadrianischen Justiz-
politik’ (1935); d’Orgeval, L’Empereur Hadrien (1950); d’Ors, ‘L’Oeuvre d’Hadrien’
(1965).
subjects actually seemed to him. It was as if the emperor had begun to
execute the ideal of the good king in practice. In the second section,
we will see how the practice of imperial adjudication reflects the
growth of the giving of rescripts and the seeking of imperial justice,
as well as the way emperors sought to demonstrate their virtues and
to reform law through their rulings. From the reign of Hadrian
onwards, there appears a vast number of imperial rescripts. In read-
ing these texts, it becomes clear that the emperors understood their
task as that of bringing justice and they sought to act as legal advisers
to fulfil that role. From these responses, the figure of the emperor
judge appears as an omnipresent adjudicator. I will discuss how the
historical writers of the era, foremost among them Suetonius, a high
imperial functionary under Hadrian, reflect the increasing imperial
jurisdiction in their depiction of the past. After Suetonius, being a
judge became an integral part of the depiction of the role of the
emperor, and his work created a historical foundation for the prac-
tice. I will thus approach the way Suetonius works as both a descrip-
tion of the past, but equally as a normative text that builds through
examples an understanding of what should be, not just what was.
Imperial jurisdiction was a central theme in Suetonius’ Lives of the
Caesars, which testifies to how important the administration of law
had become in the understanding of imperial activities. Through the
examples of stereotypically good and bad emperors, Suetonius builds
a model of the ideal or exemplary emperor that he then projects onto
the past. Finally, I shall examine the way Hadrian was portrayed as
the legal emperor, a reformer who brought imperial administration in
line with the demands of the era.
Despite the idealization of the Antonine era, our knowledge of the
period rests on a relatively shaky foundation. The historical sources
for the age of Hadrian and the Antonines are less than ideal, since the
only historians to cover the era are Dio and the author of the Historia
Augusta. Of these, especially the latter is considered to be of dubious
value, though the biography of Hadrian may be considered to be
more reliable than the rest. However, there are a good number of legal
decisions and rescripts from Hadrian and the Antonines cited by
jurists (both in the Digest and the Codex), allowing for the evaluation
of the content of imperial adjudication. An equally important source
for the era are epistolary inscriptions that contain imperial rescripts
and rulings on individual legal issues. These have been found in large
quantities from the reign of Hadrian and his successors. While many
of them were seemingly minor matters, where individuals and com-
munities petitioned the emperor or voiced their grievances, they are
indicative of the general trend where the emperor becomes an arbiter
and a final authority to whom everyone would turn, from a city
angered by the fact that a rival city does not use their correct honorary
titulature, to rural villagers complaining about soldiers’ unlawful
requisitioning. The emperor is seen not only as a source of law, but
also of wealth and honour.5 How this micromanagement burdened
the emperors is clearly seen in the way the individuals and commu-
nities of the empire vie for imperial attention and favour. Dignity and
honour, much like justice which was bound to them, were commod-
ities that the emperor could and did provide.
AELIUS ARISTIDES AND THE LETTERS

OF THE EMPEROR
From the historical treatises describing the era, it is evident that the
emperor was considered to be the highest judge and that one could, in
theory at least, appeal to the emperor. How did that work in practice:
how could individuals gain access to the emperor to present their
issues? The main theory today is that presenting one’s case to the
emperor personally was probably much more efficient than doing so
in writing. Thus, the friends of the emperor and the members of the
elite, such as imperial officials, senators, and people who went to the
emperor’s morning salutation, were in a privileged position as far as
gaining access to the emperor. Access could, of course, be gained by
petitioning others and getting their help in approaching the
emperor.6 This theory is corroborated by the instances where people
went to extraordinary lengths actually to meet the emperor and to
present their case to him. While some of them are clearly apocryphal,
such as the old lady approaching Hadrian on the street with a witty
retort, or the story of the judicial ambush of Vespasian by petitioners,
others, like the Goharian embassy discussed in the next chapter, are
5
Of the petty disputes that the emperors were drawn into, see e.g. the sarcastic
response of Antoninus Pius to Ephesus in Oliver, Greek Constitutions (1989), 135
A–B, 293–4; Lendon, Empire of Honour (1997), 77.
6
Eck, ‘Government and Civil Administration’ (2000), 212–13.
clearly historical.7 The libellus process, unique to Roman imperial
adjudication, presented a solution to this problem of access by grant-
ing, in theory, everyone access through letters. The aim of this section
is to illustrate how the process of writing to a ruler and actually
getting a response would have appeared in the eyes of a provincial.
Through the account of Aelius Aristides, we shall see how the system
of rescripts was seen as one of the most praiseworthy elements of the
empire.
Aelius Aristides, the Greek rhetorician from Mysia who drafted the
laudatory speech to Rome, considered the system of rescripts and
letters the most astonishing part of the Roman system of govern-
ment.8 Aristides describes the procedure as functioning almost
instantly:
If they should have even some small doubt over suits and the legal
privileges of their subjects, they immediately send to him, asking what
should be done, and they wait for his signal, no less than a chorus waits
upon its teacher. Therefore there is no need for him to wear himself out
by journeying over the whole empire, nor by visiting different people at
different times to confirm individual matters, whenever he enters their
lands. But it is very easy for him to govern the whole inhabited world by
dispatching letters without moving from the spot. And the letters are
almost no sooner written than they arrive, as if borne by winged
messengers.
(32) ὥστε μᾶλλον μὲν ἐκεῖνον εἰδέναι νομίζουσιν ἃ πράττουσιν ἢ σφᾶς
αὐτοὺς, μᾶλλον δὲ δεδίασι καὶ αἰδοῦνται ἢ τὸν δεσπότην ἄν τις τὸν αὑτοῦ
παρόντα καὶ ἐφεστηκότα καὶ κελεύοντα. οὐδεὶς δὲ ἐφ᾽ ἑαυτῷ τηλικοῦτον
φρονεῖ, ὅστις τοὔνομα ἀκούσας μόνον οἷός τ᾽ ἐστὶν ἀτρεμεῖν, ἀλλ᾽ ἀναστὰς
ὑμνεῖ καὶ σέβει καὶ συνεύχεται διπλῆν εὐχὴν, τὴν μὲν ὑπὲρ αὑτοῦ τοῖς
θεοῖς, τὴν δὲ αὐτῷ ἐκείνῳ περὶ τῶν ἑαυτοῦ. εἰ δέ τι καὶ μικρὸν ἐνδοῖεν περὶ
δίκας τε καὶ ἀξιώσεις, ἢ κοινὰς ἢ ἰδίας τῶν ἀρχομένων, εἴ τινες ἄρα ἄξιοι
7
Suet. Vesp. 23; SEG XVII 759.
8
Schiavone, End of the Past (2000), 3–6. On Aristides and the speech: von
Wilamowitz-Möllendorf, ‘Rhetor Aristeides’ (1925); Oliver, ‘The Ruling Power’
(1953); Bowersock, Greek Sophists (1969); Brunt, ‘Laus imperii’ (1978); Nutton,
‘Beneficial Ideology’ (1978); Klein, ‘Zur Datierung der Romrede’ (1981); Klein, Die
Romrede des Aelius Aristides (1981); André, ‘La Conception de l’État et de l’Empire’
(1982); Stertz, ‘Aristides’ Political Ideas’ (1994); Carsana, Teoria della costituzione
(1990); Behr, ‘Biography of Aelius Aristides’ (1994); Klein, ‘Zum Kultur- und
Geschichtsverständnis in der Romrede’ (1995); Volpe, ‘Armonia e taxis’ (2001);
Whitmarsh, Greek Literature (2001); Flinterman, ‘Sophists and Emperors’ (2004);
Whitmarsh, Second Sophistic (2005); Harris and Holmes, Aelius Aristides (2008).
εἶεν, ὡς ἐκεῖνον ἐκπέμπουσιν εὐθὺς ἐρωτῶντες τί δεῖ ποιεῖν, καὶ μένουσιν
ἔς τ᾽ ἂν ἀποσημήνῃ, οὐχ ἧττον ἢ διδάσκαλον χορός. (33) ὥστε οὐδὲν δεῖ
φθείρεσθαι περιιόντα τὴν ἀρχὴν ἅπασαν, οὐδ᾽ ἄλλοτε ἐν ἄλλοις γιγνόμενον
τὸ καθ᾽ ἕκαστον βεβαιοῦσθαι, ὁπότε σφίσι τὴν γῆν πατοίη: ἀλλ᾽ εὐμάρεια
πολλὴ καθημένῳ πᾶσαν ἄγειν τὴν οἰκουμένην δι᾽ ἐπιστολῆς.9
Another possibility, which Aristides found to be far beyond anything
the world had ever seen (of course, this assessment should be taken
with a grain of salt), was that of appealing to the emperor:
Cases under judicial review, like an appeal from one’s demesmen to the
courts, take place with no less fear in regard to the verdict on the part of
those who institute the appeals, so that one would say that people are
now governed by those sent out to them in so far as it pleases them.
How is this form of government not beyond every democracy? There it
is not possible after the verdict is given in the city to go elsewhere or to
other judges, but one must be satisfied with the decision, unless it is
some small city which needs outside judges. But among you, now a
convicted defendant or even a prosecutor, who has not won his case,
can take exception to the verdict and the undeserved loss. Another great
judge remains, who no aspect of justice ever escapes. And here there is a
great and fair equality between weak and powerful, obscure and famous,
poor and rich and noble. And Hesiod’s words come to pass: ‘For easily
he makes one strong and easily he crushes the strong’, this great judge
and governor, however justice guides him, like a breeze blowing on a
ship, which does not, indeed, favour and escort the rich man more and
the poor man less, but equally assists him to whomever it may come.
(37) ὥστε ὑποχωρεῖ μὲν ἄρχων ἄρχοντι, ὅταν αὐτοῦ ὁ χρόνος ἐξήκῃ, καὶ
οὐδ᾽ ἂν ἀπαντήσειε ῥᾳδίως: τοσοῦτον ἀπέχει τοῦ διενεχθῆναι ἄγαν, ὡς
αὐτοῦ τῆς χώρας οὔσης. ἔκκλητοι δὲ ὥσπερ ἔφεσις ἐκ δημοτῶν εἰς
δικαστήριον σὺν οὐκ ἐλάττονι τῶν δεξαμένων φόβῳ περὶ τῆς κρίσεως ἢ
τῶν ποιουμένων γίγνονται. ὥστε φαίη τις ἂν τοσαῦτα ἄρχεσθαι τοὺς νῦν
ὑπὸ τῶν πεμπομένων, ὁπόσα ἂν αὐτοῖς ἀρέσκῃ. (38) πῶς οὖν ταῦτα οὐκ ἐν
τοῖς ἐπέκεινα πάσης δημοκρατίας; οὔκουν ἐκεῖ ἔξεστι μετὰ τὴν ἐν τῇ πόλει
ψῆφον ἐνεχθεῖσαν ἐλθεῖν ἄλλοσε οὐδ᾽ ἐπ᾽ ἄλλους δικαστὰς, ἀλλὰ στέργειν
ἀνάγκη τοῖς ἐγνωσμένοις, εἰ μή τις ἐστὶ μικρὰ πόλις, ὥστε προσδεῖσθαι
δικαστῶν ὑπερορίων παρὰ τὴν ἀξίαν, ἢ καὶ διώκοντα μὴ κρατήσαντα,
μηδὲ τῷ νενικῆσθαι: ἀλλὰ μένει δικαστὴς ἕτερος μέγας, ὃν οὔποτε οὐδὲν
ἐκφεύγει τῶν δικαίων: (39) κἀνταῦθα δὴ πολλὴ καὶ εὐσχήμων ἰσότης
μικροῦ πρὸς μέγαν καὶ ἀδόξου πρὸς ἔνδοξον καὶ πένητος δὴ πρὸς πλούσιον
καὶ γενναῖον ἀγεννοῦς, καὶ τὸ τοῦ Ἡσιόδου συμβαίνει, “ῥεῖα μὲν γὰρ
9
Aristid. Or. 26.32–3, tr. Behr, Aelius Aristides (1981–6).
βριάει, ῥέα δὲ βριάοντα χαλέπτει” οὗτος ὁ δικαστής τε καὶ ἡγεμὼν, ὅπως
ἂν τὸ δίκαιον ἄγῃ, ὥσπερ πνεῦμα ἐν νηὶ, οὐ δή που πλουσίῳ μὲν μᾶλλον,
πένητι δὲ ἧττον χαριζόμενόν τε καὶ παραπέμπον, ἀλλ᾽ ὅτῳ γένοιτο ἀεὶ,
τοῦτον ὁμοίως ὠφελοῦν.10
In this system the emperor is the final arbiter of law and justice, an
almost divine judge. In contrast to the praise heaped by Seneca on
Nero, what is striking in this account is its mundane nature. Aristides
does not present an abstract image of an idealized emperor; what he is
describing is the functioning of a legal system through letters and
appeals. The two main features that he is so proud to elucidate are
first, the way that letters to and from the emperor were an effective
means of administering justice and government, and second, the
possibility that every free inhabitant of the empire could appeal to
the emperor and trust that whomever the opponent was, the emperor
would be just. It is easy to see why this caused such a stir. On the first
issue, beyond a few exceptions, almost universally the effective power
of the ruler in pre-modern societies did not extend very far from
where the ruler was at the time. That is why rulers needed to be
constantly on the move, and while they were, they were constantly
barraged by petitioners of various kinds. What Aristides maintains is
that the administrative apparatus of the empire had attained such
perfection that, via a simple letter, an emperor could exert his will and
bring justice to a faraway location. The second issue is all the more
impressive: the emperor was a universal source for appeal for all who
claimed they had been wronged in the courts of law. What Aristides
implies is that the Roman emperor was not only all-powerful, but also
that he acted as a universal court of appeal for the empire, listening to
cases without regard for the status of the applicants.
Aelius Aristides presented this speech in Rome, most likely in the
spring of AD 143 or 144, at the Athenaeum of Hadrian. This building,
now lost, probably stood near the Forum of Trajan, the newest and
grandest part of the monumental centre of Rome. Not only were the
surroundings a triumph of Roman prosperity and success, but also
the audience was composed of the elite of Rome, perhaps even
including the emperor, Antoninus Pius. Aristides was invited to
speak most likely due to the connections of his teacher Alexander,
who had been one of the tutors of Marcus Aurelius. Hadrian had died
10
Aristid. Or. 26.37–9.
a few years earlier, and the organization for his succession to the
throne was meticulous. He had adopted Antoninus Pius, who had in
turn adopted Marcus Aurelius and Lucius Verus. The result was a
remarkably peaceful transition of power.11 What his speech sought to
outline, among other things, was the character of Roman govern-
ment, set out in the terms of Greek philosophy and the theory of
kingship. Like the later works of Dio, Aristides provides an important
example of cultural translation, an attempt to define something that
might have been self-evident to Romans.12
Aristides is a controversial character. Principally a rhetorician, he
has been associated with the Second Sophistic. Much of his literary
production is devoted to either his various illnesses or his dreams. For
all the praise that he heaps on Rome,13 his stay there was a failure,
mostly due to sickness. Aristides represents a very peculiar kind of
author, one of the learned rhetoricians who sought to gain access to
and favour with the Roman emperors, but at the same time was
conflicted about the sycophantic behaviour that this entailed.14 How-
ever, they were men whose wealth and friends in high places gave
them access, while their literary talents made them valuable guests.
No wonder that their view of the Roman Empire is favourable: they
were, by and large, its major beneficiaries.15
For Aristides, preparing a speech to the glory of Rome was, of
course, not a task without self-interest. He was 26 years old at the
time, and had thus far enjoyed only modest success as a rhetorician.
A provincial, but one with good connections, he had a chance to
make it, to gain fame and wealth. As the world appeared to Aristides
and his like, performing at Rome included the chance of gaining
imperial patronage and a place as a favourite of the emperor, and,
with it, both direct material gain and, even more importantly,
11
Schiavone, End of the Past (2000), 3. The date of the speech is contested, with
some arguing for a later timing than his 143–4 visit to Rome. The details of the visit,
such as the role of Alexander and the meeting with Antoninus Pius, originate mostly
from his later writings. Pernot, ‘Aelius Aristides’ (2008), 178.
12
Whitmarsh, Greek Literature (2001), 212. See Klein, ‘Zum Kultur- und
Geschichtsverständnis in der Romrede’ (1995) on whether the speech should be
seen as philosophical or historical (or panegyric) in nature.
13
Praise of Rome and its emperors was a staple in Aristides, repeated in numerous
other speeches. Pernot, ‘Aelius Aristides’ (2008), 175.
14
Pernot, ‘Aelius Aristides’ (2008), 176; Flinterman, ‘Sophists and Emperors’
(2004), 376; Garnsey, Social Status and Legal Privilege (1970), 67–85.
15
Nutton, ‘Beneficial Ideology’ (1978), 210.
influence.16 Such ambition was criticized by the philosophers them-
selves, but it also elicited sarcastic remarks from contemporaries.17
Aristides’ speech to Rome is praise to the Roman Empire as a place
of peace, tranquillity, order, and organization. That is one of the
things that truly sets it apart from the typical laudationes of
the rhetoricians trying to get rich by seeking imperial favour through
praise. In this era one could speak of a golden age without the typical
allusions to a past long gone. What the empire of the Antonines had
achieved was order, a system where everything and everyone
had their place in the social hierarchy and trade flourished among
different parts of the empire, bringing prosperity to all.18 What is
remarkable is how much Aristides approaches Rome as an empire,
with nary a word about the history of Rome or its culture. For him, as
it doubtless was for many inhabitants of the empire, Rome was
shorthand for the vast multicultural empire, a political, legal, and
economic area that had brought prosperity and peace. The Roman
Republic and the traditions and institutions that had shaped it meant
very little to them. Roman citizens would increasingly be living in the
provinces, but the improvements in communications meant that they
were able and willing to reach out to the emperor.
In the voluminous discussion around Aristides, interest in the
speech to Rome has been at a low level in recent years.19 Its descrip-
tion of the system of letters, rescripts, and appeals in the Roman
Empire has been to a large degree overlooked. For any attempt at
understanding how the system of rescripts appeared to the subjects of
the empire, however, it is of vital importance. Despite the fact that it
was written as a panegyric of Rome, as an idealized vision, it shows
how extraordinary the Roman Empire appeared to those accustomed
to the Greek experience, how the system of rescripts appears to be
without comparison.
16
Flinterman, ‘Sophists and Emperors’ (2004), 362–5.
17
Cass. Dio 71(72).35.2 noted how philosophy attracted people hoping to get rich
through imperial patronage. On the peculiar social role of the philosopher in provin-
cial high society, see Dillon, ‘Social Role’ (2002).
18
Schiavone, End of the Past (2000), 6–7, 14; Volpe, ‘Armonia e taxis’ (2001). On
the Antonine empire, see Garzetti, L’impero (1960) and Hammond, Antonine Mon-
archy (1959).
19
There have been editions like Fontanella and Desideri, A Roma (2007), but even in
Harris and Holmes, Aelius Aristides (2008) the speech to Rome was hardly referred to.
For a highly educated Greek rhetorician like Aristides, seeking to
become part of Roman imperial circles was by no means without
anxieties. Like many of his peers, the innumerable scholars, rhetor-
icians, and philosophers who sought imperial favour, the relationship
with Roman emperors and what they stood for was not without its
issues. As cultured Greeks, they were prone to consider themselves
superior to the emperors that they sought to counsel. There are
numerous examples of their arrogant behaviour towards emperors:
even Aristides himself later let the emperor Marcus Aurelius wait for
three days before granting him an audience (Philostr. V S 2.582). As
Philostratus maintained, arrogance was a hallmark of the sophist. Of
course, some of the feeling of superiority came from a background of
the general Greek sense of cultural dominance over Romans, coupled
with a sense of awe for the wealth and power that Rome represented.
However, it was customary that speakers like Aristides would refrain
from giving unsolicited advice to emperors. The position of a speaker
like Aristides was thus ambivalent: on the one hand he was a pan-
egyrist of Rome, on the other, his feelings were quite complicated, due
to a shared sense of superiority among his peers.20
The anxieties of someone like Aristides are relevant for the issue of
imperial jurisdiction and the power of the emperor because they
reveal the unique pull that the emperor had for the elite. In fact, we
know quite a lot about Aristides’s anxieties, as he wrote extensively
about his multifarious illnesses and recorded his dreams with an
obsessive exhaustiveness. These dreams, or at least the way that he
described them, contained numerous encounters with the Roman
emperors. It is safe to say that Aristides was obsessed with emperors.
In his dreams, he is admired by the emperor for his wisdom and
eloquence, he is invited to stay at the palace, and is showered with
unimaginable imperial honours and attention. At the same time, he
refuses to toady to the emperor, even to give him the customary
respectful kiss.21 Giving praise to an emperor or a regime was not
in and of itself dishonourable for a rhetorician or philosopher. The
role of the learned adviser to a great king was a time-honoured one,
20
As Whitmarsh, Greek Literature (2001), 5, maintains, elite Greeks of the Roman
period defined their superiority mainly through their education and culture. Pernot,
‘Aelius Aristides’ (2008), 176–7, 182; Flinterman, ‘Sophists and Emperors’ (2004),
359, 364–5, 376.
21
Aristid. Or. 47.23; Flinterman, ‘Sophists and Emperors’ (2004), 368–73.
with great precedents like Aristotle. Would the wisdom of an adviser
be enough to turn an emperor into a student and raise the adviser to
the status of a philosopher king guiding the emperor? There were,
sure enough, many of them, and it appears that it was customary for a
Roman or Greek ruler to support such advisers.22
Access to the emperor, being able to influence the Great King, of
course brought immense power if used properly. Aristides himself
settled in Smyrna, where he was visited by Marcus Aurelius. When
the city was destroyed in an earthquake, he was able to use his
connections and skills in oratory to persuade the emperor to support
its rebuilding. In return, he was named one of the city’s founders.23
What the real-life Aristides demonstrates is the limits of the vision
that Aristides laid out. Even with the most conscientious of emperors,
patronage and the access and influence that it could provide were of
paramount importance.
Like Pliny’s Panegyric and the much more subtle praise that was
contained in his published correspondence with Trajan, the praise in
Aristides’s speech to Rome should be seen in its literary context, as
part of a genre. Equally, the text is a valuable source on attitudes
towards the function of the emperor as judge and how it appeared to
provincial observers. The fact that Aristides completely omits the
history of Rome in the oration is an important indication of how
little the historical development of Roman institutions mattered to
Greek provincial observers. For them, the wondrous fact was that the
emperor was willing and able to influence legal matters from a great
distance through his functionaries and instructions sent via mail.
Equally, it appeared to them that the emperors were driven by a
sense of great care and concern for their subjects, to accept and
respond to appeals from all around the empire. While the context
and background of the speech may be the depictions of the virtues of
ideal kings that were a staple of Hellenistic literature, what was truly
special was the appearance of the well-functioning machinery of law
that enabled the emperor’s wisdom, virtues, and justice to reach even
the lowliest of his subjects. Though the praise of Aelius Aristides was
as much of an ideal, a hope of something that should be, not neces-
sarily a realistic depiction of the system at work, it was a recognition
of the aspirations of Roman justice.
22
Rawson, ‘Philosophic Adviser’ (1989).
23
Flinterman, ‘Sophists and Emperors’ (2004), 365.
HADRIAN AND HIS SUCCESSORS AS
ENLIGHTENED ADJUDICATORS
From the relative dearth of information about the emperors’ exercise of

