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Protestants almost never called their ecclesiastical norms 'canons.' When Protestant jurists or theologians wrote 'canon law' (Ius canonicum) in their works, it was clear to their readers that they meant Roman canon law. Surprisingly, Protestant jurists often cited Roman canon law and its jurisprudence long after Martin Luther burned books of Roman canon law at the Elster gate in Wittenberg. These jurists also continued to teach courses at the universities that treated the Ius canonicum. Consequently, an essay on Protestant canon law must confront the question: how much Roman canon law and the jurisprudence of the medieval Ius commune remained embedded in the Reformers' legislation and jurisprudence and how much was rejected? Until relatively recently scholars answered that question largely according to their confessional affiliations.

After the air attacks of September 11, 2001 the United States government decided to fortify all public government buildings and spaces of importance in Washington, D.C. that might be targets of future attacks. The expenditures for these projects ran to millions of dollars and included the White House, Congress, and the Supreme Court. These extensive fortifications were inspired by widespread fear at all levels of the American government that extreme measures were needed to protect themselves and government buildings. This culture of fear quickly became an accepted part of American political discourse. Fear was no longer cowardly; it became a badge of courage. Streets around government buildings were closed. Streets that remained open were provided with retractable barriers. A security cordon around the White House was greatly expanded. The public was denied entrance to the grand staircase on the West side of the Capitol buildings. Armed police were placed on every corner of Capitol Hill twenty-four hours a day. To secure perimeters metal bollards were placed around buildings and public spaces at a cost of $10,000 each. They could not protect against air attacks or suicide bombers--only truck and car bombs-but that fact did not deter the frenzy of construction that still continues. Thousands of bollards were put in place. The directors of every government agency stumbled over one another to arrange that their spaces be surrounded by these symbols of fear. The question that every director in Washington must have asked themselves again and again was "How could their buildings be bereft of these symbols that made a public statement of their importance?" Even the coal burning steam plant on Capitol Hill-the worst source of pollution in Washington-was fortified.' The bollards around the Supreme Court were the only ones decorated with a Latin word: Lex. Why did the judges choose lex and not ius for those protective fences?

The maxim,' Innocent until proven guilty', has had a good run in the twentieth century. The United Nations incorporated the principle in its Declaration of Human Rights in 1948 under article eleven, section one. The maxim also found a place in the European Convention for the Protection of Human Rights in 1953 [as article 6, section 2] and was incorporated into the United Nations International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights [as article 14, section 2]. This was a satisfying development for Americans because there are few maxims that have a greater resonance in Anglo-American, common law jurisprudence. The Anglo-American reverence for the maxim does pose an interesting conundrum: it cannot be found in the Magna Carta, the English Bill of Rights of 1689, the Declaration of Independence, or in the Constitution of the United States; and not, I might add, in the works of the great English jurists, Bracton, Coke, and Blackstone. Nevertheless, some scholars have claimed that the maxim has been firmly embedded in English jurisprudence since the earliest times.

The power of the prince versus the rights of his subjects is one of the basic struggles in the history of law and government. In this masterful history of monarchy, conceptions of law, and due process, Kenneth Pennington addresses that struggle and opens an entirely new vista in the study of Western legal tradition. Pennington investigates legal interpretations of the monarch's power from the twelfth to the seventeenth century. Then, tracing the evolution of defendants' rights, he demonstrates that the origins of due process are not rooted in English common law as is generally assumed. It was not a sturdy Anglo-Saxon, but, most probably, a French jurist of the late thirteenth century who wrote, "A man is innocent until proven guilty." This is the first book to examine in detail the origins of our concept of due process. It also reveals a fascinating paradox: while a theory of individual rights was evolving, so, too, was the concept of the prince's "absolute power." Pennington illuminates this paradox with a clarity that will greatly interest students of political theory as well as legal historians. ; https://scholarship.law.edu/fac_books/1072/thumbnail.jpg

Several different approaches to medieval legal history are evident in these articles. The first group uses law to investigate the principles that governed society, whether clearly articulated or not, and ask how the intellectual structures of the "ius commune" affected the institutions of government and the presuppositions of the people. The second group of articles illustrates the importance of returning to the manuscript sources of later medieval texts, rather than relying on the early printed editions. In both parts Professor Pennington also focuses on the lives of individual jurists, contending that these provide a key to the understanding of their thought, their position in society, and the connections between the two. One of these articles is previously unpublished, and a number of others have been revised and updated for publication. ; https://scholarship.law.edu/fac_books/1073/thumbnail.jpg