oy of
Henry II. to the court of Rome, which he visited ten times in twelve
years, writes in Latin his "Policratic,"[279] or "De nugis Curialium,"
his "Metalogic," his "Enthetic" (in verse), and his eulogy on
Becket.[280] John is only too well versed in the classics, and he
quotes them to an extent that does more credit to his erudition than to
his taste; but he has the gift of observation, and his remarks on the
follies of his time have a great historical value. In his "Policratic"
is found a satire on a sort of personage who was then beginning to play
his part again, after an interruption of several centuries, namely, the
_curialis_, or courtier; a criticism on histrions who, with their
indecent farces, made a rough prelude to modern dramatic art; a
caricature of those fashionable singers who disgraced the religious
ceremonies in the newly erected cathedrals by their songs resembling
those "of women ... of sirens ... of nightingales and parrots."[281] He
ridicules hunting-monks, and also those chiromancers for whom Becket
himself had a weakness. "Above all," says John, by way of conclusion and
apology, "let not the men of the Court upbraid me with the follies I
trust them with; let them know I did not mean them in the least, I
satirised only myself and those like me, and it would be hard indeed if
I were forbidden to castigate both myself and my peers."[282] In his
"Metalogic," he scoffs at the vain dialectics of silly logicians,
Cornificians, as he calls them, an appellation that stuck to them all
through the Middle Ages, and at their long phrases interlarded with so
many negative particles that, in order to find out whether yes or no was
meant, it became necessary to examine if the number of noes was an odd
or even one.

Bold ideas abound with John of Salisbury; he praises Brutus; he is of
opinion that the murder of tyrants is not only justifiable, but an
honest and commendable deed: "Non modo licitum est, sed aequum et
justum." Whatever may be the apparent prosperity of the great, the State
will go to ruin if the common people suffer: "When the people suffer, it
is as though the sovereign had the gout"[283]; he must not imagine he is
in health; let him try to walk, and down he falls.

Characteristics of the same sort are found, with much more sparkling
wit, in the Latin works of Walter Map.[284] This Welshman has the
vivacity of the Celts his compatriots; he was celebrated at the court of
Henry II., and throughout