jurisdiction before the reign of Hadrian, we now begin to encounter an
embarrassment of riches with regards to material. The purpose of this
section is to investigate the contradictory narratives of imperial adju-
dication as they are manifested in the historical sources as well as
the imperial legal constitutions found in both legal sources and in
epigraphic material. What is especially interesting is how much the
various emperors from Hadrian onwards embark on judicial activism,
advancing social and moral aims with their rulings. For example,
emperors begin to encroach on the traditional powers of families as
well as the principle of self-help that underlined much of the earlier
Roman legal tradition. These narratives of the emperors listening to the
people and righting wrongs by bringing justice were clearly part of the
image of the good emperor. What is interesting is how this expectation
of justice was reflected in the more mundane legal issues that came up
in the rescripts and decisions, where the emperor had to be not only the
magnanimous good king, but also a judge settling routine cases.
We begin the discussion of the adjudicative activities of Hadrian
and his successors with a case in which Hadrian punishes a father for
the abuse of patria potestas. Marcian wrote that:
It is said that when a certain man had killed in the course of a hunt his
son, who had been committing adultery with his stepmother, the deified
Hadrian deported him to an island [because he acted] more [like] a
brigand in killing him than as [one] with a father’s right; for paternal
power ought to depend on compassion, not cruelty.
Divus Hadrianus fertur, cum in venatione filium suum quidam neca-
verat, qui novercam adulterabat, in insulam eum deportasse, quod
latronis magis quam patris iure eum interfecit: nam patria potestas in
pietate debet, non atrocitate consistere.24
The main context of the case is the patria potestas,25 the power of the
father over the life and death of the members of his familia. This
24
Dig. 48.9.5. Tr. Watson et al. On the extensive literature, see Rizzi, Imperator cognoscens
decrevit (2012), 187–95.
25
For an overview of the issue, see Gaughan, Murder (2010), 23–52; Yaron, ‘Vitae
necisque potestas’ (1962); Shaw, ‘Raising and Killing Children’ (2001); Thomas, ‘Vitae
power was a central feature of Roman law and legal culture, though
actual instances where a father exercised this power are rare and
mostly belong to the realm of legendary stories (such as the killing
of Verginia by her father to spare her from the hands of the decemvir
Appius Claudius). This case mentioned by Marcian has, however, a
precedent. Valerius Maximus (Val. Max. 5.9.1) recounts that Lucius
Gellius (consul of 72 BC) discovered that his son had committed
adultery with his stepmother and was planning Gellius’ murder.
Instead of killing them at once, Gellius called a meeting of a family
court and summoned almost the entire Senate to act as his council.
This family court was an ad hoc arrangement to help him deliberate
on the correct action to be taken. The son was allowed to defend
himself and was acquitted after the proceedings. Valerius praised him
for his moderation, because if he rushed to violent action he would
have committed a crime rather than punished one.26
In the literature, the case of Hadrian punishing the unnamed father
for the misuse of vitae necisque potestas has been seen as a symptom
of the increasing limitations on patria potestas set by the ascendant
state power.27 However, the question is not simply one of state power
over the traditional modes of family control, but also a matter of the
rise of the emperor’s adjudicative power. In fact, fathers had even
earlier been punished for the abuse of the paternal power. The story
of Q. Fabius Maximus Eburnus (consul of 116 BC) is a good example.
He had first relegated his son to the countryside after some sort of
sexual offence, and afterwards had him killed by two of his slaves. He
then freed the slaves as a reward. The case caused an uproar, leading
to his prosecution and exile in Nuceria.28 Based on the references in
Roman literature, fathers and other relatives were fully within their
powers in disciplining and killing relatives, mostly female ones, but it
would appear that the real matter of distinction was that such a
decision should be taken only with deliberation. What the case does
underline is what has been seen as Hadrian’s enlightened attitude
towards punishment, where excessive severity and cruelty are
necisque potestas’ (1984); Harris, ‘Roman Father’s Power’ (1986); Arjava, ‘Paternal
Power’ (1998).
26
On the court of the paterfamilias, see Kunkel, ‘Konsilium im Hausgericht’
(1966); Perry, ‘Paterfamilias’ (2015).
27
Frier and McGinn, Casebook (2004), 196–201.
28
Val. Max. 6.1.5–6; Oros. 5.16.8; Gaughan, Murder (2010), 44–5; see Alexander,
Trials (1990), 32 for literature.
censured. What the issue highlights is the importance of the narrative
of the emperor that corrects the law and brings justice. While the acts
of the father may have been in accordance with the old law, it violated
the sense of justice and equity of the people, and the emperor would
naturally side with the people.
In general, the reign of Hadrian starts the period from which the
clearest evidence of the civil jurisdiction of the emperor becomes
available. However, in Hadrian’s time there is little information on
the procedure that led to the cases being brought to the emperor and
what happened to them afterwards. An exception is the third-century
collection called Sententiae et epistulae divi hadriani, which contains
Hadrian’s pronouncements in thirteen cases, mostly of civil law. Since
the provenance of the text is highly dubious and it contains many
grammatical mistakes and curious verdicts, it was long considered to
be a work of fiction. With the recent discoveries of papyrological
evidence of legal hearings, however, its credibility has improved. For
our purposes, two things are noteworthy: first, that all of the cases are
quarrels or petitions by regular people outside the elite, and second,
that in half of the cases (nos. 2, 3, 7, 11–13) Hadrian displays
emotions, either anger, frustration, or admiration, and lets his feelings
be known. Some of the cases are simply petitions for beneficia, such as
appointments or equestrian status (nos. 1, 5, 8, 12). The majority,
much like the rescripts preserved in the Codex, are about relatively
minor things, such as neglect by sons (nos. 3, 13), usury (4), congi-
arium (2, 10), division of profits of a tavern (7), and curatorship (9).29
Otherwise, the historical sources on Hadrian as judge and patron
are relatively meagre, with only Dio and the Historia Augusta report-
ing. Both the Historia Augusta and Dio present a very idealized image
of Hadrian as judge, maintaining that he sat in judgement by himself
in many cases, but in others he had senators, consuls, or praetors in
his consilium. According to the Historia Augusta, Hadrian’s concern
for the correct use of law led him to appoint not only his friends and
29
Goetz, Corpus glossariorum latinorum III (1892), 31.28, 387–90. There are two
different versions of the text, embedded in a pedagogical text containing samples of
Greek and Latin side by side. Schiller was the first to note that the text, while
containing many errors, corresponds grammatically to imperial hearings known
from other sources. Schiller, ‘Vindication of a Repudiated Text’ (1971); Lewis,
‘Hadriani Sententiae’ (1991); Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 532. The search con-
tinues for new legal material from the same manuscript, see Dickey, ‘Hermeneumata
Pseudodositheana’ (2014).
members of the staff to his judicial council, but also the best jurists,
such as Celsus, Salvius Julianus, and Neratius Priscus. His advisers
were all accepted by the Senate, and even Dio mentions that he dealt
with the affairs of the state with the help of the Senate.30
In the spatial arrangements of imperial jurisdiction, Hadrian rep-
resents a significant end of an era, as he is the last emperor to have
adjudicated in the Forum. According to Dio, Hadrian held trials in
various places, such as the palace, the Forum, or Pantheon. His court
sessions were always in public on a tribunal. Not only did he have
advisers with him, but he would at times join the consuls in trying
cases.31 The image of the palace and Palatium as a place of justice was
enforced by the account of the court of the praetorian prefect, also
situated near the palace during the time of Hadrian. The use of the
Pantheon as a courtroom is not reported beyond this single reference,
a testament perhaps as much to the pride of Hadrian in his most
famous building project as to the symbolic connection between the
universality of his justice and the temple.32
Hadrian appointed four proconsular officials to administer justice
in Italy. Though his reputation is that of an enlightened judge, he was
not above settling a grudge by having someone put to death.33 The
Historia Augusta on Antoninus Pius mentions that he was among the
four consulars who were chosen by Hadrian to administer justice in
Italy.34 The later jurist Paul mentions how Hadrian enlarged the
jurisdiction of the prefect of the city in civil matters.35 Beyond these
anecdotal accounts, there is very little evidence.
Hadrian is the first emperor whose rescripts have been preserved in
the Digest and the Codex in greater numbers. The rescript system
appears to become more formalized, or at least the rescripts them-
selves figure more prominently in the sources from Hadrian onwards.
Rescripts, as they are now known, were answers to petitions by the
emperor that were often legally significant. Because petitioning an
emperor was comparably easier than having the emperor adjudicate
30
SHA Hadr. 18.1, 22.11–12; Cass. Dio 69.7.1–2.
31
Cass. Dio 69.7.1–2.
32
Cass. Dio 69.18.2–3; De Angelis, ‘The Emperor’s Justice’ (2010), 136, 147, 152–4.
33
Cass. Dio 69.4.1–3; SHA Hadr. 22.13.
34
SHA Pius 2.11. SHA Marc. 11.6 mentions how Marcus would replace these
consulares with iuridici. On these iuridici and their extraordinary role in the admin-
istration of justice, see Beggio, ‘Riflessioni sui iuridici’ (2013); Dig. 1.20.1–2.
35
Dig. 1.12.2.
in your case, and the emperors were willing to answer them, the
rescript system became a central part of the way the emperor
exercised his influence in legal proceedings.36 The change may
be seen as brought about by Hadrian, as Trajan was consciously
reluctant to issue rescripts in order to avoid setting legal precedents.37
That is not to say that Hadrian was not sitting as a judge. Evidence
from papyri show that Hadrian had even attended to some cases
repeatedly. P.Teb. II 286 shows that one man had succeeded in having
his case or cases heard by Hadrian on two successive days.38 It was a
different matter, however, to reach someone physically and gain an
audience than to be able to send a written message.
A number of Hadrian’s legal decisions have been preserved, mainly
in the Digest. What these cases indicate is that the emperor had an
active interest in addressing the concerns of the less powerful, or at
least appeared to have such an interest. Hadrian would side with the
widow, the slave, the son under patria potestas in general against a
strict reading of the law that would otherwise have allowed them to be
maltreated.
Some issues may be considered to have gained a modicum of
notoriety. For example, Ulpian mentions that Hadrian decided to
relegate a matron called Umbricia for five years because she had
horribly abused her slave girl for the smallest of reasons.39 The case,
as Ulpian notes, was a delicate one. On one hand, the rights of slave-
owners to control their property should be protected, but on the
other, so should slaves be protected against abuse. As a result, it was
underlined that the punishment in this particular case should not
be seen as a precedent. However, Hadrian and Antoninus Pius did
institute general protections for slaves. Hadrian maintained that
slaves could not be killed unlawfully, not be forced into prostitution,
or conscripted as gladiators, while Pius wrote that slaves were not to
be subject to intolerable injury.40 It is unclear whether this may be
seen as the first indications of the roots of the human-rights idea, in
that the personality and dignity of slaves was recognized,41 but it is
evident that slaves were not to be considered purely as property.
36
Sirks, ‘Making a Request to the Emperor’ (2001). On rescripts, see Wilcken,
‘Kaiserreskripten’ (1920); Nörr, ‘Reskriptenpraxis’ (1981).
37
SHA Marc. 13.1; Peachin, Iudex (1996), 19.
38 39
Peachin, Iudex (1996), 87. Dig. 1.6.2.
40
Dig. 1.6.2; Gai. Inst. 1.53; Liebs, Summoned to the Roman Courts (2012), 139–50.
41
Honoré, Ulpian (2002), 86.
Hadrian demonstrated concern for the troops and the ill effects of
long campaigns and deployments far away. Paul refers to a decision of
Hadrian to reinstate a son serving in the military as heir. The son had
been passed over in the will because his mother heard that he had
died. Even though Hadrian reinstated the son as heir, he upheld
manumissions and legacies in the same document.42
Even in criminal cases where the strict letter of the law demanded
harsher punishments, Hadrian opted for more lenient administrative
solutions such as relegation.43 Ulpian mentions a case brought
to Hadrian from the governor of Baetica. Hadrian confirmed the
governor’s decision to relegate a man for five years for causing the
death of another per lasciviam.44 Papinian says that Hadrian relegated
a man for three years for taking someone else’s wife to live with him
when his own wife was away on a journey.45
Not all cases adjudicated by Hadrian contain such lofty ideals;
some were decidedly mundane, though important in the development
of private law. Pomponius says that Hadrian resolved a case regarding
the right to use of a forest as a legacy by stating that the right to use
fruits should be included in the legacy.46
Important as the rulings of Hadrian may be, there are twice as
many rescripts preserved in the legal sources as decreta.47 It is, of
course, impossible to say anything about the total number of deci-
sions or rescripts from which the existing quotations were culled, but
the fact that both are numerously attested in legal sources is an
indication that weighty legal issues were on hand both at the tribunal
and in responding to petitions.
There is a long debate over whether it was the emperor himself who
responded to petitions with rescripts or whether lawyers working at
the imperial chancellery actually drafted the letters and sent them on
the emperor’s behalf. Scholars have mainly supposed that most of the
rescripts were written by secretaries, and some, like Honoré, have
even claimed to have identified the style of individual secretaries. The
case of Hadrian is quite unique, as his rescripts often have a very
personal style. His letters, which are often quoted verbatim, have,
42
Dig. 5.2.28.
43
In some instances, such as the cattle thieves of Dig. 47.14.1; Coll. 11.7.1–4, he adopted
a harsher punishment.
44 45 46
Dig. 48.8.4.1. Dig. 24.2.8. Dig. 7.8.22.pr.
47
This is not counting the Sententiae divi Hadriani.
according to Honoré, the air of being written by Hadrian in person.48
Honoré claims that his aim was to make justice more accessible and
law more certain. He refers to Hadrian’s intellectual curiosity and
pursuit of truth.49 In contrast, Williams’ study on Hadrian’s rescripts
attempts to show that it was in fact the emperor himself who
answered the questions, and the role of secretaries was limited.50
There are a number of rescripts in which Hadrian clearly demon-
strates anger and emotion over the matter at hand. For example,
when a petitioner implied that a woman involved in a matter was
less than trustworthy, Hadrian angrily replies that he knew her to be
without blame or fault.51 In another matter where people of high
standing were apparently trying to avoid their duties, Hadrian
reproached them strongly.52 Likewise, in responding to a complaint
of Julius Tarentinus that a judge had been deceived by false evidence
given by bribed witnesses, Hadrian ordered an investigation and
maintained that the culprits of this base conduct should be dealt
with severely.53
Interpreting emotions from a much-edited text is an enterprise
that may leave one open to the danger of projecting presupposed
notions on the material, such as the fact that emperors from Trajan to
Marcus Aurelius have been lauded for their enlightened character.
However, there are cases where it is explicitly stated how an emperor
attempted to act virtuously. For example, Hadrian consciously sought
to demonstrate his humanitas towards the soldiers.54 Equally, as
we will see later, Antoninus Pius explained how he sought a more
humane solution to a legal problem, as did Marcus.55 The narrative
function of demonstrating emotion and the underlining of the
humane nature of the solution is the same: it shows how the emperor
cares deeply about justice and his subjects, striving to personally bring
it to them. Hadrian’s leniency did not extend to one category: slaves
who kill their masters or fail to protect them. In a rescript quoted
verbatim over the SC Silanianum, Hadrian wrote that a slave girl
48
49
50
Williams, ‘Individuality in the Imperial Constitutions’ (1976), 69–70.
51
FIRA III.100, l. 4–9 (P.Teb. 286); Williams, ‘Individuality in the Imperial
Constitutions’ (1976), 70.
52
Dig. 27.1.15.17; Williams, ‘Individuality in the Imperial Constitutions’ (1976), 70.
53 54 55
Dig. 42.1.33. BGU I.140 = FIRA I.78. Dig. 27.4.3, 28.4.3.
who failed to protect her mistress by screaming should be punished
with death.56
In general, the rescripts of Hadrian are a jumbled mass of decisions
and certainly bear little resemblance to the emperor magnanimously
granting the wishes of petitioners. One reason for this may be that
what is preserved of the rescripts are excerpts of what the jurists
quoting them found to be relevant. For example, Ulpian quotes at
length a rescript of Hadrian on the meaning of the term ‘old
clothes’.57 For the high-minded narratives of imperial justice these
issues were purely irrelevant, but for the functioning of the legal
system they were vital. Some do contain resolutions for concrete
cases on issues such as correct burial-places.58
The mechanism of rescripts may be seen as a continuation of the
familiar theme of individuals petitioning the ruler. The epitome of
Dio’s Roman history recounts an event during the reign of Hadrian
when an old lady asked Hadrian a question and he said he was too
busy to stop and answer her. She retorted: ‘Cease, then, being
emperor’, whereupon Hadrian stopped and granted her a hearing.59
Such stories, with almost identical wordings, were told of kings
Philip II and Demetrius Poliorcetes by Plutarch, suggesting a well-
established literary trope.60
Aulus Gellius writes that Hadrian heard a case regarding the birth
of a child to a widow eleven months after the death of her husband.
Hadrian decided that the child could be by her husband.61 Although
biologically questionable, this ruling was first and foremost of a
charitable nature, like similar ones given elsewhere. What remains
unknown is how cases like this came to be heard by the emperor. The
wording reveals that Hadrian heard the case,62 but does that mean
that it came up in an open hearing or a court session?
The fact that emperors responded to petitions is fairly conventional
in the light of the traditions and practices of ruling in pre-modern
56
Dig. 29.5.1.28. In another case, Hadrian recommends torturing the slave Agri-
cola for information, Dig. 48.18.1.22.
57
Dig. 48.20.6.
58
Hadrian prescribed in a rescript a fine of 40 pieces of gold for those who bury
bodies within the city. Dig. 47.12.3.5.
59
Cass. Dio 69.6.
60
Plut. Mor. 179 C–D, Vit. Demetr. 42.11; for other references, see Millar, Emperor
(1992 [1977]), 3–4.
61 62
Gell. NA 3.16.12. Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 532.
societies. What is unconventional and extraordinary is that the
Roman emperors, at least from the age of Hadrian onwards, begin
to respond to petitions in a regular manner through writing. One
could surmise that the illusion of the ruler’s availability might have
been upheld with less. The fact that responding to petitions (either
through letters, petitions, or appeals) becomes one of the central
preoccupations of the Roman emperor and the central vehicle for
the advancement of private law is almost unique, as shown by Aelius
Aristides. In the context of the empire, what the possibilities opened
by the libellus procedure meant was that even provincials could and
did approach the emperor and were given a reply that could be used
to pressure the local magistrate or governor to act accordingly.63
From the preserved rescripts, it is evident that the emperors often
wrote back to petitioners simply instructing them to contact the
relevant authorities. For example, Antoninus Pius advised a claimant
to contact ‘the relevant judges’ with his request. In short, Pius
acknowledged the claim, but the judges were to verify that the
circumstances of the case were as claimed.64 This becomes a standard
way of replying, and solves the issues of ascertaining the facts and
executing the decision by delegating it to lower magistrates. It became
equally clear that whatever the emperor did was bound to have an
impact on the rulings of lower magistrates and judges, because they
might come to be considered precedents. In a letter, Marcus Aurelius
reminds Fronto of his earlier attempt to warn Pius of this phenom-
enon, that his rulings would be precedents for all magistrates in all
provinces.65 Pius, in a letter to Thracians, writes that one is permitted
to appeal even an imperial rescript, since it may be shown that the
original petition had misrepresented the case.66
It is evident that the possibility of gaining the upper hand in a legal
process through an imperial rescript would lead to petitioners taking
their cases directly to the emperor, bypassing whatever local courts
there might have been. In consequence, Marcus and Verus wrote in a
rescript that: ‘[A]ppeals which were made direct to the emperor,
bypassing those to whom appeals ought to be made from the lower
63
Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 544–5.
64
Dig. 25.3.5.7, similarly Cod. Iust. 2.1.1. The same emperor referring a case to the
consuls, Dig. 34.1.3.
65 66
Fronto, Ep. ad M. Caes. 1.6.2–3. Dig. 49.1.1.1.
courts, were to be referred to the provincial governors.’67 Such a
limitation and others that accompanied it68 were no doubt meant to
preserve the functioning of the system at large since without it all
other courts would lose their validity.69
What the imperial rescripts meant for legal scholarship is disputed,
but one can say with certainty that the aims of the jurists were not in
line with the aim of the emperor to appear as a good judge and great
king. The fact that the emperor could respond to a petitioner and his
word would have the power of law would make much of the task of
legal interpretation redundant. One would only need to ask the
emperor. However, from the later emperors we have cases in which
the emperor discusses the matter with his advisers, among them
noted lawyers. A further complexity is that the emperor may issue
rescripts that have the force of law, but in order to have general
importance the ruling would have to make its way into the writings
of the jurists. Because the rescripts were not necessarily available for
consultation, beyond private collections, the jurists were to a certain
degree guardians of what made its way into the doctrine of law. The
emperor may very well have been all-powerful, but whether his legal
opinion was cited as precedent depended on the lawyers. What the
narratives of jurisdiction in the legal sources add to the familiar
pattern of petition and response between ruler and subject is the
consultation of jurists, who were very cautious in the presence of
emperors themselves, but not shy of criticizing their decisions
afterwards.
The conception of the emperor as an all-powerful and assiduous
judge permeates literature from the second and third centuries.70
Even the emperors themselves begin to be quite frank about their
sovereignty. The exceptionality of any limits to imperial sovereignty
was formulated by Antoninus Pius, who wrote in a rescript that: ‘I am
master of the world, but the law of the sea must be judged by the sea
law of the Rhodians where our own law does not conflict with it.’
The rescript, which is quoted by Maecianus, was to Eudaemon of
Nicomedia, who had been robbed by the people of the Cyclades after
67 68
Dig. 49.1.21.pr. Dig. 49.1.21.
69
In the next chapter, the process involving Goharians bypassed this very rule. See
earlier Kelly, Princeps Iudex (1957), 98–9.
70
Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 528–9.
a shipwreck.71 The conclusion is that the Roman emperor was under-
stood to be a universal ruler, but he chose to allow the customary law
of the Rhodians be used in the laws of the seas. This voluntary
distinction makes the rescript ever more significant, as it affirms
Pius’ intent to communicate his universal power and authority, but
even more his considerate and restrained use of this power.72 The
case also illustrates the possible ways that rescripts might come to be
quoted by jurists. Volusius Maecianus was a legal secretary (a libellis)
under Pius, and thus it is possible that this might have been a
response that Maecianus heard personally or even written down.
Like Hadrian, Pius (r. AD 138–61) was concerned with the mal-
treatment of slaves, which led to complex problems. For example, a
rescript of Pius (Dig. 1.6.2) was obviously a response to a pressing
situation, because he first very clearly states that the rights of slave-
owners will not be infringed, but secondly orders Aelius Marcianus,
proconsul of Baetica, to examine the treatment of the slaves of Julius
Sabinus. They had escaped to the emperor’s statue, and if their
treatment has been overly harsh Pius ordered Marcianus to manage
their sale from their current master. Finally, he gives the instruction
that if the owner attempts to evade his orders, severe retribution will
follow.73 If Hadrian’s rescripts were full of emotion and personal
touches, those of Antoninus Pius are characterized by the liberal
use of sarcasm and irony.74 However, he also maintained the sanctity
of the imperial dignity. Pius had written in a rescript that a man who
had used the image of the emperor to arouse hatred in another man
was to be sentenced to public imprisonment.75 The first rescripts in
the Codex of Justinian are from Pius. Of the eleven of his rescripts
that are preserved, only two may be considered to have resolved the
71
Dig. 14.2.9: Maecianus ex lege Rhodia. Ἀξίωσις Εὐδαίμονος Νικομηδέως πρὸς
Ἀντωνῖνον βασιλέα. Κύριε βασιλεῦ Ἀντωνῖνε, ναυφράγιον ποιήσαντες ἐν τῇ Ἰταλιᾳ
διηρπάγημεν ὑπὸ τῶν δημοσίων τῶν τάς Κυκλάδας νήσους οἰκούντων. Ἀντωνῖνος
εἶπεν Εὐδαίμονι. ἐγὼ μὲν τοῦ κόσμου κύριος, ὁ δὲ νόμος τῆς θαλάσσης. τῷ νόμῳ τῶν
‘Ροδίων κρινέσθω τῷ ναυτικῷ, ἐν οἶς μήτις τῶν ἡμετέρων αὐτῷ νόμος ἐναντιοῦται.
τοῦτο δὲ αὐτὸ καὶ ὁ θειότατος Αὔγουστος ἔκρινεν. See Aubert, ‘Dealing with the Abyss’
(2007) for references.
72
Marotta, Multa de iure (1988), offers an important reading of the multifaceted
cultural context of the chosen wording.
73
The literature is quite extensive, see McGinn, Prostitution (1998), 306–11;
Caravaglios, ‘Male nostro’ (2014) for references. See also Gaius 1.53.
74
Williams, ‘Individuality in the Imperial Constitutions’ (1976), 74–8.
75
Dig. 48.19.28.7 (Callistratus).
case at hand,76 while the others are clarifications of legal issues. Even
here, there may be noted some instances where the emperor appears
to make a moral point, for example, when affirming that children
should help their parents in need.77
Otherwise we know little of Antoninus Pius’ practice of adjudication.78
The Historia Augusta mentions that he established a number of legal
principles with the help of leading jurisprudents. It is a sign of the
inaccuracy of the Historia Augusta that most of the names of these jurists
are wrong.79
There are signs that jurists were concerned about attempts to
influence imperial judgments by what could be only described as
bribery. For example, Paul wrote that it is wrong to make the emperor
an heir for the sake of litigation, calling it a misuse of the imperial
majesty.80 Appointing the emperor as heir was, of course, a common
course of action during the empire, with numerous explanations such
as gaining imperial favour or getting the help of the fisc in the
enforcement of the will.
Marcus Aurelius (r. AD 161–80), perhaps more than any other
emperor of the era, attempted to consciously grasp the full implica-
tions of the imperial powers and to combine them with the narrative
of the good king-judge.81 In his Meditations he discusses the virtues
of his predecessor and adopted father, Antoninus Pius, virtues that
were equally relevant in the process of imperial adjudication. The
foremost of them was compassion, but almost as important was
treating people as they deserved. He was equally willing to listen to
experts and to yield to their opinions in matters like oratory or law
(Med. 1.16). Marcus’ ideas about law and justice were, as he himself
notes, influenced by Stoic philosophy. He envisions an equal society
governed by laws, which was ruled with a deep respect for liberty
(Med. 4.12). This conception of the ideal society was shadowed by the
character of the tyrant, who lingers on the sidelines of arguments like
a reminder of the alternative to virtuous kingship (Med. 4.48). The
virtues of man, justice, generosity, self-control, sanity, prudence,
76 77
Cod. Iust. 6.37.1, 6.54.1. Cod. Iust. 5.25.1.
78
The best study on Antoninus Pius and the law is Marotta, Multa de iure (1988).
79
SHA Pius 12.1: Salvius Valens is most likely Salvius Julianus, Diavolenus is
Javolenus, and so on.
80
Dig. 28.5.93(92).
81
There are just a few studies on Marcus Aurelius and the law; see e.g. Arcaria,
Oratio Marci (2003).
honesty, humility, and so on (Med. 4.49a) can also be seen as the
virtues one should aspire to as a judge.
Continuing the narrative of the good and conscientious emperor-
judge, the author of the Historia Augusta reports that Marcus Aurelius
was considered to be a fair and conscientious judge, who employed a
number of leading lawyers in his consilium.82 We may see the way that
he operated in the famous imperial cognition from 166 regarding the
interpretation of the will of Valerius Nepos. The issue was that Nepos
had erased the names of his heirs from his will, making the will
ineffectual along with the manumissions and legacies involved. After
hearing the arguments for and against, Marcus sent everyone away to
deliberate. When he admitted them once more, he announced that he
would opt for a more humane interpretation: only the provisions that
were erased would be null and void, and the rest of the will would
stand. In this, as in a couple of other cases, the text retains the
arguments of the lawyers about the case and shows the emperor’s
deliberations as being based on them. Whether or not the emperor
made these deliberations alone is debatable. In this case, the wording of
Marcellus is that he sent everyone away, but whether that included his
consilium and its lawyers remains open.83 Again, the narrative sends
the message of the centrality of the emperor.
The duality between the narratives of good and bad emperors was
sometimes apparent in the depictions of dual reigns such as those of
Marcus Aurelius and Lucius Verus (r. AD 161–9), which were reduced
to stereotypical lengths. The often-presented comparison between
the behaviour of Marcus and his brother Lucius when they shared a
villa outside Rome is an indicator of Marcus’ image: Marcus indus-
triously sat as a judge for five days, examining legal cases with care,
while Lucius engaged in sordid debaucheries with actors and other
lowly characters.84 This example shows more the literary theme of
comparing good and bad emperors than the actual actions of Marcus
and Lucius.
Marcus was taught by Fronto, and their correspondence reveals an
interesting outlook on the figure of the emperor at the time. Marcus
82
SHA Marc. 9–12; Honoré, Emperors and Lawyers (1994), 16–19.
83
Dig. 28.4.3. The text contains the wordings of the deliberation, a very rare instance.
Honoré, Emperors and Lawyers (1994), 18; Rizzi, Imperator cognoscens decrevit (2012),
151–74 on earlier literature. Other good examples of Marcus’s weighing of legal
opinions are Dig. 37.14.17, 48.7.7.
84
SHA Verus 8.8–10.
calls Fronto his magister, whereas Fronto writes to him, addressing
Marcus as his dominus. In a letter mentioned earlier from 144–5,
Marcus quotes a speech apparently sent to him by Fronto which
describes the precedental nature of imperial jurisdiction: tuis autem
decretis, imperator, exempla publice valitura in perpetuum sanciuntur
(‘your decrees, emperor, will have permanent validity as precedents’).
What Fronto, and by extension Marcus, are implying is that the
imperial power over law is nearly limitless. The power of the emperor
is greater than that of the Fates, because they decide what happens to
individuals whereas the emperor decides what happens to all.85
In some cases this meant that the emperors were to bring justice
even to people under duress. Marcus and Lucius applauded the
actions of Voconius Saxa, the proconsul of Africa, who had tortured
the slave Primitivus to ascertain the truth. Primitivus had confessed
to a murder in order to escape his abusive master, but after being
cleared of the charges he was ordered him to be sold to another.
Ulpian, in his conclusion, writes that in cases like this the task of the
governor is to write to the emperor.86
The Historia Augusta reports that Marcus Aurelius was very care-
ful in the administration of justice. He followed the example of
Hadrian and appointed consulars to administer justice in Italy. He
would hear capital cases against senators himself before a public
trial.87 Dio writes that Marcus dealt with the senatorial conspiracy
of Cassius very leniently, executing only a few. He did not even try
the conspirators himself, but rather sent them to be tried in the
Senate.88
The main civil responsibility of the emperor, even in adjudication,
was maintaining the peace. Much of that involved the management of
the often-quarrelling elite of the empire. Herodes Atticus was
engaged in a lawsuit that stemmed from power-struggles in Athens.
Finally, the case was heard by Marcus Aurelius at Sirmium. Herodes
was distraught due to the recent sudden death of two young girls he
had raised. According to Philostratus, he longed for death when he
came to speak in front of the emperor. He launched into direct attacks
against Marcus, so much so that Bassaeus, the praetorian prefect,
noted that he evidently wanted to die. Herodes then left the court, not
85 86
Fronto, Ep. ad M Caes. 1.6.2–3. Dig. 48.18.1.27.
87 88
SHA Marc. 10.7–12. Cass. Dio 71(72).28.2.
using the time allotted to him.89 Marcus never changed his expression
when listening to the speech, but when the Athenian embassy listed
their accusations against Herodes, the emperor burst into tears. In the
end, he punished Herodes’ freedmen.90
To what extent emperors would be expected to delve into local
matters is a matter of debate, but we have a number of instances
where an emperor would be needed to step in to quell mistrust and
strife (as we saw earlier in the involvement of Claudius in the disputes
between Greeks and Jews in Alexandria). One of these is a letter from
Marcus Aurelius dealing with the same Herodes Atticus. It can be
dated to the year 174–5, the year after the incident at Sirmium. It is a
long inscription that contains Marcus’ verdicts on a number of issues.
Most of them are matters pertaining to local magistracies and priest-
hoods, a curious collection of affairs that most likely have a political
connection (citizenship rights, recalling an exile, and so on). Modern
observers have noted that the aim of the rulings (a number of cases
were delegated to judges) may have been to restore peace in the city
and settle the disputes between Herodes Atticus and the Athenians.
From the wording and the attitude of the author of the text, Williams
has convincingly argued that the main part of the text was drafted
personally by Marcus himself (it even includes an apology for his bad
Greek).91 What the text demonstrates is that while the emperor may
be all-powerful, he still needs to operate through persuasion and
bargaining. In a number of issues Marcus clearly reluctantly accedes
to the demands of Athenians in an effort to bring about peace
between the factions.
Beyond the examples of the magnanimity and poise of the Stoic
emperor, there are a number of purely technical issues of law that
Marcus decided, such as matters regarding testaments and the inter-
est of the fisc.92 Marcus and Lucius replied to Flavia Tertulla on a
89
It would appear that even in the emperor’s court, time was a controlled quantity,
cf. the Alexandrian embassy in front of Claudius (see Ch. 3).
90
Philostr. V S 2.560–2; Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 4–5. According to the
story, Herodes himself went to live in Attica and several years later, wondering
whether the emperor was angry at him, wrote to him, but more in the manner of a
complaint than an apology, receiving a friendly reply from Marcus.
91
Wankerl, Appello (2009), 17–68 Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 512; Williams,
‘Individuality in the Imperial Constitutions’ (1976), 79; Williams, ‘Formal and His-
torical Aspects’ (1975); Oliver, Greek Constitutions (1989), 366–95.
92
Dig. 34.9.12, 34.9.16.2; Cod. Iust. 6.54.2.
matter regarding the validity of her marriage to her uncle in ignor-
ance of the law. They wrote that they were moved by the length of the
marriage and the fact that it was arranged by her grandmother, and
by the number of her children. Therefore they conclude that the
marriage should be regarded as legitimate.93
In many instances it is hard to determine where an issue was a
technicality and where a matter of principle. For example, a definition
of a term could entail a principled stand on limiting the use of self-
help and enforcing the use of legal proceedings. The question was
whether self-help would be allowed in the collection of a debt; for
instance, could the creditor enter the property of the debtor and seize
it? In a reply to the claim of Marcianus, Marcus took a strong stand
and maintained that vis or violence is not only when people are
injured, but also when property is taken without proper legal author-
ization. It is evident from the wording that the issue was discussed in
oral proceedings, making Marcus’ allegations about Marcianus com-
promising both his dignity and his piety with his unlawful acts quite
striking.94
The locations where the emperor sat in judgment, if mentioned at
all, begin to be references to imperial reception halls. In the Digest,
Marcus is mentioned to have resolved an issue regarding the will of a
praetorian from Sparta in his auditorium.95
The narrative duality of good and bad emperors is, for the histor-
ians, demonstrated in the contrast between Marcus and his successor
Commodus (r. AD 180–92).96 While Marcus had been a diligent and
observant judge, Commodus neglected his duties. When he did
adjudicate, he was described as lazy and incompetent.97 While he
reigned for twelve years, only a few of his rulings survive.98 Commo-
dus’ reign was dominated by his cubicularius, his freedman Cleander,
who made huge profits by selling offices and privileges.99 After
Maternus’ plot, Commodus mostly retreated from Rome and did
not appear in public, avoiding legal and imperial business.100 In her
93
Dig. 23.2.57.1.
94
Dig. 48.7.7; Liebs, Summoned to the Roman Courts (2012), 155–64.
95 96
Dig. 36.1.23.pr. Hekster, Commodus (2002).
97
Dio, who normally recounts each emperor’s style of adjudication, only remarks the
laziness and incompetence of Commodus. Cass. Dio 72(73).9.1, 72(73).10.2; Honoré,
Emperors and Lawyers (1994), 16–19.
98
Dig. 49.14.31 is a rare example of his sole reign.
99 100
Cass. Dio 72(73).12–13; Herodian 1.13.4. Herodian 1.11.5.
argument that emperors and not imperial functionaries composed
the bulk of the rescripts, Williams notes that if officials drafted
rescripts, Commodus’ laziness and incompetence would not have
made any difference. Indeed, there are nearly no rescripts or consti-
tutions from his reign. Honoré has countered that this was due to his
memory being damned.101
Despite being almost universally vilified, even Commodus was
hailed by petitioners in laudatory terms.102 The inscription con-
taining the petition of the coloni of the imperial estate Saltus
Burunitanus (CIL VIII 10570) from North Africa to Commodus,
dated 15 May 181, provides a very good example of how petition-
ers used the language of oppression to make their case. In accord-
ance with the near-universal rhetorical structure used by subjects
petitioning monarchs or praying to gods, they present themselves
as weak but loyal peasants who are being oppressed by powerful
men. They write that their opponent, the leaseholder, sent soldiers
to harass them, and they cannot get justice because the local
magistrates have been bribed and the imperial laws are not obeyed.
Thus, only an intervention by the great and powerful emperor will
save the day.103
In conclusion, the evidence from the reign of Hadrian onwards
demonstrates how central the imperial adjudication had become in
the narrative tradition. In this narrative, the emperor sought to
demonstrate his humanity and consideration in the exercise of
power. With the spread of the giving of rescripts, imperial justice
became easier and easier to attain. This meant that the emperors had
more direct access to the people, which signified that they were liable
to demonstrate not only their virtues but also their bureaucratic
administrative side in their adjudication. From the contents of the
decisions and rescripts, it is apparent that the emperors were begin-
ning to believe in the ideal of the virtuous ruler as the bringer of
justice to their subjects.
101
Williams, ‘Individuality in the Imperial Constitutions’ (1976), 82; Honoré, Emperors
and Lawyers (1994), 19.
102
As Hekster, Commodus (2002) demonstrates, Commodus was quite popular in
some segments of the population.
103
Hauken, Petition and Response (1998), 2–28. The fragmentary inscription from
Qasr Mezuar is linked with the Saltus Burunitanus inscription and contains a similar
petition to Commodus from the coloni of an imperial estate.
SUETONIUS AND THE EMPEROR AS JUDGE
The two extremes of the good king and the evil tyrant are also
continuously present in Suetonius’ Lives of the Caesars, which has
had the greatest influence on our view of the Roman emperors. Often
in a baffling manner, Suetonius constantly combines these two
extremes and shows his otherwise quite mad emperors acting as
conscientious and reasonable judges. Compared with previous litera-
ture, in the writings of Suetonius reports of emperors adjudicating are
multiplied and he shows adjudication as a part of the emperor’s
normal activities. Another, less studied indicator is the reading of
Suetonius’ depictions of emperors acting as judges as exemplary
portrayals of imperial power and responsibility. Suetonius, an imper-
ial official under Hadrian, portrays examples of the way in which the
emperor should and should not act. Augustus is depicted as a good,
generous emperor and diligent, merciful judge, who also has a ruth-
less and lethal side. Tiberius similarly balances between the roles of
good prince and evil tyrant, succumbing at last to the dark side, which
is shown by his callous disregard for the rules of the reciprocal gift
exchange that linked the emperor to the people. Caligula is an
example of a simple tyrant, who is clearly incapable of handling the
limitless power he has. Claudius, on the other hand, lacks the dignity,
gravity, and virtue essential to an emperor.104
The aim of this section is to study the image of the good emperor as
judge in Suetonius and, through the narratives of the good and
bad, explore how adjudication served as a mirror of the emperor’s
character. Suetonius revels in describing the imperial virtues and
vices,105 and his description reflects the contested narratives of imper-
ial adjudication. Though Suetonius’ approach to law has been seen
as haphazardly changing, there is remarkably little in the way of
misconceptions and inaccuracies.106 Through the depictions of
Suetonius on imperial jurisdiction, it is evident that not only was it
a central part of the emperor’s duties, but also a field where imperial
virtues and vices are displayed.
104
Suet. Aug. 27, 33–4, 53.1–2; Suet. Tib. 33, 60–1; Suet. Calig. 33–4; Suet. Claud.
14–15. On Suetonius’ use of exempla, see Gunderson, ‘E.g. Augustus’ (2014), 135.
105
Bradley, ‘Imperial Virtues’ (1976); Lambrecht, Herrscherbild und Prinzipatsidee
(1984); Bradley, ‘The Imperial Ideal’ (1991).
106
Bauman, ‘Legislation in Suetonius’ (1982), 124.
Facts about Suetonius’ life and career are contested, but the evi-
dence suggests a very accomplished equestrian career. In an inscrip-
tion from Hippo Regius in North Africa (AE 1953, 27–8 no. 73), we
learn that he was a juror during the reign of Trajan and held a
number of important posts in the imperial chancellery, possibly first
under Trajan but mostly under Hadrian. He was first a studiis (an
official assigned to research matters and draft texts), then a bibliothe-
cis (in charge of the imperial libraries), and finally ab epistulis (official
in charge of imperial correspondence). Hadrian dismissed him from
this position at the same time as his possible patron Septicius Clarus,
the praetorian prefect (SHA Hadr. 11.3), most likely in AD 122. At the
same time, he was a fairly well-known writer and a friend of Pliny.
Whether one should call Suetonius a historian like his contemporary
Tacitus is questionable; he was first and foremost a biographer, who
wrote two main works, first De viris illustribus and later his imperial
biographies.107 In earlier scholarship Suetonius’ biographies were
lambasted as a sordid collection of rumours that were of dubious
value to historical scholarship, but recent scholars have recognized
his value as an author.108 Though he writes extensively about law,
there has been minimal scholarship on this side of his work.109
Apart from Caesar and Augustus, Suetonius’ emperors appear
mostly as stock figures that have little character of their own apart
from descriptions of appearance. They are merely acting out the
deeds and events of each emperor’s life. Those emperors deemed
exemplary in their actions are so in a quite uniform way, save for a
characteristic or two to distinguish them, such as Vespasian’s miser-
liness. Suetonius quite clearly had an idea of what a good emperor was
107
Pliny wrote to him to encourage his writing (Ep. 5.10). On Suetonius’ life and
career, see Townend, ‘Hippo Inscription’ (1961); Baldwin, ‘Suetonius’ (1975); Syme,
‘Travels of Suetonius’ (1981); Wallace-Hadrill, Suetonius (1983); Baldwin, Suetonius
(1983); Sanders, ‘Suetonius in the Civil Service’ (1944); Lounsbury, Arts of Suetonius
(1987); Lindsay, ‘Suetonius as ab epistulis’ (1994); Wardle, ‘Suetonius as ab epistulis’
(2002).
108
On the re-examination of Suetonius the historian and biographer, see Wallace-
Hadrill, Suetonius (1983); Baldwin, Suetonius (1983); Bradley, ‘The Imperial Ideal’
(1991); Lewis, ‘Suetonius’ Caesares’ (1991). On the biographical model of Suetonius
and its relation to Plutarch and others, see Bowersock, ‘Vita Caesarum’ (1998); Lewis,
‘Suetonius’ Caesares’ (1991). Wallace-Hadrill would famously state that Suetonius
wrote ‘not-history’ (Wallace-Hadrill, Suetonius (1983), 9). On his relationship with
archival sources, see De Coninck, ‘Sources documentaries de Suétone’ (1991).
109
On Suetonius and law, see Tomulescu, ‘Les Douze Césars et le droit romain’
(1977); Bauman, ‘Legislation in Suetonius’ (1982).
and what were the typical imperial virtues and vices, much like the
concept of the good emperor in Pliny.110 However, despite his earlier
poor reputation, newer scholarship has acknowledged the balanced
and impartial treatment that Suetonius accords to his subjects.111
Much has been written about the relationship between Suetonius
and Hadrian and whether his dismissal would have reflected in his
writings, with some arguing that the emperor biographies are a veiled
criticism of Hadrian. Such a view does not find support in the
sources.112 It has been equally suggested that the Vitae might have
been a programmatic text aimed at Hadrian,113 but all such claims are
most likely wishful thinking.
The good emperor-judge is described as a collection of virtuous
actions, being strict, severe, lenient, scrupulous, or conscientious. Just
a few examples suffice:
He [Caesar] administered justice with the utmost conscientiousness and
strictness.
Ius laboriosissime ac severissime dixit.114
He [Augustus] himself administered justice regularly and sometimes up
to nightfall, having a litter placed upon the tribunal, if he was indis-
posed, or even lying down at home. In his administration of justice he
was both highly conscientious and very lenient . . .
Ipse ius dixit assidue et in noctem nonnumquam, si parum corpore
valeret lectica pro tribunali collocata, vel etiam domi cubans. Dixit
autem ius non diligentia modo summa sed et lenitate.115
He [Claudius] administered justice most conscientiously both as consul
and when out of office . . .
Ius et consul et extra honourem laboriosissime dixit . . . 116
110
Wallace-Hadrill, Suetonius (1983), 152–7; Baldwin, Suetonius (1983), 269.
111
Konstan, Reading Politics (2009), 455–6.
112
While Bradley, ‘Imperial Virtues’ (1976), 251 does not offer much evidence
other than the lack of evidence for his rejection of contemporary criticism, attempts at
finding reliably contemporary themes have not been successful either. See Carney,
‘How Suetonius’ Lives Reflect on Hadrian’ (1968); Wardle, ‘Suetonius and His Own
Day’ (1998), writes that the evidence for a Hadrianic critique is too vague to allow
conclusive remarks.
113
Cizek, Structures et idéologie (1977).
114
Suet. Iul. 43. Tr. here and below Rolfe with slight modifications. See also
Bauman, ‘Legislation in Suetonius’ (1982), 94–5.
115 116
Suet. Aug. 33.1. Suet. Claud. 14.
He [Domitian] administered justice scrupulously and conscientiously,
frequently holding special sittings.
Ius diligenter et industrie dixit, plerumque et in Foro pro tribunali extra
ordinem.117
The repetitive structure of the sentences in which expressions like ius
laboriosissime dixit are used for both Caesar and Claudius gives
the impression of a formulaic style. Words typical of legal termin-
ology such as ius dixit are stylistically awkward, but they convey the
idea that this jurisdictional activity was a regular part of what the
emperor did.
The virtues of the good judge were that he was assidous, lenient,
and diligent, whereas the unworthy emperor-judge appears to have
been fickle, inconsistent, unreliable, and timid:
But in hearing and deciding cases he [Claudius] showed strange incon-
sistency of temper, for he was now careful and shrewd, sometimes hasty
and inconsiderate, occasionally silly and like a crazy man.
In cognoscendo autem ac decernendo mira varietate animi fuit, modo
circumspectus et sagax, interdum inconsultus ac praeceps, nonnumquam
frivolus amentique similis.118
In the administration of justice he [Nero] was reluctant to render a
decision to those who presented cases, except on the following day and
in writing.
In iuris dictione postulatoribus nisi sequenti die ac per libellos non temere
respondit.119
A popular theory maintains that Suetonius’ Augustus was his stereo-
typical emperor, who is identified with the state and exemplifies
Suetonius’ idea of the Principate. According to this theory, biograph-
ies of all the other emperors are more or less in reaction to that of
Augustus, describing how each emperor took charge of Augustus’
legacy. For Suetonius, every emperor was the father of the country,
the emperor’s patria potestas authorizing him to attend to the needs
of the state and those of his subjects. The basic elements of imperial
jurisdiction were already present in the interpretation of Augustus.
117
Suet. Dom. 8. Suetonius is remarkably positive with regards to Domitian and
the law; see Bauman, ‘Legislation in Suetonius’ (1982), 117–24.
118 119
Suet. Claud. 15. Suet. Ner. 15.
Beginning with Augustus there are the Apollonian implications of
the emperor’s divinity, as the emperor is elevated far beyond the
people.120 Suetonius clearly took the imperial system and the central-
ity of the emperor in it for granted. As is natural for an imperial
functionary, he identified with the imperial system.121 Each emperor
performed his tasks in his own way and Suetonius divided these tasks
and evaluated each of them (administration, Senate, provinces, law)
individually.122
Suetonius’ idea of the Principate would thus show the state sub-
jected to the needs of the emperor, not the opposite. The res publica
had become the res privata of the emperor. In contrast to Tacitus,
Suetonius sees the Principate in the light of Trajan’s and Hadrian’s
reigns. His image of Augustus is an image of the idea of the Principate
of his own time, and shows the living continuity of Augustus’
reforms.123 Suetonius, for example, mentions that Augustus was
actually given the supervision of laws and morals in perpetuity,
which Augustus himself rejects in the Res gestae.124
Instead of Augustus, I consider Suetonius’ stereotypical emperor to
be the slightly darker and divided character who, in different costumes
and guises, plays Tiberius, Caligula, Claudius, Nero, and Domitian. Like
a Hollywood actor that can essentially play only one character, he is
easily recognized by his antics. The character has a divided personality;
on the one hand he is a diligent judge, who sticks to procedure and
respects the ordinary magistrates; on the other, he is prone to violent
tantrums which would often lead to someone getting badly hurt.
Tiberius is the first example of this character in Suetonius’ work.
During the early part of his reign Tiberius insisted on allowing the
magistrates to do their work without imperial interference. The law-
courts would operate as they had before.125 In those trials where he
was present, Tiberius would become an assessor or a legal clerk, a
situation which Suetonius describes as awkward.126 When Tiberius
120
Lambrecht, Herrscherbild und Prinzipatsidee (1984), 140, 147–9.
121
Alföldy, ‘Staats- und Gesellschaftsdenken bei Sueton’ (1980–1).
122
Wallace-Hadrill, Suetonius (1983), 119–24.
123
Lambrecht, Herrscherbild und Prinzipatsidee (1984), 153–5; Bradley, ‘The
Imperial Ideal’ (1991), 3716–17 on how much Suetonius’ imperial ideals can be traced
to Augustus and the Res gestae.
124 125
Suet. Aug. 27.5. Suet. Tib. 31.2.
126
Suet. Tib. 33. A similar story is evident in the description of imperial legislation.
According to Suetonius, at first Tiberius allowed for decrees to be passed contrary to
finally grew tired of this upholding of a republican façade, he occa-
sionally relapsed into fits of cruelty and torture:127
It is a long story to run through his acts of cruelty in detail; it will be
enough to mention the forms which they took, as samples of his
barbarity. Not a day passed without an execution, not even those that
were sacred and holy; for he put some to death even on New Year's day.
Many were accused and condemned with their children and even by
their children. The relatives of the victims were forbidden to mourn for
them. Special rewards were voted the accusers and sometimes even the
witnesses. The word of no informer was doubted. Every crime was
treated as capital, even the utterance of a few simple words.
Singillatim crudeliter facta eius exsequi longum est; genera, velut exem-
plaria saevitiae, enumerare sat erit. Nullus a poena hominum cessavit
dies, ne religiosus quidem ac sacer; animadversum in quosdam ineunte
anno novo. Accusati damnatique multi cum liberis atque etiam a liberis
suis. Interdictum ne capite damnatos propinqui lugerent. Decreta
accusatoribus praecipua praemia, nonnumquam et testibus. Nemini
delatorum fides abrogata. Omne crimen pro capitali receptum, etiam
paucorum simpliciumque verborum.128
There is, however, a deeper subtext in the pattern that can be illus-
trated with the example of the fish. A fisherman in Capri had caught
an exceptionally large fish and wanted to give it to the emperor.
Unfortunately, he happened to startle the emperor, who ordered the
man to be tortured with the fish.129 I would suggest that what
Suetonius shows here is not just that Tiberius tortured an innocent
man, but he also breaks the traditional bonds of gift exchange. What
he would be expected to do, naturally, is to reciprocate with a suitable
gift of imperial magnitude. Instead, one does get the impression that
Tiberius is going slightly mad, but one is unsure whether the madness
is simply a way of explaining his behaviour without criticizing the
imperial system of government or an instructive example of how not
to behave if you do not want to appear insane.
The life of Caligula is a similar story of a good administrator
becoming increasingly unhinged. Initially Caligula did not interfere
in the courts of law and sought to restrict appeals to himself. He also
his expressed opinion. Later, when his dictatorial zeal began to show, he revoked some
regulations of the Senate. Suet. Tib. 31.1.
127
Suet. Tib. 61.1; Shotter, ‘Trial of Clutorius Priscus’ (1969), 14–18.
128 129
Suet. Tib. 61.2–3. Suet. Tib. 60.
began to publish accounts of the empire in the manner of Augustus, a
practice discontinued by Tiberius.130 Caligula, of course, went mad in
a spectacular fashion, allowing Suetonius to revel in the graphic
misdeeds of this former golden boy. There is a pattern of carnivalistic
excess in the depiction of Caligula’s reign in which the mighty
senators are humiliated, the magistrate’s authority ridiculed, and
passion becomes interchangeable with cruelty. Returning to the
example of Caligula kissing the neck of his lover, there is a deeper
message than one of uncontrolled power.131 What Suetonius illus-
trates is that when all acceptable forms of behaviour are rejected and
all safeguards are gone, no one is safe from the whim of the ruler.
Suetonius gives a picture of Claudius as a fickle and inconsistent
judge, though one who administered justice conscientiously. Claudius
did not follow the letter of the laws, but rather his own notions of
justice.132 From Suetonius’ description also comes the classic perfect
ruling: ‘I decide in favour of those who have told the truth.’133
Suetonius’ negative version of Claudius as judge was very far removed
from the images of other emperors adjudicating, the pleaders abusing
Claudius both verbally and physically in the tribunal.134
This description of Claudius shows the lack of respect towards him,
but also the lack of fear that surrounded him. The underlying idea is
that adjudication is the emperor’s duty and people were entitled to
demand that the emperor hears their case. It could also be seen as a
sign of the value that an imperial judgment had, making pleaders take
extraordinary risks to gain that advantage.
Domitian is an atypical case, in which his bad features are revealed
before his reign. Suetonius mentions that Domitian was hailed as
Caesar after Vitellius had been killed in battle. He then assumed the
position of city praetor but turned over the judicial business to his
colleagues. Soon he began to act so tyrannically that his reputation
was tarnished.135 However, as emperor he was a conscientious and
scrupulous judge.136
Suetonius’ atypical good emperors do not make a long list, just
Vespasian and Titus. Vespasian was clearly a model emperor, who
went on to restore law and justice after years of chaos, selecting
commissioners to restore losses due to war.137 He was praised for
130 131
Suet. Calig. 16.2–3. Suet. Calig. 33–5.
132 133 134
Suet. Claud. 14–15. Suet. Claud. 15.3. Suet. Claud. 15.
135 136 137
Suet. Dom. 1.3. Suet. Dom. 8.1–3. Suet. Vesp. 10.
being approachable. The doors of his palace were open to the people
and he often adjudicated in the Forum. As a judge he was industrious,
but thought nothing wrong in selling sentences to the highest
bidder.138
Suetonius’ story of Vespasian’s muleteer shines an interesting light
on the way legal cases were brought to the emperor. Vespasian was on
a journey when his muleteer stopped to shoe the mules. He suspected
that the delay was simply a ruse to allow a man with a lawsuit to
approach him. Vespasian then asked the man how much he was being
paid for the job and demanded to be given his share of the profits:139
On a journey, suspecting that his muleteer had got down to shoe the
mules merely to make delay and give time for a man with a lawsuit to
approach the emperor, he asked how much he was paid for shoeing the
mules and insisted on a share of the money.
Mulionem in itinere quodam suspicatus ad calciandas mulas desiluisse,
ut adeunti litigatori spatium moramque praeberet, interrogavit quanti
calciasset, et pactus est lucri partem.140
What this example shows is how valuable and important access to the
emperor was considered in legal cases. It is clear that for a petitioner
to go through the trouble of organizing this judicial ambush, the
potential benefits far outweighed the risks. For the story to be intel-
ligible, the idea that one would go to absurd lengths to reach the
emperor would have to resonate with the intended readers.
However, the importance of meeting the emperor in person is
paralleled with the idea that the emperor devoted time for commu-
nication, either in writing or in person. Suetonius’ description of
Vespasian’s daily routine is quite typical. Vespasian woke up early,
read letters and reports, and then took care of the morning salutation.
After that, it was time for the day’s business. However, the members
of the household usually waited until after the siesta and dinner to
make their requests, as he was most likely to be in a good mood
then.141 It is evident from this description that much of the imperial
correspondence was still the personal responsibility of the emperor
himself. The exceptionality of delegation is underlined when Sueto-
nius mentions how Titus nearly took the role of a co-emperor,
dictating letters and edicts in his father’s name.142
138 139
Suet. Vesp. 10; Cass. Dio 65(66).10.5. Suet. Vesp. 23.2.
140 141 142
Suet. Vesp. 23. Suet. Vesp. 21. Suet. Tit. 6.
What is clear in the depiction of good and bad emperors in
Suetonius is that he wishes to portray even the most positive charac-
ters as flawed and conflicted. Sometimes this leads to a clear use of
double standards, in which ‘good’ emperors are pardoned for the
same acts which in ‘bad’ emperors would be a sign of madness. One
observer has remarked that having mistresses or engaging in
debaucheries would simply be a character trait in a good emperor
but a sign of an irreparable flaw in another. However, consistency was
definitely not one of Suetonius’ strengths, as there are clear contra-
dictions in which the same acts committed by the same emperor are
seen to be either beneficial good acts or worthless waste.143
One can readily concur with the assessment that, as biography,
Suetonius’ work is ‘tarnished . . . by inconsistency, double-standard,
error, uncritical use of sources, and downright stupidity’.144 However,
that is hardly relevant here. What Suetonius provides is the image of
imperial power in the age of Hadrian. Unlike Tacitus, Suetonius is
downright optimistic about the imperial power and the way it brings
opportunity to men of lower ranks. Coming from a family that had
long profited from association with various emperors or imperial
functionaries, Suetonius was certainly conscious of the possibilities
and dangers inherent in the imperial system. Again, unlike in Tacitus,
power does not corrupt in Suetonius, it simply reveals.145
Suetonius’ Roman emperor is a very different creature from that of
Seneca, Pliny, or Tacitus, but there are similarities. The emperor is
clearly all-but omnipotent, the limits of his power being posed more
by what he knew and what his subordinates would let him know than
any formal limits. Suetonius, like the others, lays a nearly impossible
burden on the emperor’s personal virtues and capabilities, not to
mention his managerial abilities for controlling the administration
and his own family. What is different in the account of Suetonius is
143
Baldwin, Suetonius (1983), 245, 273. Bradley, ‘The Imperial Ideal’ (1991), 3725
notes that even the ‘bad’ emperors are credited with positive actions.
144
Baldwin, Suetonius (1983), 339. He mentions (pp. 272–3) the example of the
nearly identical stories of emperors very publicly taking the wives of dinner-guests
from the table for a quick tryst in the bedroom and boasting about it to their flustered
husbands immediately afterwards. Suetonius tells the same story about both Augustus
and Caligula, but only in Caligula is the same behaviour a sign of monstrosity.
145
Bradley, ‘The Imperial Ideal’ (1991), 3720–30; Baldwin, Suetonius (1983),
338–9. Bradley, ‘Imperial Virtues’ (1976), 249 maintains that for Suetonius, concordia
was a virtue for both the emperor and the society.
how central the administration of justice, either by correspondence
or by adjudication on the tribunal, is to being an emperor. The
emperors’ qualities as judges are a reflection of their characteristic
virtues and vices, but Suetonius is willing to allow apparent incon-
sistencies and contradictory qualities to colour his descriptions.
Otherwise tyrannical characters are capable of acting as conscientious
and dutiful judges, but the main qualities of each emperor would be
apparent even in adjudication. On the tribunal, Claudius is a weak-
willed fool, easily persuaded and unable to make up his mind, while
the otherwise industrious and capable Vespasian showed his charac-
teristic greed by accepting bribes from litigants. However, on the
general approach to the emperor acting as judge, Suetonius maintains
none of the fundamental criticism of Tacitus of the perversion of
justice that the imperial influence might lead to. For Suetonius, the
centrality of the imperial influence in law was an established fact, as
much as or more than it was for Pliny.
One probably should not search for the purpose of Suetonius’s
Lives of the Caesars. Suetonius was not a political author in the same
sense as, for example, Tacitus. His good and bad emperors were
examples of a type, and whether he seriously considered that there
was an alternative, such as the restoration of the Republic, is doubt-
ful.146 For Suetonius, as it was for his contemporaries, the imperial
ideal was an image with a long history, and for them the public and
private lives of emperors were equally valuable markers of virtue and
vice. Thus, portrayals of sexuality and mores were pertinent in assess-
ing the character and behaviour of the sovereign, just as detailed
accounts of the emperor’s appearance were important in poking
holes in the idealized presentations on statues, coins, and portraiture
that normally were the imperial image.147 The history of the Princi-
pate had shown how dangerous the consequences of moral defects or
mental issues could be.
The balance that Suetonius portrays is the long practice of the
Principate, and the exercise of jurisdiction was a crucial component
of the good and bad elements of emperors. For Suetonius the biog-
rapher, there was no change in the duties and capabilities of the
emperors; what he depicted was an unchanging role that its holders
146
Wallace-Hadrill, Suetonius (1983), 110–11.
147
Lewis, ‘Suetonius’ Caesares’ (1991), 3636–7; Bradley, ‘The Imperial Ideal’
(1991), 3726–7.
played for better or for worse. As with ruling in general, the good,
diligent judge is countered by the tyrannical autocrat in the admin-
istration of law. As with most authors of the Roman Principate, from
Seneca, Pliny, Tacitus, and others, the figure of the tyrant emerges as a
central feature of the imperial power and its exercise.
HADRIAN AS THE LEGAL EMPEROR
How did Hadrian become endowed with a reputation as the legal

emperor? Was this a result of his achievements and fame among the
ancient Romans or his modern reputation? The issue of the idealiza-
tion of Hadrian is interesting, because it reveals not only the narra-
tives that were told of Hadrian himself but also the presuppositions
behind it, among them the criteria of a good emperor and how they
were constructed through narratives. Based on the available sources,
there emerges what could be defined as a standard list of Hadrian’s
achievements in the field of law:148
1. Industrious adjudication, conducted trials in public;
2. The appointment of a council of noted jurists to assist in
jurisdiction and the creation of a number of posts for jurists,
both in his administration and as members of his council;
3. Supervision of the judicial work of the consuls and appointment
of four consulars to administer justice;
4. Giving the prefect of the city jurisdiction alongside the praetor;
5. The codification of the praetor’s edict;
6. Improving judicial administration by his rescript service;
7. Granting jurists the ius respondendi with strict criteria;
8. Binding judges to follow the unanimous views of jurists;
9. Legislation through the Senate.
148
The authors cited do not necessarily give Hadrian credit for all of the reforms
listed below. Honoré, Emperors and Lawyers (1994), 12–16; d’Ors, ‘L’Oeuvre d’Ha-
drien’ (1965), 147–57; Pringsheim, ‘Reforms of Hadrian’ (1934), 141–53. Similarly
Bauman, Lawyers and Politics (1989), 235–315; Torrent, ‘Ordinatio edicti’ (1983);
Hübner, ‘Zur Rechtspolitik Kaiser Hadrians’ (1975); Wieacker, ‘Hadrianischen Jus-
tizpolitik’ (1935).
What this list of reforms amounts to in the eyes of later observers
was an impressive programme of administrative reform, which cre-
ated a jurisprudential bureaucracy and ended the practice of free
jurisprudence. As most of these reforms are linked with the emperor’s
jurisdiction, they are pertinent to the developments followed in
this book.
Praising Hadrian is hardly anything new. Similar appraisals dot the
literature, spanning the time from Gregorovius’ famous biography to
the present. As Pringsheim aptly put it, with the reign of Hadrian a
new epoch begins in the history of Roman law and administration,
and his reforms mark the end of an era in jurisprudence; henceforth,
‘legal science is the emperor’s servant’.149
The idealization of Hadrian was a very typical phenomenon of the
late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, in which Hadrian sym-
bolizes a kind of enlightened imperial ruler that brought a civilizing
cosmopolitan influence to his subjects. It has been noted that while the
late antique Historia Augusta is quite positive on Hadrian, his reputation
during late antiquity was otherwise often controversial. Consequently,
when authors like Symmachus or Ammianus discussed ideal emperors,
Hadrian did not make the list. Hadrian was apparently too complex a
character, demonstrating both immense capability and vices.150
What scholars of the 1930s such as Pringsheim already noted is
that Hadrian was an exceptional emperor, but his virtues are nowhere
more marked than in the administration of justice. While elsewhere
his character may have been contradictory and prone to envy, in the
reform of law one finds only a purposeful, conscientious legislator.
Hadrian was ‘the first emperor to defend the weak against the strong,
the poor against the rich’, qualities which may be ascribed to Stoic
philosophical influences.151
Hadrian has been seen as one of the good emperors, and his reign
as the apex of a golden age.152 How one came to be included in the
canon of good emperors is an interesting question. While the selec-
tion of emperors had by this stage evolved into a system of adoption,
in reality the process of selection was more often than not a series of
complex machinations in which blood was frequently spilled. The
149
Pringsheim, ‘Reforms of Hadrian’ (1934), 141–53.
150
Meckler, ‘Beginning of the Historia Augusta’ (1996), 369.
151
Pringsheim, ‘Reforms of Hadrian’ (1934), 142–3.
152
Of the topic of the golden age, see Schiavone, End of the Past (2000).
three constituencies of the emperor, the Senate, the urban plebs, and
the soldiers, to which one is tempted to add the familia Caesaris,
could all contribute in some way to the selection and disposal of an
emperor, but were unable to do so without the help of other groups.
All of the said groups or constituencies had expectations and a vested
interest in what the emperor did and did not do. How well the
emperor responded to these expectations was vital to the assessment
of whether he would be regarded as a ‘good’ emperor.153 Though all
of the groups had various options for voicing their displeasure with
the emperor, some more efficiently than others, the power to change
the historical memory of the emperor, his image in the eyes of the
afterworld, was the privilege of the senatorial aristocracy.
The emperors were at this point quite clearly allowed to do as they
pleased, not hindered by laws. However, many of those later included
in the list of good emperors voluntarily subjected themselves to the
laws, or at least strove to abide by them. These emperors understood
that freedom from the law came with a heavy responsibility. The good
emperor knew what was expected of him and when to subject himself
to the laws. Because there was no job description for the emperor, what
good emperors did was to emulate what other good emperors had
done. Augustus had naturally given some guidelines in the Res gestae,
and Pliny’s Panegyric of Trajan was another description of an exem-
plary emperor. One naturally had to take care of Rome and the empire,
but it was also very important to present the necessary imperial virtues
of civility. Thus, though the emperor as the father of the fatherland had
the right to kill any member of the family at will, this was a right best
left unused. It is still something of a mystery why the judge’s seat
became the place where people expected to see the emperor.154 The
importance of the depictions of good emperors as judges that dominate
the works of Seneca, Tacitus, Pliny, and Suetonius is that they rein-
forced expectations of what the emperor was supposed to do and how
he was to act, much like the depictions of the bad emperors.
The Romans of the Principate used the idea of a civilized prince to
shield themselves against the terrifying image of the total power and
153
Gunderson, ‘E.g. Augustus’ (2014), 133: ‘The emperor does not just aggregate
past exemplarity; he corners the market on it in the present.’ See equally Peachin,
Rome the Superpower (2006), 127, 145; Norena, Imperial Ideals (2011).
154
The emperor subjecting himself freely to laws was a common trope, as we have
seen. Peachin, Rome the Superpower (2006), 147–52.
raw autocracy that was in the hands of the emperor.155 The fact that
emperors misusing their powers were often understood as being mad
is thus not to be considered a sign that it was thought they were
clinically insane. Instead, what Suetonius and others imply is that the
emperor would be mad to act in this way, that these actions were
considered so unacceptable as to be worthy of such reproach.
The relative omnipotence of the emperor in relation to law was
increasingly noted in the narratives of jurists such as Pomponius, who
for the first time began to write the history of law.156 Pomponius, in
his account of Rome’s constitutional history, wrote that there had
been a new development where the power of the state had been
entrusted to one man. An emperor had been appointed, and he was
given the right to decide on the content of the law: igitur constituto
principe datum est ei ius, ut quod constituisset, ratum esset
(Dig. 1.2.2.11). An imperial constitution operated, according to Pom-
ponius, on the principle that whatever the emperor decided has the
force of law.157 He traced this turn to single rule to the earliest Roman
history, as Romulus already legislated on the advice of the curiae, as
did his successors.158 The semi-legendary drafting of the Twelve
Tables also involved giving the decemviri sovereign power in Rome
for a year.159 The fundamental principle in Pomponius’ account was
the conditionality of the sovereign power, as it was, by legal fiction,
derivable from the constitutive power of the people.
If we look at the writings of the jurists, the idea that the will of the
emperor had the force of law and that the emperor decided what
the law was had been settled by this time.160 An influential theory
prescribes this change to have taken place only under Hadrian.
Henceforth, in Pomponius, Gaius, and Ulpian, the view becomes
dominant that whatever the emperor has decided has the force of
law. Whatever form this took did not matter, as long as it was clear
that the emperor meant it to have general significance.161 For the
155
Peachin, Rome the Superpower (2006), 91–2; Wallace-Hadrill, ‘Civilis princeps’
(1982).
156
Nörr, ‘Pomponius’ (1976).
157
Dig. 1.2.2.12 principalis constitutio, id est ut quod ipse princeps constituit pro
lege servetur.
158 159 160
Dig. 1.2.2.2. Dig. 1.2.2.4. Dig. 1.2.2.12–13.
161
Gai. Inst. 1.5 Constitutio principis est, quod imperator decreto uel edicto uel
epistula constituit. nec umquam dubitatum est, quin id legis uicem optineat, cum ipse
imperator per legem imperium accipiat. Honoré, Emperors and Lawyers (1994), 12.
jurists, the law emanated from the emperor, but the emperor was
dependent on the ultimate approval of the people.
Just as the elite historians were in a privileged position to formulate
the powers and tasks of the emperors through narrative depictions of
their reigns, so the jurists could exercise a similar censorship on the
acts of the emperors, either letting them be forgotten or actively
rejecting them. The idea of exemplarity as a normative force meant
that the narratives about the good emperors were normative state-
ments about what the emperor should or could do.
As we have seen, Hadrian is the first emperor whose constitutions
survive in greater numbers. There are constitutions, rescripts, and
decisions, as well as a fraction of a speech and quotations from a
senatusconsultum done under his authority. Several constitutions by
Hadrian have been preserved in quotations by later emperors and legal
authors. In AD 197 Antoninus referred to Hadrian’s constitution on
legacies.162 In 223 Alexander quotes a constitution by Hadrian regard-
ing forcing female slaves into prostitution.163 Legal policy could also
be published in a speech; for example, Hadrian outlined a problem of
inheritance rules in a speech to the Senate, asking them to decide.164
On another issue of inheritance, Hadrian’s response to a petition led
the consuls to propose a resolution for the Senate to make.165
While in his rescripts Hadrian laid the groundwork for the imper-
ial adjudication as a vehicle for legal development, much of his
administrative reforms were aimed at organizing and delegating the
task of adjudication. Hadrian’s most influential legislative project was
the Perpetual Edict, the compilation of the praetor’s edict by the jurist
Salvius Julianus.166 Hadrian’s relationship with jurists has been seen
as close, because he had given jurists a prominent role in his admin-
istration. Whether Hadrian actually abolished the ius publice respon-
dendi is controversial, but it is clear that he valued legal learning.167
The legal overtones of Hadrian’s imperial propaganda as manifested
in coinage are an important indicator of the centrality of justice in his
self-image as a ruler.168
162 163
Cod. Iust. 7.4.2. Cod. Iust. 4.56.1.
164
Dig. 5.3.22 Dispicite, patres conscripti . . . 165
Dig. 5.3.20.6d.
166
On the edict and Salvius Julianus, see Lenel, Das Edictum Perpetuum (1956
[1927]); Bund, ‘Salvius Iulianus’ (1976); Guarino, ‘Formazione dell’editto’ (1980);
Mantovani, ‘L’Edit comme code’ (2000); Tuori, ‘Hadrian’s Perpetual Edict’ (2006).
167
Vacca, ‘La “svolta adrianea” ’ (1997), 447; Daube, ‘Hadrian’s Rescript’ (1950).
168
Vogt, ‘Hadrians Justizpolitik’ (1951).
For the jurists, there are clear signs that involvement with the
emperors begins to form a more integral part of the profession. The
Enchiridion of Pomponius follows the history of the legal profession
up to the age of Hadrian, and the wording of the text (Hadrian is
named as optimus princeps, meaning that he was ruling at the time)
makes it likely that it was written during his reign. Salvius Julianus
was the last name mentioned on the extensive list of famous jurists.
Despite the attention to jurists, the text clearly reflects the sovereignty
of the emperor in law. While the text of Pomponius is about the
jurists, their close connection with emperors is evident in both the
discussions of the histories of the ius respondendi and the figures of
Capito and Labeo, both narratives embracing the close connection of
the emperors and lawyers as well as the need for lawyers to demon-
strate their independence from the imperial power.169
CONCLUSIONS
The processes of petitioning and appealing to the emperor, both in

lawsuits pending or finished, and seeking rescripts and other
help from the emperor became a central feature of the interaction
between the emperor and the people during the Antonine period, a
development that even left its mark on the narratives about imperial
jurisdiction. While much of the earlier narrative tradition had focused
on gaining access to the emperor and having his ruling, the libellus
procedure where one could write to the emperor and the emperor
would answer changed the dynamics of petitioning considerably. As
the praise of Aelius Aristides demonstrates, the very idea of imperial
justice from afar was revolutionary. Though Aristides’ praise should
be taken with a grain of salt, as it was written by a provincial seeking
imperial patronage, the fact that he took the time to shower the
emperor with praise on this detail shows the wonder that the libellus
process of rescripts elicited. It appeared simply unfathomable, a
matter of science-fiction, that the emperor would answer these
queries and that his orders would be executed.
169
Dig. 1.2.2.11, 1.2.2.47–9.
What we know of the development is that the number of imperial
rescripts as well as decisions in written sources and inscriptions
begins to grow rapidly after the accession of Hadrian. In many of
the decisions, Hadrian and his successors appear to underline the
humanity of imperial justice and the tendency to support the weaker
party. Despite this idealistic streak, the vast majority of rescripts and
decisions by the emperors are mundane legal solutions, for the most
part containing a reference to local judges, such as provincial gover-
nors, investigating the matter. While the praise of the system of
imperial governance is one of a high-minded crusade for justice, the
formalization of the process equally meant its bureaucratization.
Despite this, there are two narrative traits in the case-load of imperial
adjudication: the upholding of peace through mediation, especially
among the provincial elite, and the concern that the emperors show
to their provincial subjects.
In modern literature Hadrian has been idealized as the legal
emperor, who brought justice to his adjudication as well as reforming
the administration of law. While the first of these achievements is a
reflection of the positive reading of his judgments as well as his ideals,
the second contains more modern conjecture. However, it is evident
that Hadrian formalized the administration of law and the position of
jurists. What the idealization of Hadrian mostly demonstrates is the
narrative foundation of the so-called good emperors, a conglomer-
ation of the narratives about the exemplary behaviour of the emperor.
This gave an advantage to jurists who developed the conjecture that
the emperor’s word was law, as it was they who were able to decide
which of the emperor’s rulings and opinions would be considered law.
As the historians were able to dictate who were good and bad
emperors, so the lawyers dictated whose words would live in posterity.
For historians and lawyers, the reign of Hadrian brought the writ-
ings of Suetonius and Pomponius, both of which cemented the idea of
the emperor as judge and lawgiver. Suetonius, an imperial official
under Hadrian, and Pomponius, a jurist, both relied on the idea of
exemplarity, where praise and criticism were used to separate accept-
able from unacceptable behaviour. They were, in a way, writing the job
description of an emperor. Neither was primarily a historian, but their
depiction of the past contained a strong normative character, where
the law was portrayed as a central preoccupation of the emperor.
5
Caracalla, the Severans, and the Legal

Interest of Emperors
INTRODUCTION
The death of Commodus in AD 192 and the civil war between

contenders to the throne might not represent an ending of an era
similar to the extinction of the Julio-Claudian dynasty, but it proved
to be a crisis of considerable proportions for the imperial adminis-
tration. Not only was the throne vacated after a long period of
instability, but the contesting claimants to the throne began a civil
war that lasted for several years, until Septimius Severus finally
defeated his erstwhile ally Albinus in 197. What the years of mayhem
demonstrated was the vulnerability of a system of governance that
was centred on the person of the emperor.1 If the earlier literature on
the Roman emperor as a ruler and as a judge was concentrated on the
way the virtues of the emperor ensured that justice was delivered to
the people and the reign was enlightened and beneficial, the issues
now became more pragmatic. What if there were not just one super-
naturally good emperor, but several less than supernaturally good
emperors trying to kill each other?
The purpose of this chapter is to examine the different forms in
which the imperial adjudication took place during the Severan era, and
how they were reflected in the narratives. Especially important is the
multiplicity of narratives and the portrayal of imperial adjudication,
evident in the rescripts, inscriptions, and historiography of the era.
1
On the rise of Severus and the reforms it led to in the role of the emperor, see
Lichtenberger, Severus Pius Augustus (2011); Cooley, ‘Septimius Severus’ (2007);
Birley, Septimius Severus (1999); McCann, Portraits of Septimius Severus (1968).
I shall be exploring both the evolving practices of the expanding
imperial adjudication as well as the way that those practices appeared
to subjects and how they took advantage of them. The reforms begun
by Hadrian and consolidated by his successors meant that the imperial
agency in law was systematized and supported by an apparatus that
may be described as a bureaucracy.2 Despite this, the emperor was ever
more central to the system and his justice was sought by the populace
with increasing alacrity.
We shall begin with two case studies of adjudication by Caracalla:
the first a blunt decision regarding the payment of taxes made in
Alexandria, preserved on papyrus; the second an inscription detailing
the minutes of a trial presided over by Caracalla regarding a local
priesthood in a small town in Syria. They are used to illustrate the
different forms of imperial adjudication, with different audiences and
purposes. Imperial adjudication could be a spectacle of justice, but
also a routine reinforcement of a rule. In the second section I will
examine the different uses and practices of imperial rescripts, ranging
from responses to petitions to vehicles of legal development. While
the principle that the emperor was the law had been established
earlier, the motivations for petitions and rescripts and the rhetorical
strategies involved could vary dramatically for the petitioners and the
emperors. I shall also follow the developments of jurisdictional pol-
icies through the reigns of Septimius Severus, Caracalla, Macrinus,
Elagabalus, and Severus Alexander, among others, as well as the
figures who influenced the development of these practices, such as
Julia Domna and the jurists in imperial service. In the third section
I will turn to Cassius Dio, a senatorial historian active during much of
the Severan period, whose writings have been essential in the formu-
lation of our understanding of imperial adjudication. Hailing from
the Greek East, Dio saw the Principate as a monarchy that was
dangerously dependent on the person of the emperor, his competence
and morality. His eyewitness account shows how much imperial
adjudication was a central part of the emperor’s duties, but also
how imperial instability and paranoia could wreak havoc through
the same instrument of jurisdiction in the form of purges and perse-
cutions. In the final section I will look at the writings of Ulpian, a
2
The idea of legal bureaucracy is strong in influential works like Coriat, Prince
législateur (1997); Honoré, Emperors and Lawyers (1994) as well as recent studies such
as Connolly, Lives behind the Laws (2010); Dillon, Justice of Constantine (2012).
Caracalla, the Severans, and the Legal Interest of Emperors 243
jurist, an imperial functionary, and finally, a praetorian prefect, on the
emperor’s unrestricted power and his will as law. What Ulpian does
in his influential account is to juxtapose the positivism of imperial
power over law to the ethical demands of justice and present the
implications it had for imperial adjudication.
With the expansion of the imperial rescript practice, the dramatic
settings of the process of petition and response become more evident.
Either by design or by convention, emperors and their entourages
began to modify their rhetoric towards different audiences. As will be
demonstrated, the individuals and communities that appealed to the
emperors used different rhetorical strategies in their demands for
imperial attention and justice. The chief strategy was clearly to appeal
to the idea of a good king who rights wrongs and brings justice, the
ruler as living law. From the cases it becomes clear that the emperors
utilized this idea in their stage-setting and dramatic references. As
Connolly has suggested, petitioning rulers was a near-universal fea-
ture in the ancient world and figured heavily in all interactions
between ruler and the ruled: ‘Many petitions to rulers have the
structure of a prayer: they call on the mercy and justice of the ruler
and promise loyalty in return for help.’3
What is noteworthy is that during this period the role of jurists
begins to make an impact on how imperial justice is forming. Imperial
pronouncements, while they had even earlier been considered to have
the force of law, began to be seen as a primary source of law. In this
process, lawyers and legal writing were essential components, as they
were the medium through which the legally relevant imperial rescripts
and decreta became known beyond their immediate recipients and how
the legally relevant parts of the rescripts were recognized. While the
stereotypical formulations of this history have posited emperors and
jurists as opposing forces, what emerges from the sources is an image of
cooperation between the two.4
The historical sources of the period are patchy: for the earlier part
the narrative of Dio is available, but we rely on late antique historians
3
Connolly, Lives behind the Laws (2010), 2, 33. On the process of petitioning, see
Kelly, Petitions (2011); Bryen, Violence (2013). Harries, Law and Empire (1999),
elaborates how this development continued during late antiquity.
4
The way that emperors and lawyers interacted has been a source of much debate,
where influential works like Kunkel, Römischen Juristen (2001); Honoré, Emperors
and Lawyers (1994); Bauman, Lawyers and Politics (1989) have stressed the import-
ance of jurists.
and epitomers such as Xiphilinus on Dio for the later period. On the
practice of imperial adjudication, the epigraphical and papyrological
material is expanding, with numerous sources from the reigns
of certain emperors. Perhaps due to the selection of material, the
relevant passages in Justinian’s Code begin to be more and more
voluminous.
THE APPROACHABILITY OF CARACALLA
The different audiences that imperial adjudication was aimed at are

evident in the concrete cases. The aim of this section is to juxtapose
the different settings of imperial adjudication and the creation
process of narratives resulting from these actions. This discussion
compares two documents from the reign of Caracalla, a papyrus from
Egypt and an inscription from Syria, and illustrates the expectations
placed on the emperors and how they dealt with them in practice. The
first case is one of extreme sparseness and simplicity but with tre-
mendous potential implications, while the second involves elaborate
stage-setting and drama but had only a local impact. What is import-
ant is the narrative image produced by the different settings, on the
one hand that of a strict bureaucrat, on the other, that of a benevolent
good king.
During the winter of AD 200 the emperors Septimius Severus and
Caracalla visited Egypt, and while in Alexandria they answered a
number of petitions over the course of three days. One of the answers
was a response to a petition of Dioscorus, son of Hephaestion, and to
Pieseis, son of Osiris, and others. The response, in its entirety, was:
We have forbidden you to pay money in place of grain.
[Διοσκόρῳ Ἡφαιστίωνος καὶ Πιεσῆϊ Ὀσίριος καὶ ἄλλοις.] ἀργύριον ἀντὶ
πυροῦ καταβάλλειν ὑμᾶς ἐκω λύσαμεν[.] 5
5
P.Columbia 123, 10; Westermann and Schiller, Apokrimata (1954), 81. There is
an extensive literature on P.Columbia 123, but virtually none of it has delved into this
particular section. For the older literature and another translation, see Oliver, Greek
Constitutions (1989), 451–8. See also Katzoff, ‘Use of P.Col. 123’ (1981); Youtie and
Schiller, ‘Second Thoughts on the Columbia Apokrimata’ (1955); Pringsheim, ‘Sug-
gestions on P. Col. 123’ (1956); David, ‘Ein Beitrag zu P. Col. 123, 13–17’ (1956);
Coriat, Prince législateur (1997), 190, 588; Haensch, ‘Apokrimata und Authentica’
Because Caracalla had been made Augustus only a year earlier, at the
age of 13, the momentous decision may be attributed mainly
to Severus. The response, along with twelve other similar answers,
called apokrimata,6 was posted on the Stoa of the Gymnasium of
Alexandria. The petitions that they answer have not been preserved.
This is unusual, since normally in papyrological sources the petitions
have survived while the answers have not, because they were written
as subscripts to the original petition and handed to the magistrates
responsible for implementing them. When copies were made, they
were normally of the entire petition and response. Such petitions were
presented not only to the emperor; they were, in most instances,
addressed to the governor, the prefect or the procurators. In Egypt,
in the surviving eighty petitions addressed to the epistrategos, the
subscript has survived in only twenty cases.7 What the purpose of a
text containing just the imperial response is thus remains unclear,
with some arguing that the text was copied as an example of imperial
writing.8 Most of the other twelve subscripts were equally curt, to
Artemidorus (no. 2) the response was simply: ‘It is late to complain
about the decision once you have agreed with the findings’,9 while
another recipient (no. 4) was just told: ‘Obey the findings.’10
The answer to the query is significant because the subject-matter is
relatively trivial. As early commentators suggested, the original quer-
ies were most likely simply requests to pay taxes in money instead of
grain.11 It should be noted that there were many petitioners with the
same question, and thus perhaps it was not a trifling matter. The
underlying factor behind the petitions was probably the sub-market
price that was paid for the tax-grain collected in Egypt. Prices were
set by the government, and in the third century it was often roughly
(2007), 215–18. While most scholars accept that apokrimata were subscriptions,
Turpin, ‘Imperial Subscriptions’ (1991), 107 maintains that they were in fact decreta,
decisions made in oral proceedings.
6
On the apokrimata generally, with ample reference to newer literature, see
Haensch, ‘Apokrimata und Authentica’ (2007).
7
Thomas, ‘Petitions’ (1983), 370–1.
8
Westermann and Schiller, Apokrimata (1954), 99.
9
τοις εγνωσμενοις συνκαταθεμενος βραδεως μεμφη τα δοξαντα. Westermann and
Schiller, Apokrimata (1954), 54.
10
τοις εγνωσμενοις πιθεσθαι. Westermann and Schiller, Apokrimata (1954), 56.
11
Westermann and Schiller, Apokrimata (1954), 81. Oliver, Greek Constitutions
(1989), 458 maintains that the administration overvalued the denarius that the grain
was compensated. The result is the same.
30 per cent lower than the market price. As the price of grain
fluctuated seasonally, being lowest after harvest and highest just
before it, the official setting of the price, sometimes as low as 40 per
cent below the post-harvest market rate, meant that the possibility of
paying the tax in money would have been a potential windfall to the
farmers. Because the Egyptian grain supply was of such vital import-
ance to the feeding of the empire, it would have been strange if the
emperor had acquiesced to the demands. We know that Egyptian
grain was vital for both Rome and the other great cities of the empire
and access to it and its prices were very much controlled, there being
no free market. Most of the grain was collected by the grain tax, which
was 10 per cent on private land and 30–40 per cent on public land,
but grain was also bought in large quantities.12 The amazing compo-
nent is thus not that such a query was made, nor the answer. It is the
fact that the emperor answered the question at all.
The absolute rulers of the Roman Empire arrive in the most
important province of the empire and spend days dealing with issues
that could have been satisfactorily answered by a simple clerk. Many
petitions to lower officials were in fact handled quite summarily, as is
witnessed by the fact that a governor of Egypt could boast that he
handled 1,804 cases in three days.13 The fact that emperors used up a
relatively large amount of time answering trivial queries is funda-
mental to the ruling of the empire, because it not only advertised their
approachability and concern for their subjects, but was also a vital
channel of communication for both citizens and imperial function-
aries. We have, of course, no way of knowing how the thirteen
petitions ended up being answered by the emperor—in short, what
separated them from the thousands that were summarily resolved. In
fact, we do not even know how summarily they were dealt with—for
example, were there discussions leading to the resolution? It has been
suggested that these petitions would have normally been answered
by the governor, but now the task of resolving them fell upon the
12
Erdkamp, Grain Market in the Roman Empire (2009). See also Duncan-Jones,
‘Price of Wheat in Roman Egypt’ (1976), 242; Rathbone, ‘Prices and Price Formation’
(1997); Rathbone, ‘Roman Egypt’ (2007). On the impact of the collection and trans-
port of the tax grain, see Adams, Land Transport in Roman Egypt (2007).
13
The reference to the 1,804 petitions handled in three days is from P.Yale 61, a
Severan text. On the governor’s duties in meting out justice, see Meyer, ‘The Justice of
the Roman Governor’ (2006).
emperors and with them, the imperial chancellery that accompanied
them.14
The orthodoxy on the Severan period sees the rescript system as
the monarchic part of the imperial government, in which the emperor
resembled the oriental Hellenistic conception of a king as a judge who
is always just. The emperor as judge and legislator had both the right
and the obligation to interpret and modify the law and to be access-
ible to his subjects and to give them equitable justice.15 The emperor
was the source of law.16
However, the present example fits poorly with this idea in some
respects. The emperor here is nothing but a bureaucrat, an unfriendly
character familiar from your local tax office. Likewise, the results of
the petition were posted on cheap papyrus on the wall with other
similar rescripts, in an unceremonially bureaucratic fashion. What
the emperors simply and decisively emphasize is that this is a long-
standing practice that they have dealt with before, and have no reason
to revisit it or change. From the fact that there were a number of
petitioners, it is possible to suggest that there might have been many
similar petitions that were thus resolved.
The apokrimata text was something called a subscript, the response
of the emperor to a query or petition. As opposed to epistulae (letters
from magistrates, or highly ranked individuals or communities),
responses to the libelli (petitions from individuals) were simply
posted by the emperor’s residence and not sent to their recipients.
A number of these texts have been preserved among the Egyptian
papyri, surprisingly many of them dating to the period of Severus’
and Caracalla’s visit in 199/200. It has been argued that this could
mean that the imperial presence meant that an unusual number of
locals could have had their petitions answered. What the thirteen
subscripts on a single papyrus have in common is probably just their
dating; they represent subscripts from three consecutive days, and
their subject-matters are quite disparate. While some have suggested
that the answers were only those that had a value as a legal precedent,
this explanation has been quite decisively rejected. What is the most
14
Westermann and Schiller, Apokrimata (1954), 46.
15
Coriat, ‘Technique législative’ (1990), 222.
16
Coriat, Prince législateur (1997), 657, 662. Of course, laws and senatusconsulta
were still relevant, but they originated from the imperial source as well (such as
speeches in the Senate). This indeterminacy was already outlined by Orestano, Potere
normativo (1962), 19–22.
probable explanation is that they were simply a copy of the answers in
the liber libellorum rescriptorum for three days.17 What this meant
was that the emperors would have sat answering petitions from the
local population, settling criminal, civil, and administrative matters in
an indiscriminate manner. When compared with the extensive
material provided by the imperial rescripts in general, especially
those addressed to communities, it is easy to see how much more
the imperial authors were prepared to write in the form of courtesy
and greetings, demonstrating that the act of writing an imperial letter
was in and by itself a benefaction worthy of notice. While the
apokrimata are laconic in the extreme, other papyri record the min-
utes of the meetings in which these petitions were presented to
emperors. The elaborate details in which these texts presented the
imperial hearings suggest that they were most likely intended to
emphasize imperial attention, not purely the legal decisions.18 One
may argue that there were two aims for these texts: first, the purely
bureaucratic meaning of responding to the issue at hand; and second,
to demonstrate the imperial favour and attention of receiving a
response from the emperor personally, even an audience with him.
The other example of imperial decision-making from petitions is
the so-called Goharian inscription (SEG XVII 759),19 which gives the
transcript of the meeting in Antioch in 216 between Caracalla and his
entourage and an embassy from the village of Goharia, which had
travelled some 200 miles to meet the emperor to get his ruling on a
dispute regarding a local priesthood. The emperor sat in the auditor-
ium, flanked by the praetorian prefects, the amici, and the principes
officiorum. It is evident from the wording that Caracalla had taken the
case under consideration as a private favour, and a trial of sorts is
17
Williams, ‘Libellus’ (1974), 87–92; Westermann and Schiller, Apokrimata
(1954), 39–40, 99; Youtie and Schiller, ‘Second Thoughts on the Columbia Apokri-
mata’ (1955), 345. On the history of interpretations up to Wilcken, see Westermann
and Schiller, Apokrimata (1954), 40–1. The texts dating from the visit to Alexandria
are collected in Oliver, Greek Constitutions (1989), nn. 220–43, but see also Papatho-
mas, ‘Reskript’ (2000); Haensch, ‘Apokrimata und Authentica’ (2007), 226–33. The
texts were referred to even much later, see the example of the Michigan-Berlin
Apokrima in Lewis, ‘Michigan-Berlin Apokrima’ (1976).
18
Crook, Legal Advocacy (1995), 55; Harker, Loyalty and Dissidence (2008), 64–5.
19
There is a considerable literature on this inscription; see e.g. Kunkel, ‘Prozess der
Gohariener’ (1953); Lewis, ‘Cognitio Caracallae der Goharienis’ (1968); Crook, Legal
Advocacy (1995), 91–5; Magioncalda, ‘Processo di fronte a Caracalla’ (1999); Stolte,
‘Jurisdiction and Representation of Power’ (2003); Wankerl, Appello (2009), 203–26.
arranged there and then to settle the case. The advocates pleading for
the parties are actually members of the emperor’s consilium. The
proceedings of the case were later inscribed in stone by the villagers
and set up prominently at the temple of Dmeir for posterity, but
unfortunately only the first part of the inscription is preserved.20
What can be deduced from the inscription is that the matter at
hand was a dispute over who is the rightful priest of Zeus at the
temple of Dmeir. The current holder, the contractor Avidius Hadria-
nus, was being sued by Aurelius Carzaeus, son of Sergius, who
represented the people from Goharia. Avidius Hadrianus was repre-
sented by his advocate Julianus Aristaenetus, while the case of the
Goharians was presented by the advocate Egnatius Lollianus. The
main claim of the Goharians was that Avidius Hadrianus had unduly
elevated himself to be the priest of Zeus and enjoyed the privileges of
the office, including exemption from taxation and liturgies and pre-
cedence, not to mention the chance of wearing a golden crown and
sceptre. The defence argued that the case had no business being
discussed here because there was no preceding action before the
lower courts:
Of these, Aristaenetus said: ‘I object.’
Lollianus said: ‘You [Caracalla] ordered the cognitio to take place.’
Aristaenetus said: ‘Cases on appeal are determined by law. Either the
governor accepts the appeal and it comes before your tribunal, or, if he
has not accepted it, how can the case be brought before you? After many
hearings and decisions, you were approached with petitions by the
villagers of Goharia. A man who was neither an advocatus nor an
ambassador, but only a private person, entered a petition that you
should be the judge rather than the governor. And you said to him:
“If you wish me to hear [the case], I will hear it.” We have protested
against this from the beginning, and now, when we proceed by the rules
of the court, we object to the suit because they have no right to appeal,
nor can have access to your tribunal.’
ex quibus Aristaenetus dixit: παραγράφομαι. Lollianus d(ixit): ταγῆναι
ἐκέλευσες τήν διάγνωσιν. Aristaenetus d(ixit): αἱ ἔκκλητοι νόμῳ γείνον-
ται. ἥ λαμβάνει τὴν ἔκκλητον ὁ ἡγεμὼν καὶ εἰσέρχεταί σου εἰς τὸ
δικαστήριον, ἥ μὴ δεξαμένου τοῦ ἡγεμόνος πῶς εἰσαγώγιμός ἐστιν ἡ
20
Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 535–6; Stolte, ‘Jurisdiction and Representation of
Power’ (2003). On the identity of the advocates, see Kunkel, ‘Prozess der Gohariener’
(1953).
δίκη; μετὰ πολλὰς κρίσεις καὶ ἀποφάσεις σὺ ἐνετεύχθης ἐν [ταῖ]ς
ἀξιώσεσιν τῶν [ο] Γοα[ριην]ῶν. οὔτε σύνδικος οὔ⟨τε πρεσβευτής,
ἄνθρωπος ἀντίδικος ἰδι]ωτικὸς ὢν εἰσήγ⟨αγεν ἔντευξιν ὥστε σὲ δικασ-
τὴν ἀντὶ ἡγεμόν[ος εἶναι. σὺ [δ]ὲ ε[ἶπες αὐτ]ῶ “εἰ βούλεσθε ἀκοῦσαί
με, ἀκούσομαι”. [ἡμεῖς ἐξ ἀρχῆς τοῖσ]δε ἀ[ν]τιλέγοντ[ες], νῦν, ὁπότε
εἰσήειμεν νόμῳ δικαστηρίου. [παραγραφόμεθα τὴν δίκη]ν, ὅτι οὔτε
ἔκκλητον ἔχουσιν οὔτε ἔχειν δύνανται πρὸς [τὸ δικαστήριόν σου.21
It was of utmost importance that the emperor was the final arbiter of
law, and with determination one could reach him. In the case of the
Goharieni, the emperor admitted them to present their case even
though it was highly unusual, against the rules of procedure, and he
resolved the case in their favour to let justice prevail over law. He was
thus making a representation of his power and demonstrating that he
is the ultimate authority:22
[Antoninus] Augustus said: ‘You say then that he has not made an
appeal?’
Aristaenetus said ‘They do not have a case on appeal, because it was
not allowed.’
Antoninus Augustus said: ‘Look, let me speak according to my own
view even in this matter. He has not made an appeal, he did not put in a
complaint, and this matter was not spoken of before the governor. “I
complain about you before the emperor,” he says. Don’t you wish me to
hear the case?’
Aristaenetus said: ‘Of course.’
Antoninus Augustus said: ‘If I were in a hurry to get away from here
I would say “The objection is allowed.” In what, then, am I criticized?’
Lollianus said: ‘I will speak for under half an hour.’ And he
added: ‘This dispute is about piety, and to the peasants as to yourself
there is nothing more important than piety. Hence they have con-
fidence in the matter, engaging in a case before a most pious king
and judge.’
[Antoninus A]ug. d(ixit): Λέγεις οὖν ὅτι οὐκ ἐξεκαλέσατο; Aristaenetus
d(ixit): [Οὐκ ἔχουσιν] ἔκκλητον, ὅτι οὐκ ἐξῆν. Antoninus Aug. d(ixit): Ἰδὲ
οὖν, ἵνα ἐγὼ τῇ ἐμαυτοῦ γνώμῃ τι εἰπῶ καὶ ἐν τούτῳ τῷ [πρ]άγματι. οὔτε
ἐξεκαλέσατο, οὔτε ἐμέμψατο, οὔτε τὸ πρᾶγμα τοῦτο ἐλέχθη παρὰ τῷ
21
SEG XVII 759, ll. 7–17. Translation is adopted with slight modifications from
Stolte, ‘Jurisdiction and Representation of Power’ (2003), 263–5.
22
Stolte, ‘Jurisdiction and Representation of Power’ (2003), 262, 268. A similar
suggestion is made by Williams, ‘Libellus’ (1974), 97 and Hauken, Petition and
Response (1998), i.
ἡγουμένῳ· ἐπὶ τοῦ αὐτοκράτορος μέμφομαί σε, φησ[ί]ν; οὐ θέλις ἐμὲ
ἀκοῦσαι τοῦ πράγματος; Aristaenetus d(ixit): Λέγω. Antoninus Aug.
d(ixit): Ἐγὼ εἰ ἔσπευδον ἐντεῦθεν ἀναστῆν[αι], ἔλεγον ‘ “Η παραγραφὴ
_ τίσιν οὖν μέμφομαι; Lollianus d(ixit): Λέγω ἐντὸς ἡμι-
χώραν ἔχει”. ἐν
σείας. E[t sub]iunxit: Ὁ μὲν ἀγὼν ὑπὲρ εὐσεβείας τοῖς [μὲν γ]εωργοῖς, σοὶ
δὲ πρεσβύτερον εὐσεβείας οὐδέν. τὦρα οὖν θαρρο[ῦ]σιν, ἐπὶ τοῦ παρόντος
ἀγωνιζόμενοι παρὰ εὐσεβεστάτῳ βασιλεῖ καὶ δικαστῇ. Διὸς ἱερὸν
ἐπιφανές ἐστιν παρ’ αὐτοῖς· ἀμέλει παρὰ τῶν περιχώρων ἁπάντων
ω.ει.η θεωρεῖται · βαδίζουσιν αὐτόσσε καὶ πομ[π]ὰς Πέμπονται. τοῦ
ἀντιδίκου τοῦτο πρῶτον ἀδίκημα.23
The case of the Goharians contains all the mythogenetical elements of
the benefits of a virtuous tyrant or a great king. The lowly villagers
make a lengthy journey to meet the emperor, a trip that they, with
some probability, know is a long shot: catching up with and gaining
an audience from an itinerant emperor must have taken considerable
luck, effort, or both. When they finally meet the emperor, he takes on
the case despite the formal objection to the contrary, and presents his
virtuous justice to the people by righting wrongs. The actions of the
emperor are those of a good king in the eyes of those in favour of his
neglect of the rules of procedure, but one wonders whether to the
lawyers, and especially the priest who was undoubtedly on the losing
end of this suit, he would have appeared as the bad tyrant acting on a
whim and corrupting the course of due process. Because the imperial
cognition was fairly flexible and not bound by rules, due process was
of course a flexible term, but nevertheless there was an expectation
that the emperor would adhere to tradition and precedent in
proceedings.
The case of the Gohanians is strange, to say the least. Some have
even gone as far as to suggest that the trial was simply a charade, an
act set up to amuse the emperor, with the Goharian villagers serving
as some sort of props. While it is clear that Caracalla is in a good
mood and looking forward to the trial, it is equally true that the
advocates are presenting arguments for the dismissal of the whole
trial on the grounds of a technicality. The impression one gets is that a
petition has been made and the emperor is willing to settle matters
once and for all, but is making sure that each side has competent
representation. The quarrelling Goharians are thus appointed lawyers
that would have normally been beyond their reach, and the issue is
23
ll. 24–41.
resolved.24 The emperor made an exception, as was his right and, by
some standards, as was expected of him.25
What, then, makes the Roman example unique is that we have not
only the Goharians, the examples of the magnanimous sovereign
behaving as he should, but we also have the instances when the very
same emperor is behaving like a petty bureaucrat, telling the little
people that they have to pay their taxes. The emperor of the apokri-
mata is quite distinctly petty: there are no softenings or rhetorical
flourishes, no attempt is made to appease or to appear as a good king
who is on the side of his subjects. For what it’s worth, out of the
thirteen subscripts no less than five are negative (without knowing the
requests, one cannot judge many of them).
What both of these examples leave unanswered is how the provin-
cial petitioners, perhaps without wealth or connections, were able to
get their cases heard by the emperor. Ever since Wilcken, there has
been looming a fairly idealistic image of provincial governors for-
warding the petitions of provincials to the emperor and posting his
responses at the provincial capital.26 Could one imagine that when
the emperor was actually present, as in the case of the apokrimata, he
would have simply answered the petitions there and then? Or was this
purely an exception that the emperors answered, whereas normally
such petitions were answered by the governor on behalf of the
emperor? In the case of the Goharians, there is a similar amount of
incredulity at play. The lowly villagers went to see the emperor and
were admitted to present their case. Because in nearly all larger
organizations there are strict controls of access to the person making
decisions (out of pure necessity, to prevent petitioners and suppli-
cants from commandeering most of his or her time), gaining an
audience with the emperor must have been a complicated affair.
How would one be able to present a case, either in writing or in
person, to the emperor? In most comparable organizations there were
persons guarding access that needed to be convinced (or bribed),
either through appeals or through highly placed contacts. One does
not need to underline the enormous campaign donations or bribes
that are necessary for gaining an audience with the leaders of modern
states, because being admitted to the morning salutatio of a Roman
24
Crook, Legal Advocacy (1995), 94–5.
25
Kunkel, ‘Prozess der Gohariener’ (1953), 265.
26
Wilcken, ‘Kaiserreskripten’ (1920), 23; Williams, ‘Libellus’ (1974), 93–4.
nobleman could be an equally harrowing experience.27 This makes it
all the more understandable why the villagers of Goharia decided to
publish the minutes of their hour of imperial glory in full. Not only
was their issue resolved, but they were able to gain access to the leader
of the Roman world and could now show that they were under the
protection of the emperor.28
RESCRIPTS AND THE IMPERSONAL

RESPONSIBILITY
The fact that Roman emperors from Hadrian onwards dedicated much
of their time to answering petitions has a vital impact on the influence
that emperors had in the legal field, due to the fact that those replies,
when containing a general rule, were considered a source of law
(Gai. Inst. 1.5). In later legal texts there are even provisions on the
way a petition to the emperor could start a legal proceeding.29
The aim of this section is to explore the mechanisms through which
the emperor carried out his jurisdiction and how that contributed to the
different images of the emperor and the starkly different narratives that
are apparent in the sources. What is apparent is how different practices
led to different rhetorical strategies, and while the ideological preoccu-
pations regarding petitioning were not much different, the element of
human contact and face-to-face interaction were crucial in shaping
these strategies and approaches. Thus we will see how the narrative
forms also varied, with petitioners seeking to present the emperor as
omnipotent and godlike and themselves as lowly, weak, and virtuous,
while the emperor’s self-presentation varied from intensely emphatic
and understanding to blunt, depending on the level of human contact.
With this in mind, we will observe how the practice of answering
petitions corresponded to the theories of how the emperor worked.
27
Goldbeck, Salutationes (2010). For example, it was widely reported in 2010 that
when an Ikea executive in Russia sought an appointment with the president to discuss
corruption and legal obstacles, he was told that such a meeting would cost between
$5 to $10 million. Dawisha, Cleptocracy (2014), 11.
28
Stolte, ‘Jurisdiction and Representation of Power’ (2003), 267.
29
Cod. Iust. 9.41.3 was a rule stemming from a utterance of Caracalla during a cognition.
Cod. Theod. 1.2.9; Cod. Iust. 1.20.1; Turpin, ‘Imperial Subscriptions’ (1991), 107. The Codex
Theodosianus was concerned about rescripts acquired through deceit (11.4).
The way that petitioning worked is still very much a hypothesis
based on papyri, inscriptions and the numerous rescripts known from
legal sources. This hypothesis has been supported by what has been
discovered in Egypt about the voluminous practice of petitioning
everyone from the local magistrates to the governor.30 In theory at
least, it would appear that everyone could petition the emperor about
everything, as long as they delivered the petition to the emperor
personally in the form of a libellus. The use of letters (epistula) for
approaching the emperor was restricted mostly to officials and com-
munities. The answers to libelli were called subscriptiones. In the legal
language, both types of imperial responses are called rescripts. The
answers to petitions are very short and to the point, containing, for
example, no greeting, whereas rescripts to letters were in letter for-
mat. There has been some controversy over the procedure, but it is
generally believed that the subscriptiones were published by posting
them either in Rome or wherever the petitioner approached the
emperor (marked by the letters PP for propositio), that is, the imperial
residence. Imperial legal rescripts are known from legal sources such
as the Digest and the Codex, but also from a number of other sources.
The most important are inscriptions and papyri. The rescripts in the
legal sources are usually very short and pertain to the legal issue at
hand, due to the fact that the even if the text was longer, Justinian’s
editors would have removed the extraneous material. The petitioner
and the larger issue in the petition are rarely known in detail, and
often one has only the petition or the response but rarely both. On the
other hand, rescripts known from inscriptions do in some cases
contain both the libellus and the imperial subscription, and possibly
other correspondence from officials such as a provincial governor. It
should be remembered that the fact that the recipients of rescripts
went through the time and expense of having a rescript inscribed in
stone and positioned in a public place suggests that the rescript was
considered important in protecting their interests and social status.
Subscripts preserved in papyri are closer to documentary form, being
most likely copies of originals posted in public.31
30
Thomas, ‘Petitions’ (1983).
31
Wilcken, ‘Kaiserreskripten’ (1920); Nörr, ‘Reskriptenpraxis’ (1981); Williams,
‘Libellus’ (1974); Williams, ‘Publication of Imperial Subscripts’ (1980); Williams,
‘Epigraphic Texts of Imperial Subscripts’ (1986); Honoré, Emperors and Lawyers
(1994), 35–7; Hauken, Petition and Response (1998), 263, 300–6; Sirks, ‘Making a
Request to the Emperor’ (2001), 121–35. Turpin, ‘Imperial Subscriptions’ (1991)
Examples of how answers to rescripts were crafted are few.
A famous example is Dig. 37.14.17.pr from Ulpian, which describes
the decision-making process regarding bonorum possessio by Marcus
Aurelius and Lucius Verus. The emperors considered the previous
opinion of Proculus, their own earlier decisions, the advice of
Maecianus, and after him a number of other renowned jurists.32
While letters, especially those inscribed by their recipients, sometimes
contain long and florid descriptions, the subscript texts can be short
and blunt in the extreme, giving the impression of an official in a
hurry not bothering to hide his irritation towards petitions wasting
his time. Severus and Caracalla even wrote that the applicant should
not expect any help from their constitutions (Cod. Iust. 8.18.1), or
that if the applicant was convicted of fraud the rescript would be of no
use (5.47.1).
In many of the rescripts the reasoning behind the decision was
not discussed. In the Severan rescripts of the Codex there were often
references to previous imperial constitutions (Cod. Iust. 5.54.2, 6.26.2,
6.50.5, 12.35.4), reason (ratio, 6.26.2), the spirit of the times (5.4.3),
ratio iuris (4.39.2), antiqua lege (8.35.1), ancient custom (8.52.1), but
also the authority of iuris periti (7.14.1, 9.23.1). Severus Alexander
made a reference to a particular constitution by Marcus Aurelius and
Commodus to Aufilius Victorinus (4.57.2), but also to a response by
Ulpian, who is mentioned as praefectus annonae, jurist, and his
friend (amico meo, 8.37.4). Even petitioners resorted to the authority
of lawyers, for example, by copying a response of Papinian in their
petition (6.37.12).
Severus Alexander was the first emperor to write about the impact
of rescripts. There was no direct effect on ongoing lawsuits. A rescript
based on a petition before the verdict will be useless unless there was
an appeal against the decision. (Cod. Iust. 1.21.1). Similarly, a rescript
does not change a court verdict (7.57.3), nor does it prevent an
appeal (7.62.2). However, a rescript has a permanent authority, and
a rescript gained by one benefits all parties (1.23.1–2). Severus Alex-
ander was sure to underline that, in a particular case, the rescripts
given by him and his predecessors were in accordance with law and
claims that subscripts did not have value as a precedent, but he fails to convince, as
over a thousand of them are presented in legal sources.
32
The case has been most recently discussed by Sirks, ‘Making a Request to the
Emperor’ (2001), 124–5.
equity and not contradictory (2.1.8). The influence that rescripts had
in court cases was recognized, as is evident from two rescripts:
Severus Alexander maintained that, in his time, a judge who ruled
against an imperial constitution could not be accused of maiestas
(9.8.1). Equally, a person who used a false rescript would be punished
severely (9.22.3).
It is still very much unknown how someone would know what the
emperor had decided in other cases. Some were widely distributed,
such as the famous sacrae litterae rescript of Severus and Caracalla
from 204, known from no less than nine copies spread across a large
area.33 There apparently was some sort of imperial archive, and the
rescripts were posted in a public place for a time, but how one could
find a decision made years ago is a mystery involving the existence of
imperial and gubernatorial archives and their accessibility.34 Never-
theless, Caracalla could remind a petitioner that he had already
written to him about the issues that his sister had with her guardian.35
Imperial subscripts, such as the apokrimata from Severus’ visit to
Egypt in the winter of 199–200, were most likely originally published
by posting them. In Rome, some sources suggest that the subscripts
were published by posting them at the portico of Trajan’s baths,
whereas the stoa and gymnasium were used in Alexandria. The
interesting question of where a rescript was posted if the emperor
was on the move has been discussed, though the results remain
hypothetical beyond the known examples. The apokrimata text of
P.Col. 123 contains replies to petitions probably handled during three
consecutive days. The original editors suggested that P.Col. 123 was
preserved because a scribe had copied it as a sample of language used
by the imperial chancery. Others maintained that the copy was a part
of an official transcript of decisions published in Alexandria. The
most common explanation is currently that the copy was made by a
local jurist to establish an archive of precedential cases. It is plausible
that the original petition remained in the imperial archives, while a
copy of the subscript was posted and copied by the petitioner and
other interested parties, such as local legal practitioners. Though
some have suggested that there were facilities where one could
33
See the list of cases in the Appendix for references.
34
Sirks, ‘Making a Request to the Emperor’ (2001), 127. On the archives, see
Varvaro, ‘Note sugli archivi’ (2006); Haensch, ‘Statthalterarchive’ (2013).
35
Cod. Iust. 8.43.1.
come and copy imperial orders, that is not supported by the sources.
From the examples of copied subscripts where the date of the decision
and the date that the copy was made are preserved, it would appear
that the subscripts remained posted for at least a month and, in
Alexandria, sometimes for several months.36
Then there is the issue of why, for example, the Goharians or other
communities decided to publish the full minutes of the meeting
instead of the verdict. Such an approach was used in the lis fullonum
case in Rome in 226 (CIL VI 266). The purpose was probably to
highlight the involvement of the emperor in the case and the excep-
tional nature of the whole imperial intervention.37 Of course, when
people from the provinces are granted imperial beneficia, such as
Roman citizenship, it was only natural that such social recognitions
were advertised.38
The apokrimata yield an important detail regarding the volume of
imperial legal business, namely, that during three days the emperors
resolved thirteen cases. There is, of course, no comprehensive infor-
mation available on how much time it took and how many cases each
emperor handled, but it has been suggested that legal business
claimed the ‘vast majority of any conscientious Roman emperor’s
time’. In any case, considering how trifling matters were sometimes
decided by the emperor, it should be a safe bet to assume that he was
36
Williams, ‘Libellus’ (1974), 92, 97–100; Williams, ‘Publication of Imperial Sub-
scripts’ (1980), 287–8; Westermann and Schiller, Apokrimata (1954), 99–101; Coriat,
Prince législateur (1997), 610–18, 624–5. Williams, ‘Libellus’ (1974), 88–9 contains the
list of subscriptions on papyri known from that visit. In the case of papyri, there has
reigned the assumption that if the different parts of the texts are written by different
hands, one may be dealing with the original, while texts written in one hand may be
copies. Even inscriptions reveal archival practices, such as the number of witnesses
that verify the authenticity of the copy, or, in the case of the Skaptopara inscription
(IGBulg. 2236 = SIG 888), a reference to the liber libellorum that were possibly the
method which the petitions were stored in the imperial archives. Williams, ‘Epi-
graphic Texts of Imperial Subscripts’ (1986), 187. There are some examples where a
letter circulated widely, e.g. a letter by Severus Alexander to the koinon of Bithinia was
referred to in POxy. 17.2104, POxy. 43.3106, and by Dig. 49.1.25. On this example, see
Kantor, ‘Knowledge of Law’ (2009).
37
Stolte, ‘Jurisdiction and Representation of Power’ (2003), 266–8. On the lis
fullonum case, see Tran, ‘Procès des foulons’ (2007); De Robertis, ‘Lis fullonum.
Oggetto della lite’ (1982); De Robertis, ‘Lis fullonum. Notazioni critiche’ (1977);
Litewski, ‘Prozesswiederholung nach der ‘lis fullonum’ (1975); De Robertis, Sull’acce-
zione di interlocutio (1972); De Robertis, CIL VI, 266 (Lis Fullonum) (1970); Musca,
D. ‘Lis fullonum’ (1970).
38
See e.g. the Tabula Banasitana: Schiller, ‘Tabula Banasitana’ (1975), 148–9.
constantly trailed by an army of petitioners. There were high expect-
ations of the emperor to deliver justice, and the way individual
emperors handled these expectations varied greatly.39 The nature of
these expectations were naturally diverse, ranging from the hopes
of petitioners of being heard as an unspoken reward for their
loyalty, to the function of petitions as a way of controlling lower-
level administrators.
Making any assumptions about the total number of petitions and
rescripts is highly problematic, as is deducing where the petitions
were from. Our two examples are indicative of the possible tendency
of petitioners to approach the emperor when he was in the area. The
majority of imperial subscripts in Egypt date from the same visit
during the winter of 199–200.40 There have been many attempts
at making estimates of how many petitions could have been presen-
ted to the emperor, but such exercises involve a fair amount of
guesswork.41
Petitions to the emperor, as witnessed by inscriptions, follow a
uniform rhetorical structure. They consist of four parts: the address
or inscriptio, the beginning or exordium, the story or narratio, and the
request or preces. The petitions usually follow this set scheme, sug-
gesting that even if a letter manual was not used, scribes generally
knew how to draft an imperial petition. It is even possible that the
petitioners who produced three surviving inscriptions used the same
scribe in Rome to frame their petition to the emperor.42 Sometimes
petitioners would include documents such as testaments (Cod. Iust.
3.33.2) or letters (8.37.1) in the petitions.
The division of rescripts into epistulae and subscriptiones is uneven,
with subscripts heavily outnumbering letters. For example, between
193 and 235 the Severan dynasty produced a total of 1,182 rescripts
39
Peachin, Iudex (1996), 80–2, 84, 87–8.
40
Williams, ‘Publication of Imperial Subscripts’ (1980), 286–7.
41
The estimates of the total number of petitions are fairly wide-ranging; see e.g.
MacMullen, Response to Crisis (1976), 76 (1,500 per year to Severus); Honoré,
Emperors and Lawyers (1994), 45 (4–5 rescripts per day); Millar, Emperor (1992
[1977]), 245 (4–5 per day, several hundred per year); Peachin, Iudex (1996), 82 (4–5
libelli, a consultation, 1–2 trials or appeals per day). Pölönen, ‘Quadragesima’ (2008),
102 (imperial courts handled 500–2,500 cases per year).
42
Hauken, Petition and Response (1998), iii, 286–7; Feissel and Gascou, ‘Docu-
ments d'archives romains inédits’ (1995).
preserved in the Justinianic compilation, of which 1,119 were sub-
scriptiones and only sixty-three epistulae.43
The interpretations of the function of the rescript system have
varied, there being two main theories, one focusing on legal adminis-
tration and the other concentrating on the idea of it as an extension of
imperial patronage. The first emphasizes its role in the legal bureau-
cracy as a mechanism in which law was created and information about
it disseminated. Many consider that rescripts were authoritative replies
to legal questions, almost like the ius respondendi. Some have even
suggested that they were a free legal service that at the same time
provided an authoritative ruling which made law more uniform.44
On the administrative side, rescripts were interpreted as bureaucratic
missives that were almost decrets, while others suggest that they were
legislation by reaction. The second theory was founded on the social
tradition of patronage. According to this theory, rescripts were an
extension of the patron’s duty to offer advice to his clients. Because
the system of patronage was so ingrained, it was impossible for the
emperor to refuse to give advice when it was asked of him directly.
Some elements of this theory, such as that the authority of the rescript
came from the emperors’ role as pontifex maximus, are interesting,
though unconvincing. Supporters of the idea of the emperor’s social
duty to answer queries are quick to refute the theory of rescripts as free
legal advice and promoting unity of law on the basis of the emperor
being hard to reach and the rescripts being hard to find. If the emperor
was supposed to answer petitions, there does not seem to be any special
obligation for him to make it easy or convenient for the petitioners.45
I would argue that there is no inherent contradiction between the fact
that there was a social duty or expectation for the emperor to answer
legal queries and the promotion of legal unity—quite the contrary. The
two functions operated side by side.
43
Coriat, ‘Technique du rescript’ (1985), 319–20; Hauken, Petition and Response
(1998), 299. On the number of constitutions, see Arcaria, Referre (2000), 7–8 and
Coriat, Prince législateur (1997) 153, where the total number of epistulae and sub-
scripts is 78 and 1,122, making a grand total of 1,200. However, see Spagnuolo
Vigorita, ‘Review of Arcaria, Referre’ (2001), 248–54 on the fluidity of distinctions
between the two.
44
Honoré, Emperors and Lawyers (1994), 33–6; Sirks, ‘Making a Request to the Emperor’
(2001), 128–30.
45
Sirks, ‘Making a Request to the Emperor’ (2001), 128–30; Williams, ‘Publication
of Imperial Subscripts’ (1980), 286.
It was of utmost importance that the emperor was the final arbiter
of law and, with determination, one could reach him. As with the
Goharians, the emperor admitted them to present their case even
though it was highly unusual and against the rules of procedure, and
resolved the case in their favour to let justice prevail over law. He is
thus emphasizing his power and demonstrating that he is the ultimate
authority. Whether or not one believes that there was a practical and
uncomplicated system for reaching the emperor with one’s petition,
this holds true. Aristides’ praise of the emperor being the source of
law accessible to his subjects was quite remarkable, regardless of the
practical arrangements this took. While Wilcken and many others
saw the rescript system as an ideal model where the governors
functioned as postmen that relayed petitions to the emperor, recent
observers have been more sceptical and have questioned the efficiency
and functioning of the public mail, as even governors were liable to
use private messengers in its stead.46
The model advanced by Millar was that the imperial legal admin-
istration was deeply reactive, meaning that it responded to challenges
rather than created policies.47 This model is mostly based on the idea
of petition and response as the ideal model of the imperial governing
system. The libellus system as the vehicle for petitioning was the
mechanism that made this type of government possible.48 Within
adjudication, this model needs considerable revising.
One of the main issues of the era is how much the emperor is an
individual actor in his legal decisions and how much a simple mouth-
piece of the jurists. In the latter view, one does see a resemblance to
the praetor’s role in the formulation of law during the Republic.
Fundamentally, the question is whether the law is the emperor’s law
or the jurist’s law. Supporters of the imperial role in jurisdiction have
criticized legal scholars for reducing the emperor to a simple rubber
stamp who approved the opinions written by the jurists in his con-
silium. They underline that the emperors did, for the most part, have
a long experience in acting as a judge and understood the symbolic
46
Stolte, ‘Jurisdiction and Representation of Power’ (2003), 262, 268. A similar
suggestion is made by Williams, ‘Libellus’ (1974), 97 and Hauken, Petition and
Response (1998), i. It should be noted that Aristides does talk about appeals and
consultations, not petitions. See Kolb, Transport (2000) on the functioning of the
cursus publicus.
47
Hauken, Petition and Response (1998), 298.
48
Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 208–9.
significance of the position.49 The proponents of jurists’ law have
responded that while the emperor did act independently on numer-
ous occasions and gave oral rulings, the rescripts that actually
changed law were mostly written by professional lawyers.50
In the debates over the duties and roles of the emperor, the role of
answering petitions has of course been central. Some scholars, like
Millar, have maintained that the emperor was supposed to answer
petitions and hear appeals personally, that the communication of
power and patronage simply worked that way. Others, like Honoré,
have emphasized the role of legal functionaries and have distanced
the role of the emperor to something akin to a figurehead who had
little substantive relevance in the grand scheme of things. Finally,
Peachin has claimed that actions such as the appointment of iudices
vice sacra were indications of how the office of the emperor was
becoming separated from the person of the emperor. Even if the
person of the emperor was lazy, absent, or incompetent, the office
of the emperor was not. Thus the emperor could be ever-vigilant and
responsive because the emperor was not simply a person but the
office surrounding him.51
On the ideological level, the rescript system can be seen as an
indicator of the monarchic style of the imperial government. That
took place on many levels. On the practical level of power, the
imperial rule was a monarchy of a judicial character. On the ethical
level of power, the Roman emperor resembled the oriental Hellenistic
conception of a king as a judge who is always just. The emperor as
judge and legislator had the both the right and the obligation to
interpret and modify the law and to be accessible to his subjects
and give them equitable justice.52
In this system, the Severan jurists such as Ulpian were the holders
of imperial justice, who participated in the construction of an autono-
mous law by interpreting the imperial decisions. The legal system and
49
Millar, ‘L’Empereur romain’ (1990), 216–17, 220. The main debate has been
between Millar and Honoré.
50
Honoré, Emperors and Lawyers (1994), 28–32. Some have gone as far as to
maintain that the rescripts are nothing more than responsa issued under the authority
of the emperor. See Corcoran, ‘Gregorianus and Hermogenianus’ (2013) on
Hermogenian.
51
Connolly, Lives behind the Laws (2010), 155–7; Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 6
and passim; Honoré, Emperors and Lawyers (1994); Peachin, Iudex (1996), 203.
52
Coriat, ‘Technique législative’ (1990), 222.
the mode of government are intimately linked, and the jurists are
parts of a centralized bureaucratic machinery that conserved and
rationalized the juridical. The contentious law of jurists was replaced
by state law emanating from the decisions of the emperor. The
emperor was lex animata, the source of law.53 Despite this conceptual
clarity of the superiority of the emperor, in practical administrative
matters the emperor’s fiat was not as straightforward. For example, in
a case where a slave had been forced into prostitution against the
condition of sale, the execution of the ruling of the emperor—that she
should be freed—was not only based on a Hadrianic constitution, but
also needed the input of both the city prefect and the praetor to take
effect (Cod. Iust. 4.56.1).
While the role of the emperor was unequivocally to be the voice of
the law, the draftsmen behind that voice were some of the best jurists
of the era. Jurists like Papinian, Ulpian, and Modestinus worked as a
libellis, the secretaries that drafted the imperial rescripts.54 The way
that emperors and lawyers might also cooperate and work together in
forming of legal opinions is apparent in the way the opinion of jurists
could emulate that of the emperors in Dig. 37.14.17, where Marcus
and Verus had summoned Maecianus and other jurists to discuss a
matter, and when Maecianus had, in their presence, agreed with their
earlier rescript, he was induced to join them in a discussion leading to
a new interpretation. What the example shows is that the emperors
were willing to discuss matters and eager to prevent their authority
from skewing the opinions of jurists.
One of the important changes of the era is that the Severan period
saw the transformation of the locations of the imperial monarchy.
Rome ceased to be the only residence of the emperor, and henceforth,
in practice, the capital was where the emperor was. Thus, diverse
cities became the centre of the empire while the emperor resided
there. The emperor was a sort of itinerant capital of the Roman
Empire. Rome became a communis patria, an ideal of a civilization,
the symbol of which was the emperor.55
53
Coriat, Prince législateur (1997), 657, 662. On Severan period and jurisprudence,
see Nasti, Tradizione giurisprudenziale romana (2012).
54
On imperial secretaries and their work, see Honoré, Emperors and Lawyers
(1994).
55
Coriat, ‘Technique législative’ (1990), 224; on the phenomenon, see Thomas,
‘ “Origine” et “commune patrie” ’ (1996).
However, in addition to this very universal idea of the emperor as
the centre of the legal universe were the ideals of approachability and
the opportunity for personal contact between the emperor and his
subjects. The contacts between the emperor and his subjects were
very personal, meaning that there was little contact beyond that
where the subjects came to meet him where he was at the time.
Time, effort, and travel all placed limitations on the likelihood of
meeting, but it was significant that there was such an opportunity.
This was the background to the way the cases that formed Roman law
were chosen.56
The theory of the emperor’s essential passivity, that he initiated no
constructive policies but rather his activities were dictated by the
impulses that came from outside, has been heavily criticized for
its narrow viewpoint. According to its critics, the theory of the
passive emperor presented the emperor as patron who benevolently
responded to petitions and queries from his clients. Even if the
emperor was the uncontested and omnipotent ruler, it was the pas-
sivity that defined him as the patron and not the tyrant. What the
critics argue is that it is unjustified to call the casuistic mode of
operation of the imperial government passive. What impulses were
reacted upon and what action was taken is not passivity, but another
kind of initiative and activity that is no less valuable than that of
promulgating general laws. Regarding general policies, the Roman
emperors did have clear policies in the political, economic, social, and
military spheres.57 Much more than that, it is evident that the
encouragement of communication and its use as an administrative
vehicle was in and of itself a strategic choice, where writing, copying,
and approving what was written were not only practical but also
symbolic acts.58
Ultimately, I would argue that the contradictions between the
opposing theories of the emperor engaging in a conscious policy of
advancing law and administration through the rescript service and
the emperor being a passive recipient of the queries and complaints of
his subjects are based on the selection of viewpoints and sources. This
56
Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 618. What is notable is that so many of the cases,
especially those preserved in inscriptions, are from the eastern half of the empire.
57
Bleicken, Regierungsstil (1982), 185–7, 196–9; Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 6.
58
On the communicative strategies of Roman emperors and administrators, see
Ando, Imperial Ideology (2000), 86–90.
was probably how the emperor’s legal activities were seen at the time
by people serving in the legal administration and the people in the
provinces making the petitions.
The inscriptions containing imperial rescripts are an interesting
source of information on the way the emperor was seen and pre-
sented by the petitioners. The Ağa Bey Köyü inscription from Lydia
in Asia contains a petition from the peasants of an imperial estate
who are being oppressed by the tax-collectors and cannot get relief
from the local authorities. They note that substantial ransoms have
been paid, though they claim to be ‘pitiable people bereft of life and
relatives’ (ἀθλίοις ἀνθρώποις ἀφῃρημένοις καὶ βίου καὶ συνγενῶν οὕτως
ὠμῶς). Only the intervention of the ‘most divine emperor ever’
(κρατίστοις ἐπιτρόποις), whose ‘divine and unsurpassed kingship’
(θειότατοι τῶν πώποτε αὐτοκρατόρων) they are humbly approaching,
will punish the wicked for this outrage. They go so far as to present a
thinly veiled threat: if the emperor’s ‘heavenly justice’ (οὐρανίου
δεξιᾶς) will not punish the evildoers, they will have to abandon
their homes on the imperial estates and seek life elsewhere.59
The narrative strategies of petitioners were sometimes quite strik-
ing and sought to imprint on the emperor, and possibly the imperial
secretaries, the power of appearances, lest they resort to technicalities
and reject their appeal. The inhabitants of Kemaliye, also in Lydia,
petitioned probably Septimius Severus, Caracalla, and Geta for the
same reason, tax-collectors. Again the ‘greatest and most divine of
emperors ever’ (μέγιστοι καὶ θειότατοι τῶν πώποτε αὐτοκρατόρων)
should help the poor villagers by upholding ‘your laws and those of
your ancestors and your peace-giving justice for all’ (ὑμετέρους νόμους
τῶν τε προγόνων ὑμῶν καὶ πρὸς τὴν εἰρηνικήν ὑμῶν περὶ πάντας
δικαιοσύνην).60
The structure of the petitions is strikingly similar, as may be
deduced from the examples where the petition is found complete,
such as the Skaptopara inscription from Thrace (IGBulg. IV 2236 =
SIG 888). In it, the emperor is lauded for his magnanimity and
wisdom, and his reign described as a happy one. It is also within
the tradition that the petitioners place their full trust in the emperor
59
Keil and Premerstein, Reise in Lydien (1914), n. 55; tr. and edn., Hauken,
Petition and Response (1998), 29–57; Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 542.
60
Keil and Premerstein, Reise in Lydien (1914), n. 55; tr. and edn., Hauken,
Petition and Response (1998), 58–73.
to settle the matter satisfactorily. The Skaptopara inscription is
unusual in that it contains not only all the elements of the petition
and the imperial rescript, but also the speech of the village’s advocate
before the provincial governor. It should be noted that the imperial
response was a tad more cautious, simply telling them to take their
problems to the governor (a standard response even in rescripts
preserved in Justinian).61
If the petitioners were playing the victims to elicit what they
thought of as the sympathy of the powerful in a manner that would
become even more pronounced during late antiquity, the imperial
style of responding was becoming increasingly terse and condensed.
Our knowledge of the original style of the responses is, of course,
limited mainly to inscriptions and papyri, because the responses
contained in the juridical compilations were explicitly shortened
and whatever rhetorical flourishes there were in the original were
later cut in order to preserve the juridical point. However, even the
emperors would strive to present the image of justice, responding that
law should be applied justly (Cod. Iust. 8.13.2).
The style of majestic simplicity was quite possibly even the aim of
the imperial authors and ghost-writers. For example, Philostratus
(V S 2.33) writes that an emperor should be quite brief in writing
and never use reasoning; he should merely express his own will: ‘nor
again should he be obscure, since he is the voice of the law, and
lucidity is the interpreter of the law.’62 The emperor’s word is the law,
and thus what the emperor says should be unequivocal and clear.
Whether the fact that Philostratus thought it necessary to give
instructions to imperial authors should be seen as a sign that there
was a market for instructions on how to write like the emperor, for
the emperor, on behalf of the emperor, or that he included these
instructions as an example of style is naturally pure speculation.
In addition to the imperial secretaries, who had to write on behalf
of the emperor, there was a group of people who were expected to
learn how to judge, behave, and write like an emperor. The appoint-
ment of judges vice sacra or iudex vice Caesaris was one way of
61
Connolly, Lives behind the Laws (2010), 29–38; Williams, ‘Epigraphic Texts of
Imperial Subscripts’ (1986, 198–204; Hauken, Petition and Response (1998), 264–8;
Turpin, ‘Imperial Subscriptions’ (1991), 112–13. The petition was sent to Gordian III
and the subscript was dated AD 238.
62
οὐδ᾿ αὖ ἀσαφείας, ἐπειδὴ νόμους φθέγγεται, σαφήνεια δὲ ἑρμηνεὺς νόμου. Tr.
dealing with the central role that the emperor had gained in the
Roman legal system. By the time of Severus it was vital for the
functioning of the system that the emperor was available to judge
and that he did respond. Because the emperor had also to go on
campaigns and engage in other business, stand-ins were appointed.
During the third century there was a whole group of men who were
appointed as iudices vice Caesaris. For example, Pollienus Auspex
acted in this role from 197 to 202, during Severus’ campaign in
Parthia, while Nummius Albinus was vice sacra in 208–9, during
the British campaign. Suetrius Sabinus was appointed by Caracalla
in 214, but served only until his appointment as praefectus alimen-
torum in 215. The traits common to these men and later holders of
the post are that they are all high-ranking officials from good families
who had held the consulate. Apparently, the men destined to sub for
the emperor should look convincingly imperial and status; knowledge
and experience were crucial.63
Though the emperors were often absent from Rome and stand-ins
were appointed, the idea that the emperor would personally adjudicate
cases continued to be a significant part of the imperial topography.
Instead of having a tribunal at the Forum, the reception hall
or auditorium became the main seat of imperial justice. Epigraphic
evidence shows that Septimius Severus and Caracalla had an imperial
tribunal in the area of the aedes Apollonis in AD 204 (Fig. 2.1).64 During
the time of Severus Alexander, the phrase in auditorio would be
shorthand for the imperial court (Cod. Iust. 7.16.4).
If one looks at the manner in which emperors handled their
correspondence, one is at the same time observing their adjudication,
as the major part of known imperial correspondence handles peti-
tions regarding a legal case. The other, smaller group consists of
petitions regarding imperial beneficia, protection or privileges.
These are largely absent from legal sources and known mostly from
inscriptions.65 It is very likely that the majority of petitions were in
fact non-legal requests for beneficia. The fact that legal rescripts are so
dominant should not cloud the fact that emperors most likely han-
dled a vast correspondence of an administrative and political nature.
63
Peachin, Iudex (1996), 88–91, 93–6, 101, 151–3. Whether they only handled
trials or also rescripts is not known.
64
CIL VI 32327.11–12, 22–4; De Angelis, ‘The Emperor’s Justice’ (2010) 145.
65
If there were different secretaries for different subjects, we do not
know. This complicates the understanding of procedure, not only in
the case of vice sacra but also in the instances where, for example,
the emperor’s mother handled his correspondence. Dio writes that
Julia Domna would handle Caracalla’s correspondence and received
petitions and embassies while they were in winter camp in Nicome-
dia in 214–15.66 It is, of course, impossible to say whether legal
issues were excluded or what kind of arrangement it was,67 but we
know that gracious responses from Julia Domna were considered
important enough to merit their being inscribed by the people of
Ephesus.68 It is unlikely that she actually drafted the answers to
petitioners herself. Both Dio’s text and the fact that he was a senator
from the same region suggest that Dio was accompanying Caracalla
at the time.69 From that period there are in total nineteen rescripts
preserved from the year 214 and forty-four rescripts from the
year 215. According to Honoré, during the years 213 to 217 the
rescripts were drafted by what he dubs ‘Secretary no. 5’, whom he
has identified through his style of writing.70 Even if we could
identify rescripts written during the time in Nicomedia, we have
little indication of whether the answering of petitions took place
only there, and thus comparisons would be impossible.71 Such
delegation of imperial correspondence and answering petitions,
and, by extension, adjudication, could be seen as a reversal of the
long development towards the centralization of the law in the
person of the emperor.
66
Cass. Dio 78.18.2–3; Freisenbruch, Caesar’s Wives (2010), 179–204; Levick, Julia
Domna (2007); Hemelrijk, Matrona Docta (1999); Ghedini, Giulia Domna (1984);
Kettenhofen, Syrischen Augustae (1979). See also Cass. Dio 19.4 for her continuing
role in maintaining his correspondence until his death.
67
The issue of Julia Domna’s involvement in Caracalla’s correspondence and
answering of petitions has been usually bundled up with the use of the iudices vice
Caesaris and his general mismanagement of imperial administration. See e.g. Liebs,
‘Reichskummerkasten’ (2006), 145–6; Coriat, Prince législateur (1997), 189–90, 226,
232; Honoré, Emperors and Lawyers (1994), 26, 36, 46; Nörr, ‘Reskriptenpraxis’
(1981), 35.
68
SEG XXXIII 938; SEG LI 1579, ll. 9–14.
69
Davenport, ‘Cassius Dio and Caracalla’ (2012).
70
Honoré, Emperors and Lawyers (1994), 91–5.
71
For example, the rescripts dated to this winter are Cod. Iust. 5.40.1 from 5 Nov.
214, 8.20.1 from 18 Nov. 214, and 5.43.2 from 13 Jan. 215, all on purely legal issues
signed by Caracalla.
LAWYERS AND IMPERIAL ADJUDICATION
During the period from Antoninus Pius to the late Severan emperors,
the idea of the sovereign imperial judge becomes entrenched. While
imperial sovereignty and the unfettered power of the emperor were
outlined as early as in the writings of Seneca, only during the late
Antonine period does the emperor actually embrace the power of
being the living law. While Trajan and others were still happy to
delegate the occasional case to lower courts of Republican heritage,
the imperial chancery begins to take shape and, with the imperial
offices of the prefect of the city and the praetorian prefect, assumes an
almost universal jurisdiction.72
What did this centralization mean in the practice of jurisdiction in
situations where there were several contenders for power ruling
simultaneously for several years? Or when emperors were engaged
in warfare for years? The fact that there are statements from histor-
ians about nearly all emperors’ performance as judges may be seen as
a sign of the continuing importance of their personal adjudication.
The death of Commodus brought to the throne Pertinax (r. AD
192–3), who was lauded as a good judge by historians such as Dio
and Herodian. The fact that he ruled for only three months before
being killed by the praetorian guard somewhat lessens the value of such
statements.73 Of the intervening emperors prior to Severus, few man-
aged to make an impact with their adjudication or administration.74
Septimius Severus (r. AD 193–211), the winner of the civil war, has
enjoyed a very good reputation, despite the fact that his relationship
with the Senate was troubled. Part of his good reputation was prob-
ably due to the fact that most of what we know about his reign comes
from Dio, who was his councillor. Severus was clearly a model
emperor for Dio, and Dio held adjudication to be very central to
the duties of the emperor.75
Herodian says that, when in Rome, Severus was assiduous in
administering law. He also oversaw the civilian administration well
and tried to inculcate moderation in his two sons. He mostly stayed
72
The power of the praetorian prefect to give general edicts was confirmed in Cod.
Iust. 1.26.2 (see also Dig. 1.11, where his role as the emperor’s second-in-command
is affirmed). Dig. 1.12.1–3 describes the role of the city prefect.
73 74
Herodian 2.4.1–5; Cass. Dio 74.5, 74.8. SHA Pesc. Nig. 7.4.
75
Cass. Dio 75.16.3–4, 76(77).17.1–3.
outside Rome, pursuing judicial and administrative work.76 There are
numerous cases adjudicated by Severus known from different
sources, ranging from imperial intrigues to very mundane issues.
We have, for example, an inscription recording a decision of Severus
regarding a request for an exemption from the building code rules on
window height.77
With Severus, as well as with his successors, one sees the continu-
ation of the narrative where, with regard to the common people, the
emperor is a source of justice in sometimes the most mundane of
queries, while within the imperial court the plotters, competitors, and
unfortunate bystanders were being killed, sometimes with no official
procedure at all, sometimes after a cursory hearing. A good example
is the downfall of Plautianus and the killing of his family at the
instigation of Julia Domna. After a sort of trial by the imperial family,
he was killed on the order of Caracalla.78
Cases from the reign of Severus and Caracalla (ruling jointly AD
198–211) suggest that senators used the advantage of their proximity
to the emperor to get their petitions heard.79 Due to the fact that the
jurist Paul served in Severus’ consilium and published a work on
imperial decisions, we know Severus’ legal work comparatively
well.80 Papinian writes that Severus and Caracalla had excused jurists
serving in the imperial consilium from serving as tutores, because they
were required to be at the emperors’ side at all times.81 In the Codex
there are a total of 188 rescripts from their joint reign, most of them
clarifications of points of law and answers to individual petitions. In
some instances Severus and Caracalla took pains to note that they
wanted to have a more general effect. For example, in their response
to a petition by merchants about the easing of rules about the return
of stolen wares to their rightful owner, the emperors threatened that
they would be suspected of a crime if they did not obey.82
The jurists, however, were not necessarily toadying to the
emperors. Paul wrote that the emperor should not validate an
76
Herodian 3.10.2, 3.13.1.
77
CIL VI 3770 (=31330); Turpin, ‘Imperial Subscriptions’ (1991), 111.
78
Herodian 3.12.11–12.
79
Dig. 28.5.93 (92), 36.1.38.1. Millar, Emperor (1992 [1977]), 534.
80
See the list of cases in the Appendix for examples. Note also how most of the
cases in Rizzi, Imperator cognoscens decrevit (2012) derive from Paul’s work.
81
Dig. 27.1.30.pr., Iuris peritos . . . in consilium principum adsumptos.
82
Cod. Iust. 6.2.2.
imperfect will and to do so would be shameless. His imperial majesty
should observe laws even if he is exempt from them.83 Severus
Alexander, writing about intestacy, affirmed this principle, maintain-
ing that even though the lex imperii released the emperor from the
formalities of the law, it is prudent that he lives according to the law
(Cod. Iust. 6.23.3).
For Dio as well as for other contemporaries, Caracalla’s sole rule
(AD 211–17) was in stark contrast with the reign of Septimius Severus,
who after all had Caracalla as his co-regent for a number of years.
When Severus died in 211, Caracalla moved to establish his power by
dismissing a number of important functionaries. He fired Papinian
from the post of prefect and killed a number of people he personally
disliked.84 However, the more drastic changes took place the follow-
ing year, when Caracalla disposed of Geta, his brother and co-ruler.
When he killed Geta, he also killed his freedmen and the soldiers loyal
to him, in total some 20,000 people. In these purges Papinian also
lost his life. It is hardly a coincidence that the purges took place
at the same time as important—and possibly popular—reforms.
For example, in the same year 212, in addition to the constitutio
Antoniniana, Caracalla pardoned all exiles banished to an island, no
matter what the charges.85
Caracalla has acquired a contradictory reputation in the field of
law. On one hand, he presided over important reforms such as the
constitutio Antoniniana, while on the other, he was known for reck-
lessness and violence. The extent of Caracalla’s reputation for trans-
gression, as well as the belief that the emperor was truly above the
laws, is evident in the story in the Historia Augusta about Caracalla
marrying Julia Domna.86 There are 264 rescripts from Caracalla’s sole
reign in the Codex.
As judge, the accounts on Caracalla are contradictory: Herodian
said he was straightforward in his reasoning and able to make good
83 84 85
Dig. 32.23. Cass. Dio 78.1.1–2. Cass. Dio 78.3.3.
86
SHA M. Ant. 10.2–3. The author of the SHA calls her his stepmother, mention-
ing that she was a beautiful woman. When she had as if by accident revealed her body
to him, he had said ‘Vellem, si liceret.’ (‘If I could, I would.’). She had replied ‘Si libet,
licet. An nescis te imperatorem esse et leges dare, non accipere.’ (‘If you want, you can.
Does it not mean being an emperor that you give the laws, not obey them?’) Levick,
Julia Domna (2007), 195 mentions that the incest legend was part of a later narrative
tradition.
judgments on the basis of the advice given,87 while Dio reports that he
neglected his imperial duties as judge.88 Caracalla made several
rescripts in which he showed special favour towards soldiers, for
example, overlooking their ignorance of the law due to ‘a soldier’s
simplicity’.89 Most of his rescripts are purely legal, some quite com-
plex and difficult to reconcile with the image of a reckless Caracalla.90
In the Codex we have Caracalla’s judgment outside the cognition,
which Coriat sees as an example of how the emperor could make
decisions without a prior process:91
I restore you to your province with all your rights. Moreover, that you
may know what it means to be restored to all your rights, I hereby
reinstate you in your offices, your rank, and all your other privileges.
Restituo te in integrum provinciae tuae. Ut autem scias, quid sit in
integrum: honoribus et ordini tuo et omnibus ceteris.92
The constitutio Antoniniana is possibly a similar attempt by Caracalla
to win favour. Though Honoré sees it as a part of a cosmopolitan and
egalitarian movement to bring human rights to all,93 it should be
noted that the reasons for, the extent of, and the implications of the
reform are controversial.94
The rest of the Severan emperors, Macrinus (r. AD 217–18), Ela-
gabalus (r. AD 218–22), and Severus Alexander (r. AD 222–35), are a
mixed lot. The short reign of Macrinus was noted by contemporaries
as a brief respite from the unrest, when security was restored.95
Equally, Dio writes that Macrinus was honest. His knowledge of the
law was exceptionally good, as was his adherence to it.96 The Historia
Augusta says that Macrinus was wise in the administration of law and
decided to rescind the decisions of earlier emperors so that judgments
would henceforth be made according to law, not the decisions of
emperors. He said it would be a crime to give the force of law to the
decisions of Commodus and Caracalla and other untrained men.97
87 88
Herodian 4.7.2. Cass. Dio 78.17.3, 78.18.2–3.
89
Cod. Iust. 1.18.1. Other examples of favour to soldiers: Cod. Iust. 2.12.7, 2.12.9.
90 91
Cod. Iust. 2.3.7, 3.28.12. Coriat, Prince législateur (1997), 99.
92
Cod. Iust. 9.51.1. The Codex text mentions that Licinius had been sentenced
to deportation to an island and restored without a hearing.
93
Honoré, Ulpian (2002), 84–5.
94
On the implications of the CA, see further discussion later in this chapter.
95 96 97
Herodian 5.2.2. Cass. Dio 79.11.2. SHA Opil. 13.1.
Both Elagabalus and Severus Alexander were very young and
controlled by their female relatives, mostly by their grandmother
Julia Maesa. All narratives of the reign of Elagabalus are coloured by
the accounts his flamboyant lifestyle, scandals that alienated the
elite and the people alike, as well as his religious programmes.98
Dio, an eyewitness, writes that Elagabalus had more or less the
appearance of a man when he was judging someone in court.
Otherwise, and everywhere else, he behaved effeminately.99 Though
the memory of Elagabalus was condemned and thus his constitu-
tions were not included in the Justinianic compilation, there are
some of his rescripts preserved in manuscripts and epigraphic
sources.100
After the murder of Elagabalus and his mother, Severus Alexander
was raised to the throne at the age of 13. After the excesses of
Elagabalus, there was a concerted effort to improve administration,
and trusted people from the reign of Septimius Severus were brought
in. Among them were both Dio and Ulpian. Alexander, at the instiga-
tion of his mother Mamaia, had employed Ulpian to aid the praetorian
prefects. Ulpian became a member of his council and magister
scrinium. He was an excellent lawyer and legislator, but irritated the
soldiers. When Elagabalus and his mother were killed, along with them
perished the prefects and most of the high administration officials.
After Ulpian was made sole prefect by Alexander, he was killed by the
soldiers in front of the emperor and his mother.101
Herodian writes that Severus Alexander’s mother urged him to
spend most of his days in judicial work so as to keep him occupied
with important imperial business, not giving him a chance to develop
vices. He was a lenient judge, who until his fourteenth year did not
execute anyone, even someone guilty of serious crimes.102 Again, in the
rescripts of the Codex the level of complexity of some of the decisions
may perhaps indicate that he did not write these by himself.103 The
98
de Arrizabalaga y Prado, The Emperor Elagabalus (2010).
99
Cass. Dio 79(80).14.3–4. SHA Heliogab. 16.4 reports that he dismissed both
Ulpian and Sabinus.
100
One is included in the Visigothic epitome of Codex Gregorianus (13.14.1), one
is an inscription, CIL VI 21046.33. Honoré, Emperors and Lawyers (1994), 95.
101 102
Zos. 1.11.2; Cass. Dio 80.1–2.3; Eutr. 8.23. Herodian 6.1.6–7.
103
Cod. Iust. 3.37.2–3, 3.41.1, 4.21.2, just to take some examples of his teenage
rescripts.
volume of rescripts continues to climb, as there are 442 rescripts of
Severus Alexander in the Codex of Justinian.
The imperial adjudication increasingly took on a dual role. On the
one hand, there were the public trials and petitions in which
the petitioners faced the emperor in person. In these meetings, the
evidence suggests that the emperors almost invariably sought to
appear benevolent and just, a good king that rights wrongs and brings
justice. On the other hand, the written procedure, especially that of
petitioning and rescripts, was business-like and brusque, focusing on
the legal issue. For the petitioners, both types of response would be a
cause for celebration, which is evident in the way that both the
extraordinary instances where the emperor gives you a private hear-
ing and arranges a special trial for you (as in the Goharian case), and
the more normal response where the emperor tells you to turn to the
governor (as in the Skaptopara case), were suitable reason for
the commissioning of a celebratory inscription. Thus the two sides
of the system, the practical and the ideological, were firmly inter-
twined, and one cannot really make a distinction between the ideas of
responsivity and passivity. Responding to petitions was what the
emperor did; even so-called bad emperors, murderous thugs and
asocial characters, abided by this rule. The emperor’s role as the
final arbiter meant that this process took place in close collaboration
with jurists, but nevertheless it is clear from the sources that the law
was ultimately the law of the emperor.
DIO AND THE IMPERIAL PERCEPTION
Cassius Dio (c.155–235), as the councillor of Septimius Severus, is an

interesting mirror reflecting the way the perception of imperial
powers was transformed. A senator from Nicaea in Bithynia, he
spent much of his life in imperial service, holding important positions
from the reign of Commodus to that of Severus Alexander. During a
period of over twenty years he wrote, in Greek, a massive treatise on
the history of Rome from the earliest times to the present day,
comprising eighty books. Like many of the earlier senatorial Roman
historians, Dio enjoyed privileged access to historical material as well
as earlier literature (he boasts of having read everything written on
Roman history), but as a historical source he has not enjoyed the
respect accorded to the likes of Tacitus or Livy.104 The aim of this
section is to explore the understanding of Dio regarding imperial
adjudication, and to discuss how his historical narrative reflected the
contemporary convictions of imperial power, but also how this
monarchical view of the emperor was tempered by the insistence of
the role of the Senate.
What Dio offers for the study of imperial adjudication is a con-
temporary perspective of the Severan period. While Dio writes exten-
sively about the Roman Republic in his histories, his view about the
empire is decidedly monarchical, a state built around the emperor.
Even with considerable wealth and resources to pour into the enter-
prise, Dio’s history is often quite similar to its predecessors. It is, of
course, impossible to make confident assertions about the sources
used by Dio, as similar examples and anecdotes may have circulated
commonly. A telling example is Suetonius’ anecdote of Domitian’s
penchant for stabbing flies with a stylus,105 which is repeated by
Dio.106 Would we be justified in maintaining that Dio copied Sueto-
nius, or did a story like that just circulate? Instead of approaching the
matter through the history of events, I will be concentrating on
the images that Dio constructs and what they tell us of the role of
the emperor in law and his duties in adjudication. Dio’s viewpoint is
important because he presents the Roman elite contemporary view of
what the emperor’s jurisdiction should be like, as opposed to the
104
Cass. Dio 1.1. The main study on Dio’s life and works is still Millar, A Study of
Cassius Dio (1964), but see equally Manuwald, Cassius Dio und Augustus (1979). Of the
extensive literature on Dio, of interest to this study are especially works on Dio’s career
alongside emperors (Cleve, ‘Cassius Dio and Ulpian’ (1988); Davenport, ‘Cassius Dio
and Caracalla’ (2012)), contentious debate over the methods and merits of Dio as a
historian (Straub, ‘Cassius Dio und die Historia Augusta’ (1972); Barnes, ‘Composition
of Roman History’ (1984); Reinhold, ‘In Praise of Cassius Dio’ (1986); Swan, ‘Cassius
Dio on Augustus’ (1987); Kolb, ‘Herodian und die Quellen’ (1995); Lintott, ‘History of
the Late Roman Republic’ (1997); Swan, ‘How Cassius Dio Composed his Augustan
Books’ (1997); Schmidt, ‘Zeitgeschichtlichen’ Bücher’ (1997); Moscovich, ‘Palace
Sources’ (2004); Kordoš, ‘Thucydidean Elements’ (2010)), the constitutional views of
Dio on the Roman Empire, especially in the light of the Maecenas debate (Hammond,
‘Speech of Maecenas’ (1932); McKechnie, ‘Speech of Agrippa’ (1981); Roddaz, ‘De
César à Auguste’ (1983); Steidle, ‘Geschichtswerk des Cassius Dio’ (1988); Ameling,
‘Griechische Intellektuelle’ (1997); De Blois, ‘Volk und Soldaten’ (1997); De Blois,
‘Perception of Emperor’ (1998/1999); Kemezis, ‘Augustus the Ironic Paradigm’
(2007); Adler, ‘Agrippa–Maecenas Debate’ (2012)).
105
Suet. Dom. 3.1.
106
Cass. Dio 65(66).9.5. On the sources of Dio and his use of earlier historians like
Suetonius, see Millar, A Study of Cassius Dio (1964), 34–7, 86.
provincial approaches the other examples provided. Of course, Dio
was from the Greek East, and as such one can assume that he would
have been influenced by the Greek and Hellenistic theories about
kingship and the good king as law animate. But Dio was also a typical
product of the multicultural High Empire, a citizen of the empire who
was at home both in his hometown and in Rome at the Senate. As
with Aristides earlier, it is easy to see how conceptions like the Roman
Republic appear differently from the viewpoint of the Greek East and
that of Italy.
The imperial office and its power emerged, for Dio, almost com-
plete during the Augustan reforms, and among these powers was the
jurisdiction of the emperor. Dio is one of the most important authors
to give a truly monarchical account of the Principate. As he writes in
his lengthy history of Augustus, the Romans executed a full transition
from a republic to a monarchy. With absolute command over money
and soldiers, Augustus had unquestioned power over all things in the
Roman world. Even though he would long avoid the appearance of
kingship and his successors would also paper over their power with
the use of republican titles, for Dio there was no question that what
was created was a monarchy (53.16–18). According to Dio, as part of
his new powers Augustus was granted appellate jurisdiction in 30 BC
(51.19.7) and civil and criminal jurisdiction in 27 BC (53.17.6). An
earlier precedent for Augustus’ jurisdiction was the permission given
to Caesar to deal with the supporters of Pompey however he liked
(42.19–20). While these texts were discussed earlier in relation to the
development of the understanding of Augustus’ jurisdiction, there are
two things that should be noted in the way Dio discusses the matters.
First, in both instances the active party in assigning these powers was
the people of Rome or the Senate and the people of Rome, not
Augustus himself. Second, despite the creation of monarchical
power, the illusion of a republic was maintained in the way that
emperors continued to act as consuls.
After the accession of Augustus and the battle of Actium, the
monarchy is established and individual emperors are evaluated
more or less by the way they fulfilled their role as rulers. For Dio,
the most important characteristics of the emperor are virtue and
competence, and they are revealed in the course of history. Augustus
sets a standard, from which his immediate successors are prone to slip
and descend into misrule and mayhem. His depiction of the Julio-
Claudian emperors is a spiral of tyranny, where each emperor was
progressively worse than his predecessor, exceeding each other in vice
and violence. While Tiberius had been harsh and murderous, Calig-
ula was worse, a puppet directed by charioteers and gladiators, who
raped his sisters and killed innocents with abandon (59.3–6). But still,
the empire was better than the Republic, a necessary form of autoc-
racy to ward off chaos. For many scholars, the emphasis that Dio
places on Augustus has been seen as building an idealized image of
him as the paradigmatic good emperor. Critics have maintained that,
far from a panegyric, Dio actually lays bare Augustus’ ruthless ambi-
tion and drive to establish a monarchic system of governance.107
The image of imperial power and the law presented by Dio is bleak.
Millar observed that the fact that the word of the emperor is law
appears to Dio very differently than to the writers of previous gener-
ations, who waxed poetically in their panegyrics about the infinite
wisdom and justice of the all-powerful emperor. For Dio and his
contemporaries, the empire was an autocracy where the best one
could hope for from imperial justice was the preservation of personal
safety and dignity.108 Without going into detail, the changes in power
during Dio’s long career resulted in killings, judicial and extra-
judicial, massacres, and torture ordered by emperors against their
opponents.
While Dio’s narrative is bursting with anecdotes and historical
examples, the emperor and his duties remain largely the same, though
minor reforms are mentioned. In short, Dio presents us with a
standard emperor, who is then given some supporting characteristics.
A central part of this standard emperor is the regular work as a judge.
Tiberius is shown adjudicating in public with his consilium, Caligula
with the Senate. Caligula used both a consilium and the Senate as his
aids in adjudication. In the depiction of Claudius, a series of reforms
is described which no other historian mentions. The early reign of
Tiberius is clearly held as exemplary, the publicity, the use of the
consilium, and the allowing of free discussion are seen as positive.
107
Reinhold, ‘In Praise of Cassius Dio’ (1986), 215: Dio was ‘a committed mon-
archist for whom Augustus was the model princeps’. Lucrezi, ‘Al di sopra e al di sotto
delle leggi’ (1984), 686 on the Principate as a legal monarchy. De Blois, ‘Perception of
Emperor’ (1998/1999), 278: majesty of Augustan monarchy the only way military
tyranny is avoided. On criticism of this paradigm, see Kemezis, ‘Augustus the Ironic
Paradigm’ (2007), 271–2. On the idea of continuous decline, see Ameling, ‘Grie-
chische Intellektuelle’ (1997), 2482–4.
108
Millar, A Study of Cassius Dio (1964), 118.
Claudius and Trajan are also positive characters, who emulated
Tiberius’ style in these respects. Galba and Domitian serve as warn-
ings, Galba because he could not control his freedmen and Domitian
because of his unpredictability. The tendency of emperors to use the
law for political purposes is shown by the way in which Claudius is
praised for ending the use of maiestas charges.109
The main difference between the Republic and the Empire was,
according to Dio, the openness of the administration. In the Republic,
everything was known, reported to the Senate, and openly discussed,
whereas during the Empire everything was dealt with personally by
the emperor in secrecy, with rumours and whispers taking the place
of public discussion. Even when something was stated, it was instinct-
ively distrusted and alternative explanations multiplied (53.19).
Dio’s narrative is different with regard to emperors he had served
or whose actions he had observed as a participant. He uses a pointed
first-person narrative when it is clear that he was present at the
time.110 A senator in Rome during the final years of Commodus, he
experienced at first hand the short reign of Pertinax, whom he
describes as honest and good. The way that Pertinax is depicted
shows much of Dio’s own preferences: a good emperor shows great
respect both to the Senate and to justice. Thus, Pertinax’s declaration
that he would never execute a senator and never kill anyone without
just cause made him an almost ideal emperor (74.1, 74.5, 74.8). He
gave Dio himself high honours and the appointment as praetor
(74.12).
For Dio, the murder of Pertinax and brief reign of Didius Julianus
was a source of concern, as he had prosecuted Julianus on a number
of occasions and won. His vivacious description of the resulting
commotion and the scorn he heaps on Didius Julianus are again
indicative of the fact that he was an eyewitness (74.12–14). Equally,
his jubilant description of the entry of Septimius Severus into Rome
and the deification of Pertinax bears the mark of an eyewitness
account (74(75).1–5).
What the role of Dio was in the administration of Severus is
unclear, but he does describe the work habits of Severus in a manner
109
Cass. Dio 57.7.2–6, 59.18.1–3, 60.3.7–60.4.4, 60.28.6, 60.29.4–6a, 64.2.3, 67.4.2,
67.17, 68.10.2.
110
On Dio as an eyewitness and the references to contemporary propaganda, see
Schmidt, ‘ “Zeitgeschichtlichen” Bücher’ (1997); Moscovich, ‘Palace Sources’ (2004).
that indicate he observed him adjudicating, describing himself as his
advisor. Severus’ daily routine would consist of waking up before
dawn, taking a walk, and attending to running errands of the empire.
Then he would sit in court with his advisors until noon. Dio describes
him as an excellent judge, one who gave plenty of time to litigants and
who allowed his councillors to present their opinions (77.17).111
Dio continued as the emperor’s councillor during the reign of
Caracalla, but his opinion of Caracalla was decidedly negative.
Again, the manner of Caracalla’s adjudication was a reflection of his
character in general. Caracalla would spend time with his freedmen
and soldiers, neglecting the senators that were supposed to act as his
councillors. He would have them appear at his court at dawn and let
them wait until noon or sometimes until the evening before appear-
ing himself. Dio was even there in Nicomedia when Caracalla neg-
lected all official business, entrusting it to his mother Julia Domna,
who held receptions and listened to petitions for him.112 This behav-
iour was naturally something to be expected from a man who had
murdered his own brother in the lap of their mother, before proceed-
ing to buy off the soldiers and murder some 20,000 supporters of his
slain brother. In Dio’s lengthy narrative about this murderous ram-
page, Caracalla’s cowardice, petty attention to detail, and disregard
for justice are underlined again and again. He allowed the praetorians
to murder Papinian without question, saying that he entrusted the
praetorians with the power to act as accusers, judges, and execution-
ers. The only thing he criticized them for was using an axe rather than
a sword. He courted favour by releasing prisoners and exiles, but
freed without a second thought even the worst criminals as well
(78.1–4).113
Dio’s assessment of Macrinus was overwhelmingly positive,
even though he was the first emperor not to have been a senator.
According to Dio, he was honest and just as a magistrate, but not
very knowledgeable of the law (79.11). Much of the epitome of the
seventy-ninth book is fragmentary, making any definite judgment
111
Dio criticized Severus for his harshness and inconsistent policies on historical
precedents (76.7–8).
112
Cass. Dio 78.17.3, 78.18.2–3; Davenport, ‘Cassius Dio and Caracalla’ (2012), 802.
Davenport argues that Caracalla did not avoid his senatorial associates, despite Dio’s claim.
113
See Meckler, ‘Caracalla’s Sense of Humor’ (2005), on the episode of Papinian’s
murder.
impossible, but Dio’s final words are a testament to the paramount
power of the emperor over law:
[T]he very man before whom many senators had often been brought for
trial; he was condemned to die, though possessing the authority to
punish or to release any Roman whomsoever; and he was arrested
and beheaded by centurions, though he had authority to put to death
both them and others, whether of lower or higher station. And his son,
too, perished after him.
φρουρούμενον ᾧ πολλοὶ πολλάκις βουλευταὶ προσήχθησαν, ἀποθανεῖν τε
ἐκελεύσθη τὴν τοῦ κολάσαι [3] πάντα τινὰ Ῥωμαίων ἀπολῦσαί τε ἐξουσίαν
ἔχων, καὶ πρὸς ἑκατοντάρχων συνελήφθη τε καὶ τῆς κεφαλῆς ἀπεστερήθη
οὓς καὶ αὐτοὺς μετὰ τῶν ἄλλων τῶν τε χειρόνων καὶ τῶν κρειττόνων
ἀποκτεῖναι ἐξουσίαν εἶχεν. καὶ αὐτῷ καὶ ὁ υἱὸς προσαπώλετο.114
Dio would not have been a proper senator if he had not added to the
description of Macrinus’ life the epithet that, had he not aimed for the
emperorship with such haste, without first becoming a senator, his
end would not have been so ignominious (79.41). Here, as so often in
other sections of Dio’s work, the main threat to the stability of the
Roman state were the unruly soldiers, whose affection and loyalty
could be bought. To the senatorial elite, the soldiers and the mob of
Rome were unpredictable and could upend the carefully constructed
social and political hierarchy.115
As said, Dio’s last book only partially survives, but Dio’s disdain for
the chaos after Macrinus’ death and the rise of Elagabalus (whom he
calls Sardanapalus) knows no bounds. However, even here Dio shows
the centrality and seriousness of adjudication in the job description of
an emperor: although Elagabalus would receive the salutations of
senators while reclining, when he was trying someone in court he
would at least make an attempt to look like a man.116
After the murder of Elegabalus, Dio reports on the rise of Alexander
Severus, noting that he himself was absent for much of the time. The
change in emperor brought about a late rise in Dio’s career, where he
114
Cass. Dio 79.40. Tr. Cary.
115
De Blois, ‘Perception of Emperor’ (1998/1999), 278–81; De Blois, ‘Volk und
Soldaten’ (1997), 2660–9.
116
Cass. Dio 79(80).13–14. As Scheithauer, ‘Regierungszeit des Kaisers’ (1990),
shows, Herodian relies much on Dio with Elagabalus. Cary’s Loeb edition adopts a
rather strange system of division, where the life of Elagabalus is in Book 80, while in
Boussevain it is in Book 79. Alexander Severus’ life is equally in Book 80, leading to a
duplication of the numbers 80.1–5.
was first appointed to important provincial tasks and then to a second
consulship. Whether due to the epitomer’s choice or his own volition,
the account for Alexander Severus is very short. He notes that Alex-
ander chose Ulpian as the pretorian prefect and entrusted him with ‘the
other business of the empire’, whatever that might mean. Ulpian was
able to correct many of the misdeeds of Elagabalus, but ended up being
murdered by the praetorians.117
Dio’s imperial perception was myopic, but claiming that he had no
historical framework or theory118 is perhaps an overstatement. What
he certainly had was an observation point, sometimes one that was
too close for comfort. I would argue that one of the underlying
constants in his depiction of imperial power over law, life, and
death was the lack of security for all in the public arena. A paranoid
emperor or rioting soldiers could end the life and career of even the
most distinguished person, not to mention someone completely
innocent, with little or no warning. Even the Senate itself could be
persuaded to kill one of its members based on dubious accusations, as
the case of Baebius Marcellinus shows. An informer in another case
involving maiestas and magic had mentioned that a bald senator
appeared during the events. Fear gripped the Senate, wishing to
clear itself, and the senators with even slight baldness feared for
their lives. Dio himself was grateful that he still had a full head of
hair. At a meeting of the Senate the concealed informant pointed to
Marcellinus, who was promptly sentenced to death and immediately
led away for execution (77.8–9).
This barely restrained power to kill that prompted even the Senate
to kill one of its own out of fear of being accused was a menace that
threatened all who came into the ambit of the emperor. But did
it have anything to do with the judicial responsibilities of the
emperor? For Dio, the answer was clearly negative. Adjudication in
the sense of answering petitions and requests was clearly a central
part of the imperial duties, and even someone like Elagabalus is
shown attempting to abide by the expectations that litigants had of
117
Cass. Dio 80.1–2: Millar, A Study of Cassius Dio (1964), 23–6. On the role
of Ulpian in government, see Cleve, ‘Cassius Dio and Ulpian’ (1988).
118
Millar, A Study of Cassius Dio (1964), 171: ‘Dio was no Polybius.’ He claims
that Dio was able to observe the strife and civil wars in safety (‘ . . . could watch, in
safety, civil wars, proscriptions, the murder of two Emperors and then the ascent to
the throne of an equestrian . . . ’), a claim that is perhaps a bit too trusting in the safety
of the senators.
the emperor’s court. Similarly, the depiction of the derelictions of
duty by Caracalla included avoiding the timely management of his
jurisdiction, but also implies that he was letting his mother handle it
for him.
The speech of Maecenas, one of the main instances where Dio does
venture into defining the Roman emperor’s duties, is very clear that
jurisdiction is the emperor’s personal responsibility. A good emperor
should allow petitions and appeals from the highest magistrates to
come to him, but also delegate jurisdiction to the Senate when
possible. Cases where the death penalty is possible should especially
be reviewed by the emperor. He should consult the leading ranks
before making his judgment, allowing his advisers a chance to give
their opinion freely in writing (52.31–3).119 Even early observers
noted how the speech is neither a description of the age of Augustus
nor an ideal monarchy, but rather a curious reflection of the situation
during the time of Dio himself. Thus, the way that jurisdiction is
arranged speaks more about Dio’s era than that of Augustus.120
Whether one sees the speech as a political pamphlet or something
else remains contentious;121 however, it is evident that Dio realized
the contemporary importance of his work.
Dio’s history of Roman emperors may equally be seen as pro-
grammatic in its depictions of good and bad emperors. The power
of the emperor to rule, to legislate, and to adjudicate starts ex nihilo
from Augustus and his quest for sovereign rule. Augustus single-
handedly forms the jurisdictional authority of the emperor, which
his successors would use according to their abilities. Dio separated
clearly the use of jurisdiction on issues of imperial power and
securing it, and the regular adjudication that was expected of the
emperor. Even though Dio was a member of the senatorial elite, he
had no illusions about the Republican past as a viable alternative.
His conservatism extended to moral and political discussion of the
emperor’s virtues and, unsurprisingly, the status and privilege of the
Senate and its members.
119
Reinhold, ‘In Praise of Cassius Dio’ (1986), 219 on the speech of Maecenas as
‘the authentic voice of Dio himself ’.
120
Hammond, ‘Speech of Maecenas’ (1932), 93, 99–100.
121
Millar, A Study of Cassius Dio (1964), 102–18; Manuwald, Cassius Dio und
Augustus (1979), but see Steidle, ‘Geschichtswerk des Cassius Dio’ (1988).
ULPIAN AND THE EMPEROR’S COSMOPOLIS
The role of the emperor as judge and his sovereignty with regards to
law grew in tandem. These ideas of the unrestricted power of the
emperor that, during the early Principate, were expressed mainly in
the writings of panegyrists like Pliny or imperial allies like Seneca
started to make their way into law. While the lex de imperio Vespa-
siani used numerous paragraphs to outline the different powers of the
emperor based mostly on precedents, such niceties were largely
dispensed with during the Severan period. One of the most famous
jurists of that period, Ulpian, was the main formulator of the theory
of the sovereign legal power of the emperor, and his surviving texts
show that he considered imperial power to be truly unfettered.
Imperial power was undefined, but what authors like Ulpian sought
to do was to define its relationship with the law. The purpose of this
section is to explore how Ulpian translates the narrative of imperial
sovereignty and absolutism into the language of law. Through its
practical implications for the adjudication of the emperor and the
philosophical underpinnings, the aim is to see how Ulpian managed
to combine the positivism of imperial law with the ethical demands
that he placed on the law.
Ulpian, or Domitius Ulpianus (c. AD 170–223), contributed to the
growth of the status of imperial adjudication in two ways: first by
establishing the relationship between the emperor and the law in a
way that had profound implications on how imperial decisions
changed law, and second by seeking to ensure that the adjudication
done in the name of the emperor was of the highest intellectual, legal,
and ethical standard, making it authoritative both in form and in
content. Being one of the most prolific Roman lawyers, Ulpian’s work
is one of the best-preserved, there being up to 300,000 lines of text
ascribed to him. His work comprises some 40 per cent of the
Digest.122
Ulpian’s most famous text is the passage in the Digest that states
that the emperor is free from the power of the law: ‘The emperor is
122
On Ulpian and his work, see Marotta, Ulpiano (2000–4); Honoré, Ulpian
(2002); Crifò, ‘Ulpiano’ (1976), 734–6; Kunkel, Römischen Juristen (2001), 245–54.
On Ulpian’s conception of justice, see Winkel, ‘Die stoische οἰκείωσις-Lehre’ (1988);
Waldstein, ‘Zu Ulpians Definition der Gerechtigkeit’ (1978).
not bound by law’ (princeps legibus solutus est).123 This succinct
statement confirmed that the emperor was both free from the com-
pulsion of the laws in his own actions, and thus that legal recourse
against the emperor was not possible. Furthermore, the emperor was
not bound by the laws when he was applying the law himself.
A decision made by the emperor as judge could thus be against the
law, as he was free to not observe the laws as he saw fit. What is often
forgotten is that this comment by Ulpian was initially made in
relation to statutory law (lex Julia et Papia), and explained that the
emperor was exempt from it.124
This power to make decisions which disregarded the law would
have led to considerable logical difficulties if it had not been accom-
panied by a second statement confirming that the word of the
emperor was law. Ulpian formulated this through the illusion of
popular sovereignty and the idea that the people had transferred
their legislative power to the prince:
What pleases the prince has the force of law. The populus has with the
lex regia that his imperium is founded transferred to him their imperium
and power.
Quod principi placuit, legis habet vigorem: utpote cum lege regia, quae de
imperio eius lata est, populus ei et in eum omne suum imperium et
potestatem conferat.125
The implications of this statement were, in principle, considerable,
and they are in line with what his contemporary Dio thought of the
roots of imperial power. The emperor was truly living law, his will
having a legislative capacity. The logical continuation of that is, of
course: when does one know whether a decision or an utterance may
be seen as binding? Ulpian continued this blanket statement with a
description of which of the emperor’s statements should be held to be
binding and which not. Those that are simply personal matters were
123
Dig. 1.3.31, tr. Watson et al.
124
A similar reference to a lex imperii as the source of the emperor’s power was
made by Severus Alexander in 232 (Cod. Iust. 6.23.3). Ulpian’s statement formed the
legal basis of absolutism in European history, and thus the literature on it is vast. The
process through which the compilators transformed this into an absolutist statement
is a well-known example of ‘interpolation by decontextualization’. See Crifò, ‘Ulpiano’
(1976), 778 and Gallo, ‘Solutio legibus’ (1984), for references to older literature. For its
vast influence, see Pennington, Prince and Law (1993).
125
Dig. 1.4.1.pr., tr. Watson et al.
not commonly binding (Dig. 1.4.1.1–2). What this meant was that the
emperor’s words and intent are precedential and they have a legisla-
tive capacity when they are thus meant.
The imperial control over adjudication even extended downwards
through the legal system. Ulpian notes that if a judge appointed by the
emperor hears a case, restitution cannot be granted by anyone other
than the emperor. He writes that having an appeal is necessary to
correct the partiality or inexperience of the judges. It is even possible
to appeal against a rescript of the emperor, because it may be that the
person writing to the emperor asked for something else or that
matters were misrepresented in the letter. These issues were dealt
with by Antoninus Pius and Marcus Aurelius and Lucius in rescripts
that Ulpian quotes verbatim.126
Ulpian’s life is little known beyond his official career. An honorary
inscription found in Tyre confirms the highlights of his career, the
posts of praefectus annonae and praefectus praetorio. They are both
equestrian positions, and indicate that he never was a senator. That
meant that his career, like those of many important imperial func-
tionaries, was closely tied to the emperor.127
Because we know quite a lot, relatively speaking, about Ulpian’s
thinking through his writing, and his name also appears in other
sources, many have seen him as an intellectual who had a profound
influence on the way Rome’s legal policy was shaped. Honoré main-
tains that Ulpian promoted the idea of the equality of men and that all
should have protection under the law.128 One of the most intriguing
features of the tradition is the role of Julia Domna, Caracalla’s mother
and the wife of Septimius Severus. Philostratus mentions the circle of
intellectuals around Julia Domna that would have included the most
renowned scholars of the era. Within the circle were also the famous
jurists Papinian, Ulpian, and Paul. Doubts have been voiced over the
reliability of the information and the true nature of the circle.129 For
Ulpian scholars, the fact that Ulpian and other prominent jurists were
in contact with the brightest intellectuals of the era, discussing the
126
Dig. 4.4.18.4, 49.1.1.pr-2.
127
AE 1988, 1051; Honoré, Ulpian (2002), 7–12; Crifò, ‘Ulpiano’ (1976), 708–87;
Kunkel, Römischen Juristen (2001), 245–54.
128
Honoré, Ulpian (2002), 81.
129
Philostr. V A 1.3. See also Philstr. (the Elder) Ep. 73; Bowersock, Greek Sophists
(1969). On Domna’s circle, see Levick, Julia Domna (2007), 107–23; Crifò, ‘Ulpiano’
(1976), 734–6.
nature of justice and humanity, is indeed enticing. Would the new
conceptions of law and justice and Ulpian’s idea of law as a true
philosophy have been influenced by the circle?130
The fact that the decisions (constitutiones) of the emperor had a
legislative capacity was, of course, already stated by Gaius (Inst. 1.5),
Pomponius (Dig. 1.2.2.11), and as part of a very similar listing by
Papinian: Ius autem civile est, quod in legibus, plebis scitis, senatus
consultis, decretis principum, auctoritate prudentium venit (Dig. 1.1.7.pr).
The impact of imperial decisions and adjudication was immediate, even
to the extent that Macer writes that if a judgment is given that violates
imperial constitutions, the need for appeal is remitted, that is, it may be
rescinded without appeal.131
In Ulpian’s thought there appear two distinct lines regarding
imperial adjudication. The first is one of positivism: the emperor’s
will is the law, and thus whatever legal problems there may arise can
be solved by the judicious use of that power. The second is that law
and jurisprudence contains an ethical or philosophical dimension,
one where the object is to fulfil the quest for justice. What the two
lines of thought produce combined is the practical matter of granting
a fallible human agent unlimited power and declaring the decisions
that are then produced ethically good and just. Each of the two
elements were amply present in the narrative tradition before. The
narrative of the almost divine good king who is not only the living law
but also virtuous and just continues from Hellenistic literature
onwards through Seneca to the Roman literary tradition. However,
almost without fail, that concept has been seen as an ideal, the moral
and ethical virtue of the ruler that he should ascribe and aspire to,
not a standard against which the actual decisions of the ruler are
measured.
For Roman legal authors, the almost divine role of the emperor
becomes apparent through the behaviour that is commented upon.
For example, Callistratus writes that it is forbidden to seek sanctuary
from a statue of the emperor if one has injured another.132 Formerly
people sought refuge from the statues of gods.
130
Dig. 1.1.1.pr.; Winkel, ‘Die stoische οἰκείωσις-Lehre’ (1988), 669–79, 677–8
argues that it is possible that contact with the circle could have influenced Ulpian’s
concept of law. Honoré, Emperors and Lawyers (1994), 81–2, remains sceptical. Crifò,
‘Ulpiano’ (1976), 734–6 calls the circle a fantasy of historians.
131 132
Dig. 49.8.1.2. Dig. 48.19.28.7.
As becomes clear from the history of the Severan period, the
emperors themselves were hardly the perfect ethical and moral per-
sons that the good-king myth described. One of the factors leading to
doubts about the emperor’s personal influence in law from the early
second century onwards is that lazy and murderous emperors, like
Caracalla or even Elagabalus, seem to leave behind imperial consti-
tutions that are sound and within the legal doctrine.133
An answer to this conundrum may be the separation of the private
and the public person of the emperor. Even if the emperor as a person
was a raving lunatic, the imperial bureaucracy would write in the
manner that the emperor would need to write. As Peachin has written
earlier, what was important for the daily routine of the legal system to
work was that there should be the institution of the emperor, not
necessarily an emperor knowledgeable in law.134Another issue relat-
ing to the growing impact of imperial adjudication was the impact of
the so-called constitutio Antoniniana that granted Roman citizenship
to the inhabitants of the empire.135 The impact of the CA was unclear
even to the ancient Romans. Dio famously maintained that the aim of
the grant of citizenship was to expand the tax base by increasing the
number of citizens who paid the full tax burden (78.9). The faulty
logic behind Dio’s explanation is fairly obvious, as most of the
members of the elite who paid the lion’s share of taxes were already
citizens, and even non-citizens paid taxes of their own. Ulpian wrote
that Caracalla made all people in the empire citizens: In orbe Romano
qui sunt ex constitutione imperatoris Antonini cives Romani effecti
sunt (Dig. 1.5.17). The passage comes from his Ad edictum, written
during the reign of Caracalla. The conventional date of AD 212 has
been maintained, despite some critics pointing to its unreliable basis
in the Giessen papyrus.136 Would the act mean that Caracalla had
with one stroke of a pen abolished the long-standing personality
principle of law in favour of the area principle? At least as far as
Ulpian was concerned, the erstwhile distinctions between Romans
and Latins were thus redundant, but that of peregrine status
133
Visigothic epitome of Codex Gregorianus (13.14.1); CIL VI 21046.33.
134
Peachin, Iudex (1996), 203.
135
P.Giss. 40.1; Cass. Dio 78.9.4; Dig. 1.5.17; Sasse, Die Constitutio Antoniniana
(1958); Wolff, Die Constitutio Antoniniana (1976); Buraselis, Theia Dorea (2007);
Bryen, ‘Citizenship Papyrus’ (2015), 29–37.
136
Millar, ‘The Date of the Constitutio Antoniniana’ (1962).
continued to be relevant. Whether such a drastic reform would have
been immediately applied to the administrative practices of the prov-
inces is highly unlikely, but instead many previous procedures would
have continued unchanged.137
What the grant of citizenship to all inhabitants of the empire would
have meant was an expansion of the pool of petitioners. While
provincials that were not Roman citizens most likely petitioned the
emperor in large numbers anyway, it is likely that the expansion of
citizens’ rights would have encouraged even more to use their legal
privileges.
Would this have meant that the Roman Empire became a huge
single area of legal unity, a kind of cosmopolis where each and every
person was entitled to seek the emperor’s aid and judgment?138 The
only problem is that our sources from the time are inconclusive. Yes,
there is a considerable rise in the number of rescripts that have been
preserved.139 However, whether this pertains to the fact that the
issues dealt with within the rescripts were more noteworthy, the
rescripts were of better quality and thus more quotable, or that
there were more rescripts to begin with, we simply do not know.140
What we do know is that Ulpian felt very strongly about the link
between law and justice. According to him, law and lawyers should
cultivate ‘the art of goodness and fairness’ (ars boni et aequi), the
‘virtue of justice and claim awareness for what is good and fair’
(iustitiam namque colimus et boni et aequi notitiam cupientes). This
‘true philosophy’ of determining the licit from the illicit was tied not
only to positive law, but also to natural law and ius gentium (Dig.
1.1.1.pr–1). Central to Ulpian’s thinking was the idea of natural law as
137
Wolff, Die Constitutio Antoniniana (1976), 26–8, 272–3; Marotta, Cittadinanza
romana (2009); Ando, ‘Introduction’ (2015), 22–4.
138
Thomas, ‘ “Origine” et “commune patrie” ’ (1996); Moatti, ‘Notion of res pub-
lica’ (2015).
139
During the eight decades of the Antonines, there are 648 constitutions pre-
served, thus on average 7.9 per year. In contrast, from the Severan period there are
1,230 imperial constitutions, equalling 33.2 per year.
140
Legal scholars working on legal sources (e.g. Kaser, Das römische Privatrecht 2
(1975), 53) are very clear that the result was the removal of the distinction between ius
gentium and ius civile and the extension of Roman law to all of the empire. The
controversy on the CA revolves around the contradictory evidence from blanket
statements and the epigraphical and papyrological evidence found in the provinces.
Sherwin-White, Citizenship (1973), 380–92. Even Sasse, Die Constitutio Antoniniana
(1958), 17, was doubtful of its practical implications, but see Kantor, ‘Local Law’
(2015), 52–6.
the morally superior corrective to the traditional sources of ius civile
and ius gentium. Thus, we may see the claim of slavery being an
institution of ius gentium but not of ius naturale to be an embodiment
of the fundamental unity and equality of man. Separating the con-
ventions of law from the ideals of law allowed for the simultaneous
upholding of social and legal institution as an existing fact and the
philosophical statement of the equality of man. Not only did it make
possible the introduction of possibly Stoic philosophical tenets into
legal theory, but also enabled the internal criticism of law.141 While
many of the elements of the emperor as living law and the bringer of
justice may be seen as propaganda, it has been argued that, for Ulpian,
this conviction was true and that the task of lawyers and decision-
makers, the foremost of them the emperor, was to bring justice
equally to all.142
The significance of the issues relating the constitutio Antoniana to
that of imperial jurisdiction and adjudication is naturally one of legal
pluralism versus legal centralism. If one considers that local laws
continued their existence and validity in the provinces, the scope of
the imperial adjudication would have been much more limited than if
one assumes that all inhabitants of the empire were henceforth
subject to Roman ius civile. Scholars working on the provincial,
mostly Egyptian, sources have pointed out how much the local laws
and customs were still in use after the CA was supposedly imple-
mented. Their attempts, ever since the works of Mitteis, at combining
the two approaches have mostly involved assumptions that Roman
law had, in principle, subjected other legal systems to its power, and
to the role of local customs, which were tolerated as long as they were
not considered to be repugnant (such as endogamic marriages) or
violated the rules of Roman law.143 The legal centralist argument
focused on the growth of the imperial legal apparatus and what was
to become the very centralized system of Roman law that was built
upon the practice of imperial adjudication and the delegation of that
adjudicative power, as well as the legislative impact that imperial
adjudication had in the form of rescripts. Scholars of the later
141
Dig. 1.1.4; Honoré, Ulpian (2002), 77–81. Ulpian uses natural law and nature in
a number of other instances: Dig. 9.2.50, 25.3.5.16, 37.15.1.1, 50.17.32.
142
Crifò, ‘Ulpiano’ (1976), 782; Honoré, Ulpian (2002).
143
Amelotti, ‘Reichsrecht, Volksrecht, Provinzialrecht’ (1999), 213–14; Modrze-
jewski, ‘Diritto romano e diritti locali’ (1993), 988–1005.
imperial administration, such as Corcoran, saw the efficient use of
imperial adjudication as the foundation of the whole system of
government and the unitary nature of the Roman Empire: ‘The
tetrarchic emperor remained highly approachable and the system
served even those of traditional low status in the ancient world,
such as women and slaves.’ He emphasizes how provincial governors
were directed in their administration of the law by the flow of letters
and manuals emanating from the emperor, directing them to apply
his justice in the provinces.144 Legal Romanization would have pro-
ceeded with the flow of rulings. What the provincial and pluralist
counter is that the effects of Romanization in the field of law were
sometimes slow in the extreme. On the other hand, many of the
elements of Roman law made their way into the provinces much
earlier.145
Ulpian’s main contribution to the discussion of imperial jurisdic-
tion was the working out of the implications that imperial sovereignty
would have for the exercise of jurisdiction. The emperor’s will was
law, and thus extreme care should be exercised in the way it was used
in practice. For Ulpian, the positivism of his view of imperial juris-
diction was tied to an unexpected conviction that the justice of the
emperor should strive to fulfil the ethical and moral demands of
justice. While many of the earlier writers were content to maintain
that the emperor should be virtuous and bring justice, Ulpian sought
to posit that the emperor should actually fulfil these demands set by
the ideal emperor.
As seen in the cases where subjects were seeking an audience with
the emperor to present their petitions to him, the approachability of
the ruler was one of the two essential virtues of the Roman emperor.
There had to be an opportunity to reach the emperor if one had the
motivation to make the effort. The other virtue was megapsykhia, the
greatness of spirit that the emperor should demonstrate in receiving
the petitions of his loyal subjects. The illusion of approachability was,
of course, a universal part of the good-king myth, where the king is
virtuous and faultless and all mistakes and bad decisions can be
blamed on bad advisers. When these ideals of approachability and
benevolence were put into practice, the implications that reforms like
the constitutio Antoniniana were astounding. Legal centralism, the
144
Corcoran, Empire of the Tetrarchs (2000), 293, 295.
145
Zingale, ‘Diritto romano e diritti locali’ (1999), 223; Tuori, ‘Pluralism’ (2007).
principle behind imperial sovereignty, posited that law should be
uniform and emanate from the centre in order to prevent local abuses
of power. In a centralized state it was possible to supply justice to all.
The emperor should, in theory at least, be approachable by all his
subjects, now comprising the entire population of the realm, and
should bring ethically and morally sound justice. The sources are
peppered with examples of direct imperial involvement. Paul writes
of a case regarding legates that an emperor engaged in questioning
the litigants.146 The greatest of mysteries of the administration of
justice by the emperors is that of how these two tendencies coexisted.
CONCLUSIONS
The forms of imperial adjudication were compartmentalized during

the Severan period, and the narrative tradition around them became
increasingly diverse. The main change is in the sources, where the
volume increases tremendously, from single cases to hundreds per
emperor. The same is true in both legal sources, such as the Digest
and the Codex of Justinian, but also the inscriptions known mostly
from the eastern part of the Roman Empire. This chapter began with
two contrasting examples of adjudication, highlighting the emperor
as both a bureaucrat and as a benevolent sovereign. These narrative
differences and role-changes were the result of not only the increas-
ingly formalized role of the emperor in administration, but also the
different narratives that were offered to different audiences, such as
the elite of Rome, the people of Rome, and the different groups of
provincials.
In the legal administration, the centrality of the emperor grew, but
equally the consistency of the administration developed to account
for the shortcomings of individual emperors. Not only was the
emperor the chief judge, the main legislator and the head of admin-
istration, he was also tasked with a system of petitions from the
populace. Whether the regularization of the system of petitions led
to the increase in petitions, or that we simply have more answers to
petitions due to the compiling of the Justinianic work, is not known,
146
Dig. 32.97.
but the fact is that there are increasingly numerous rescripts in all
areas of law. What sources like the apokrimata may give us are the
raw petitions and their answers, while the Codex only furnished some
of the legally relevant ones.
In addition to the bureaucratic work of answering petitions, adju-
dication was equally a spectacle of power and justice, a way for the
emperor to demonstrate his virtue and position as the good king.
These visions were no doubt idealized, but when taken in common
with the historiographical depictions of ‘bad’ emperors and their
mismanagement, they illustrate the great conundrum of the imperial
adjudication: are we to believe that the same emperors who are
depicted variously as lazy, incompetent, scheming, unethical, cruel,
and stupid in the historical writing were shrewd and diligent judges
with professorial knowledge of the civil law?
This problem boils down to the rescripts and their authorship. The
preserved rescripts themselves were blunt legal advice, only seldom
containing anything by way of reasoning. Most often they were
clarifications of points of law, offering multiple solutions depending
on the evaluation of the facts. Of course, how many petitions and
rescripts there were and who resolved which of them (was there a pre-
selection of cases, a distribution of cases based on whether they were
legal or simply requests for beneficia) is unknown. Was the emperor
in his physical person solving the cases, or rather the position of the
emperor?
In all of these issues, ideological preoccupations, communicative
strategies, and expectations were mixed with the realities of a geo-
graphically vast administrative apparatus dealing with the tumultu-
ous realities of an empire. Thus, what there was in the way of
potential interpretations of the constitutio Antoniniana are necessar-
ily grounded in the viewpoint of the observer. For Dio, a senatorial
author who offers a monarchical vision of the emperor and empire,
his view of the history of imperial adjudication was one of sovereign
power and madness, where fear permeated the expectations of imper-
ial justice. On the other hand, the vision of Ulpian, of a sovereign
emperor raised above the law, was one of cosmopolitan ethics guiding
the imperial law.
6
Conclusions
The emergence of imperial adjudication was one of the most prom-

inent changes from the Republic to the Principate. While it may be
said that Augustus started the imperial practice of adjudication in the
same way that Augustus started many things with the prefix imperial,
that is where the consensus ends. What has been revealed in this
study is the gradual process that lie behind it and the way that it
operated contextually, with seemingly separate factors contributing to
the growth of the shared conviction that not only was the emperor the
supreme adjudicator but also that all could, in theory at least, appeal
to him. My main focus has been on the narratives of adjudication,
how imperial jurisdiction and the cases that were resolved either
through formal or informal processes were discussed, and what
kinds of different narratives were formed. Changes in narratives not
only reflected factual and perceived changes in adjudication, they had
also a constitutive power, where the spread of these narratives shaped
the shared understanding of imperial adjudication. What this study
has shown is that imperial adjudication, and with it, jurisdiction, grew
in tandem with the changes of the Principate. There were no obvious
precedents to the practice, but plenty of predecessors. Petitioners
were drawn in by the power and prominence of Augustus and his
successors, who in turn answer their requests. While there has been
much debate about how to conceptualize imperial jurisdiction, what
the longitudinal study of narratives has shown is how the prominence
of different narratives varies and reflects the preoccupations of the
era. Jurisdiction is clearly a definitional feature of the Principate, and
the attempts at defining one are ultimately linked with the other.
In Cicero’s narrative of Caesar and his adjudication, the fundamen-
tal conceptual change that was under way is clearly apparent. While the
Republican framework still existed, the way that Cicero presented the
Conclusions 293
choices facing Caesar demonstrate the fluidity of the situation, where
guidance was sought not only from the Roman historical background
but also from Greek traditions of single rule. What was evident was that
the Caesar whom Cicero was addressing was no mere Republican
magistrate; the speech was one presented to a sovereign, where justice
and clemency were muddled and law relative.
The three narratives of Augustus show how jurisdiction exposed
the glaring discrepancies between the illusion of Republican continu-
ity and the smaller and larger acts that contradicted it. What all of
them, from the Res gestae to Ovid’s and Tryphera’s cases, show is how
central the emperor had already become at this early date. All roads
would lead to Augustus, and while some, especially Augustus himself,
would still insist otherwise, the new reality was inexorably present.
The illusion of Republican continuity created by Augustus was
shattered by Tiberius and his successors. The explicitly formulated
sovereignty of the emperor was not even thinly disguised by Seneca
and others, who presented the emperor as father and god, showing his
jurisdiction as a superhuman display of virtue and monstrous dem-
onstration of vice. Tacitus presented the authority of the Senate as a
sad submission of the once-proud order, while revealing the absurdity
of the republican charade. The narrative of the mad emperors, the
distortion of their historical memory, rather than any constitutional
safeguards, would be the only limitation, beyond violence, of the use
of the imperial power. The way that imperial power was defined in the
lex de imperio Vespasiani showed the way precedent was fundamental
in understanding what the emperor could or should do.
By the reigns of Hadrian and the Antonines the promise of sover-
eign power would become clear to those living in the provinces, who
would seek to use imperial power as their access to justice beyond
local remedies. The image of the virtuous emperor-judge, already
apparent in the reign of Trajan, was as much a description as it was
an expression of hope and expectation. The way that the Severan
emperors embarked on the exercise of justice shows how both the
emperors and their subjects saw jurisdiction as a central role of the
emperor. The narrative of sovereignty would entail not just one but
two different emperor-judges, the reliable resolver of legal issues who
would respond to perhaps several thousand petitions per year in
writing, as well as the magnanimous great king who would present
his virtue and justice in the resolution of dramatic cases in close
connection with the people.
Concerning the different sides of this development, one has to
make a few distinctions that had a crucial impact on how the narra-
tives of imperial adjudication were formed. First of all, there were
clearly internal and external developments at play, matters that might
be described as pull and push. These developments are crucial, as they
form the context through which the narratives were created. As
historical and legal representations, the narratives of jurisdiction
were not only defined by the motives, authors, audiences, and back-
grounds, but were also shaped by the pre-existing narrative traditions,
such as Roman historiography and Greek kingship narratives.
With pull, the reference is to factors that increased the readiness of
the emperor and his staff to receive petitions, to adjudicate cases, and
to resolve legal issues. The first of those was the Roman tradition of
patronage, which meant that there was a ready model where persons
of lower status would appeal to their superiors for help on different
issues, including legal matters, often as a part of a long-standing
arrangement. As part of these clientela relationships, Roman patrons
were expected to know the law and to be able to give counsel and to
adjudicate. The second factor was that of the cursus honorum, the
career path in public service that Roman men of standing were
expected to take part in, and where many of those magistracies
were jurisdictional, the prime example being the praetorship. For
Roman governors, acting as judge was a central part of the job
description. It is no coincidence that the form of procedure adopted
by the emperors, the cognitio, was that in use by the governors. The
third factor was administrative control. For the emperors, the flow of
lawsuits and petitions enabled them to keep track of developments in
the provinces and exercise control over local elites and magistrates, as
well as Roman officials and governors, not only by gathering informa-
tion but also by punishing and showing displeasure (vital tasks in a vast
empire). A fourth element that may have influenced the emperors in
their jurisdiction, especially in the case of rescripts, was that of legal
unification. Replies to administrators and private petitioners allowed
the Roman legal administration to directly influence the law applied in
the provinces. While it is not known how much these replies were
circulated beyond their immediate recipients, they gave a way to issue
legal rules on demand, where legislation was little used.
On the side of push, we have the factors that led petitioners to
direct their appeals to the emperors. The first was quite simply that
the emperors had power that the petitioners hoped would be used to
Conclusions 295
their advantage. Thus, the appeals presented to Roman warlords of
the late Republic were part of the same dynamic as the appeals
presented to emperors and even to other figures of authority, such
as Roman centurions, in the provinces. Second, there was an existing
narrative tradition of the ruler as judge that was especially strong in
the Greek East, exemplified in the tradition of the narratives about the
good king. Their salience was reinforced by the way that emperors
used their executive power to dispose of their real and perceived
enemies. The third significant factor was that of advantageous legal
process. The imperial cognitio was free of procedural hindrances and
obstacles that the formula procedure involved, giving hope that the
case would not be dismissed on a technicality. Furthermore, appeal-
ing to the emperor allowed petitioners to reach beyond the local
courts, which may have been dominated by their opponents (such
as in the case recorded in the Knidos inscription).
For an understanding of the development of imperial adjudication
the changes in the narratives are important, as they, taken together,
provide a crucial counter-argument to the established formalistic
view that relies on expanding Dio’s account of the creation of juris-
diction under Augustus.1 One should not underestimate the signifi-
cance of the sources and the narrative tendencies in them in the
formation of scholarly interpretations. The way that Caesar’s rule
and his jurisdiction are seen in scholarly works bears a great resem-
blance to the way Cicero portrays Caesar’s ambition and idealizes the
Republic. The same applies to many individual scholars and their
theories. Bleicken’s rise and fall of the jurisdiction of the Senate as an
early stage of imperial jurisdiction mirrors the narrative of Tacitus
and its focus on the senatorial elite and its tribulations. The strictly
matter-of-fact approach of imperial rescripts and the legal authors
was reflected in the legalistic way that imperial jurisdiction is por-
trayed by Honoré. As pointed out earlier, the monarchical presup-
positions of Dio made their way into the scholarship of Mommsen
and many others seeking a constitutional explanation.
Though the development of narratives is a crucial way of approach-
ing the developments leading to the emergence of imperial jurisdiction,
it is important to recognize that these narratives also reflect factual
developments in the Roman Empire. It is quite possible to present the
1
e.g. in Fanizza, L’amministrazione (1999), 11–60, the whole discourse is focused
on expanding Cass. Dio 51.19.5–7.
whole issue through the lens of empire and imperial material dynamics.
For example, one may argue that the upkeep of the emperor and his
administration and the armed forces that secured his hold on power
demands money. In order to raise money, one has to have taxation and
the administrative staff to execute it. The emperors also owned a great
deal of the resources themselves, but to have something to tax there
have to be crops growing, trade flowing, and other economic activities,
which demand peace and security to operate. In addition to peace, the
farmer and the merchant would need to trust that they will be able to
keep most of the proceeds of their work, otherwise they will not invest
in the land and trade. In order to secure this, the ruler needs to ensure
that a modicum of legal protection is available, both in land tenure and
in enforcement of contracts throughout the Empire. Thus, legal secur-
ity would be the key to having an empire. Of course, things are a bit
more complicated than that, but the point is that single explanations
tend to be misleading.
The importance of the study of narratives and their development is
that it allows the examination of contradictory and contested devel-
opments from multiple angles. As we have seen, the Republican
narrative that grew out of the constitutional tradition of the Republic
changed shape, and became the way that the senatorial elite was able
to discuss the power of the emperor. The emperor was, after all, one
of them. As Dio acidly noted about Pertinax, the short-lived first
emperor not to have been a senator, he would have lived longer if he
had not been in such a hurry to become emperor before becoming
senator (79.41). In contrast, the narrative of sovereignty, which
emphasized the tradition of kingship and the emperor as the good
king bringing justice to his subjects, became popular among the
peoples in the provinces petitioning the emperor. Their appeals
began over time to resemble demands, but the narrative roles of the
quasi-divine emperor and the lowly petitioner remained.
While it would be easy to dismiss the high-profile political cases
where the emperors, with little or no legal procedure, sentenced
political rivals to death or exile as legally irrelevant, they had consid-
erable significance in the formation of the common understanding of
imperial jurisdiction. The widely spread stories of an emperor hum-
bling the powerful and demonstrating his power worked to spread the
reputation that the final arbiter of the life and death of all, even the
most highly ranked senator, was the emperor.
Conclusions 297
The formation of jurisdictional narratives should be seen through
their contexts. Litigants like Tryphera, who inscribed the answer from
Augustus, had a motive for presenting the intervention of Augustus
on her behalf. For Augustus, we may assume that he was ultimately
motivated (beyond the desire to see justice done, which should not be
underestimated) by the will to demonstrate his power in the prov-
inces and to guide the administration. The sycophants, the panegyr-
ists of emperors such as Aristides, Seneca, and Pliny, were not only
advancing their own careers, but also sought to guide the emperors in
their actions. What imperial functionaries like Suetonius and Dio
were engaged in was a literary project that sought to present their
understanding of historical developments and actors. For all of them,
the focus was on the emperor alone, contributing to the rise of the
narrative of sovereignty and, for Suetonius and Dio, its projection
onto the past.
The emergence of imperial adjudication will remain a contentious
subject, but what this inquiry has sought to demonstrate is that, far
from a simple exercise of jurisdiction, the space of justice was occu-
pied by many different incarnations of the Roman emperor, where
different narratives were formed and replicated.
APPENDIX
Known Instances of Imperial Adjudication

from Caesar to Severus Alexander,
and Their Sources
The selection of cases is by necessity a product of arbitrary lines of distinction.

The main rule for inclusion was that the text indicated that the emperor had
resolved the legal issue at hand. In the case of rescripts, cases where the
emperors often resolved the legal issue, leaving the ascertaining of facts to
local magistrates or judges (a type of cassation), would in this case qualify,
whereas an issue where the emperor would indicate an abstract rule would not.
The arbitrariness comes from the fact that in many cases the hypothetical
alternatives that the emperors are talking about may be extremely specific,
leading to assumptions that these might have been actual cases. Such assump-
tions were rejected as leaps of faith.
The cases were collected from a survey of sources, but using numerous
previous studies to support the survey (Schilling, Millar, Honoré, Peachin,
etc.). Each case has been individually verified. With regards to rescripts, a
division has been made between adjudicative and legislative rescripts, based
on the content, i.e. whether the text refers to a legal case at hand. Thus
rescripts that uttered solely a legal rule or clarification without a reference to a
case were excluded. Another division was that where the decision was that of
the Senate, not the emperor. These were also excluded. Those proscribed or
killed in the field with or without any kind of trial are equally excluded, even
though they might be included in the text. Of the inscriptions, texts which are
too fragmentary but might contain a judgment (such as FD III, fasc. IV/3,
330) have been excluded. Where sufficient information is not available,
space has been left blank. The references to literature are not systematic.
There are in total 774 cases listed. Those are divided as follows: Julius
Caesar (11 cases), Augustus (24), Tiberius (6, of which rescripts: 1), Caligula
(5), Claudius (17), Nero (9), Vitellius (1), Vespasian (1), Domitian (8),
Trajan (10, of which rescripts: 2), Hadrian (30, of which rescripts: 5),
Antoninus Pius (16, of which rescripts: 11), Marcus Aurelius (14, of which
rescripts: 1, including four cases with Verus), Commodus (1), Pertinax (2),
Septimius Severus (170, of which rescripts: 117 (including 138 cases with
Caracalla), Caracalla (331, of which rescripts: 307, including 138 cases with
Septimius Severus), Elagabalus (1), and Severus Alexander (257, of which
rescripts: 256).
Emperor Date Description Parties Subject-matter Decision Sources Literature
Julius Caesar 47 BC Tetrarchs of Deiotarus, Cic. Brut. 21; Cic. Att. Balbo, ‘Attività
Galatia asked tetrarch of Galatia 14.1.2; Tac. Dial. giudiziaria’ (2009), 557–8.
Caesar for 21.5–6.
restitution of
lands conquested
by Deiotarus, with
M. Junius Brutus.
Legal status
unclear.
Julius Caesar 46 BC Quintus Ligarius Quintus Ligarius unspecified pardon Cass. Dio 42.19–20; See Ch. 1.
charged for offences (maybe Cic. Fam. 6.13.3, 6.14;
unspecified perduellio or Cic. Lig.; Plut. Vit. Cic.
offences as a maiestas) 39.6–7; Quint. Inst.
member of the 5.13.20, 5.13.5–6,
Pompeian side 5.13.31, 11.1.78,
during the civil 11.1.80; Dig. 1.2.2.46.
war in Africa by
Quintus Tubero.
See Ch. 1.
Julius Caesar 46 BC Trial of civil war L. Julius Caesar halted Cass. Dio 43.12.3; Balbo, ‘Attività
captives, Caesar Suet. Iul. 75.4. giudiziaria’ (2009), 558–9;
halted the trial of B. Santalucia, Diritto e
his relative and processo penale nell’antica
had him killed Roma (Florence 1998),
secretly. 187–8; Broughton,
Magistrates of the Roman
Republic (1952), 2:265,
305–6.
Julius Caesar 46 BC At Cicero’s T. Antistius, inheritance Cic. Fam. 13.29. Millar, Emperor (1992
instigation, Caesar C. Ateius Capito [1977]), 521.
allowed C. Ateius
Capito to inherit.
Julius Caesar 45 BC A short mention crimen release Cass. Dio 43.47.4. Balbo, ‘Attività
of Caesar releasing repetundarum? giudiziaria’ (2009), 533;
persons accused of Broughton, Magistrates of
bribery. the Roman Republic
(1952), 2:305–7;
B. Santalucia, Diritto e
processo penale nell’antica
Roma (Florence 1998),
157–60.
Julius Caesar 45 BC Deiotarus accused Deiotarus, iudicium capitis pardon Cic. Deiot.; Cic. Fam. See Ch. 1. Balbo, ‘Attività
of conspiracy tetrarch of Galatia 9.12.2; Cic. Phil. 2.93. giudiziaria’ (2009), 534–5.
against Caesar. D. Braund, Rome and the
Friendly King: The
Character of the Client
Kingship (London 1984),
166–7.
Julius Caesar 45 BC A trial of a veteran unknown veteran land ownership in favour of the Sen. Ben. 5.24; Hyg. Millar, Emperor (1992
against his veteran grom. p. 91. [1977]), 518–19; Balbo,
neighbours about ‘Attività giudiziaria’
land. (2009), 552–3;
Bringmann, ‘Caesar als
Richter’ (1986), 72–88;
M. Lemosse, ‘Un procès
devant Jules César’, Iura
35 (1994), 86–90.
(continued )
Continued
Julius Caesar 45 BC Caesar gave Val. Max. 6.2.11. Millar, Emperor (1992
judgment (ius [1977]), 518; JRS 63
dicentem) in the (1973), 60.
Forum from a
tribunal.
Julius Caesar 45 BC A man who unnamed relegation from Val. Max. 9.15.1. Millar, Emperor (1992
pretended to be impostor Italy [1977]), 519.
the son of Marius
held a salutatio
rivalling that of
Caesar and was
relegated from
Italy by the
decretum of
Caesar.
Julius Caesar Caesar annulled ex-praetor marriage marriage was Suet. Iul. 43.
the marriage of an annulled
ex-praetor, who
had married a
woman the very
day after her
divorce, although
there was no
suspicion of
adultery.
Julius Caesar Caesar was Parents of a girl rape relegation Amm. Marc. 16.5.12. Millar, Emperor (1992
approached by the [1977]), 516.
parents of a girl
who had been
carried off. The
man who violated
her had been
found guilty. As
his verdict
(decrevit) Caesar
decided he should
be relegated.
See the list in
Volkmann,
Rechtsprechung
(1969 [1935]),
14–24 on the
people punished
between 44 and
27 BC.
Augustus 27 BC Augustus Livy, Epit. 134; Cass. Millar, Emperor (1992
conducted the Dio 53.22.5. [1977]), 529.
conventus in Gaul,
exercised
jurisdiction, no
details known.
Augustus 27/26 BC C. Cornelius C. Cornelius hybris renuntiatio Peachin, ‘Judicial Powers’
Gallus is accused Gallus amicitiae (2015), 25; Volkmann,
of hybris before Rechtsprechung (1969
Augustus and [1935]), 113, 115–16;
later the Senate. Bauman, Crimen
(continued )
Continued
Maiestatis (1967), 180–3;

Bleicken, Senatsgericht
und Kaisergericht (1962),
32–3; F. Arcaria, Diritto e
processo penale in età
Augustea (Turin 2009),
5–113.
Augustus 26–24 BC Augustus heard a Sen. Controv. 10, Millar, Emperor (1992
series of cases in praef. 14. [1977]), 529.
Tarraco.
Augustus 23 BC A man pretended unclear condemned to Val. Max. 9.15.2. Mommsen, Strafrecht
to be the true son the galleys (1899), 676.
of Octavia and
C. Claudius
Marcellus is tried
by Augustus.
Augustus 22 BC Athenaeus of Athenaeus of treason absolved Str. 14.5.4 (670); Peachin, ‘Judicial Powers’
Seleucia was freed Seleucia Vell. Pat. 2.91.2. (2015), 26–7; Volkmann,
by Augustus from Rechtsprechung (1969
involvement in [1935]), 56–7; Bauman,
the plot of Fannius Crimen Maiestatis (1967),
Caepio and 184–190; K. M. T.
L. Terentius Varro Atkinson, ‘Constitutional
Murena, who were and Legal Aspects of the
tried in questio de Trials of Marcus Primus
maiestate. and Varro Murena’,
Historia 9 (1960), 446–7,
469–72.
Augustus 20 BC Envoys from Gadarenes, Herod suicide of Joseph AJ 15.10.3 Millar, Emperor (1992
Gadara complain envoys (354–9). [1977]), 437.
about Herod.
Augustus 16/13 BC Cinna tried in Cn. Cornelius Sen. Clem. 1.9. Peachin, ‘Judicial Powers’
cubiculum by Cinna Magnus (2015), 28; Beltrami, ‘De
Augustus for Clementia’ (2008), 39;
a plot. Volkmann,
Rechtsprechung (1969
[1935]), 84; Kelly, Princeps
Iudex (1957), 40–2;
Bauman, Crimen
Maiestatis (1967), 56,
193–197; Braund, Seneca,
De Clementia (2009),
258–96.
Augustus 9 BC Augustus ? conspiring against ? Cass. Dio 55.4.3. Peachin, ‘Judicial Powers’
punished some Augustus (2015), 29; Bleicken,
unnamed Senatsgericht und
conspirators. Kaisergericht (1962), 77;
Volkmann,
Rechtsprechung (1969),
85; Kelly, Princeps Iudex
(1957), 42; Bauman,
Crimen Maiestatis (1967),
259.
Augustus 6 BC Appeal on a Tryphera and her manslaughter, Tryphera found IG XII 3.174 = FIRA See Ch. 2. Wankerl,
killing in Knidos, husband disturbing of the innocent III 185. Appello (2009), 2–16;
see Ch. 2. public peace Oliver, Greek
Constitutions (1989),
34–5.
(continued )
Continued
Augustus 6 BC Augustus Publius Sextius mismanagement, absolved, SEG IX 8. See Ch. 2. Peachin,
responds to Scaeva for maiestas further ‘Judicial Powers’ (2015);
charges brought mismanagement, investigation Oliver, Greek
by envoys from Aulus Stlaccius Constitutions (1989),
Cyrene, see Ch. 2. Maximus on 40–55.
defacing imperial
statues.
Augustus 2 BC Trial of Augustus’ Julia, her lovers, adultery, nomine exile (except to Tac. Ann. 3.24.2; Plin. Peachin, ‘Judicial Powers’
daughter, Julia, and Antoninus laesarum Antoninus, HN 7.149. (2015), 30; Bauman,
those who had religionum ac execution) Crimen Maiestatis (1967),
committed adultery violatae 198–240; Bleicken,
with her, either as a maiestatis Senatsgericht und
family court or a Kaisergericht (1962),
public one. 33–4; Kelly,
Princeps Iudex (1957), 7–8.
Augustus 6 Cassius Patavinus Cassius Patavinus conspiracy? relegation? Suet. Aug. 51.1.
accused of
threathening to
murder Augustus.
Augustus 6 Accusation of Junius Novatus maiestas? Fine Suet. Aug. 51.1. Peachin, ‘Judicial Powers’
spreading (2015), 33; Kelly, Princeps
slandering letters Iudex (1957), 42–3;
about Augustus. Bleicken, Senatsgericht
und Kaisergericht (1962),
77–8, n. 4. 93; Bauman,
Crimen Maiestatis
(1967), 253.
Augustus 6 Aemilius Aemilius Aelianus maiestas case dismissed Suet. Aug. 51.1. Peachin, ‘Judicial Powers’
Aelianus, from (2015), 33; Bleicken,
Cordoba, accused Senatsgericht und
for slandering Kaisergericht (1962), 77–8.
Augustus.
Augustus 6 Agrippa Postumus Agrippa Postumus possibly treason exile Cass. Dio 55.32.1–2; Peachin, ‘Judicial Powers’
charged for Tac. Ann. 1.3.4; Vell. (2015), 33; Kelly, Princeps
defaming Pat. 2.112.7. Iudex (1957), 7–8.
Augustus and
Livia, exiled.
A senatus
consultum
confirmed his
decision.
Augustus 8 Cassius Severus Cassius Severus defamation exile Tac. Ann. 1.72.3. Peachin, ‘Judicial Powers’
accused of (2015), 35; Bauman,
defamation. Crimen Maiestatis (1967),
259–65; S. Rutledge,
Imperial Inquisitions:
Prosecutors and Informants
from Tiberius to Domitian
(London and New York,
2001), 210.
Augustus 8 Ovid relegated for Ovidius perhaps relegatio exile Ov. Tr. 2.131–3; Ov. See Ch. 2. Peachin, ‘Judicial
unknown reasons, or coercitio Pont.; Ov. Ib. Powers’ (2015), 34;
see Ch. 2. Schilling, Poena
extraordinaria (2010),
93–103; Volkmann,
Rechtsprechung (1969
[1935]), 183–4; Liebs,
Summoned to the Roman
Courts (2012), 83–94;
Millar, Emperor (1992
[1977]), 523.
(continued )
Continued
Augustus 8 The younger Julia Julia, L. Aemilius adultery, maiestas exile Peachin, ‘Judicial Powers’
is accused because Paullus, (D. Junius (2015), 34; Bauman,
of her adultery. Silanus) Crimen Maiestatis (1967),
Her husband, 242–3.
L. Aemilius
Paullus, is also
charged with
maiestas.
Augustus 10 A murder trial murder acquittal Cass. Dio 56.24.7. Millar, Emperor (1992
where [1977]), 523.
Germanicus
represents the
defence, Augustus
brought to judge
due to potential
bias.
Augustus 12 Augustus ? defamation, ? Cass. Dio 56.27.1. Peachin, ‘Judicial Powers’
punished authors maiestas? (2015), 36; Bleicken,
of defamatory Senatsgericht und
books, possibly of Kaisergericht (1962), 31.
maiestas.
Augustus Two accusations Julius Eurycles violence and exile Str. 8.5.5 (366); Millar, Emperor (1992
(and trials) of disorder Joseph. BJ 1.26.4 [1977]), 236, 524;
Julius Eurycles for (351); Plut. Mor. 207F. G. W. Bowersock,
violence and ‘Eurycles of Sparta’, JRS 51
disorder in (1961) 112.
Achaea.
Augustus A trial by forgery Suet. Aug. 33.2. Millar, Emperor (1992
Augustus on a [1977]), 237–8; Kelly,
forged will. Princeps Iudex (1957),
12–13; Bleicken,
Senatsgericht und
Kaisergericht
(1962), 71.
Augustus Augustus gave a C. Tettius disinheritance resolved Val. Max. 7.7.3; Dig. Kelly, Princeps Iudex
decree ordering 36.1.23pr. (1957), 84–6; Jones,
C. Tettius, who ‘Imperial and Senatorial
had been Jurisdiction’ (1954), 476;
disinherited in Volkmann,
infancy, to take Rechtsprechung (1969
possession of his [1935]); Millar, Emperor
father’s estate, see (1992 [1977]), 239.
Ch. 2.
Augustus A case of the Septicia and her disinheritance Resolved by Val. Max. 7.7.3–4. Kelly, Princeps Iudex
reversing sons granting the (1957), 84–6; Jones,
disinheritance of sons got ‘Imperial and Senatorial
the sons of inheritance Jurisdiction’ (1954), 476;
Septicia, see Ch. 2. from their Volkmann,
mother and her Rechtsprechung (1969
dowry [1935]).
Tiberius 21 After he was freed Antistius Vetus maiestas deportation Tac. Ann. 3.38. Schilling, Poena
in the regular extraordinaria (2010),
court, Tiberius 143.
tried Antistius
Vetus himself for
maiestas.
(continued )
Continued
Tiberius 31– After the death Suet. Tib. 61.

of Sejanus, an
undefined number
of people tortured
and condemned to
death by Tiberius,
procedure
unknown.
Tiberius Fantastical story A senator and his plotting against crucifixion Tac. Ann. 2.85; Suet. Millar, Emperor (1992
of a trial of a plot wife, an eques and Paulina Tib. 36.1; Joseph. AJ [1977]), 524; Schilling,
by the priests of the priests of Isis 18.65–80. Poena extraordinaria
Isis against a (2010), 132–3.
senatorial woman
named Paulina
involving sexual
extortion, see
Ch. 3.
Tiberius Rescript in which procedure resolved Dig. 48.5.39.10.
a trial of adultery
is postponed until
the term of office
ended.
Tiberius Regular Cass. Dio. 57.7.2–6.
adjudication on a
tribunal in the
Forum, with the
help of his
consilium.
Tiberius 22 Accusation for the Lucius Ennius maiestas none Tac. Ann. 3.70. Bauman, Lawyers and
melting of a statue Politics (1989), 60.
of the emperor.
Caligula 37 The trial of Livia Orestilla and adultery relegation Suet. Calig. 5.1; Cass. Schilling, Poena
Orestilla and Piso, C. Calpurnius Piso Dio 59.8.7. extraordinaria (2010),
a high-society 188–190.
event after
Caligula had taken
her from their
wedding and wed
her himself for a
few days.
Caligula 38–40 Trials of maiestas maiestas Suet. Calig. 30.2; Cass. Schilling, Poena
against enemies. Dio 59.10.4, 59.10.7, extraordinaria (2010),
59.11.6. 190–2.
Caligula 39 Rhetor Carrinas Carrinas Secundus maiestas? relegation Cass. Dio 59.20.6; Juv. Schilling, Poena
Secundus tried 7.204 . extraordinaria (2010),
and banished for 190–2.
accusing the
emperor for
tyranny.
Caligula 39 Trial of adultery Ofonius Tigellinus adultery relegation Cass. Dio 59.23.9; Schilling, Poena
with Agrippina Schol. Juv. 1.155. extraordinaria (2010),
minor and Julia 200.
Livilla.
Caligula 39 A trial of M. Aemilius maiestas execution, Suet. Calig. 24.3; Cass. Schilling, Poena
conspiracy of Lepidus, relegation Dio 59.22.5–9. extraordinaria (2010),
Lepidus and the Agrippina minor 198–200.
emperor’s sisters. and Julia Livilla
(continued )
Continued
Claudius 41 One of the Cassius Chaerea murder, maiestas? death Suet. Claud. 11.1;
murderers of Joseph. AJ 19.266–71;
Caligula sentenced Cass. Dio 6.3.4.
to death.
Claudius 41 Acta Isidori, a trial Isidorus, King death? BGU II 511, P.Lond. see Ch. 3.
relating to the Agrippa Inv. 2785, POxy. 42.
strife between 3021, P.Berol.8877,
Greeks and Jews and P.Cairo 10448.
in Alexandria, see
chapter 3.
Claudius 41–43 An undefined maiestas? death Tac. Ann. 11.1–3, Schilling, Poena
number of death 1.34–5; Cass. Dio extraordinaria (2010),
sentences 60.29.4–6a. 205–8.
instigated by
Messalina.
Claudius 42 One of the known C. Appius Silanus maiestas death Suet. Claud. 29.1, 37.2; Schilling, Poena
charges of Cass. Dio 60.14.2–4; extraordinaria (2010),
maiestas. Sen. Apocol. 11.2–5. 209.
Claudius 45 A governor tried repetundae? exile Cass. Dio 60.24.4. Schilling, Poena
and punished for extraordinaria (2010),
graft. 210–11.
Claudius 46 The conspiracy of Asinius Gallus maiestas banishment Suet. Claud. 13.2; Schilling, Poena
Asinius Gallus. Cass. Dio 60.27.5. extraordinaria (2010),
211.
Claudius 47 Valerius Asiaticus Valerius Asiaticus maiestas? Tac. Ann. 11.1–2, Schilling, Poena
was tried intra 11.34–38. extraordinaria (2010),
cubiculum. 212–15.
Claudius 48 Messalina, her Messalina, Vettius treason death Tac. Ann. 11.34–5. Schilling, Poena
lover Silius, and Valens, Pompeius extraordinaria (2010),
their associates Urbicus, Saufeius 215–16.
were tried by Trogus, Decrius
Claudius and Calpurnianus,
executed. Sulpicius Rufus,
Juncus
Vergilianus
Claudius 48/49 The trial of incest L. Junius Silanus incest unknown Sen. Apocol. 8.2, 10.4, Schilling, Poena
instigated by and Junia Calvina 11.2–5; Suet. Claud. extraordinaria (2010),
Agrippina to 27.2, 29.1; Tac. Ann. 219–20.
ensure Nero’s 12.3.4–8; Cass. Dio
accession. 60.31.7.
Claudius 52 Furius Furius maiestas exile Tac. Ann. 12.52, 14.46. Schilling, Poena
Scribonianus Scribonianus extraordinaria (2010),
accused of 224.
conspiracy with
Chaldaeans.
Claudius 52 A complex issue Jews, Samaritans, Joseph. AJ 20.6.2–3 Millar, Emperor (1992
involving Jews, procurator (131–6), BJ 11.12.6–7 [1977]), 231, 378.
Samaritans, and Cumanus (242–6).
the procurator
Cumanus with
procedural
difficulties.
(continued )
Continued
Claudius Trial in the Forum unknown eques obscenity Suet. Claud. 15.4. Millar, Emperor (1992
for corrupting [1977]), 524–5.
women, see Ch. 3.
Claudius Of the many trials Suet. Claud. 14–15.
in the Forum,
Suetonius
mentions in
passing ten cases,
ranging from
forgery, obscenity,
citizenship,
evidence to family.
Claudius Reversing maiestas Cass. Dio 60.3.9–4.2.
sentences of
maiestas and
relegations given
by Caligula.
Claudius A freedman who Dig. 37.14.1.
ordered informers
against his patron
is re-enslaved.
Claudius Maiestas trial. L. Vitellius maiestas Tac. Ann. 12.42.
Claudius/Nero 55 A boundary imperial tenants property resolved Smallwood,
dispute in Documents (1967),
Sagalassos in 387 (=SEG XIX 765).
Pisidia settled by a
letter (sent by
Claudius)
instructing a
legate.
Nero 57 Publius Celer was Publius Celer none, defendant Tac. Ann. 13.33.1. Millar, Emperor (1992
accused by the died of old age [1977]), 526.
province of Asia.
Nero 61 Pardoning of freedmen SC Silianum pardon Tac. Ann. 14.42–5. Schilling, Poena
Pedanius extraordinaria (2010),
Secundus’ 241–3.
freedmen, see
Ch. 3.
Nero 63 The trial of apostle Paulus seditio? death Acts 22.25–6, 23.27, Millar, Emperor (1992
Paul. 25.6–22; Lactant. De [1977]), 510–11.
mort. Pers. 2.6; Euseb.
Hist. eccl. 2.22–5.
Nero 64 Nero accused Christians arson and/or bestiis subicere, Tac. Ann. 15.44.2–5. Liebs, Summoned to the
Christians of the other hatred for crux, vivi Roman Courts (2012),
fire of Rome. humankind exurere 95–124; K. Büchner,
‘Tacitus über die
Christen’, Aegyptus 33
(1953), 181–92.
Nero 65 Nero banished Cassius Longinus relegation Dig. 1.2.2.51–2. Honoré, Emperors and
Cassius Longinus, Lawyers (1994), 10.
the founder of the
Cassian school of
lawyers, to
Sardinia.
(continued )
Continued
Nero 65 Piso’s conspiracy, C. Calpurnius coup death, exile Tac. Ann. 15.66–78; Schilling, Poena
many were killed Piso’s associates Suet. Ner. 36.2. extraordinaria (2010),
or killed 252–5.
themselves
without process,
some tried by
Nero himself,
some by the
Senate.
Nero 66 A strange Junia Lepida, incest, magic pardon Tac. Ann. 16.8.2–3. Millar, Emperor (1992
accusation of Vulcacius Tullinus [1977]), 510.
incest and magic and Cornelius
against a Marcellus
senatorial family
brought on by
informers.
Nero L. Fabricius L. Fabricius libel, selling Tac. Ann. 14.50.
Veiento charged Veiento imperial property
for composing
libellous books.
Vitellius 69 Vitellius had killed murderers of maiestas death Suet. Vit. 10.1. Schilling, Poena
120 pretorians Galba extraordinaria (2010),
who had 260.
confessed
murdering Galba
(by asking for
rewards from
Otho).
Vespasian Banishment of Demetrius, maiestas banishment Suet. Vesp. 13; Cass. Schilling, Poena
Demetrius the Hostilianus Dio 65(66).13.1. extraordinaria (2010),
Cynic and 262–3.
Hostilianus the
Stoic, see Ch. 3.
Domitianus 82 Accusation of the Oculata incest execution, Suet. Dom. 8.1–3; Grelle, ‘Correctio morum’
immorality sisters, Varronilla, Cornelia freed Cass. Dio 67.4.2, (1980); Schilling, Poena
against four Vestal high priestess 67.17. extraordinaria (2010),
Virgins. Cornelia 270–1.
Domitianus 89–91 Continuation of high priestess incest execution, Suet. Dom. 8.3; Plin. Schilling, Poena
the process against Cornelia, Celer, Licinianus Ep. 4.11. extraordinaria (2010),
the Vestals. Valerius banishment 272–3.
Licinianus
Domitianus 91 Tried due to a Mettius maiestas banishment Suet. Dom. 10.3; Cass. Schilling, Poena
prophecy that he Pompusianus Dio 67.12.2. extraordinaria (2010),
would become 266.
emperor.
Domitianus 91 Ex-consul tried for Acilius Glabrio maiestas banishment Suet. Dom. 10.2; Cass. Schilling, Poena
unspecified Dio 67.14.3; Juv. 4.94. extraordinaria (2010),
reasons. 266.
Domitianus 93 A plot against Salvidienus maiestas banishment Suet. Dom. 10.2; Schilling, Poena
Domitian Orfitus, Nerva, Philostr. V A 7.8–11. extraordinaria (2010),
involving and Rufus 266–7.
Salvidienus
Orfitus, the future
emperor Nerva
and a man simply
known as Rufus.
Domitianus 95 Nero’s freedman Ephaphroditus maiestas banishment Suet. Dom. 14.4; Cass. Schilling, Poena
first chosen as Dio. 67.14.4. extraordinaria (2010),
Domitian’s 266–7.
secretary and then
tried.
(continued )
Continued
Domitianus 95 The consul Flavius Flavius Clemens maiestas death, Suet. Dom. 15.1; Cass. Schilling, Poena
Clemens and his and wife banishment for Dio 67.14.1. extraordinaria (2010),
wife tried for wife 267.
religious offences.
Domitianus After his death, wife of Vettius poisoning Stat. Silv. 5.2.75–97, Millar, Emperor (1992
Domitian Bolanus esp. 91–3. [1977]), 525.
condemned the
wife of Vettius
Bolanus for
poisoning.
Trajanus 107 A case of forgery Sempronius forged will Plin. Ep. 6.31. Sherwin-White, Letters of
involving an Senecio and Pliny (1966), 391.
imperial Eurythmus
freedman, see
Ch. 3.
Trajanus 107 An appeal from a Gallitta, centurion adultery condemned Plin. Ep. 6.31. Sherwin-White, Letters of
governor of a Pliny (1966), 391;
charge of adultery Schilling, Poena
against the wife of extraordinaria (2010),
a military tribune 285.
who had had an
affair with a
centurion, see
Ch. 3.
Trajanus 107 A charge against a Claudius Ariston cleared of the Plin. Ep. 6.31. Sherwin-White, Letters of
local magnate of charge and Pliny (1966), 391; Syme,
Ephesus by an acquitted ‘People in Pliny’ (1968),
informer. 135–151; Millar, Emperor
(1992 [1977]), 524.
Trajanus 107 A calumny Lustricius calumnia banishment Plin. Ep. 6.22. Schilling, Poena
process against Bruttianus, extraordinaria (2010),
Montanius Montanius 283–4.
Atticinus after Atticinus
freeing Lustricius
Bruttianus from
accusation.
Trajanus 109 Process against Plin. Ep. 10.96. Schilling, Poena
Christians, Pliny’s extraordinaria (2010),
queries and 285–7.
response of
Trajan.
Trajanus A series of issues, father and son maltreatment and resolved Dig. 37.12.5. Millar, Emperor (1992
where first Trajan emancipation of [1977]), 531–2.
compelled a father son, inheritance
who had
maltreated his son
to emancipate
him, then after the
son’s death
prevented the
father from
claiming his
property.
(continued )
Continued
Trajanus A retrial of a case mother and dead forgery and delegation Plin. Ep. 7.6.8–13. Millar, Emperor (1992
of forgery and son’s freedman poisoning [1977]), 525; Sherwin-
poisoning was White, Letters of Pliny
brought to Trajan, (1966).
who delegated it
Sex. Attius
Suburanus.
Trajanus Varenus was Varenus Plin. Ep. 7.6.
prosecuted by the
Bithynians, was
first brought to the
consuls, who on
the request of the
provincials
referred the case
to the emperor.
Trajanus Rescript to Didius relegation, Dig. 48.22.1.
Secundus on confiscation
confiscation by
the fisc, Trajan’s
sentence
unknown except
for being lenient.
Trajanus Rescript in which penalty Dig. 48.19.5.
Trajan approves
Taurinus’
mitigation of the
penalty of Marus
Evaristos according
to culpability.
Hadrianus 117 When Hadrian Apollodorus artistic banishment Cass. Dio 69.4.1–3.
became emperor, disagreements
he banished and
then killed
Apollodorus the
architect, who had
criticized his plans
under Trajan.
Hadrianus 120 Letter of Hadrian Gerusia of misappropriation affirmed Hermes 4 (1870), Oliver, Greek
to the Gerusia of Ephesus, debtors of money 178–81. Constitutions (1989),
Ephesians n. 71.
confirming the
sentence of the
governor about
misappropriation
of money.
Hadrianus 131 Hadrian’s rescript Apollonides, P.Teb. II 286. Peachin, Iudex (1996), 87;
about resolving a Claudius Oliver, Greek
case about Antoninus Constitutions (1989),
restoring slaves to n. 72.
the petitioner.
Hadrian mentions
that he only
yesterday wrote
replied to him
about the same
matter. Contains
instructions to
magistrate Flavius
Juncinus in Egypt.
(continued )
Continued
Hadrianus Legitimacy of a legitimacy of a affirmed Gell. NA 3.16.12. Millar, Emperor (1992

child born 11 child legitimacy [1977]), 239.
months after her
husband’s death.
Hadrianus In a rescript slave girl SC Silanianum death Dig. 29.5.1.28.
quoted verbatim
over the SC
Silanianum
Hadrian wrote
that a slave girl
who had not
protected her
mistress even by
crying out should
be punished with
death.
Hadrianus Hadrian ordered Vivius Cerealis, Dig. 36.1.52(50). Rizzi, Imperator
that inheritance is Vivius Simonides cognoscens decrevit (2012),
restored to a son 272–9.
due to father’s
frauds.
Hadrianus A rescript in inheritance, orders action Dig. 40.12.43.
which Hadrian manumission taken
admonishes the
recipient for
delays and orders
him to appoint an
arbiter for
dividing
inheritance and
manumission.
Hadrianus Hadrian burying bodies fine Dig. 47.12.3.5.
prescribed in a within the city
rescript a fine of limits
40 pieces of gold
for those who
bury bodies within
the city.
Hadrian relegated adultery relegation Dig. 24.2.8.
a man for three
years for taking
someone else’s
wife to live with
him when his own
wife was away on
travels.
Hadrianus Hadrian killing relegation Dig. 48.8.4.1.
confirmed
governor Ignatius
Taurianus’
decision to
relegate a man for
five years for
causing the death
of another per
lasciviam.
(continued )
Continued
Hadrianus Hadrian punishes father adultery, killing deportation Dig. 48.9.5. see Ch. 4.
a father for the
abuse of patria
potestas, see Ch. 4.
Hadrianus Hadrian Dig. 5.2.28. Peachin, Iudex (1996), 23;
reappointed a son Rizzi, Imperator
serving in the cognoscens decrevit (2012),
military as heir. 341–9.
Hadrianus Hadrian Dig. 50.4.14.6.
reaffirmed a
decision to repeat
munera if there
are no other
suitable
candidates.
Hadrianus Hadrian resolved legacy resolved Dig. 7.8.22.pr.
a case regarding
the use of a forest
as a legacy by
stating that the
right to use fruits
should be
included in the
legacy.
Hadrianus A subscript of patria potestas Gai. Inst. 1.94. Peachin, Iudex (1996), 22.
Hadrian that in
order to gain
patria potestas
over the child, a
father-to-be
should have asked
for it at the same
time as he
petitiond for
citizenship.
Hadrianus Emperor Hadrian Umbricia treatment of relegation Lex Dei 3.3; Ulpian, De Liebs, Summoned to the
sentenced slaves officio proconsulis 8; Roman Courts (2012),
Umbricia to five Dig. 1.6.2. = Coll. 139–54; Millar, Emperor
years’ relegation 3.3.4.; Dig. 24.2.8.; Dig. (1992 [1977]), 525.
for treating her 48.9.5.
slaves with great
brutality for trivial
reasons.
Hadrianus The Hadriani private petitioners Millar, Emperor (1992
Sententiae [1977]), 261, 532–3, 540.
contains 13
instances of
imperial decisions,
of which some are
requests for
beneficia, others
adjudicative. No. 2:
Hadrian rejects a
requests for a
(continued )
Continued
convicted man’s
congiarium. Nos. 3,
13: following a
complaint of
neglect, he orders a
son to care for his
father under threat
of loss of
citizenship. No. 4: a
case of usury is
delegated to the
pretorian prefect.
No. 6: a man
petitioned Hadrian
for the restoration
of his father from
exile. Hadrian told
him to allow time
for him to consult
the (imperial)
commentarii and
then return. No. 7:
a conflict about
share of profits.
No. 9: orders a
tutor not to
manumit. No. 10:
he denies a
request about
congiurarium.
No. 11: a woman
sued her curator
for stealing his
congiarium and
not making
payments. After
interrogation, the
curator is ordered
to pay as much as
he can.
Hadrianus A rescript of Julius Tarentinus evidence delegated with Dig. 42.1.33.
Hadrian about instructions
complaint of false
evidence.
Antoninus Pius 146 Rescript. Secundus inheritance resolved: Cod. Iust. 6.26.1.
portions restrictive
interpretation of
testator’s
intention
Antoninus Pius 152 Alfius Julius Alfius Julius treatment of Coll. 3.3.5–6 (Ulpian, Peachin, Iudex (1996), 22;
received a slaves De officio proconsulis 8). Liebs, Summoned to the
subscription to his Roman Courts (2012),
libellus from 139–54.
Antoninus Pius
about the proper
treatment of
slaves.
(continued )
Continued
Antoninus Pius 155 Rescript 28.9 to Manilius and suit on a deposit commands to Cod. Iust. 2.1.1.
Manilius. female adversary prove a deposit
and delegates to
trial judge
Antoninus Pius 155 Rescript on how Manilius evidence rule clarified, Cod. Iust. 2.1.1.
to prove that matter delegated
money was to trial judge
depisited.
Antoninus Pius A response from Publicius absence of one Cod. Iust. 7.43.1 (s.d.). Peachin, Iudex (1996), 23,
Antoninus Pius to party from a trial 27–8; Coriat, ‘Technique
judge named du rescript’ (1985), 329.
Publicius,
explaining that an
earlier subscriptio
by Hadrian was
not a binding
precedent.
Antoninus Pius In rescript, Pius Dig. 22.1.17.1. Peachin, Iudex (1996), 22.
denies a claim to
past interest due.
Antoninus Pius Telephorus, Telephorus and a delegation to Dig. 34.1.3. Millar, Emperor (1992
representing a group of freedmen consuls [1977]), 545; X. Pérez
group of López, La delegación de
freedmen, asked jurisdicción en el derecho
for upkeep on romano (Madrid 2011),
basis on 346, n. 8.
fideicommissum.
Antoninus Pius Authorizes the delegation to Dig. 35.1.50.
consuls to grant consuls
arbitrators to
examine accounts
for the
emancipation of
Epaphroditus.
Antoninus Pius Rescript. Salvius fideicommissum instructions to Cod. Iust. 6.54.1.
judge to grant it
Antoninus Pius Rescript. freedmen of Sextia interpretation of resolved by Cod. Iust. 6.37.1.
Basilia will analogical
interpretation
and granting the
freedmen
sustenance and
clothing
Antoninus Pius Rescript affirming Claudius inheritance Dig. 4.2.18. Peachin, Iudex (1996),
Frontinus’ Frontinus 21–2.
responsibilities
regarding an
inheritance.
Antoninus Pius Ulpianus Ulpianus legacy resolved Dig. 48.22.16. Millar, Emperor (1992
Damascenus Damascenus [1977]), 261, 540.
asked for
permission for her
deported mother
to leave him a
legacy. Pius made
an exception,
while reaffirming
the rule that
deported persons
may not leave a
will.
(continued )
Continued
Antoninus Pius Rescript. Aurelius, a veteran evidence of ratified even Cod. Iust. 4.32.1.
promise to pay though not
interest mentioned in
the instrument
Antoninus Pius A rescript bird-catchers Dig. 8.3.16. Peachin, Iudex (1996), 22.
allowing bird-
catchers to hunt
on other people’s
land without
permission.
Antoninus Pius A rescript about Eudaemon of piracy delegation Dig. 14.2.9.
the Rhodian sea Nicomedia
law, see Ch. 4.
Antoninus Pius Rescript to Julius Sabinus, treatment of forced sale Dig. 1.6.2; Lex Dei 3.3; Liebs, Summoned to the
proconsul Aelius slaves slaves Ulpian, De officio Roman Courts (2012),
Marcianus, proconsulis 8. 139–54.
instructing him to
investigate the
treatment of
fleeing slaves of
Julius Sabinus.
Marcus Aurelius 166 Interpretation of heirs of Valerius testament testator’s Dig. 28.4.3pr, 34.9.12, Rizzi, Imperator
will, a lengthy Nepos and the fisc intention 34.9.16.2; Philo Leg. cognoscens decrevit (2012),
debate between 350; Plin. Ep. 4.22.3, 151–174; Honoré,
advocates and the 6.22.5, 6.31.12; Cass. Emperors and Lawyers
emperor, see Dio 76(77).17.1, (1994), 17–19; Crook,
Ch. 4. 57.7.2–6, 52.33.3, Consilium Principis
69.7.1; SHA Marc. (1955), 71; Millar,
22.4; Cod. Iust. 9.51.1; Emperor (1992 [1977]),
Cod. Theod. 8.15.1. 163, 237–238, 533; JRS 56
(1966) 80–1; Nörr,
‘Reskriptenpraxis’ (1981),
12; Wankerl, Appello
(2009), 68–94; Coriat,
Prince législateur (1997),
99, 198.
Marcus Aurelius 174/5 A lengthy letter by SEG XXIX 127. Wankerl, Appello (2009),
Marcus to 17–68; Oliver, Greek
Athenians, Constitutions (1989).
resolving
numerous issues,
see Ch. 4.
Marcus Aurelius 175 After the revolt of Avidius Cassius revolt Cass. Dio 71(72).28.2–3 Millar, Emperor (1992
Avidius Cassius, (268); Coll. 15.2.5. [1977]), 521.
Marcus sent the
senatorial
participants for
trial to the Senate,
but tried others in
his own court.
Marcus Aurelius A hearing where Marcianus vis privata loss of claim Dig. 48.7.7. Liebs, Summoned to the
Marcus scolded Roman Courts (2012),
Marcianus, a 155–164; Peachin, Iudex
creditor, for (1996), 23; Rizzi,
taking hold of Imperator cognoscens
property without decrevit (2012), 205–19.
permission.
(continued )
Continued
Marcus Aurelius Reduction of the Fortunatus resolved, Dig. 22.1.17.1. Peachin, Iudex (1996), 22.
amount of execution to
stipulatio. governor
Marcus Aurelius A ruling regarding Herodes Atticus punishment of Philostr. V S 2.560–2.
Herodes Atticus. freedmen
Marcus Aurelius A decree ruling on a will Dig. 35.2.11.2, Millar, Emperor (1992
the heir’s 36.1.19.3. [1977]), 533; Rizzi,
responsibility for Imperator cognoscens
legates. decrevit (2012), 220–7.
Marcus Aurelius A judgment by Brasidas’ sons fideicommissum Fideicommissum Dig. 36.1.23.pr. Millar, Emperor (1992
Marcus should be paid. [1977]), 533; Rizzi,
(mentioned by Imperator cognoscens
Scaevola) in his decrevit (2012), 279–88.
auditorium in a
case where the
divorced wife of a
senator from
Sparta named
Brasidas had left a
fideicommissum to
their sons, on
whether it should
be paid.
Marcus Aurelius A decree over the Dig. 5.3.25.16. Millar, Emperor (1992
estate of [1977]), 533.
Pythodorus and
what should be
included.
Marcus Aurelius Rescript about the testament in favour of Dig. 34.9.12, 34.9.16.2.
interpretation of legatees
will and the
interest of the fisc;
will the
cancellation of
one heir affect
legacies?
Marcus Aurelius In a letter to Quintus Voconius treatment of selling of the Dig. 48.18.1.27. Liebs, Summoned to the
and Verus Voconius Saxa, Saxa (proconsul in slaves slave and not Roman Courts (2012),
approving his Asia minor) returned to his 149–50.
examination of former master.
Primitivus, a slave,
who had falsely
confessed to a
homicide so he
wouldn’t be
returned to his
owner. They
recommend that
he should be sold
under the
condition that he
would never be
returned to his
former master.
(continued )
Continued
Marcus Aurelius Flavia Tertulla Flavia Tertulla legitimacy of a Dig. 23.2.57a. Millar, Emperor (1992
and Verus had been married child [1977]), 548.
to her uncle for 40
years and asked
that she be
considered
legitimate under
law. The emperors
made an
exception and
granted a
beneficium as
against the strict
provisions of the
law.
Marcus Aurelius Ruling on Dig. 37.14.17.pr.
and Verus bonorum possessio
on a grandfather’s
freedman’s
property, when
the said freedman
is accused of a
capital charge.
Marcus Aurelius L. Apronius L. Apronius excusation from Frag. Vat. 168; Dig. Millar, Emperor (1992
and Verus Saturninus Saturninus tutela 49.1.1.2. [1977]), 545.
wanted excusatio
from tutela. He
appealed and the
case was heard
again.
Commodus 181 The petition of the harassment prohibition, CIL VIII 10570. Hauken, Petition and
coloni of the without Response (1998), 2–28.
imperial estate punishment
Saltus
Burunitanus.
Pertinax 193 Rescripts: Cod.
Iust. 4.28.1 (23.3.
to Atilius,
approving his suit
against a debtor);
6.27.1 (22.3. to
slave Lucretius,
releasing him as
compulsory heir).
Septimius Severus 196 Rescript 10.12. to Jovianus and his responsibility for rejected Cod. Iust. 4.14.1. Millar, Emperor (1992
Jovianus. former slave actions as slave Jovianus’ claim [1977]), 490.
Septimius Severus 200 Rescript 25.11. to Philinus and inheritance upheld an Cod. Iust. 2.3.2.
Philinus. Licinius fronto agreement
between
brothers
Septimius Severus 200 A decision by P.Oxy. 42.3019.
Severus regarding
swineherds.
Septimius Severus 200 A decision of P.Oxy. 51.3614.
Severus on taxes.
Septimius Severus Senator Cassius treason confiscation Cass. Dio 74.9 (333). Millar, Emperor (1992
Clemens was tried [1977]), 237, 522.
before Severus as
an adherent of
Pescennius Niger,
justified his
actions and lost
only half his
property.
(continued )
Continued
Septimius Severus An appeal from A slaveowner and slave exceeding owner’s liability Dig. 14.5.8. Honoré, Emperors and
the prefect to his slave his authority upheld Lawyers (1994), 23; Millar,
unnamed emperor Emperor (1992 [1977]),
(from Paul’s 239–239; Wankerl,
Decrees, thus Appello (2009), 110–129;
likely Severus) on Rizzi, Imperator
the master’s cognoscens decrevit (2012),
responsibility of 381–394.
the slave’s actions.
Septimius Severus Ruling on a trial property in favour of Dig. 22.1.16.1. Millar, Emperor (1992
by unnamed applicant [1977]), 534; Rizzi,
emperor (from Imperator cognoscens
Paul’s Decrees, decrevit (2012), 227–32.
thus likely
Severus) about
interest, where
property had been
purchased from a
fisc and the buyer
had not gained
possession.
Emperor ruled
that the if the fruit
had not been
enjoyed no
interest could be
imposed.
Septimius Severus Appeals case of tutela appeal rejected Dig. 26.5.28 (Paul. 2 Millar, Emperor (1992
Severus (not decr.), 26.7.53 (Paul. 2 [1977]), 535; Wankerl,
named, but from decr.) Appello (2009), 129–43.
Paul’s Decrees)
about
appointment of
colleague in tutela.
Septimius Severus A decree of tutors evidentiary Dig. 26.7.7.4. Millar, Emperor (1992
Severus on [1977]), 535.
ordering interest
to be paid by
tutors turning
money for their
own use.
Septimius Severus Severus ruled that slave evidentiary Dig. 27.3.1.3. Millar, Emperor (1992
slaves may be [1977]), 535.
tortured to
provide evidence
for use of
property.
Septimius Severus Appeals case over Pactumeius a will appeal succesful, Dig. 28.5.93 (Paul 2 Honoré, Emperors and
the inheritance of Magnus and his with limitations decr.); SHA Commod. 7. Lawyers (1994), 20, 22;
Pactumeius daughter Millar, Emperor (1992
Androsthenes, Pactumeia, and [1977]), 534; Coriat,
who appointed as Novius Rufus. Prince législateur (1997),
heir the daughter 545; Rizzi, Imperator
of Pactumeius cognoscens decrevit (2012),
Magnus. She was 349–56.
rumoured to be
dead and
(continued )
Continued
secondary heir
Novius Rufus
gained the
inheritance. She
petitioned the
emperor to be
reinstated.
Septimius Severus Case over the wills Clodius Clodianus testament Rejected wills, Dig. 29.2.97 (Paul 3 Honoré, Emperors and
of Clodius intestacy decr.) Lawyers (1994), 23–4;
Clodianus and the Millar, Emperor (1992
effective [1977]), 534; Rizzi,
acceptance of Imperator cognoscens
inheritance, decrevit (2012), 357–63.
argued by both
Papinian and
Paul. The emperor
is not named, but
from Paul’s
Decrees.
Septimius Severus A case resolved by Paula, heirs testament will accepted Dig. 32.27pr (Paul 2. Rizzi, Imperator
unnamed emperor Callinicus and his decr.) cognoscens decrevit (2012),
(in Paul’s Decrees) daughter 305–15.
over the will of Juventiana
Paula and its
provisions.
Septimius Severus A case of appeals Pompeius testament appeal succesful, Dig. 32.27.1 (Paul 2 Millar, Emperor (1992
due to Hermippus, his with limitations decr.) [1977]), 238–9, 534;
interpretation of son Hermippus Honoré, Emperors and
the will of and daughter Lawyers (1994), 20, 22;
Pompeius Titiana Coriat, Prince législateur
Hermippus over (1997), 96, 545; Rizzi,
what his daughter Imperator cognoscens
should inherit decrevit (2012), 175–9.
after her brother.
Emperor not
named.
Septimius Severus Case over the will heirs of Julianus testament, debt in favour of Dig. 32.17.2 (Paul 2. Millar, Emperor (1992
of Julianus Severus and Maurus’s heir decr.) [1977]), 534; Rizzi,
Severus, Maurus Imperator cognoscens
specifically over decrevit (2012), 315–21.
legacy to be paid
by his tenant
Julius Maurus,
involving also the
fisc. Emperor not
named, but from
Paul’s Decrees.
Septimius Severus A complex Ovinius, Rutiliana restitutio in ruling in favour Dig. 4.4.38 (Paul 1 Liebs, Summoned to the
appeals case over integrum of Rutiliana decr.) Roman Courts (2012),
the cancellation of 165–75; F. Musumeci,
sale of land ‘Ancora sulla in integrum
between the heirs restitutio di Rutiliana’,
and successors of Cunabula iuris (Milan
original parties, 2002), 245–61; Honoré,
including buyer Emperors and Lawyers
Aemilius (1994), 21–2; Millar,
(continued )
Continued
Laurianus, his Emperor (1992 [1977]),

daughter 238–9; Wankerl, Appello
Rutiliana, and the (2009), 95–110; Coriat,
seller Ovinius and Prince législateur (1997),
a new buyer 82, 506, 543; Rizzi,
Claudius Imperator cognoscens
Telemachus. decrevit (2012), 363–81.
Septimius Severus Severus’ ruling on rejected Dig. 36.1.1.13. Millar, Emperor (1992
restitution to a [1977]), 535.
tutor.
Septimius Severus Ruling on the testator and his testament ruling in favour Dig. 36.1.76pr (Paul 2 Rizzi, Imperator
effects of a father’s heirs of the son decr.) cognoscens decrevit (2012),
will to his 288–94; Honoré,
daughter’s Emperors and Lawyers
inheritance. (1994), 23; Millar,
Emperor not Emperor (1992 [1977]),
named. 535.
Septimius Severus A ruling on appeal Fabius Antoninus, inheritance Honorata Dig. 36.1.76.1 (Paul 2 Honoré, Emperors and
from the governor Junia Valeriana, gained the decr.) Lawyers (1994), 24; Millar,
on a series of wills their daughter inheritance Emperor (1992 [1977]),
and disinherited Honorata, son 238–239; Wankerl,
children and an Antoninus, and Appello (2009), 153–64;
aunt. Emperor not his daughter Fabia Coriat, Prince législateur
named. Valeriana (1997), 515, 545; Rizzi,
Imperator cognoscens
decrevit (2012), 257–66.
Septimius Severus A case over the Eumeria status freedom upheld Dig. 40.1.10 (Paul 2 Millar, Emperor (1992
freedom of decr.) [1977]), 534; Coriat,
Eumeria, who was Prince législateur (1997),
manumitted by 391, 515; Rizzi, Imperator
Aulianus, who was cognoscens decrevit (2012),
in debt to the fisc. 394–403.
A procurator
sought to claim
her as a slave.
Emperor not
named.
Septimius Severus Case over the status, freedom upheld Dig. 40.5.38 (Paul 3 Millar, Emperor (1992
freedom of a slave fideicommissa decr.) [1977]), 535; Rizzi,
woman Imperator cognoscens
manumitted in a decrevit (2012), 195–205.
will as well as
fideicommissa.
Septimius Severus A trial on the Petronius Thallus sureties limited Dig. 46.1.68 (Paul 3 Millar, Emperor (1992
sureties given by and others, the fisc obligations decr.) [1977]), 534.
Petronius Thallus
and others for
Aurelius Romulus,
in debt to the fisc.
Emperor not
named.
Septimius Severus A suit on the Faria Senilla and debt the fisc should Dig. 49.14.47pr (Paul 3 Rizzi, Imperator
responsibility over others, the heirs of sue the heirs decr.) cognoscens decrevit (2012),
the debts of Moschis and the first 232–41.
Moschis to the fisc
fisc, either to her
heirs or the buyers
of her lands.
Emperor not
named.
(continued )
Continued
Septimius Severus Aemilius Aemilius lease obligation Dig. 49.14.47.1 (Paul 3 Rizzi, Imperator
Ptolemaeus Ptolemaeus, the lowered to that decr.) cognoscens decrevit (2012),
complained about fisc set by the lease 195–205.
being overcharged
by the fisc over his
lease. Emperor not
named.
Septimius Severus A trial over the Pompeius and testament upheld the Dig. 49.14.48pr (Paul 2 Millar, Emperor (1992
wills of Statius Faustinus second will decr.) [1977]), 534; Wankerl,
Florus by heirs Appello (2009), 182–92;
Pompeius and Coriat, Prince législateur
Faustinus. (1997), 87; Rizzi,
Emperor not Imperator cognoscens
named. decrevit (2012), 328–41.
Septimius Severus A claim by a Cornelius Felix, inheritance, debt rejected Dig. 49.14.48.1 (Paul 2 Rizzi, Imperator
secondary heir the fisc decr.) cognoscens decrevit (2012),
over a confiscated 298–305.
estate. Emperor
not named.
Septimius Severus A complex case Flavius Stalticus, property for Stalticus Dig. 49.14.50 (Paul 3 Honoré, Emperors and
with numerous the fisc decr.) Lawyers (1994), 24; Rizzi,
legal opinions Imperator cognoscens
over the decrevit (2012), 247–57.
obligations and
benefits of tenants
(mainly rights to
crops), involving
the fisc.
Septimius Severus Interpretation of a marriage husband should Dig. 50.16.240 (Paul). Millar, Emperor (1992
clause on the not keep dowry [1977]), 535.
dissolution of
marriage.
Emperor not
named.
Septimius Severus In a suit, Severus munera accepted the Dig. 50.5.8pr (Papin., Peachin, Iudex (1996), 24,
decided that in claim 1 resp.) n. 59.
Asia those with 5
children would
not be forced into
holding the
provincial
priesthood.
Septimius Severus An appeals case The children of a will rejected Dig. 36.1.83 (Paul 2 Rizzi, Imperator
over the Julius Foebus: decr.) cognoscens decrevit (2012),
interpretation of Foebus, Heraclia, 294–8; Wankerl, Appello
successive wills. and Policrates (2009), 165–72.
Emperor not
named.
Septimius Severus An oral trial Valeriana, inheritance Dig. 32.97 (Paul. 2 Rizzi, Imperator
proceeding on Antiochus decr.) cognoscens decrevit (2012),
appeal by Paul 322–27; Wankerl, Appello
(the emperor is (2009), 144–53; Coriat,
not named). The Prince législateur (1997),
daughter and 96.
freedman of
Hosidius argue
over his
inheritance.
(continued )
Continued
Septimius Severus An appeal by Camelia Pia, inheritance accepted Dig. 37.14.24 (Paul. 1 Wankerl, Appello (2009),
Camelia Pia over co-heir decr.), 10.2.41 (Paul. 1 193–202.
division of estate decr.)
(freedmen)
between co-heirs.
The emperor is
not named.
Septimius Severus A florid petition Aurelius, son of Liturgies denied P.Mich. 9.529, 25–38 =
via the prefect of Cairemon SB 14.11875.
Egypt about
exemption of
liturgies, fairly
curt reply to do
them.
Septimius Severus A papyrus Arsinoite liturgies affirmed P.Oxy. 42.3018, 1–5, Oliver, Greek
containing three Paenistae 6–10. Constitutions (1989), 105,
documents about 241, 242.
privileges of the
Arsinoite
Paenistae, the first
ordering Sarapion
son of Didymus to
preserve their
exemption from
liturgy.
Septimius Severus 194 Rescripts: Cod.
and Caracalla Iust. 2.23.1 (26.9.
to Myro, defining
the consequences
of restitution of
rights in his case).
Septimius Severus 195 Rescript: Cod.
to Silvanus,
commanding him
to be tried first for
his own crimes
before accusing
others).
Septimius Severus 196 Rescripts: 2.18.1
and Caracalla (5.10. to Sopatra,
denying action on
negotiorum
gestio); 6.39.1
(1.10. to Januaria,
granting action
against heirs);
6.54.3 (to
Symphorus,
granting
preference to
a claim of
possession).
explanation to
(continued )
Continued
Metrodorus on
a judge’s
suspending
punishment of
infamy); 2.18.2 (to
Rofina, granting
action of expenses
for appointment
of guardians);
2.30.1 (to Annia,
granting
conditionally the
continuation of a
lawsuit on
manumission);
2.50.1 (to Chilo,
explaining that the
heir of centurion
Valerianus have
the right to ask for
restitution of
rights if he died
in service); 3.36.1
(to Marcianus,
granting action in
partition if
inheritance has
not been divided);
4.28.4 (to Hilarus,
granting action on
a pledge); 5.25.4
(to Sabinus,
granting action on
paternal support);
5.47.1 (to Tertius,
settling the issue
whether Fuscinus
may be removed
from guardianship
without damage to
reputation); 6.46.1
(to Claudia,
conditionally
recognizing the
nullity of a
fideicommissum);
6.49.1 (18.3. to
Probus, granting
action on a
fideicommissum);
6.50.1 (13.5. to
Priscus rejecting
claim to
restitution on the
(continued )
Continued
Falcidian fourth);
7.4.1 (17.2. to
unknown,
directing a claim
for testamentary
manumission);
8.2.1 (25.12. to
Justus, directing a
claim for
inheritance to
competent
judges); 8.16.1 (to
Oplatus, defining
the extent of a
general pledge);
8.32.1 (1.9. to
Hilarus, granting
him an action on a
pledge).
to Venustianus,
deciding against a
sentence of
infamy against the
ineffectually
relegated
Posidonius);
2.11.5 (to
Ambrosius, telling
him that
committing
iniuria marked
him with infamy
and thus liable for
flogging); 2.38.1
(3.3. to Florentius
and others,
granting them aid
in the restitution
of rights to
inheritance);
4.28.2 (25.2. to
Sophia, barring
conditionally
Zenodorus from
resorting to the
SC); 6.53.1 (30.5.
to Agrippa,
granting a right to
demand annuity
annually).
and Caracalla (22.1. to
Hadrianus,
granting action on
negotiorum
(continued )
Continued
gestio); 3.33.1
(26.9. to
Pasidonius,
limiting liability
for debts of
deceased wife);
6.25.1 (1.10. to
Alexander,
refusing to accept
daughter as heir).
Septimius Severus 199/200 A decision on Juliana daughter P.Stras. I.22, 1–9 = Oliver, Greek
and Caracalla longi temporis of Sasthenianus BGU I.267. Constitutions (1989),
praescriptio. 223A–B.
Septimius Severus 199/200 Rescripts to two Varus, son of minor approved P.Oxy. 6.1020. Oliver, Greek
and Caracalla petitioners for Damasaeus, Constitutions (1989),
assistance in a trial Procunda 220–2.
due to immature
age, referring to
the provincial
governor. Same
text contains a
fragment of a
rescript about
defrauding.
Septimius Severus 199/201 Possibly an liturgies, cessio BGU II.473. Oliver, Greek
and Caracalla apokrima bonorum Constitutions (1989), 224.
regarding
surrendering of
property and
being freed from
liturgies.
Septimius Severus 200 Application to be liturgies, cessio granted P.Oxy. 12.1405, 1–14; Oliver, Greek
and Caracalla relieved from bonorum P.Oxy. 43.3105, 1–10. Constitutions (1989), 240
liturgy due to (A & B).
relinquishing of
property.
to Longinus,
authorizing the
fisc to compensate
if official Rufinus
had sold the
property of minor
Probus too
cheaply); 3.31.2
(1.7. to soldier
Marcellus, giving a
cascading list of
alternatives to a
sale of property
from an
inheritance);
4.55.2 (26.10. to
Sezus Nedymus,
(continued )
Continued
defining the rights

of re-seizure of a
slave); 6.2.1 (21.4.
to Theogenes,
defining the
actions available
for sale concluded
through slaves);
8.37.1 (15.4. to
Secundus defining
the validity of a
stipulatio); 8.40.1
(15.10. to exiled
Lysia, limiting his
liability to his
creditors).
Septimius Severus 200 A collection of 13 P.Col. 123; P.Amh. Oliver, Greek
and Caracalla apokrimata, see 63.7–12. Constitutions (1989),
Ch. 5. 226–38, see Ch. 5.
to Cyrilla granting
action on a loan to
a filiusfamilias);
5.58.1 (to Strato,
outlining
conditions for
suing on issues of
guardianship).
and Caracalla Iust. 2.3.2 (12.2. to
Claudius, on
defence against
creditors on an
inheritance).
and Caracalla (19.6. to
Trophimus,
denying action for
the cost of agency
as a freedman
against patron’s
daugters); 2.20.1
(13.5. to
Clementina,
granting action on
violation of fides);
3.8.1 (19.11. to
Marcellina,
instructing her on
how to gain
inheritance).
Septimius Severus 204 A rescript (known munera T. Drew-Bear, Oliver, Greek
and Caracalla as sacrae litterae) P. Herrmann and Constitutions (1989), 256
affirming that a W. Eck, ‘Sacrae A-B.
Roman senator is Litterae’, Chiron 7
(continued )
Continued
not required to (1977) 355–363 =

entertain public C. P. Jones, ‘Sacrae
quests, found in Litterae’, Chiron 14
Latin and Greek (1984) 93–9 = CIL III
versions in 14203; Bulletin de
Phrygia, Ephesos, correspondance
Paros and other hellénique 102 (1978),
places. 435–7.
to Romanus and
others, telling the
they should have
appealed instead
of seeking
restitution of
rights); 4.2.1 (1.7.
to Modestinus,
denying as unjust
a request to be
liberated from
inherited debt);
5.15.1 (20.7. to
Dionysia,
instructing her to
prove that a
dowry was paid
before reclaiming
it); 5.62.1 (1.5. to
Aviola, denying
exemption from
guardianship due
to being eunuch);
5.62.2 (25.8. to
Aventianus and
Cosconius,
instructing them
how to be
liberated from
part of their
curatorship); 6.22
(29.11. to
merchants,
reaffirming that
stolen property
must be returned);
6.3.1 (30.12. to
Romanus,
commanding him
to do agreed
services as
freedman); 6.26.2
(27.7. to
Phronima,
granting her
inheritance after
her son); 6.28.1
(continued )
Continued
(26.6. to Fabius,
defining extent of
testamentary
disinheritance);
6.53.2 (18.7. to
Priscus, on the
ownership of an
inherited farm);
6.53.3 (28.7 to
Aelia, resolving
whether
Pontianilla’s claim
to a legacy was
transmitted to her
heirs); 8.12.2
(31.5. to Lucius,
resolving a suit on
a pledge).
Septimius Severus 205 Rescript about Cosonia Hilaria gift Frag. Vat. 268.
and Caracalla action on a
donation.
Clemens,
allowing him to
sue a debtor for
interest); 3.33.2
(10.5. to Felix
defining that an
owner’s pledge
does not influence
his usufruct);
4.32.5 (7.7. to
Ultumius Sabinus
and others,
upholding their
defence against
creditors,
including city
defenders); 5.53.1
(1.8. to
Asclepiodotus
defining the rights
of a guardian);
5.69.1 (12.10. to
Pompeianus,
limiting his
obligations as
guardian); 6.9.2
(to Crispinus,
setting a time limit
to a claim of
inheritance);
6.46.2 (22.7. at
Antioch to
Gallicanus,
clarifying a
(continued )
Continued
curious case of
bonds and
divorces); 6.55.1
(3.11. to Crispina,
upholding her
inheritance);
7.21.2 (13.9. to
Maximus,
rejecting a
posthumous claim
of slave status);
8.15.2 (14.10. to
Latina, resolving
issue of litigation
over gardens and
pledges on them);
8.25.1 (20.4. to
Proculus,
upholding his
manumission);
8.44.2 (26.2. to
Quarta, allowing
her to sue over her
eviction by
co-heirs from
land); 9.32.1 (20.4.
to Euphrata,
denying action on
crime but
delegating issue of
inheritance to
judges).
Nica, upholding a
condition on a
dowry); 5.37.1
(30.4. to Modestus
clarifying the
responsibilities of
curators and
delegating the
issue to iudex);
5.62.3 (15.3. to
Crispianus,
rejecting a claim
for liberation from
curatorship due to
expiration of
appeal); 7.53.1
(30.1. to Justinus,
revising a decision
of iudex on
pledges).
(continued )
Continued

and Caracalla (to Saturninus,
restoring his right
to a legal defence);
2.18.6 (to Gallus,
granting action
against a curator);
3.26.2 (20.9. to
Arista, barring the
transfer of a case
to the proconsul);
5.18.2 (4.4. to
Aquila, restoring
her dowry from
the fisc); 5.28.1
(16.7. to Sperata,
granting action
against a tutor);
5.37.2 (30.4. to
Timones and
Helpidophorus,
denying action
agains a co-
curator); 8.16.2
(27.6. to Rogatus,
validating a
pledge); 8.28.1
(26.4. to
Marcellus,
nullifying
testamentary
limitation to
creditor’s rights).
Soterichus and
others, rejecting
claims on their
freedom); 7.45.1
(30.5. to
magistrate
Quintilianus,
ordering him to
retry a case from
his predecessor);
6.35.2 (25.4. to
Verus, advising on
a suit regarding
Palla’s
inheritance);
8.13.4 (30.5. to
Bellius, rejecting a
claim of coaxed
pledge); 8.40.3
(16.8. to
Maximus,
revisiting a case
(continued )
Continued
on a surety
wrongly resolved
by procurators).
to Marcellina,
rejecting as useless
her appeal on a
pledge).
to Valerius,
granting him a
new action against
his guardian);
3.32.1 (5.5. at
Eboraceum to
Caecilia, granting
validity of the
purchase of slaves
by her slaves);
6.4.1 (2.7. to
Secunda,
upholding the
rights of the fisc to
confiscated
property); 8.37.2
(4.11. to Diocletes,
granting right to
sue on stipulatio);
8.53.1 (27.6. to
Lucius, granting
action in rem
against a donor).
Septimius Severus 210 Rescript regarding Atilius Natalus inheritance Frag. Vat. 295.
and Caracalla donations under
patria potestas and
inheritance.
to Victorinus,
clarifying the
interpretation of a
will).
to Aristaenetus,
affirming his
ownership of a
building); 4.5.1
(30.7. to
Mucianus,
authorizing
recovery of
(continued )
Continued
money wrongly
paid by father);
4.5.2 (30.7. to
Secundina,
authorizing
recovery of
money).
to Severus and
others: the
procurator was
not competent
judge, but you
chose him so deal
with it).
to Protagora
defining on how
to secure the
rights of wards to
inheritance); 7.2.4
(25.11. to
Anchilaus, freeing
him from
accounting for his
father’s
transactions as
slave).
Septimius Severus Rescripts: Cod.
and Caracalla Iust. 2.31.1 (to
Honoratus,
granting action of
restitution of
rights as minor);
3.15.2 (dated at
4.2.294 at
Sirmium (?) to
Nica, on where to
accuse for
kidnapping);
4.32.4 (to Apronia
Honorata,
rejecting a claim
for interest on a
pledge); 4.35.1 (to
Leonida,
authorizing an
action on mandate
by the governor);
4.61.1 (To
Victorinus,
upholding his
manumission);
5.4.2 (to Taphina,
approving her
(continued )
Continued
marriage); 7.21.1
(to Niconis,
rejecting a belated
claim of free status
in a case of
inheritance);
7.45.1 (to Aeliana,
rejecting her
appeal on an
interest); 7.58.1
(to Firmus,
accepting a new
trial on a forged
will); 8.10.1 (to
Timotheus,
permitting the
construction of a
bath); 8.46.1 (to
Titius, permitting
a trial before a
governor on the
management of an
estate); 10.1.1 (to
Atticus and
Severus,
conditionally
upholding a gift
by their father);
10.41.1 (to
Septimius
Zenoras, freeing
him from liturgies
on behalf of infant
son); 11.32.1 (to
Herculianus,
upholding his
purchase of a land
from the city);
12.33.1 (to
Antonius,
warning him of
applying for an
imperial position
during a lawsuit).
Septimius Severus The emperors Cocceius testament, Dig. 34.9.16.1. Millar, Emperor (1992
and Caracalla judged Cassianus, Rufina illegitimacy [1977]), 534.
(iudicaverunt) a and her daughter
case concerning
the will of a
senator named
Cocceius
Cassianus in
favour of his
freedwoman
Rufina and her
daughter.
(continued )
Continued
Septimius Severus A fragmentary P.Berol. inv. 7346, R. Taubenschlag, ‘The

and Caracalla decision by verso, fragm. C, 19–20 Imperial Constitutions in
Severus and = SB 4.7366. the Papyri’, JJP 6 (1952), 9.
Caracalla on a
papyrus.
Septimius Severus An appeal by Acilius Glabrio appeal denied Dig. 4.4.18.1. Millar, Emperor (1992
and Caracalla Acilius Glabrio [1977]), 534.
over a a previous
case decided by
the emperors in
auditorio. They
did however allow
this, after two
previous hearings,
to one Percennius
Severus.
Septimius Severus Appeal by Percennius appeal accepted Dig. 4.4.18.2. Millar, Emperor (1992
and Caracalla Percennius Severus [1977]), 534.
Severus over two
previous
sentences was
accepted to be
heard in
auditorio.
Septimius Severus Decision by Surus, heirs of appeal denied Dig. 48.18.20 Paul (3 Honoré, Emperors and
and/or Caracalla cognitio on appeal debtor decr.) Lawyers (1994), 21;
from an imperial Wankerl, Appello (2009),
procurator over 172–82; Rizzi, Imperator
the debt of Surus. cognoscens decrevit (2012),
Use of torture by 403–12.
procurator
criticized and the
case dismissed due
to lack of
evidence. Emperor
not named.
Septimius Severus Decisions to Metrodorus, criminal law condemned Dig. 48.19.40 (3 decr.) Honoré, Emperors and
and/or Caracalla deport Philoctetes Lawyers (1994), 20.
Metrodorus and
relegate
Philoctetes, both
to an island for
harbouring
criminals.
Emperor not
named.
Caracalla 205 Rescripts: Cod.
Iust. 2.11.8 (20.2.
to Ulpia, on theft
and infamy);
4.15.2 (April, to
Marcus, requiring
the debtors of an
insolvent to pay);
5.72.1 (29.12. to
(continued )
Continued
Valeus, on
proving a case
against a
guardian); 9.1.2
(20.9. to Ingenuus,
on guardians
suing Secundinus
for forgery).
Caracalla 211 Rescripts: 2.4.1
(1.5. to Celerius,
on compromises
with curators);
3.28.5 (6.10. to
Aelius, allowing to
continue father’s
testament
complaint); 3.34.1
(11.11. to
Calpurnia,
allowing an action
against obstructive
building); 6.45.1
(28.12. to
Saturnina,
releasing her from
obligation to
marry); 7.59.1
(30.9. to Julianus,
rejecting his plea
for disregarding
his confession of
debt).
Iust. 1.18.1 (25.4.
to Maximus,
helping a soldier
to defend himself
in a lawsuit);
4.25.1 (25.4. to
Hermetus, liability
for a slave’s loan);
4.32.6 (11.2. to
Antigonus, on
satisfying a
resisting creditor);
5.16.1 (11.1. to
Tryphaena,
denying the
return of gifts by
intestate father);
5.28.2 (11.4. to
Sabinianus, on
(continued )
Continued
appointment of
guardians); 5.37.3
(19.8. to Eumusus,
on crediting for
necessary
expenses); 5.43.1
(13.8. to Domitia,
allowing accusing
a freedman
guardian); 5.51.1
(27.9. to Leo, on
how to prove
accounts of
guardianship);
5.75.1 (5.1. to
Mucianus,
granting action
against
magistrates for
liability of
appointing
tutors); 6.3.4
(18.4. to
Valerianus, on
recovering money
from his
freedman); 6.3.5
(13.5. to
Terentius, on
obligations of his
mother’s
freedman); 6.21.1
(9.9. to Florus,
on his brother’s
inheritance);
6.24.2 (17.6. to
Calcilius, on his
father’s
inheritance);
6.42.1 (16.8. to
Demetrius, on
proving
Demetrius’ will);
6.47.2 (17.5. to the
freedmen of
Cassianus, on
payment of
legacy); 8.8.1 (8.4.
to Justinus, on his
status and right to
sue); 8.17.2 (11.5.
to Chrestus, on
prioritizing
rights); 8.35.1
(18.7. to Claudius,
(continued )
Continued
on liabilities of the
debtor of an
inheritance);
8.43.1 (11.2. to
Apronius, saying
that he already
answered the
guestion about his
sister’s debtor);
8.44.4 (22.7. to
Georgius, on sale
and pledge on
land); 8.44.5 (17.9.
to Patroina, on
redeeming pledges
on land
purchased); 9.22.1
(7.3. to Severinus,
on suing a woman
for selling a child);
9.23.1 (5.9. to
Vallatius,
reaffirming him
as his father’s
heir); 9.47.2 (26.6.
to Valerius, saying
that his
procurator had no
jurisdiction and
thus the sentence
is void); 9.50.1
(21.12. to Aquila,
her suicidal
brother’s fortune
goes to the heirs).
Caracalla 212/213 Philiscus, a Philiscus exemption from Philiscus lost his Philostr. V S 11.30. Millar, Emperor (1992
Thessalian city obligations case [1977]), 231–2, 234, 439;
sophist, was Nörr, ‘Reskriptenpraxis’
accused of evading (1981), 34–5.
liturgies in his
home city and
tried before
Caracalla.
Caracalla was very
irritated.
Caracalla 212/213 An inscribed inhabitants of requisitioning Epigraphica Anatolica
rescript of Takina 10 (1987) 133–142.
Caracalla about
limiting military
requisitions, with
instructions to
local officials.
Caracalla 213 Rescript on how Septimia Marcia debt Epitome codicum
to compel Gregoriani et
payment from Hermogeniani
debtors. Wisigothica 12.1.
(continued )
Continued

Iust. 1.9.1 (30.6.
to Claudius
Tryphonius,
rejecting recovery
of Cornelia
Salvia’s donation
to Antiochian
Jews); 2.3.5 (25.7.
to Demagoras,
release of an
obligation); 2.3.7
(30.7. to Julius
Maximus, about
inheriting your
debtor); 2.4.2
(11.8. to Lutatia,
on compromise
about
inheritance); 2.7.1
(29.9. to Dolon,
collusion by
advocate); 2.8.1
(20.12. to
Claudius, on
prosecuting fiscal
cases); 3.8.2 (23.7.
to Magnilla,
referring a descent
case to governor);
3.31.4 (23.2. to
Vitalianus, about
the division of
expenses in a
inheritance case);
3.31.5 (27.5. to
Postumiana,
about expenses in
a case about
restoration of
inheritance);
3.33.3 (30.7. to
Antonianus, on
the inheritability
of usufruct); 3.37.1
(1.3. to Lucianus,
allowing action on
the sale of portion
of inherintance);
3.44.1 (25.10. to
Dionysia,
restoring a son’s
grave); 4.21.1 (9.9.
to Septima
(continued )
Continued
Marcia, payment
of debt by
debtors); 4.29.2
(11.8. to
Nepotiana,
denying assistance
concerning
suretyship of
women); 4.29.3
(11.8. to Servatus,
granting mother’s
exception); 4.65.2
(1.7. to Epidius
Epictetus,
granting an action
on hire); 5.12.2
(30.7. to
Alcibiades,
granting action on
dowry stipulatio
to Palla, the
applicant’s sister);
5.14.2 (22.3. to
Theodota,
denying an empty
claim); 5.16.2 (no
date, to Marcus,
granting return of
slave fraudulently
donated by soldier
to ‘housekeeper’);
5.16.3 (4.3. to
Epictetus,
reaffirming gift of
slaves to wife);
5.36.1 (25.7. to
Tiberianus and
Rufus, about
ending a
temporary
appointment of
guardian); 5.37.4
(20.9. to Procula,
about punishing
the guardian of
the applicant’s
daughter); 5.39.1
(24.6. to Septimus,
advising suing
Juliana’s curator);
5.41.1 (25.7. to
Sextus, granting
an excuse to a
(continued )
Continued
guardian); 5.44.1
(20.7. to Miltiades,
allowing him to
sue his wards);
5.51.2 (7.7. to
Praesentinus, on
how to sue
guardians); 5.54.2
(19.2. to
Valentinianus and
Maternus, on his
father’s failed
curatorship);
5.54.3 (5.7. to
Avita, telling to
sue the heirs of her
former guardian);
6.21.2 (19.2. to
Septimus, on
inheriting camp
property); 6.21.3
(1.11. to
Vindicianus,
reaffirming the
testament of
veteran Valerian);
6.25.2 (8.3. to
Cassia, rejecting
her request to
inherit her mother
despite not
fulfilling the
terms); 6.29.1
(28.6. to
Brittianus, on a
broken
testament); 6.38.1
(8.8. to Antipatra,
on what is part of
a legacy); 6.44.1
(23.2. to Septimus,
on the
interpretation of
enclosed will);
7.26.1 (13.8. to
Flavianus, on
reclaiming slaves);
7.52.1 (18.2. to
Stallator, on res
iudicata); 7.73.2
(19.10. to
Valeriana, on the
return of her
dowry); 7.73.3
(30.12. to Juliana,
on suing her
husband for
money); 7.75.1
(14.10. to Caesia,
(continued )
Continued
on recovering
fraudulently
transferred
property); 8.17.3
(11.10. to Varus,
on priority of
pledge); 8.35.2
(15.2. to Julius, on
defending his
house); 9.20.1
(21.3. to Placidus,
that his father may
sue the kidnapper
of his slave); 9.20.2
(no date, to
Aurelius, on suing
a corruptor of
slave); 9.23.2
(13.12. to Attibius,
forgiving
falsification of
will); 10.3.1 (7.1.
to Agortia,
advising on how
to restore
property lost).
Caracalla 213 Rescript on Iulius inheritance Appendices legis
responsibility due Romanae
to paternal debt. Wisigothorum duae
1.5.
Iust. 2.37.1 (2.5. to
Prunicus, appeal is
denied against
contracting party
Zenodora, a
minor); 4.2.2
(25.4. to
Hermogenes,
allowing action on
stipulatio); 4.58.1
(30.5. to Decentius
Veromilius,
granting action on
a fraudulent sale
of defective slave);
4.65.3 (6.1. to
Flavius
Callimorphus,
setting conditions
of eviction of
renter); 5.31.1
(4.2. to
Chrysantha, on
appointing a
guardian for a
lawsuit); 5.31.2
(5.7. to
(continued )
Continued
Epaphroditus, on
freedman’s duty to
have guardians
appointed); 5.40.1
(5.11. to Miltiades,
allowing one
guardian to
defend a minor in
court); 6.30.1
(July, to Titia,
releasing her from
her father’s
obligations);
6.31.1 (15.7. to
Mucianus, on
whether he
abstrained from
inheritance);
7.16.2 (5.2. to
Verenianus, on
slave status);
7.53.3 (no date, to
Agrippa,
expediting
execution of
judgment); 8.20.1
(18.11. to
Venuetus, that his
portion is not
compromised by
his brother’s
actions); 8.40.6
(21.6. to Polla,
that his father may
not be sued on
Cornelius’ loan).
Caracalla 215 A rescript about Priscianus curator Consultatio veteris
curators. cuiusdam iurisconsulti
9.8.
Caracalla 215 2.24.1 (4.4. to
Marciana,
granting action for
restoration of
inheritance);
2.53.2 (19.9. to
Dionysius,
conditionally
reinstating a case,
pending
verification by
governor); 3.28.7
(26.6. to
Secundinus,
allowing
complaint of
testament); 3.34.2
(1.7. to Martial,
about water
(continued )
Continued
servitutes); 4.6.1
(27.7. to
Callisthenes,
ordering
restoration of
dowry); 4.7.2
(17.11. to
Longinus,
rejecting the
restoration of a
house given for
dishonourable
purposes); 4.14.2
(30.8. to Baeticus,
rejecting an action
on peculium after
service); 4.19.2
(17.11. to
Auluzanus,
referring a claim
of possession to
regular courts);
4.26.3 (29.6. to
Artemon, on how
to recoup money
loaned to Prisca’s
slave); 4.30.3
(29.6. to Demetria,
on defence against
fraudulent
debtors); 4.49.1
(10.6. to Aeliana,
granting an action
on sale, not in
rem); 5.18.3 (27.8.
to Hastilia, what
happens if
husband is found
to be a slave);
5.31.3 (12.7. to
Atlanta, on
appointment of
new guardian);
5.31.4 (13.7. to
Domninus, a
creditor may ask
for appointment
of guardian);
5.32.1 (1.10. to
Aristobula, on
magistrate’s
responsibility to
appoint guardian);
5.37.5 (July, to
Rufinus,
compelling
guardians to
comply); 5.43.2
(13.1. to
(continued )
Continued
Longinus,
allowing him to
sue fraudulent
curators); 5.51.3
(29.6. to Vitalius,
estimating the
actions of his
curator); 5.53.3
(1.7. to Priscianus,
on the liability of
his defaulted
curator); 6.2.3
(8.9. to Secundus,
on suing his
stepfather for
theft); 6.31.2 (27.6.
to Severus, on
whether he
abstrained from
inheritance);
6.37.7 (11.7. to
Faustus, affirming
joint ownership of
a Fortidianian
farm); 6.42.2
(27.7. to
Eupatrius,
granting defence
on a trust); 6.42.3
(9.12. to Rufinus,
about Chrysis’
inheritance);
6.46.3 (10.7. to
Aurelius,
depriving
Aluzanus’ legatee
of inheritance);
7.29.1 (25.6. to
Zoilus, rejecting
acquisition of
slaves); 7.73.4
(29.6. to Quintus,
on protecting a
farm from debts);
8.16.3 (30.3. to
Restitulus,
affirming that
burial of his son
consecrated the
ground); 8.17.4
(9.12. to Silvanus,
resolving his
dispute over the
property of
Socianus with the
municipality of
Heliopolis); 8.38.1
(1.7. to Paulinus,
stipulation of a
minor is not
(continued )
Continued
binding); 8.40.7
(1.7. to Erotis,
about his
obligations
through
mandate); 8.46.2
(17.2 to Marania,
on ownership and
paternal power);
9.6.2 (26.9. to
Eutychianus, that
a suit of forgery is
not extinguished if
only one of the
accused dies);
9.16.1 (31.1. to
Aurelius
Herculianus and
other soldiers, that
accidental killing
is unpunished,
Coll. 1.8.1); 9.32.2
(25.4. to Primus,
allowing him to
sue his stepfather
for wasting his
inheritance).
Caracalla 216 Caracalla heard Goharian embassy priesthood SEG XVII 759. See Ch. 5. Millar, Emperor
the case of the (1992 [1977]), 38, 121,
Goharians, see 233, 455, 535–6; Nörr,
Ch. 5. ‘Reskriptenpraxis’ (1981),
35; Wankerl, Appello
(2009), 203–26.
Iust. 2.6.1 (1.8. to
Artemidorus,
rejecting further
appeal from a
decision of the
prefect of Egypt);
2.18.7 (10.3. to
Euphrata, on
inherintance);
3.44.2 (1.5. to
Hilarianus,
allowing removal
of an unwanted
body); 4.26.4
(28.12. to
Leontius, release
from father’s
debt); 4.35.3
(27.10. to
Germanus, on
concurrent suits
against debtors);
4.54.1 (no date, to
Claudia Diotima,
(continued )
Continued
upholding a
condition of sale);
5.62.4 (21.6. to
Agothodaemon,
allowing his
marriage to
Demetria, his
ward, done in
good faith); 6.25.3
(30.4. to
Maxentius and
others, allowing
them to inherit);
6.37.8 (8.3. to
Demetrius, on a
soldier’s legacy as
guardian); 7.53.4
(3.6. to Marcellus,
on satisfying his
creditors); 8.18.2
(1.10. to Felix, on
succeeding the fisc
and recovering
money); 9.6.3
(28.9. to Proculus,
that he cannot be
punished for
abandoning and
extinquished suit);
9.32.3 (3.1. to
Helena, allowing
her to sue her
former
stepmother for
wasting her
inheritance);
10.8.1 (17.11. to
Antiochus, telling
him to pay the
penalty).
Iust. 2.18.9 (22.2.
to Sallustius,
granting action
against a money-
collector); 8.37.3
(24.2. to
Hadrianus, on
recovering
money).
Caracalla wrong Rescripts: Cod.
dating Iust. year 218:
2.18.8 (27.7. to
Severus, allowing
a veteran to sue
an agent). 223:
(continued )
Continued
2.12.8 (25.8. to
Mansuetus, on the
collection of debt
for others);
3.28.10 (12.8. to
Quintilianus,
allowing claim of
inheritance
against fisc);
3.34.3 (1.5. to
Ricana,
contracting water
servitutes). 229:
3.28.12 (5.12. to
Licinius and
Diogianus,
rejecting an action
denying a child of
inheritance). 230:
2.12.12 (27.9. to
Frontinus, on the
mandate of a son
as defendant).
243: 1.18.2 (18.10.
to Sextus Juvenal,
rejecting a claim
of ignorance of
law). 277: 2.12.10
(27.2. to Castricia,
on procurators
exceeding their
mandates). 312:
2.53.1 (3.3. to
Aemilianus,
reinstating action
due to case lost
while on an
embassy). 218:
2.18.8 (27.7. to
Severus, allowing
a veteran to sue an
agent). 223: 2.12.8
(25.8. to
Mansuetus, on the
collection of debt
for others);
3.28.10 (12.8. to
Quintilianus,
allowing claim of
inheritance
against fisc);
3.34.3 (1.5. to
Ricana,
contracting water
servitutes). 229:
3.28.12 (5.12. to
(continued )
Continued
Licinius and
Diogianus,
rejecting an action
denying a child of
inheritance). 230:
2.12.12 (27.9. to
Frontinus, on the
mandate of a son
as defendant).
243:1.18.2 (18.10.
to Sextus Juvenal,
rejecting a claim
of ignorance of
law). 277: 2.12.10
(27.2. to Castricia,
on procurators
exceeding their
mandates). 312:
2.53.1 (3.3. to
Aemilianus,
reinstating action
due to case lost
while on an
embassy).
Caracalla Rescripts without
year: Cod. Iust.
3.36.2 (12.2. to
Avitianus, on
retaining dowry);
4.7.1 (no date, to
Ingenuus, on how
to be released
from a false debt);
4.30.4 (no date, to
Bassus, refusing a
complaint of false
debt if it was
partly paid); 4.31.1
(no date, to
Dianensis, on
where to recover
money paid to
fisc); 4.32.8 (no
date, to Claudius
Doryphorus, on
Bassa’s interest on
loan from
Menophanus);
4.32.9 (no date, to
Canius Probus,
limiting the
interest liability of
a debtor); 4.35.2
(no date, to Statius
Marcellinus,
(continued )
Continued
granting action on
a father’s
suretyship); 4.39.2
(no date, to Titius
Florianus,
rejecting a late
claim for a bond);
7.4.2 (no date, to
Valerius,
affirming his
freedom despite
forged will); 7.16.1
(9.2. to Saturnina,
admonishing her
for selling her
sons); 7.52.3 (no
date, to
Demetrius, telling
that if you do not
appeal, you obey);
7.53.2 (no date, to
Maximus, on
novation of
judgment); 7.73.1
(no date, to
Eutropia, on
restoring her
wrongly
confiscated
property); 8.35.3
(no date, to
Vitalis, on suing
his brother for
fraud in
guardianship);
9.47.4 (no date, to
Marina, that a boy
has the status of
her mother at
conception);
9.51.2 (no date, to
Quietus, telling
that his father’s
property stays
confiscated);
10.39.1 (no date,
to Silvanus,
advising that he
has to pay liturgies
to both Berytus
and Byblium);
10.40.1 (no date,
to Paulinus, about
civic duties);
10.53.1 (no date,
(continued )
Continued
to Numisius,
affirming
immunity from
liturgies); 10.67.1
(no date, to
Basilida, you can
sue to be freed
from liturgies);
11.30.2 (no date,
to Aphrodisius, on
obligations);
11.32.2 (no date,
no name, on bids
to lease public
lands); 12.35.1 (no
date, to Annaeus,
refusing military
pay when he was
among the
enemy); 12.35.2
(no date, to the
Soldiers of the
First Cohort,
giving them
liberty from
sordid duties after
20 years of
service).
Caracalla A rescript to Frag. Vat. 228.
Granius Firminus
about tutors and
their
responsibility.
Caracalla/ 218 A rescript on Victorina inheritance Epitome codicum
Elagabalus inheritance and Gregoriani et
patria potestas, Hermogeniani
identification to Wisigothica 13.1.
Elagabalus based
on dating.
Severus Alexander 222 A rescript about Aurelius Consultatio veteris
the petitioner’s Dionysius cuiusdam iurisconsulti
mother’s lawsuit. 9.11.
Severus Alexander 222 Rescripts: Cod.
Iust. 1.23.1 (15.7.,
procedure); 2.3.8
(12.9., procedure);
2.3.9 (12.9.,
contract); 2.18.10
(20.11., expenses);
3.32.3 (30.10.,
sale); 3.35.1 (7.11.,
damages); 3.37.2
(12.9., pledge);
(continued )
Continued
3.42.1 (1.5., slave);

4.14.3 (13.9.,
ingratitude);
4.24.2 (1.10.,
pledge); 4.44.1
(19.2., contract);
4.50.2 (20.3.,
possession); 4.54.2
(1.9., sale); 4.57.1
(8.11.,
manumission);
4.57.2 (5.12.,
manumission);
4.65.4 (1.12.,
theft); 5.34.1
(1.11., tutor); 6.2.4
(13.9., slave);
6.21.4 (16.11.,
manumission);
6.35.3 (4.4.,
testament); 7.4.3
(no date,
manumission);
7.56.1 (7.5.,
procedure); 7.64.1
(25.3., procedure);
8.29.1 (1.9.,
pledge); 8.29.2
(30.12.,
restitution); 8.37.4
(31.3., stipulatio);
8.44.6 (8.3.,
eviction); 8.44.7
(3.4., surety);
8.44.9 (22.12.,
property); 9.1.4
(16.6., procedure);
9.1.5 (1.10.,
accusation).
Iust. 2.4.3 (12.8.,
obligation); 2.21.1
(11.7., minor);
2.42.1 (21.3.,
(19.11.,
inheritance);
3.44.3 (3.7.,
procedure); 3.44.4
(2.11., sepulchre);
4.20.2 (22.4.,
status); 4.21.2
(30.9., forgery);
4.24.4 (20.4.,
(continued )
Continued
pledge); 4.26.5
(8.12., peculium);
4.29.4 (27.12.,
debt); 4.30.7
(5.11., debt);
4.31.3 (1.10.,
debt); 4.48.2
(28.3., contract);
4.55.3 (12.3., sale);
4.56.1 (30.10.,
sale); 4.56.2 (1.12.,
sale); 5.28.3
(28.12., tutor);
5.37.7 (10.7.,
tutela); 5.55.1
(14.5., tutela);
5.63.1 (20.4.,
tutor); 6.2.5 (29.4.,
procedure); 6.6.1
(14.5., infamia);
6.16.1 (10.12.,
inheritance);
6.24.3 (26.4.,
testament); 6.26.3
(22.8., testament);
6.30.2 (8.2.,
inheritance);
6.32.1 (31.3.,
testament); 6.35.4
(30.11.,
testament); 6.44.3
(7.5., dowry);
6.50.5 (18.10.,
gift); 6.58.1 (7.5.,
inheritance);
7.19.1 (no date,
status); 7.19.2
(9.8., status);
7.19.3 (27.11.,
status); 7.48.1
(3.1., procedure);
7.68.1 (20.8.,
appeal); 8.15.4
(28.10., capacity);
8.29.3 (16.9.,
(6.10., process);
8.44.10 (5.11.,
property); 8.45.1
(18.10., pledge);
9.8.1 (11.4.,
maiestas); 12.36.1
(13.11., property).
Iust. 2.11.12 (1.7.,
(continued )
Continued
infamia); 3.31.6
(22.6., tutor);
3.37.3 (3.5.,
arbiter); 3.44.6
(24.6., ownership);
4.29.5 (17.6.,
pledge); 4.51.1
(7.7., sale); 4.55.4
(21.6., status);
4.57.3 (1.2.,
manumission);
5.31.6 (22.9.,
tutor); 5.44.2
(20.4., recovery);
5.57.1 (23.1.,
tutor); 6.3.8 (11.9.,
manumission);
6.6.4 (30.9.,
ingratitude);
6.15.1 (10.1.,
inheritance);
6.25.4 (27.3.,
testament); 6.42.5
(18.1.,
inheritance);
6.47.3 (21.3.,
fideicommissum);
6.54.5 (11.8.,
fideicomissum);
7.11.4 (13.5.,
manumission);
7.58.2 (October,
evidence); 8.1.1
(26.3., interdict);
8.18.3 (1.2., debt);
8.51.1 (30.5.,
slave); 8.52.1
(27.3., procedure);
9.1.6 (3.5.,
accusation); 9.8.2
(2.2., maiestas);
12.36.3 (13.10.,
property).
Severus Alexander 224 Letter to Aphrodisias 19
Aphrodisias, (J. Reynolds,
delegating the Aphrodisias and Rome
undefined matter (London 1982)).
of the petition to
an unnamed
judge, inscribed.
Severus Alexander 225 Rescript about Modestinus, Epitome codicum
peculium. Celsorinus Gregoriani et
Hermogeniani
Wisigothica 9.1.
(continued )
Continued

Iust. 2.1.7 (March,
procedure); 4.55.5
(27.1., sale); 6.3.9
(20.2., marriage);
6.3.10 (7.8.,
manumission);
6.21.6 (20.4.,
testament); 6.26.4
(28.6., testament);
6.28.2 (8.4.,
testament); 7.4.8
(September,
testament); 8.16.4
(28.2., pledge);
8.27.4 (1.6.,
pledge); 9.23.5
(15.6., forgery);
10.4.1 (25.9., fisc).
Iust. 2.36.2 (1.8.,
(28.7., minors);
3.33.5 (1.4.,
usufruct); 4.21.3
(5.5., evidence);
5.29.2 (6.8., tutor);
6.46.4 (1.12.,
legacy); 6.50.7
(1.5., testament);
6.53.5 (20.12.,
testament); 9.49.3
(10.9., peculium
castrense).
Iust. 2.3.10
(October,
contract); 2.4.5
(1.3., contract);
2.18.11 (20.1.,
expenses); 4.6.2
(18.11., gift);
4.65.7 (9.1.,
contract); 5.16.5
(13.2., gift); 8.25.3
(11.4., pledge);
8.46.3 (9.9., patria
potestas); 9.6.4
(27.12., forgery);
9.22.4 (22.12.,
forgery).
Iust. 4.29.6
(10.10., pledge);
4.30.8 (21.3.,
debt); 4.50.3
(17.6.,
(continued )
Continued
ownership); 5.29.3
(11.4., tutor);
5.36.2 (9.6.,
curator); 5.56.3
(13.4., debt);
5.62.9 (1.2.,
tutela); 6.2.7 (4.6.,
theft); 7.21.4 (9.6.,
status); 10.5.1
(17.4., fisc).
Iust. 2.3.11 (5.12.,
contract); 2.11.13
(20.10., infamia);
4.31.5 (no date,
trust); 4.31.6
(16.11., traditio);
4.47.1 (5.12.,
contract); 5.16.6
(5.12., gift); 5.21.1
(16.11.,
compensatio);
5.37.8 (8.12.,
curator); 5.43.3
(13.1., tutor);
5.43.4 (9.9.,
tutor); 5.51.4
(29.4., curator);
6.21.7 (1.7.,
testament); 6.35.6
(17.6.,
inheritance);
7.55.1 (1.7.,
procedure); 8.33.1
(19.11., pledge).
Iust. 2.3.12 (27.2.,
contract); 2.4.6
(6.1., contract);
2.18.12 (1.8.,
debt); 2.18.13
(25.10., expenses);
3.33.6 (1.7.,
usufruct); 3.42.4
(29.4., procedure);
4.25.3 (7.5.,
action); 4.28.5
(28.2., debt, sim.
Epit. Cod. Greg
Vis. 10.1); 4.39.6
(24.6.,
inheritance);
5.37.9 (15.4.,
curator); 5.37.10
(22.7., curator);
7.10.3 (27.7.,
manumission);
8.19.1 (11.5.,
pledge); 8.40.12
(27.8., stipulatio);
9.1.7 (18.8.,
(continued )
Continued
accusation); 9.22.5
(30.8., forgery);
9.35.2 (14.5.,
iniuria).
Iust. 2.26.1 (28.1.,
tutela); 3.22.1
(20.8., slave);
4.19.3 (28.12.,
debt); 4.65.8 (1.8.,
rent); 5.11.1 (1.8.,
dowry); 5.36.3
(6.12., tutela);
5.62.11 (8.12.,
tutor); 6.2.8 (20.2.,
theft); 7.4.9 (1.4.,
testament); 7.30.2
(7.3., ownership);
8.27.5 (21.7.,
debt); 8.44.11
(5.2., property);
9.34.1 (9.2.,
fraud).
Iust. 1.21.1 (1.3.,
procedure); 2.41.1
(22.9., restitution);
5.16.7 (1.10., gift);
7.75.2 (22.7.,
inheritance);
8.42.2 (1.6.,
surety).
Iust. 2.33.1 (10.7.,
dowry); 3.26.4
(13.10., sale);
5.16.8 (27.9.,
dowry); 6.36.1
(29.6., testament);
6.50.8 (13.9.,
testament); 8.17.5
(29.4., debt).
Iust. 2.18.14
(20.2., mandate);
4.32.14 (21.4.,
loan); 4.34.1
(11.7., deposit);
5.46.1 (13.3.,
tutor).
(continued )
Continued
Severus Alexander wrong Rescripts: 236:

date Cod. Iust. 5.12.6
(11.2., dowry).
238: 2.21.2 (6.8.,
minor); 3.1.4 (1.8.,
procedure). 239:
6.58.2 (8.4.,
inheritance). 240:
6.37.12 (11.7.,
testament). 266:
2.19.2 (26.6.,
debt). 270: 1.23.2
(26.10.,
procedure).
Severus Alexander Inscribed rescript CIL VIII, suppl.,
from Numidia 17639.
about exactions of
officials, with
reference to the
imperial legate.
Severus Alexander No year Rescripts: Cod. Iust.
2.27.1 (27.8., oath);
3.36.4 (no date,
peculium
castrensis); 3.36.5
(no date, slave);
4.30.5 (no date,
debt); 4.30.6 (no
date, substitution);
4.35.4 (6.1.,
procurator); 4.35.5
(no date,
procurator); 4.54.3
(13.7., sale); 5.3.2
(no date, gift); 5.3.3
(no date, gift); 5.4.5
(no date, family);
5.5.1 (no date,
marriage); 5.39.2
(18.8., tutor); 7.8.6
(no date,
manumission);
7.10.2 (no date,
manumission);
7.11.5 (no date,
manumission);
7.14.1 (no date,
manumission);
7.16.4 (no date,
status); 7.16.5 (no
date, status); 7.21.3
(no date, status);
7.26.3 (no date,
possession); 7.26.4
(11.4., sale); 7.27.1
(11.3., ownership);
7.30.3 (no date,
ownership);
(continued )
Continued
7.32.2 (no date,

possession); 7.46.2
(no date,
procedure); 7.58.3
(26.8., evidence);
7.62.2 (no date,
procedure); 7.64.2
(no date,
procedure); 8.32.2
(no date, pledge);
8.40.10 (no date,
surety); 9.9.4 (no
date, lawful killing);
9.46.1 (no date,
calumnia); 9.47.9
(no date,
punishment); 9.51.3
(no date, debt);
9.51.4 (no date,
pardon); 9.51.5 (no
date, pardon);
10.40.2 (no date,
munera); 10.63.1
(no date, munera);
10.68.1 (no date,
munera); 11.37.1
(no date, status);
11.40.1 (no date,
taxation); 12.1.1 (no
date, status).
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Index
access, accessibility 1, 49, 51, 115, 136, arbitration 12, 162

159, 160, 162, 164, 177, 189, 199, arbitrator, arbiter 4, 8, 17, 49, 69, 91,
200, 203, 206, 213, 223, 231, 239, 109, 111, 114, 131, 134, 199, 202,
247, 249, 252, 253, 256, 260, 261, 250, 260, 273, 296
273, 293 Aristotle 32, 33, 206
adjudication, adjudicating 3–12, 14, 16, Athena’s vote 90, 91, 108
19, 20, 29, 33, 39–41, 46, 47, 52, 53, auctoritas 19, 42, 70, 97, 98, 99, 101, 103,
59, 69, 70, 81, 89, 91, 103, 105, 110, 105, 106, 108, 109, 111, 115, 119–24
111, 115, 119, 120–4, 126–8, 130, Asia Minor 1, 57
135, 137, 138, 141–4, 147–9, 151, Asinius Gallus 85, 86, 155
155, 156, 157, 159–1, 163, 167, 169, Astypalaia 87, 88
172, 177, 178, 183–5, 187, 189, audience 20, 28, 29, 47, 48, 51, 100, 124,
192–5, 197, 198, 200, 207, 208, 142, 159, 167, 202, 205, 211, 242–4,
210, 212, 218, 220, 222–4, 230, 231, 248, 251, 252, 289, 290, 294
233, 234, 238, 240–4, 260, 266–9, Augustus 3, 4, 6, 19, 29, 55–7, 65,
273, 274, 276, 278, 279–82, 284–6, 68–126, 128, 129, 134, 137–41, 143,
288–92, 294, 295, 297 144, 147, 151, 156, 161, 163, 170,
administration, administrator 2, 4–6, 171, 174, 175, 180, 183, 189, 190,
9–11, 18, 19, 21, 39, 40, 52, 57, 58, 224, 225–8, 230, 232, 236, 245, 275,
64, 68, 70, 72, 76, 78, 82, 84, 90, 93, 276, 281, 292, 293, 295, 297
103–5, 111, 122, 126, 133, 138, 147, authority 3, 4, 6, 10, 11, 21, 23, 27, 29,
151, 154, 161, 162, 176, 187, 189, 42, 53, 61, 66, 70, 72, 84, 91, 94, 99,
195, 197, 198, 202, 210, 212, 220, 108, 111, 113, 114, 120, 124, 125,
223, 226–9, 232–5, 238, 240, 241, 128, 137, 144, 145, 173, 181, 182,
245, 248, 258–60, 262–4, 266–9, 190, 199, 217, 230, 238, 250, 255,
271, 272, 277, 287, 289–91, 294, 259–62, 279, 281, 293, 295
296, 297 autocracy 13, 14, 21, 25, 73, 173, 180,
adultery 53, 78, 79, 85, 144, 185, 207, 208 196, 237, 276
Aelius Aristides 20, 23, 196, 197, autonomy 57, 88
199–206, 215, 239, 260, 275, 297 auxilium 8, 106
aequitas 38
Agrippina 142, 155, 158 Bithynia 1, 187, 190, 273
ambiguity 121 bureaucracy 4, 155, 156, 235, 242,
amicus, amici 109, 187, 248, 255 259, 286
Antoninus Pius 196, 199, 202, 203, 210,
211, 213, 215–18, 268, 284 calculus Minervae see Athena’s vote
Appeal 1, 6, 9, 12, 23, 28, 33, 35, 41, 57, Caligula 130, 134, 137, 140, 142, 147–52,
65, 67, 69, 74, 81, 82, 84, 85, 89–91, 155, 157, 173, 175, 179, 193, 224,
105–7, 111–14, 120, 146, 148, 149, 228–30, 232, 276
157, 159, 160, 163, 179, 180, 187, calumny 158
191, 194, 199, 201, 202, 204, 206, Caracalla 20, 241, 242, 244, 245, 247–9,
215, 229, 239, 243, 249, 250, 252, 251, 253, 255, 256, 264, 266, 267,
255, 258, 260, 261, 264, 281, 284, 269–71, 278, 281, 284, 286
285, 292, 294–6 case 2, 5, 8, 9, 12, 19, 20, 24, 25, 27, 28,
C. Appius Silanus 155 40, 46–8, 51–3, 60, 61, 64, 74, 76, 78,
Index 459
80–5, 87–90, 96, 105–9, 111–16, consensus 98, 99, 109
120–2, 124, 126–9, 135, 138, 141, consilium 19, 64, 113, 116, 117, 128, 144,
143–9, 151, 152, 154–9, 161–4, 148, 149, 154, 157, 161, 184, 185,
167, 178–91, 193, 194, 199, 201, 187, 193, 209, 219, 249, 260, 269,
202, 207–21, 227, 230, 231, 240, 276
242–6, 248–52, 255–8, 260, 262, Constitutio Antoniniana 8, 270, 271,
263, 266, 268, 269, 273, 280, 281, 286–9, 291
284, 290–6 constitution 6, 10, 18, 22, 35, 37, 42, 63,
Cassius Chaerea 155 68, 76, 100, 123, 147, 156, 175, 177,
Cassius Longinus 158 207, 223, 237, 238, 255, 256, 259,
Cassius Dio 3, 9, 10, 20, 51, 52, 60, 72, 262, 272, 285–7
74, 89–93, 102, 104, 105, 108, 112, constitutional, constitutionalism,
114, 115, 123, 127, 128, 130, 147, constitutionality 2–7, 10, 17, 18,
148, 151, 155, 163, 198, 203, 209, 21–3, 31, 33, 34, 44, 64, 65, 67–73,
210, 214, 220, 222, 242–4, 267, 268, 93, 94, 97, 99–101, 104–6, 108, 112,
270–81, 283, 286, 291, 295–7 119, 123, 150, 175, 176, 194, 237,
chamber pot 86, 88 274, 293, 295, 296
Christianity, Christians 14, 158, 191 constitutio, constitutiones 237, 285, 286
Cicero 8, 19, 21–5, 27–32, 34, 37–48, consul 7, 8, 27, 37, 39, 54, 85, 101,
51–6, 59–67, 74, 76, 98, 100–2, 120, 103, 117, 119, 144, 156, 162, 188,
137, 139, 189, 292, 293, 295 208, 226
citizen 5, 9, 29, 36–8, 45, 49, 76, 88, 90, corona 28
91, 101–3, 113, 128, 133, 181, 185, corrupt 6, 88, 160, 183, 194, 232
190, 192, 204, 246, 275, 287 corruption 96, 146, 182, 253
citizenship 8, 221, 257, 286, 287 court 1, 3, 6, 9, 14, 15, 36, 46, 59, 69,
civilization 29, 262 75–8, 81, 82, 92, 102, 104, 107, 109,
civilizing 13, 235 111, 114–18, 128, 147, 149, 150,
civil matter 7, 12, 81, 108, 210, 248 152, 155–7, 160, 162, 163, 167, 181,
civil war 25, 27, 34–6, 38, 52, 59, 60, 62, 193, 194, 202, 208, 210, 214, 220,
64, 67, 92, 98, 100, 109, 132, 241, 221, 249, 255, 256, 266, 269, 272,
268, 280 278, 279, 281
Claudius 127, 130, 134, 137, 140–2, 147, crime 41, 53, 63, 78, 102, 140, 179, 208,
148, 151–7, 164, 165, 167, 170, 175, 229, 269, 271, 272
179, 182, 193, 221, 224, 226–8, 230, criminal 37, 38, 41, 47, 60, 64, 278
233, 276, 277 criminal case 40, 112, 143, 147, 161, 178,
clemency 25, 27, 29–31, 37, 41, 44, 60, 179, 212
75, 120, 132, 134, 136, 137, 191, 293 criminal court 114
clementia 38, 41, 45, 46, 60, 62, 67, 75–7, criminal jurisdiction 71, 92, 107,
97, 100, 101, 124, 130–2, 135–8, 143, 275
140–2, 146, 188, 193 criminal law 29, 88
Cocceius Nerva 181, 182 criminal matter 7, 12, 24, 108, 248
codification 54, 234 criminal proceedings 59
coercion 11, 39, 58 crisis 8, 34, 46, 241
coercitio 78
cognition, cognitio 5, 40, 64, 111, 114, death penalty 29, 92, 281
116, 146, 156, 185–7, 219, 249, 251, decemvir 80, 95, 96, 208, 237
253, 271, 294, 295 deprecatio 41, 65
coinage 100, 105, 238 diadem 54, 102
collegium, collegia 61, 105, 176 dictator, dictatorship 8, 11, 13, 14, 19,
Commodus 196, 222, 223, 241, 255, 268, 23, 27, 28, 30–2, 34, 35, 37, 43, 44,
271, 273, 277 46, 47, 52–4, 56, 62, 65–7, 95, 98,
commonwealth 31, 37, 38, 83, 95 102, 104, 229
460 Index
Didius Julianus 277 father 19, 20, 23, 25, 32, 41, 42, 47, 48,
Digest 1, 112, 113, 128, 144, 161, 192, 61, 74, 77, 81, 95, 96, 99, 100, 109,
198, 210, 211, 222, 254, 282, 290 118, 120, 124, 128, 133, 134, 137,
divine 23, 51, 54–8, 62, 66, 67, 74, 105, 139, 179, 207–9, 218, 227, 231,
126, 134, 146, 150, 170–2, 202, 264, 236, 293
285, 296 formal powers 7, 39, 121
divine honour 51, 54, 55, 56, 57, 62, 134, formalism 2, 17, 119
146, 150 Forum 10, 25, 26, 28, 48, 49, 53, 54, 97,
dominus 32, 102, 129, 220 116, 117, 125, 138, 148, 151, 156,
Domitian 149, 159–61, 164, 167, 175, 161, 164–7, 202, 210, 231, 266
177, 179, 188–91, 193, 227, 228, free city 88
230, 274, 277 freedom 40, 59, 63, 95, 96, 236
domus 26, 50, 75, 145, 165, 168 friend, friendship 30, 34, 45, 46, 58, 60,
domus publica 26, 49, 50, 118, 165 61, 66, 77, 85, 92, 101, 128, 139, 141,
145, 152, 154, 159, 179, 180, 182,
edict 4, 37, 39, 54, 63, 64, 69, 73, 75, 76, 199, 203, 209, 225, 247, 255
80, 82–4, 101, 108, 116, 154, 156, functionalism 2, 8, 119
175, 189, 190, 197, 231, 234,
238, 268 Gaius Gracchus 37
Egypt, Egyptian 1, 6, 57, 60, 92, 244–7, Galba 52, 53, 159, 175, 277
254, 256, 258, 288 Geta 264, 270
Elagabalus 242, 271, 272, 279, gift 59–61, 67, 75, 76, 81, 93, 135, 137–9,
280, 286 224, 229
equites 91, 92, 100, 104 good judge 6, 7, 33, 148, 184, 216,
equity 38, 66, 141, 146, 209, 256 227, 268
ethics 13, 14, 134–7, 139, 145, 193, 243, governor 1, 5, 8, 9, 12, 19, 25, 37, 39–41,
261, 282, 285, 286, 289–91 44, 52, 66, 69, 88, 107, 110, 111, 120,
Euboulos (son of Chrysippos) 85, 86 121, 124, 155, 156, 185, 190, 197,
execution 16, 45, 59, 60, 92, 127, 149, 201, 212, 215, 216, 220, 240, 245,
153, 158, 178, 184, 229, 262, 280 246, 249, 250, 252, 254, 260, 265,
executive power 42, 107, 110, 121, 273, 289, 294
123, 295 greed 30, 161, 233
exemplum, exempla 3, 97, 100, 141, 169, Greek 1, 13, 19, 29, 32, 33, 41, 57, 58, 66,
174–7, 220, 224, 229 97, 136, 139, 142, 152, 154, 160, 197,
exception 6, 11, 13, 43, 59, 68, 73, 80, 200, 203–6, 209, 221, 242, 273, 275,
104, 110, 122, 126, 174, 181, 201, 294, 295
209, 252
exile 27, 29, 47, 53, 73–7, 79, 208, Hadrian 20, 54, 126, 128, 156, 196–9,
221, 296 202, 207–15, 217, 220, 223–6, 228,
experimentation 64, 72, 122 232, 234, 235, 237–40, 242, 249,
extraordinary 3, 22, 24, 31, 36, 37, 43, 253, 262, 293
62, 63, 65, 66, 70, 73, 94, 98, 99, 101, Hellenistic 19, 23, 33, 51, 54, 57, 58, 62,
124, 139, 170, 199, 204, 210, 215, 66, 107, 133, 135, 136, 139, 150, 193,
230, 273 206, 247, 261, 275, 285
honour 40, 55, 62, 96, 102, 138,
façade 103, 119, 120, 229 144, 199
faeces 86 hostis 36
familia 42, 109, 207 house 34, 45, 48, 49, 51, 63, 75, 86, 87,
familia Caesaris 236 105, 118, 179
family 35, 75, 81, 105, 117, 128, 141, 142,
144, 145, 147, 157, 183, 193, 208, idealization 15, 105, 198, 234, 235, 240
232, 236, 269 Ides of March 25, 43, 55, 58
Index 461
ideology 2, 8, 11, 104, 124 183, 184, 188, 191, 195–9, 201,
image 8, 20, 23, 24, 29, 42, 51, 52, 57, 58, 202, 206, 207, 209–11, 213, 215,
61, 66, 67, 74, 80, 89, 90, 93, 95, 98, 216, 218, 219, 221, 222, 224, 226–8,
103, 107, 108, 111, 119, 122, 124, 230, 231, 233, 234, 236, 240, 241,
127, 128, 130, 132, 133, 135, 136, 247, 249, 250, 252, 256, 260, 261,
143, 147, 148, 157, 159, 160, 177, 265, 266, 268, 270–2, 276, 278,
178, 181, 183–5, 188, 189, 282–4, 290, 291, 293–5
192–4, 202, 207, 209, 210, 217, Julius Caesar 8, 19, 21–30, 32, 37, 38, 40,
219, 224, 228, 230, 232, 233, 236, 41–9, 51–62, 64–7, 74, 80, 90, 98,
238, 243, 244, 252, 253, 265, 271, 101, 102, 137–9, 165, 225–7, 275,
274, 276, 293 292, 293
imaginary 17, 25 Junia Calvina 155
immorality 78, 160 L. Junius Silanus 155
imperial adjudication 3, 4, 7–10, 12, 16, M. Junius Silanus 148
20, 120, 126–8, 130, 138, 141, 143, jurisdiction 2–8, 10, 12, 13, 17–19, 21–5,
151, 156, 163, 167, 169, 178, 183, 27, 29, 33, 36, 38–40, 43, 44, 46, 49,
184, 193, 195, 197, 198, 200, 207, 51–3, 55–7, 59, 65–74, 81, 82, 84,
218, 223, 224, 238, 240–4, 268, 273, 88–96, 99, 103–17, 119, 120,
274, 282, 285, 286, 288–92, 294, 123–8, 130, 133, 140, 142–5,
295, 297 147–51, 155–8, 161–3, 169, 176–83,
imperium 19, 39, 69, 70, 76, 78, 101, 187, 189, 192–4, 197, 198, 205, 207,
105–9, 111, 112, 119–21, 123, 124, 209, 210, 216, 220, 224, 227, 233–5,
145, 162, 171, 173, 194, 237, 283 239, 242, 253, 260, 268, 274, 275,
imperium maius 8, 12, 43, 65, 71, 101, 281, 288, 289, 292–7
108, 112, 145 justice 1, 4–6, 9, 13–15, 20, 22, 34–6,
inheritance 81, 82, 109, 128, 187, 38, 40, 48, 53, 57, 59, 63, 66, 67,
193, 238 87, 88, 90, 96, 105, 107, 116, 119,
insane, insanity 20, 126, 127, 136, 143, 120, 122, 124–8, 132, 133, 137–43,
146, 147, 149–51, 193, 224, 229, 146, 159, 161, 164, 167, 184, 195–9,
230, 232, 237, 291, 293 201, 202, 206, 207, 209, 210, 213,
invention 10, 159 214, 218, 220, 223, 226, 227, 230,
ira 75–7, 132 233–5, 238–43, 246, 247, 250, 251,
irony 24, 28, 62, 100, 217 258, 260, 261, 264–6, 269, 273,
iudex 49, 69, 106, 113, 163, 265 276–8, 282, 285, 287–91, 293,
iudicium 113 296, 297
iuridicus, iuridici 4, 210
ius 22, 34, 36, 53, 88, 90, 133, 170, 172, kangaroo court 59
226, 227, 237, 285 king 9, 14, 16, 20, 23, 27, 31–3, 48–51,
ius auxilii 91 54, 56–8, 66, 88, 96, 107, 124, 127,
ius civile 54, 287, 288 132, 133, 135–7, 152, 192, 197, 198,
ius gentium 287, 288 205–7, 216, 218, 224, 243, 244, 247,
ius naturale 288 250–2, 261, 273, 275, 285, 286, 289,
ius publicum 145 291, 293, 295, 296
ius respondendi 234, 238, 239, 259 kingship 13, 16, 18, 33, 51, 55–7, 66, 129,
Iustitia Augusta 122 130, 132–5, 139, 161, 203, 218, 264,
275, 294, 296
judge 1–6, 8, 10–12, 16, 18–22, 27, 36–8, Knidos 84–9, 107, 295
41, 42, 46, 51–5, 66–71, 74, 75, 81, knight 25, 91, 141, 164, 186
89, 90, 92, 93, 96, 103, 106, 110, 114,
115, 118, 120, 121, 124, 127, 130, Late Republic 1, 8, 22, 24, 25, 31, 34, 36,
133–5, 146, 148, 149, 156, 157, 39, 40, 49–51, 56, 58, 62, 65–7, 69,
159–61, 163, 167, 171, 177, 178, 126, 295
462 Index
law 2, 4, 6–18, 20–2, 29, 31, 34–9, 42, 48, magister equitum 27
51–4, 58, 59, 63, 64, 66, 68, 69, 76, magistracy 35, 40, 65, 69, 98, 101, 106,
80, 81, 88, 89, 94, 96, 97, 102, 104, 119, 156, 173, 221, 294
106–8, 111–13, 115–17, 125–8, magistrate 2, 3, 8, 11, 12, 19, 22, 23,
130, 132–5, 137, 139, 141–3, 145–9, 29, 31, 32, 37–41, 43, 46, 47, 51,
155, 156, 158, 159, 161–4, 169–76, 52, 55, 66, 76, 82, 85, 89, 92, 94–6,
179–81, 183, 185, 188–91, 193, 194, 98, 99, 108, 109, 111, 113, 114,
197–9, 202, 206, 209, 211–13, 116, 121, 124, 125, 147–9, 155,
215–18, 220–2, 224, 225, 227–30, 164, 175, 179, 181, 191, 197, 215,
233–40, 242, 243, 247, 249, 250, 223, 228, 230, 245, 247, 254, 278,
253, 255, 259–63, 265, 267–71, 281, 293, 294
273–80, 282–91, 293, 294 maiestas 5, 14, 27, 60, 71, 83, 84, 89,
lawyer 2, 5, 6, 158, 177, 212, 216, 219, 107, 113, 116, 127, 142, 143, 145,
239, 240, 243, 251, 255, 261, 262, 147, 150, 155, 157, 160, 161, 163,
268, 272, 282, 287, 288 178, 181, 182, 191, 193, 194, 256,
legal history 2, 3, 8, 11, 13, 70 277, 280
legalism 4, 64, 68, 94, 295 maiores 22
legal procedure 4, 5, 65, 80, 146, 180, Marcus Aurelius 196, 202, 203, 205, 206,
187, 296 213, 215, 218–21, 249, 255, 284
legal system 4, 17, 68, 95, 115, 149, marriage 53, 78, 81, 150,
180, 197, 202, 214, 261, 266, 284, 222, 288
286, 288 memory 19, 23, 24, 116, 124, 140, 142,
legate, legatus, legati 4, 25, 40, 156, 175, 223, 272
157, 290 historical memory 4, 23, 34, 44, 65,
legislation, legislative 2, 4, 5, 10–13, 18, 66, 187, 236, 293
19, 35, 52, 57, 68, 70, 74, 81, 92, 97, Messalina 155, 167, 182
105, 106, 110, 113, 114, 120, 123, monster 30, 74, 77, 78, 95, 100, 102,
127, 156, 160, 169, 172, 174, 175, 127, 147
228, 234, 238, 259, 283–5, 288, 294 moral 13, 14, 46, 79, 80, 91, 95, 97, 102,
legitimacy, legitimation 3, 6, 7, 11, 17, 108, 122, 134, 135, 137, 139, 141,
18, 36, 38, 41, 46, 72, 86, 140, 145, 160, 193, 207, 218, 228, 233,
174, 222 281, 285, 286, 288–90
letter 1, 4, 12, 28, 77, 78, 84, 88, 116, morality 242
152, 154, 161, 175, 184, 186, 187, mos 22, 34, 183
189–91, 199, 200, 202, 204, 212, mos maiorum 18, 37, 102, 158
215, 220, 221, 231, 247, 248, 254, Mussolini, Benito 15
255, 257, 258, 284, 289 myth 14, 16, 20, 251, 286, 289
lex Iulia de maiestate 24
lex de imperio Vespasiani 19–20, 110, narrative 2–4, 7–10, 16–20, 23, 51, 52,
128, 169, 174–7, 194, 282, 293 54–6, 65, 69–72, 74, 94–6, 99, 100,
lex regia 110, 174, 283 105, 107, 121, 123, 124, 127, 128,
literature 33, 34, 51, 82, 95, 132, 133, 140, 141, 143, 147, 149, 151, 159,
150, 153, 154, 164, 183, 206, 208, 163, 167, 178, 179, 185, 192, 193,
216, 224, 273, 285 197, 207, 209, 213, 214, 216, 218,
Livia 78, 179 219, 222–4, 234, 237–41, 243, 244,
living law 14, 20, 58, 243, 268, 283, 253, 264, 269, 270, 272, 274, 276–8,
285, 288 282, 285, 290, 292–7
Louis IX 16 Nero 130–2, 134, 135, 137, 139, 142,
Lucius Verus 196, 203, 215, 219, 255, 262 147, 148, 155, 157–60, 167, 173,
175, 179, 183, 184, 186, 187, 193,
Macrinus 242, 271, 278, 279 202, 227, 228
mad see insane Nerva 160, 190
Index 463
order 1, 2, 14, 59, 63, 67, 69, 98, 99, 104, 186–8, 192–5, 197, 200–3, 205–8,
114, 204, 293 211, 216–18, 220, 221, 223, 224,
Otho 175, 176 230, 232, 234, 236–9, 243, 250, 260,
Ovid 3, 9, 19, 70, 73–81, 92, 93, 95, 96, 261, 264, 265, 268, 270, 273–6,
100, 101, 104, 105, 107, 109, 111, 278–83, 285, 288, 290–7
118–20, 122–4, 293 praetor 37, 39, 40, 49, 53, 54, 64, 66, 69,
117, 151, 162, 179, 197, 209, 222,
pardon 25, 28, 30, 31, 41, 45, 59–61, 63, 234, 238, 260, 277, 278, 280, 294
77–9, 82, 92, 139, 182, 232, 270 praetor peregrinus 63, 111
παρούσης 85 praetor urbanus, city praetor 90, 111,
paterfamilias 8, 19, 29, 41, 42, 49, 66, 113, 115, 230, 262, 268
70, 106, 109, 116, 132, 133, 147, praetorian cohort 10
150, 208 praetorian guard 268
pater patriae 42, 81, 99, 109, 133 prefect 9, 162, 245, 270, 272
patria potestas 20, 42, 109, 124, 207, 208, city/urban prefect 4, 113, 157, 158,
211, 227 210, 234, 262, 268
Paul (apostle) 157 praefectus annonae 255, 284
Paul (jurist) 1, 210, 212, 218, 269, praefectus praetorio, praetorian
284, 290 prefect 4, 210, 220, 225, 243, 248,
perduellio 25, 60 268, 272, 284
Pertinax 268, 277, 296 princeps 42, 57, 66, 75, 99–103, 107, 109,
petition, petitioner 1, 4, 6, 7, 9, 12, 13, 121, 126, 133, 142, 145, 173, 183–5,
16, 19, 20, 24, 40, 41, 48, 59–61, 65, 188, 237, 239, 276, 283
70, 71, 73, 74, 82, 84, 88–90, 107, princeps senatus 117, 192
110, 111, 114, 115, 121, 126, 138, Principate 7, 11, 14, 42, 43, 46, 69, 71–4,
159, 162, 164, 177, 190–2, 194–7, 76, 80, 89, 94, 95, 98–100, 103, 104,
199, 202, 209, 210, 212–16, 223, 119, 123, 127, 132, 135, 139, 146,
231, 238, 239, 242–61, 263–7, 269, 163, 174, 179, 192, 227, 228, 233,
273, 278, 280, 281, 287, 289–96 234, 236, 242, 275, 276, 282, 292
Philinos 86 privilege 11, 15, 16, 88, 90, 91, 148, 160,
Plato 32, 33 175, 196, 199, 200, 222, 236, 238,
plebs 24, 58, 65, 100, 171, 236 249, 266, 271, 273, 281, 287
Pliny the Younger 9, 10, 19, 128, 133, proconsul 8, 36, 40, 41, 69, 82, 83, 85,
161, 162, 175, 177, 178, 184, 185, 101, 108, 119, 145, 171, 194, 210,
187–95, 206, 225, 226, 232–4, 236, 217, 220
282, 297 propraetor 25, 41
poet 75, 80, 92, 93, 122, 129 property 16, 27, 34, 35, 53, 56, 62–4, 76,
pomerium 90, 91, 108, 170, 171 142, 161, 183, 211, 222
Pomponius 10, 23, 162, 197, 212, 237, proscription 13, 14, 25, 28, 35, 45, 60,
239, 240, 285 62, 64, 66, 67, 92, 102, 116, 124, 280
pontifex maximus 49, 82, 85, 119, 259 province 5, 9, 12, 19, 39–41, 52, 62, 74,
Poppaea 182 82–4, 89, 93, 107, 108, 111, 119, 121,
popular sovereignty 13, 18, 22, 104, 144, 156, 160, 161, 183, 186, 191,
110, 283 204, 215, 228, 246, 257, 264, 271,
potestas 20, 42, 58, 70, 71, 98, 106, 109, 287, 288, 289, 293–7
124, 170–2, 180, 207, 208, 211, 227 provocatio 34, 35, 37, 46, 96, 113, 114
power 3–11, 13, 15, 16, 19–24, 31, Putin, Vladimir 15, 16
33–7, 39–43, 45–7, 51, 53, 56, 57,
59–61, 64–76, 80, 82, 84, 85, 87, quaestio (perpetuae,
89–92, 94–112, 115, 119–31, 133, extraordinariae) 27, 29, 36, 39,
134, 136, 137, 139–42, 145–51, 157, 163
156–9, 164, 169–78, 180, 181, 183, quasi-sovereignty 39
464 Index
reform 39, 52, 54, 55, 65, 79, 97, 105, 199, 209, 220, 230, 236, 242, 267,
116, 161, 197, 198, 228, 234, 235, 269, 273, 277–81, 284, 291, 295, 296
238, 240–2, 270, 271, 275, 276, senatusconsultum, senatusconsulta 4,
287, 289 156, 175, 238, 247
regna omnia 39 Seneca the Elder 9, 10, 13, 19, 23, 53, 56,
regnum 32 70, 80–2, 92, 100, 102, 104, 117,
relegatio, relegation 19, 39, 74, 76, 127–42, 147, 150, 151, 157, 161,
78–80, 119, 122–4, 155, 212 169, 173, 177, 184, 188, 189, 193,
repression 15, 63, 160 195, 202, 232, 234, 236, 268, 282,
Republic, Republican 1–4, 8, 18, 19, 285, 293, 297
21–5, 27, 31, 34–7, 39–44, 49–52, Septimius Severus 20, 241, 242, 244,
56, 58, 62, 65–74, 94–105, 107, 264, 266, 268, 270, 272, 273,
109–12, 114, 116, 119–21, 123, 124, 277, 284
126, 128, 129, 132, 135, 140, 142, Severan period 1, 20, 241, 242, 247, 262,
143, 147, 151, 156, 164, 174, 177, 274, 282, 286, 287, 290
179, 180, 193, 194, 204, 229, 233, Severus Alexander 1, 242, 255–7, 266,
260, 268, 274–7, 281, 292, 293, 270–3, 283
295, 296 shared conviction 3, 17, 70, 114,
rescript 4–6, 12, 84, 128, 144, 161, 192, 124, 292
197, 198, 200, 204, 207, 209–17, C. Silius 155, 182
223, 234, 238–43, 247, 248, 253–6, Solomon 16
258–67, 269–73, 284, 287, 288, 291, sovereign 7, 11–14, 19, 23, 24, 33, 41, 43,
294, 295 46, 52, 53, 57, 66, 67, 73, 74, 94–6,
responsum, responsa 261 100, 102–4, 106, 107, 115, 119, 129,
revenge 77, 135, 136, 187 133, 180, 192, 193, 197, 233, 237,
rhetorics 7, 24, 38, 41, 67, 95, 134, 154, 252, 268, 281, 282, 290, 291, 293
167, 191, 223, 242, 243, 252, 253, sovereignty 8, 11, 13, 18, 22, 40, 55–7,
258, 265 73, 99, 104, 110, 128, 169, 194, 216,
Roman Empire 1, 2, 6, 11, 197, 203, 204, 239, 268, 282, 283, 289, 290, 293,
246, 262, 274, 287, 289, 290, 295 296, 297
Roman Republic 19, 24, 35, 37, 74, 95, subscript 12, 245, 247, 252, 254–9, 265
98, 100, 204, 274, 275 Suetonius 3, 9, 10, 21, 22, 51–4, 56, 62,
Rostra 25, 26, 28, 54, 165 70, 72, 74, 89, 90, 92, 93, 102, 112,
rule of law 6 114, 115, 117, 127, 128, 135, 137,
147–9, 151, 155–7, 160, 163, 164,
safety 35, 81, 86, 87, 122, 136, 197, 198, 224–33, 236, 237, 240,
276, 280 274, 297
salutatio, salutation 59, 199, 231,
252, 279 Tacitus 9, 10, 19, 22, 102, 119, 121,
Saturninus 56 127–30, 135, 143–5, 147, 148, 155,
Senate 5, 9, 24, 25, 49, 57, 61, 65, 71, 75, 157, 159, 163, 167, 175, 177–84,
76, 84, 94, 97, 99–104, 107–9, 111, 193–5, 225, 228, 232–4, 236, 274,
113, 116–18, 124, 125, 129, 140, 293, 295
141, 143–6, 148–51, 155–9, 162, terror 14, 122, 127, 131, 146, 149,
163, 169, 170, 171, 175–84, 186, 160, 193
189, 193, 194, 208, 210, 220, 228, Tiberius 19, 85, 103, 115, 126–9, 134,
229, 234, 236, 238, 247, 268, 274–7, 143–9, 151, 162–4, 170, 171, 174,
280, 281, 293, 295 175, 177–82, 224, 228–30, 276,
senator, senatorial 53, 55, 62, 63, 81, 82, 277, 293
91, 103, 125, 128, 129, 138, 140–2, Tiberius Gracchus 55, 56
144, 148, 150–2, 157, 158, 163, 175, Titus 175, 230, 231
176, 181, 183–5, 188, 189, 192–4, totalitarianism 11, 13, 15, 104
Index 465
tradition, traditional 2, 7, 8, 10, 16, 18, 196, 197, 218, 224, 230, 233, 234,
19, 22, 23, 31–7, 41, 42, 44, 47, 52, 251, 263, 275, 276
54, 57, 58, 65–7, 74, 78, 81, 94, 96,
98, 102, 103, 106–12, 121, 132, 139, Ulpian 8, 18, 20, 88, 110, 174, 211, 212,
146, 150, 153, 154, 164, 174, 176, 214, 220, 237, 242, 243, 255, 261,
177, 180, 181, 185, 192, 193, 204, 262, 272, 280, 282–9
207, 208, 214, 223, 229, 251, 259, universal consent 97, 98
264, 270, 284, 285, 288–90, 293–6
Trajan 19, 54, 126–8, 133, 161, 162, 164, vadimonia, vadimonium 36, 117
166, 177, 184–92, 195, 202, 206, Valerius Asiaticus 167, 182
211, 213, 225, 228, 236, 256, 268, Valerius Nepos 219
277, 293 Vespasian 110, 127, 149, 159, 164,
trial 13, 14, 15, 23, 25–8, 35, 37, 41, 169–77, 199, 225, 230, 231, 233
44–9, 51, 53, 54, 60, 64, 66, 67, 70, veteran 53, 61, 138
71, 74, 76, 92, 113, 117, 122, 127, vetus mos 158
128, 138, 140–2, 144, 147, 152, 154, violence 1, 37, 63, 64, 87, 179, 193, 222,
158, 160, 161, 163, 164, 167, 270, 276, 293
178–80, 182, 186, 195, 220, 228, vir bonus 12
234, 242, 248, 251, 258, 266, 269, virtue 11, 14, 28, 29, 31, 40, 42, 43, 58,
273, 279 76, 77, 91, 93, 96, 97, 99, 103, 109,
tribunus plebis, tribuni plebis, plebeian 119, 122, 127–33, 135, 137, 139–42,
tribune 7, 8, 37, 119 145, 159, 185, 188, 189, 193, 195,
tribune 90, 137, 185 198, 206, 218, 219, 223, 224, 226,
tribunicia potestas, tribunician 227, 232, 233, 235, 236, 241, 275,
power 58, 70, 71, 82, 85, 90, 106, 281, 285, 287, 289, 291, 293
171, 176, 194 vis 113, 222
triumvirate 14, 62, 64, 65, 89, 92, Vitellius 169, 175, 230
116, 183 L. Vitellius 155
Tryphera 85–9, 293, 297 Voconius Saxa 220
tyranny, tyrannical, tyrant 7, 13, 19, 23,
28–38, 43, 54–6, 58, 66, 71, 96, 128, warlord 19, 24, 32, 34, 56, 66,
130, 132, 133, 135, 139, 148, 189, 92, 295
Index Locorum
The abbreviations follow the convention of the Oxford Classical Dictionary. For the
sake of clarity, epigraphical abbreviations have been spelled out.
Acta Isidori Caes.

col. ii, 1–52 152, 153–4 B Alex.
Acts of the Apostles 65.4 52
22.25–6 157, 315 B Civ.
23.27 157, 315 1.5 36
25.6–22 157, 315 1.7 36
AE (L’Année Épigraphique) B Gall.
1953, 27–8 no. 73 225 1.54.3 40
Amm. Marc. 5.1.5 40
16.5.12 11, 303 5.2.1 40
6.44.3 40
Inscriptions of Aphrodisias
19 407 Cass. Dio
Appendices legis Romanae 1.1 274
Wisigothorum duae 6.3.4 312
1.5 383 36.31.3–32.1 43
41.62 61
App. 42.19–20 27, 275, 300
B Civ. 42.20 37
1.57 37 43.12.3 300
1.59 37 43.12–13 61
1.60 36 43.14.4 27
1.73.340 34 43.47.4 301
1.99 34 51.2.4–5 92
Aristid. 51.16.1 92
Or. 51.16.3 92
26.32–3 201 51.19.5–7 295
26.33 196 51.19.6–7 70, 91, 108
26.37–9 202 51.19.7 105, 110, 112,
26.39 196 120, 275
47.23 205 52.31–3 104, 281
Arist. 52.33.3 331
Pol. 53.16–18 275
3.1285b.8–12 33 53.17.5–7 92, 120
53.17.6 108, 275
Ath. 53.17.6–7 1
4.29 150 53.19 277
BGU (Berliner Griechische Urkunden) 53.22.5 303
I.140 213 53.28.2 11
I.267 350 53.32 101
II.473 351 53.32.5 108
II.511 152, 312 54.10.5 108
Index Locorum 467
54.15.4 93 71(72).35.2 204
55.4.3 305 72(73).9.1 222
55.7.2 92 72(73).10.2 222
55.32.1–2 307 72(73).12–13 222
55.33.5 70, 90, 115, 117 74.1 277
56.24.7 308 74.5 268, 277
56.27.1 308 74.8 268, 277
57.7.2–6 148, 164, 277, 74.9 335
310, 331 74.12 277
59.3–6 275 74.12–14 277
59.8.5 148 74(75).1–5 277
59.8.7 150, 311 75.16.3–4 268
59.10.4 150, 311 76.7–8 278
59.10.7 150, 311 76(77).17.1 331
59.11.6 150, 311 76(77).17.1–3 268
59.18.1–3 277 77.8–9 280
59.18.2 149 77.17 278
59.18.2–3 149 78.1.1–2 270
59.20.6 150, 311 78.1–4 278
59.22.5–9 150, 311 78.3.3 270
59.23.9 150, 311 78.9.4 286
60.3.4 155 78.17.3 271, 278
60.3.7–4.2 155 78.18.2–3 267, 271, 278
60.3.9–4.2 314 79.11 278
60.3.7–60.4.4 277 79.11.2 271
60.4.3–4 151 79.40 279
60.14.2–4 155, 312 79.41 279, 296
60.24.4 155, 312 79(80).13–14 279
60.27.5 155, 312 79(80).14.3–4 272
60.28.6 151, 277 80.1–2 280
60.29.4–6a 155, 277, 312 80.1–2.3 272
60.31.1–5 155 Cic.
60.31.7 155, 313 Att.
61.10.1 130 5.13 40
64.2.1–2 159 6.2.4 41
64.2.3 277 9.7c 46
65(66).10.5 159, 164, 231 9.16 46
65(66).13.1 159, 317 9.10.3 35
65(66).9.5 274 9.15.2 34
67.4.2 160, 277, 317 11.20 60
67.12.2 160, 317 13.33a 52
67.14.1 160, 318 14.1.2 300
67.14.3 160, 317 16.16c 64
67.14.4 160, 317
Balb.
67.17 160, 277, 317
43 52
68.10.2 161, 277
69.4.1–3 210, 321 Brut.
69.6 214 21 300
69.7.1 164, 331 45.168 36
69.7.1–2 210 Cat.
69.18.2–3 210 1.4 36
71(72).28.2–3 220, 331 1.27–8 36
468 Index Locorum
Cic. (cont.) Phil.
Deiot. 1.2.4 43
2.5–6 49 1.3 65
5–7 48 2.34.85 55
De or. 2.43.110 55
3.138 42 2.91 65
2.93 301
Dom. 3.8.21 76
37.100 51
Pis.
43 35
21.50 52
Fam. Q. Fr.
6.6.10 59 1.1.21 64
6.13–14 28 3.5.1 43
6.13.3 300
6.14 300 Rab. Perd.
9.9.3 59 35 36
9.12.2 301 Rep.
11.16.2 38 1.16.25 42
13.19 59 2.26.47–48 32
13.29 59, 301 4.10.11 42
Har. resp. Rosc. Am.
54 56 139 43
Leg.
3.11.3 63 Top.
4.23 38
Leg. agr.
2.35 38 Tull.
3.5 31, 35 3.7 64
Leg. Man. Verr. II
52 43 1.27 41
56 43 1.71–6 41
60 22 2.8 43
61 43 2.25 41
2.60–1 41
Lig.
2.68–75 41
9 30
3.82 35
11 7, 29
3.152 64
12 30, 34, 35
3.213–18 43
13–14 30
17 37 CIL (Corpus Inscriptionum
18 59 Latinarum)
19 37, 38 VI
23 38 266 257
29–30 59 930 169
30 41 3770 269
31–8 45 21046.33 272, 286
31207 169
Off. 31330 269
2.60 42 32327.11–12 266
3.45 33 32327.22–4 266
Part. or. VIII
37.130 38 10570 223, 335
Index Locorum 469
VIII, suppl. 2.18.11 409
17639 414 2.18.12 411
2.18.13 411
Cod. Iust. 2.18.14 413
1.9.1 376 2.19.2 414
1.18.1 271, 371 2.20.1 353
1.18.2 394, 396 2.21.1 403
1.20.1 253 2.21.2 414
1.21.1 255, 413 2.23.1 345
1.23.1 401 2.24.1 385
1.23.1–2 255 2.26.1 412
1.23.2 414 2.27.1 414
1.26.2 268 2.30.1 346
2.1.1 215, 328 2.31.1 365
2.1.7 408 2.33.1 413
2.1.8 256 2.36.2 408
2.3.2 335, 353 2.37.1 383
2.3.5 376 2.38.1 349
2.3.7 271, 376 2.41.1 413
2.3.8 401 2.42.1 403
2.3.9 401 2.43.1 354
2.3.10 409 2.43.2 408
2.3.11 410 2.50.1 346
2.3.12 411 2.53.1 395, 396
2.4.1 370 2.53.2 385
2.4.2 376 3.1.1 356
2.4.3 403 3.1.2 362
2.4.5 409 3.1.4 414
2.4.6 411 3.8.1 353
2.6.1 391 3.8.2 377
2.7.1 376 3.13.1 364
2.8.1 376 3.15.2 365
2.11.3 345 3.22.1 412
2.11.4 348 3.26.2 360
2.11.5 349 3.26.4 413
2.11.8 369 3.28.4 361
2.11.12 405 3.28.5 370
2.11.13 410 3.28.7 385
2.12.4 360 3.28.10 394, 395
2.12.7 271 3.28.12 271, 394, 395
2.12.8 394, 395 3.31.2 351
2.12.9 271 3.31.4 377
2.12.10 395, 396 3.31.5 377
2.12.12 394, 396 3.31.6 406
2.18.1 345 3.32.1 362
2.18.2 346, 349 3.32.2 363
2.18.5 353 3.32.3 401
2.18.6 360 3.33.1 350
2.18.7 391 3.33.2 258, 357
2.18.8 393, 395 3.33.3 377
2.18.9 393 3.33.5 408
2.18.10 401 3.33.6 411
470 Index Locorum
Cic. (cont.) 4.29.4 404
3.34.1 370 4.29.5 406
3.34.2 385 4.29.6 409
3.34.3 395, 395 4.30.3 386
3.35.1 401 4.30.4 397
3.36.1 346, 351 4.30.5 415
3.36.2 397 4.30.6 414
3.36.4 414 4.30.7 404
3.36.5 414 4.30.8 409
3.37.1 377 4.31.1 397
3.37.2 401 4.31.3 404
3.37.2–3 272 4.31.5 410
3.37.3 406 4.31.6 410
3.41.1 272, 403 4.32.1 329
3.42.1 402 4.32.4 365
3.42.4 411 4.32.5 357
3.44.1 377 4.32.6 371
3.44.2 391 4.32.8 397
3.44.3 403 4.32.9 397
3.44.4 403 4.32.14 413
3.44.6 406 4.34.1 413
4.2.1 354 4.35.1 365
4.2.2 383 4.35.2 397
4.5.1 363 4.35.3 391
4.5.2 364 4.35.4 414
4.6.1 386 4.35.5 414
4.6.2 409 4.39.2 255, 398
4.7.1 397 4.39.6 411
4.7.2 386 4.44.1 402
4.14.1 335 4.47.1 410
4.14.2 386 4.48.2 404
4.14.3 402 4.49.1 387
4.15.2 369 4.50.2 402
4.19.2 386 4.50.3 409
4.19.3 412 4.51.1 406
4.20.2 403 4.54.1 391
4.21.1 377 4.54.2 402
4.21.2 272, 403 4.54.3 414
4.21.3 408 4.55.2 351
4.24.2 402 4.55.3 404
4.24.4 403 4.55.4 406
4.25.1 371 4.55.5 408
4.25.3 411 4.56.1 238, 262, 404
4.26.3 386 4.56.2 404
4.26.4 391 4.57.1 402
4.26.5 404 4.57.2 255, 402
4.28.1 335 4.57.3 406
4.28.2 349 4.58.1 383
4.28.4 347, 352 4.61.1 365
4.28.5 411 4.65.2 378
4.29.2 378 4.65.3 383
4.29.3 378 4.65.4 402
Index Locorum 471
4.65.7 409 5.40.1 267, 384
4.65.8 412 5.41.1 379
5.3.2 414 5.43.1 372
5.3.3 414 5.43.2 267, 387
5.4.2 365 5.43.3 410
5.4.3 255 5.43.4 410
5.4.5 414 5.44.1 380
5.5.1 414 5.44.2 406
5.11.1 412 5.46.1 413
5.12.2 378 5.47.1 255, 347
5.12.6 414 5.51.1 372
5.14.1 359 5.51.2 380
5.14.2 378 5.51.3 388
5.15.1 354 5.51.4 410
5.16.1 371 5.53.1 357
5.16.2 379 5.53.3 388
5.16.3 379 5.54.2 255, 380
5.16.5 409 5.54.3 380
5.16.6 410 5.55.1 404
5.16.7 413 5.56.3 410
5.16.8 413 5.57.1 406
5.18.2 360 5.58.1 352
5.18.3 387 5.62.1 355
5.21.1 410 5.62.2 355
5.25.1 218 5.62.3 359
5.25.4 347 5.62.4 392
5.28.1 360 5.62.9 410
5.28.2 371 5.62.11 412
5.28.3 404 5.63.1 404
5.29.2 409 5.69.1 357
5.29.3 410 5.72.1 369
5.31.1 383 5.75.1 372
5.31.2 383 6.2.1 352
5.31.3 387 6.2.2 269
5.31.4 387 6.2.3 388
5.31.6 406 6.2.4 402
5.32.1 387 6.2.5 404
5.34.1 402 6.2.7 410
5.36.1 379 6.2.8 412
5.36.2 410 6.3.1 355
5.36.3 412 6.3.4 372
5.37.1 359 6.3.5 373
5.37.2 360 6.3.8 406
5.37.3 372 6.3.9 408
5.37.4 379 6.3.10 408
5.37.5 387 6.4.1 362
5.37.7 404 6.6.1 404
5.37.8 410 6.6.4 406
5.37.9 411 6.9.2 357
5.37.10 411 6.15.1 406
5.39.1 379 6.16.1 404
5.39.2 414 6.21.1 373
472 Index Locorum
Cic. (cont.) 6.49.1 347
6.21.2 380 6.50.1 347
6.21.3 380 6.50.5 255, 405
6.21.4 402 6.50.7 409
6.21.6 408 6.50.8 413
6.21.7 411 6.53.1 349
6.22 355 6.53.2 356
6.23.3 174, 270, 283 6.53.3 356
6.24.2 373 6.53.5 409
6.24.3 404 6.54.1 218, 329
6.25.1 350 6.54.2 221
6.25.2 381 6.54.3 345
6.25.3 392 6.54.4 364
6.25.4 406 6.54.5 407
6.26.1 327 6.55.1 358
6.26.2 255, 355 6.58.1 405
6.26.3 404 6.58.2 414
6.26.4 408 7.2.4 364
6.27.1 335 7.4.1 348
6.28.1 355 7.4.2 238, 398
6.28.2 408 7.4.3 402
6.29.1 381 7.4.8 408
6.30.1 384 7.4.9 412
6.30.2 405 7.8.6 414
6.31.1 384 7.10.2 414
6.31.2 388 7.10.3 411
6.32.1 405 7.11.4 407
6.35.2 361 7.11.5 414
6.35.3 402 7.14.1 255, 414
6.35.4 405 7.16.1 398
6.35.6 411 7.16.2 384
6.36.1 413 7.16.4 266, 414
6.37.1 218, 329 7.16.5 414
6.37.3 363 7.19.1 405
6.37.7 388 7.19.2 405
6.37.8 392 7.19.3 405
6.37.12 255, 414 7.21.1 366
6.38.1 381 7.21.2 358
6.39.1 345 7.21.3 414
6.42.1 373 7.21.4 410
6.42.2 388 7.26.1 381
6.42.3 389 7.26.3 414
6.42.5 406 7.26.4 414
6.44.1 381 7.27.1 414
6.44.3 405 7.29.1 389
6.45.1 370 7.30.2 412
6.46.1 347 7.30.3 414
6.46.2 357 7.32.2 416
6.46.3 389 7.43.1 328
6.46.4 409 7.45.1 361, 366
6.47.2 373 7.46.2 416
6.47.3 407 7.48.1 405
Index Locorum 473
7.52.1 381 8.29.3 405
7.52.3 398 8.32.1 348
7.53.1 359 8.32.2 416
7.53.2 398 8.33.1 411
7.53.3 384 8.35.1 255, 373
7.53.4 392 8.35.2 382
7.55.1 411 8.35.3 399
7.56.1 402 8.35.4 405
7.57.3 255 8.37.1 258, 352
7.58.1 366 8.37.2 363
7.58.2 407 8.37.3 393
7.58.3 416 8.37.4 255, 403
7.59.1 371 8.38.1 389
7.62.2 255, 416 8.40.1 352
7.64.1 402 8.40.3 361
7.64.2 416 8.40.6 385
7.68.1 405 8.40.7 390
7.73.1 398 8.40.10 416
7.73.2 381 8.40.12 411
7.73.3 381 8.42.2 413
7.73.4 389 8.43.1 256, 374
7.75.1 381 8.44.2 358
7.75.2 413 8.44.4 374
8.1.1 407 8.44.5 374
8.2.1 348 8.44.6 403
8.8.1 373 8.44.7 403
8.10.1 366 8.44.9 403
8.12.2 356 8.44.10 405
8.13.2 265 8.44.11 412
8.13.4 361 8.45.1 405
8.15.2 358 8.46.1 366
8.15.4 405 8.46.2 390
8.16.1 348 8.46.3 409
8.16.2 360 8.51.1 407
8.16.3 389 8.52.1 255, 407
8.16.4 408 8.53.1 363
8.17.2 373 9.1.1 345
8.17.3 382 9.1.2 370
8.17.4 389 9.1.4 403
8.17.5 413 9.1.5 403
8.18.1 255, 362 9.1.6 407
8.18.2 392 9.1.7 411
8.18.3 407 9.6.2 390
8.19.1 411 9.6.3 392
8.20.1 267, 384 9.6.4 409
8.25.1 358 9.8.1 256, 405
8.25.3 409 9.8.2 407
8.27.4 408 9.9.4 416
8.27.5 412 9.16.1 390
8.28.1 361 9.20.1 382
8.29.1 403 9.20.2 382
8.29.2 403 9.22.1 374
474 Index Locorum
Cic. (cont.) 8.15.1 331
9.22.3 256 11.4 253
9.22.4 409 Coll.
9.22.5 412 1.8.1 390
9.23.1 255, 374 3.3.4 325
9.23.2 382 3.3.5–6 327
9.23.5 408 11.7.1–4 212
9.32.1 359 15.2.5 331
9.32.2 390
9.32.3 393 Constitutio Antoniniana
9.34.1 412 78.9 286
9.35.2 412 Consultatio veteris
9.41.3 253 cuiusdam iurisconsulti
9.46.1 416 9.8 385
9.47.2 375 9.11 401
9.47.4 399 Const. Deo auctore
9.47.9 416 7 174
9.49.3 409
9.50.1 375 Curt.
9.51.1 271, 331 10.2.4–7 58
9.51.2 399 De vir. ill.
9.51.3 416 225
9.51.4 416 Dig.
9.51.5 416 1.1.1.pr 285
10.1.1 366 1.1.1.pr–1 287
10.3.1 382 1.1.4 288
10.4.1 408 1.1.7.pr 285
10.5.1 410 1.2.2.2 237
10.8.1 393 1.2.2.4 237
10.39.1 399 1.2.2.11 237, 239, 285
10.40.1 399 1.2.2.12 11, 237
10.40.2 416 1.2.2.12–13 237
10.41.1 367 1.2.2.32 162
10.53.1 400 1.2.2.33 4
10.63.1 416 1.2.2.46 23, 300
10.67.1 400 1.2.2.47–9 239
10.68.1 416 1.2.2.51–2 315
11.30.2 400 1.3.11 11
11.32.1 367 1.3.31 11, 283
11.32.2 400 1.4.1pr 283
11.37.1 416 1.4.1 11, 110, 174
11.40.1 416 1.4.1.1–2 284
12.1.1 416 1.5.17 286
12.33.1 367 1.6.2 211, 217, 325, 330
12.35.1 400 1.11 4 268
12.35.2 400 1.12.1 4
12.35.4 255 1.12.1–3 268
12.36.1 405 1.12.2 210
12.36.3 407 1.20.1–2 210
28.9 328 4.2.18 329
Cod. Theod. 4.4.18.1 368
1.2.9 253 4.4.18.2 368
Index Locorum 475
4.4.18.4 284 36.1.76.pr 340
4.4.38 339 36.1.76.1 340
4.8.13.2 69 36.1.83 343
5.2.28 212, 324 37.12.5 161, 319
5.3.20.6d 238 37.14.1 314
5.3.22 238 37.14.17.pr 255, 334
5.3.25.16 332 37.14.17 262, 319
7.8.22.pr 212, 324 37.14.24 344
8.3.16 330 37.15.1.1 288
9.2.45.4 88 40.1.10 341
9.2.50 288 40.5.38 341
10.2.41 344 40.12.43 322
14.2.9 217, 330 42.1.33 213, 327
14.5.8 336 43.16.1.27 88
22.1.16.1 336 46.1.68 341
22.1.17.1 328, 332 47.12.3.5 214, 323
23.2.57a 334 47.14.1 212
23.2.57.1 222 48.4.7–8 178
24.2.8 212, 323, 325 48.5.39.10 128, 144, 310
25.3.5.7 215 48.6.7 113
25.3.5.16 288 48.6.8 113
26.5.28 336 48.7.7 219, 222, 331
26.7.7.4 337 48.8.4.1 212, 323
26.7.53 337 48.9.5 207, 324, 325
27.1.15.17 213 48.18.1.22 214
27.1.30.pr 269 48.18.1.27 220, 333
27.3.1.3 337 48.18.8.pr 69
27.4.3 213 48.18.20 369
28.2.26 69 48.19.5 161, 192, 320
28.4.3.pr 330 48.19.13 5
28.4.3 213, 219 48.19.28.7 217, 285
28.5.93(92) 218, 269 48.19.40 369
28.5.93 337 48.20.6 214
29.1.24 161 48.22.1 161, 192, 320
29.2.97 338 48.22.7.2 76
29.5.1.28 214, 322 48.22.14 76
32.17.2 339 48.22.14.2 76
32.23 270 48.22.16 329
32.27.pr 338 49.1.1.pr–2 284
32.27.1 339 49.1.1.1 215
32.97 290, 343 49.1.1.2 334
34.1.3 215, 328 49.1.21.pr 216
34.9.12 221, 330, 333 49.1.21 216
34.9.16.1 367 49.1.25 1, 257
34.9.16.2 221, 330, 333 49.8.1.2 285
35.1.50 329 49.14.31 222
35.2.11.2 332 49.14.47pr 341
36.1.1.13 340 49.14.47.1 342
36.1.19.3 332 49.14.48pr 342
36.1.23.pr 222, 309, 332 49.14.48.1 342
36.1.38.1 269 49.14.50 342
36.1.52(50) 322 50.4.14.6 324
476 Index Locorum
Curt. (cont.) Fronto
50.5.8pr 343 Ep. ad M. Caes.
50.16.240 343 1.6.2–3 215, 220
50.17.32 288
Gai.
Dio Chrys. Inst.
Or 1.5 174, 237, 285
.3.5 191 1.6 76
3.10 161 1.53 211
Diod. 1.94 325
17.109.1 58 4.184–187 36
17.109.2–3 57 Gell.
18.8.2–7 58 NA
37.5 40 3.16.12 214, 322
39.20 40
Herodian
Dion. Hal.
1.13.4 222
Ant. Rom.
1.11.5 222
7.54-56 34
2.4.1–5 268
Epictetus 3.10.2 269
Discourses 3.12.11–12 269
1.19 160 3.13.1 269
4.7.2 271
Epitome codicum Gregoriani 5.2.2 271
et Hermogeniani Wisigothica 6.1.6–7 272
9.1 407
Hdt.
10.1 411
1.96–7 33
12.1 375
13.1 401 Hom.
13.14.1 272, 286 Il.
1.238–9 33
Euseb.
2.205–6 33
Hist. eccl.
9.97-9 33
2.22–3 157
2.22–5 315 Od.
2.25.5–7 158 11.186 33
Eutr. Hyg.
8.23 272 grom.
p. 91 301
FD (Fouilles de Delphes)III
fasc. IV/3, 330 299 IG (Inscriptiones Graecae)
XII 3.174
FIRA (Fontes Iuris 1, 70, 84, 85, 86, 87, 305
Romani AnteIustitiani)
I IGBulg. (Inscriptiones Graecae
78 213 in Bulgaria repertae)
III 2236 257, 264
100 213 ILS (Inscriptiones Latinae Selectae)
185 1, 84, 305 244 169
Frag. Vat. 8393 63
168 334 Inst. Iust.
228 401 1.2.6 174
268 356 2.23.1 90
295 363 2.25pr 90
Index Locorum 477
Joseph. Oros.
AJ 5.16.8 208
15.6.7 93 Ov.
15.10.3 305 Fast.
17.11.1 117 4.383–4 80
18.65–80 129, 143, 310
19.266–71 155, 312 Ib. 307
20.6.2–3 313 Pont. 307
2.2.109–20 77
BJ
1.26.4 308 Tr.
2.6.1 117 1.5.42 79
11.12.6–7 313 2.93–6 80
2.121–40 1, 70, 75, 76
Juv. 2.131–3 307
4.94 160, 317 3.6.27 79
7.204 150, 311 4.9.11 77
4.10.33–4 80
Lactant. 5.2.37–8 77
De mort. pers.
2.5 158 Philo
2.6 157, 315 Leg.
Lex Dei 350 330
3.3 325, 330 Philostr.
Lex Irnitana VA
IIIA 175 1.3 284
7.8–10 160
Livy
7.8–11 317
1.24–6 96
8.1–4 160
1.57–60 95, 96
8.1–4 167
Livy 2.18.8 65
2.29.9–12 65 VS
3.26–9 95 2.33 265
3.44–8 95, 96 2.560–2 221, 332
7.17.12 22 2.582 205
Epit. 11.30 375
134 303 Philstr.
Per. the Elder
77 36 Ep.
86 36 73 284
P.Amh.
Macrob. 63.7–12 352
Sat.
2.4.21 101 P.Berol.
7346 368
Marc. Aur. 8877 152, 312
Med.
1.16 218 P.Cairo
4.12 218 10448 152, 312
4.48 218 P. Col.
4.49a 219 123 244, 256, 352
Mart. P.Giss.
10.72 129 40.1 286
478 Index Locorum
the Elder (cont.) 10.108–9 190
P.Lond.Inv. 10.110–11 190
2785 152, 312 Pan.
P.Mich. 65.1 11, 133, 188
9.529 344 77.3–4 162
P.Oxy. Plut.
6.1020 350 Mor.
12.1405 351 179 C–D 214
17.2104 1, 257 207F 308
42.3018 344 781.4 196
42.3019 335 Vit. Ant.
42.3021 152, 312 72.3–4 93
43.3105 351
43.3106 1, 257 Vit. Caes.
51.3614 335 48.1.65 60
P.Stras. Vit. Cic.
I 22, 1–9 350 39.5–6 47
39.6–7 28, 300
P.Teb.
II 286 211, 213, 321 Vit. Demetr.
42.11 214
P.Yale
61 246 Vit. Sull.
30 60
Plin. 33.1 35
HN
7.149 306 Vit. Ti. Gracch.
19 55
Plin.
Ep.
Quint.
3.18 188
Inst.
3.18.2 188
5.13.5–6 300
4.11 160, 317
5.13.20 23, 300
4.22 161, 187
5.13.31 23, 300
4.22.3 330
11.1.78 300
5.10 225
11.1.78–80 23
6.19 189
11.1.80 300
6.22 161, 162, 187, 319
11.3.156 164
6.22.5 330
6.31 161, 162, 185, 186, Res Gestae
318, 319 1.1 56
6.31.12 330 1.2 101
7.6 161, 162, 187, 320 3.1 101
7.6.8–13 320 5.1.3 102
8.14 175 5.6.35 109
10.58–60 191 6.1 102
10.65–6 189 8.5 97
10.79–80 189 13 101
10.81–2 191 30.1 101
10.83–4 190 32.3 101
10.96 319 34.1 97
10.97 161, 192 34.2 97
Index Locorum 479
34.3 98 Ben.
35.1 99 3.27 70, 81, 138
5.24 53, 138, 301
Sall. Clem.
Cat. 1.1 134
29.3 36 1.1–3 173
51.33–4 45 1.1.2 131, 133
Hist. 1.1.3–4 132
1.11 56 1.3.3 136
SB (Sammelbuch griechischen 1.5.6 136
Urkunden aus Ägypten) 1.7.4 136
4.7366 368 1.8.4 134
14.11875 344 1.8.4–5 136
1.9 82, 305
SEG (Supplementum 1.9.1–1.10.3 134
Epigraphicum Graecum) 1.10.3 109
IX 1.12.1–2 135
8 1, 70, 82–3, 306 1.12.4 137
8, 6 116 1.13.4 136
XIX 1.14.1 133
765 155, 315 1.15.2–7 129
XVII 1.16.2–3 137
759 7, 200, 248, 250, 251, 391 1.17.3 137
XXIX 1.18.2–3 137
127 331 1.19.5 136
XXXIII 1.19.9 134
938 267 1.20.1–1.23.1 136
LI 1.25.1 137
1579 267 1.26.5 136
Senatus consultum de Pisone patre 2.2.2 137
145
De Ira
Senatus consultum Silanianum 1.20.4 137
322
Helv.
Sen.
12.10.4 140
Controv.
10, praef. 14 304 Sententiae et epistulae
Sen. divi hadriani 209, 325–7
Ad Pol. 2 325
7.2 173 3 326
4 326
Apocol.
6 326
6 137
7 326
7.4–5 149, 151
9 326
8–10 140
10 327
8.2 155, 313
11 327
10 140, 141
13 326
10.4 155, 313
11.1 155 Schol. Juv.
11.2–5 155, 312, 313 1.155 150, 311
11.5 155 SHA
13.4 155 Commod.
14 141 7 337
480 Index Locorum
SHA (cont.) 53.1–2 224
Hadr. 53.2 70, 90, 115
11.3 225 56.1 102
18.1 210 97.3 70, 90, 115
22.11–12 210 Calig.
22.13 210 5.1 311
Heliogab. 16 149
16.4 272 16.2 149
M. Ant. 16.2–3 230
10.2–3 11, 270 24.3 150, 311
Marc. 25.1 150
9–12 219 30.1 137
10.7–12 220 30.2 150, 311
11.6 210 33–4 224
13.1 211 33–5 149, 230
22.4 331 Claud.
Opil. 11.1 155, 312
13.1 271 13.2 155, 312
14 149, 155, 156, 226
Pesc. Nig. 14–15 224, 230, 314
7.4 268 15 151, 164, 227, 230
Pius 15.3 230
2.11 210 15.4 314
12.1 218 27.2 313
Verus 29.1 155, 312, 313
8.8–10 219 30 137
33 164
SIG (Sylloge Inscriptionum
36 155
Graecarum)
37.2 155, 312
888 257, 264
38 137
Stat.
Silv. Dom.
5.2.75–97 318 1.3 230
5.2.91–3 318 3.1 274
8 149, 227
Str. 8.1 164
8.5.5 (366) 308 8.1–3 160, 230, 317
14.5.4 (670) 304 8.3 317
Suet. 10.2 160
Aug. 10.3 160
27 69, 92, 224 14.4 160
27.5 228 15.1 160
29.1 117 10.2 317
33 117 10.3 317
33–4 224 14.4 317
33.1 1, 90, 115, 226 15.1 318
33.1–3 70
33.2 309 Galb.
33.2–3 90 5.1 159
33.3 112 Iul.
51.1 306, 307 42 53
53.1 102 43 53, 226, 302
Index Locorum 481
44 54 3.27 183
46 49 3.28 183
75.4 300 3.38 143, 309
76 56 3.51 144
77 54 3.69 180
79 56, 62 3.70 143, 181, 311
78 62 4.6–7 181
84 62 4.15 178
Ner. 4.22 143, 179
15 149, 157, 227 4.37.3 103
16.2 158 6.23 85
36.2 158, 316 6.26 182
11.1–2 167, 313
Tib. 11.1–3 155, 312
31.1 229 11.2 182
31.2 147, 228 11.26–38 155
33 148, 224, 228 11.34–5 313
36.1 310 11.34–8 182, 313
60 229 12.3.4–8 155, 313
60–1 224 12.42 155, 314
61 310 12.43 164, 167
61.1 229 12.52 313
61–2 148 12.60 156
61.2–3 229 13.2 130
75 144 13.4 157, 167
Tit. 13.11 130
6 231 13.19–22 158
Vesp. 13.20 130
10 149, 159, 230, 231 13.33 157, 183
13 159, 317 13.33.1 158, 315
21 231 13.42 130
23 200, 231 14.41 157
23.2 231 14.42–5 158, 184, 315
14.50 157, 158, 183, 316
Vit. 15.44 158
10.1 316 14.46 313
Tac. 15.44.2–5 315
Ann. 15.66–74 158
1.2 102, 121 15.66–78 316
1.3.4 307 16.8.2–3 157, 316
1.34–5 312 Dial.
1.72.3 307 21.5–6 300
2.32 178
2.34 179 Hist.
2.67 178 3.83–6 175
2.79 145 4.2–4 175
2.85 310 4.3 175
3.1–19 144 4.40 159
3.10 143, 180 Tert.
3.12 145 Apol.
3.22 178 4.4 158
3.24.2 306 5.3 158
482 Index Locorum
Ulp. Vell. Pat.
De officio proconsulis 2.112.7 307
8 325, 327, 330 2.14.3 51
2.31.2–4 43
Val. Max. 2.91.2 304
5.9.1 208 Vitr.
6.1.5–6 208 6.5.1–2 49
6.2.11 53, 302
7.7.3–4 70, 81, 82, 309 Xen.
8.1. amb. 2 40 Cyr.
8.7.6 41 8.1.22 58
9.15 61
9.15.1 302 Zos.
9.15.2 304 1.11.2 272

The Emperor of Law The Emergence of Roman Imperial Adjudication (Tuori, Kaius)

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The Emperor of Law The Emergence of Roman Imperial Adjudication (Tuori, Kaius)

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OXFORD STUDIES IN ROMAN

SOCIETY AND LAW

The aim of this monograph series is to create an interdisciplinary

This book began with a curiosity concerning the contradictory

List of Illustrations xiii

Appendix: Known Instances of Imperial Adjudication

1.1. Forum Romanum during the trial of Ligarius.

Sometimes, the importance of something becomes apparent only

SOVEREIGN RULE AND ADJUDICATION

The rise of imperial jurisdiction and adjudication also presents a

NARRATIVES AND HISTORY

The concept of narrative is central to the argument that this book

Caesar, Cicero, and the Models

It may appear strange to begin a book on the Roman emperors as

THE CLEMENCY OF CAESAR

The Emperor of Law

A Basilica Fulvia J Temple of Concord FORUM ROMANUM

THE NATURE OF CAESAR’S JURISDICTION

Pro Ligario is fascinating in its portrayal of the different models

NOVA VIA Atr

Fig. 1.2. Domus publica. Hypothetical reconstruction by Juhana Heikonen.

HELLENISTIC KING OR REPUBLICAN

The images of Caesar as judge formulated by Cicero in pro Ligario

Making petitions and requests to patrons or in general to persons in a

Republican precedents were very important to the formation of the

Augustus as Judge and

The rise of the emperor’s jurisdiction may be seen as an issue of

by Eck, ‘Administrative Reforms’ (2010), 229–49 and ‘Herrschaft durch Administra-

THE RELEGATION OF OVID

Ovid’s Tristia or ‘Lamentations’ reiterates how he was condemned

privaque fortunae sunt ibi verba meae.

Apart from Ovid, the sources on Augustus’ jurisdiction are limited,

IDEOLOGICAL CONSTRUCTION FOR AN IMPERIAL

In the example of Augustus, we are in the fortunate position that we

Republic while changing it was extraordinarily hard without an appealing ideological

CONFLICTING NARRATIVES OF JURISDICTION

In modern scholarship, opinions have been divided over the consti-

The continuing debate over the nature of the Principate of Augustus

SENECA AND THE OMNIPOTENT EMPEROR

In terms of the publicly declared understanding of the position of the

The historical image of early imperial jurisdiction is a bafﬂing mix of

Emperors as Judges from Tiberius to Trajan

A Basilica Fulvia J Temple of Concord FORUM ROMANUM

DOMUS FLAVIA DOMUS AUG.

“BASILICA” “AULA REGIA” “LARARIUM” N

Domus Flavia. 1:1000. Juhana Heikonen

TACITUS AND TIBERIUS AS JUDGE

PLINY AND THE OPTIMUS PRINCEPS

Pliny’s good emperor is Trajan,223 with whom he worked on numerous

Hadrian as the Ideal Judge

The dilemma of autocracy during the reign of Hadrian may be

AELIUS ARISTIDES AND THE LETTERS

From the relative dearth of information about the emperors’ exercise of

HADRIAN AS THE LEGAL EMPEROR

How did Hadrian become endowed with a reputation as the legal

The processes of petitioning and appealing to the emperor, both in

Caracalla, the Severans, and the Legal

The death of Commodus in AD 192 and the civil war between

THE APPROACHABILITY OF CARACALLA

The different audiences that imperial adjudication was aimed at are

RESCRIPTS AND THE IMPERSONAL

DIO AND THE IMPERIAL PERCEPTION

Cassius Dio (c.155–235), as the councillor of Septimius Severus, is an