## 1. Biography



John of Salisbury was born at Old Sarum (the former site of Salisbury)
in England between 1115 and 1120. Specific knowledge of his family
background and early life is scant; something is known of a brother,
Richard, and a half-brother, Robert, both of whom held offices within
the English church. John probably received an early education at
Salisbury and then at Exeter. The first date safely associated with
him is 1136, when he traveled to Paris to study at
Mont-Sainte-Genevieve. In a famous autobiographical passage in
the *Metalogicon*, John narrates his twelve years of education,
an important source for understanding French higher instruction in
this period. The list of his teachers includes many of the great
thinkers of the mid-twelfth century, among them Peter Abelard, Robert
of Melun, William of Conches, Thierry of Chartres, Adam de Petit Pont,
Gilbert of Poitiers, and Robert Pullan. John's studies
encompassed speculative philosophy, rhetoric, linguistic theory,
literature, and theology. He seems to have tutored students during his
later years in Paris. It was also during these years (specifically,
1141 to 1147) that John likely drafted the first two parts of his
1852-line philosophical and satirical poem, the *Entheticus de
dogmate philosophorum* (or *Entheticus maior*); the final
two parts likely date from late 1154 to mid-1156 (the much shorter
*Entheticus minor* prefaces the *Policraticus*).



Like many educated churchmen of his era, John eventually entered the
corridors of power rather than the cloister or the classroom. Through
the assistance of his friend Peter of Celle, John joined, in 1148, the
household of Archbishop Theobald of Canterbury, a vocal and energetic
advocate of the rights of the English church. In his capacity as
secretary to Theobald, John was an omnicompetent administrator: He
composed the Archbishop's letters, advised him on legal and
political affairs, traveled often to the Continent as an
archiepiscopal envoy, and altogether lived in the manner of a trusted
intimate. John's first letter collection, which he assembled
shortly after Theobald's death in 1161, is largely comprised of
official letters under Theobald's name, augmented by letters
John himself wrote on Canterbury's behalf and some personal
missives.



Theobald's court attracted many clerics with training and
experience similar to John's own, so he could continue to
indulge his intellectual pursuits in a sympathetic environment during
the 1140s and 1150s. John was counted a member of a circle of learned
clerics, among whom was Thomas Becket (the future archbishop and
martyr), who was a trusted servant of Theobald before he was appointed
King Henry II's Chancellor in late 1154 (Nederman and Bollermann
2020). John's activities on behalf of Theobald brought him into
contact with some of the most powerful and prominent men of
twelfth-century Europe. He was present at the Roman curia for many
crucial occurrences during the pontificate of Eugenius III
(1145-1153), the final four years of which he later chronicled
in his *Historia Pontificalis* (HP) (written during the early
period of his Becket-related exile, likely early 1164 to early 1166).
He enjoyed a warm friendship with his fellow countryman Nicholas
Breakspear, who ascended the papal throne as Adrian IV in 1154. John
was also well-acquainted with important figures in twelfth-century
secular life, in France as well as England, most especially Henry II.
John had supported Henry's side in the struggle against the
partisans of King Stephen during the period of English history known
as the Anarchy. John was, however, sufficiently vocal in his
opposition to Henry's policies toward the English church to be
banished from the royal court during 1156 and 1157. Although he
ultimately recovered favor, he acquired a lingering skepticism about
Henry's motives that was to be confirmed by later events. As
busy as John seems to have been with Canterbury administration in the
final years of Theobald's archiepiscopacy, this was also the
period (late 1156 through late 1159) in which John produced the two
works for which he is best known and esteemed: the
*Metalogicon*, which presents a survey of the scholastic
curriculum and a defense of the study of the *trivium*; and,
the *Policraticus*, a work of moral and political philosophy
grounded in a Ciceronian moderate skepticism and replete with
*exempla* drawn from Biblical, patristic, and classical
sources.



After Becket became Archbishop of Canterbury in 1162, he began to
defend ecclesiastical liberty against Henry's encroachments,
partly in response to which Becket tasked John with composing (in
early 1163) a hagiography of Anselm--a prior Canterbury
archbishop who'd wrestled with overreaching English
monarchs--in support of formal canonization. As the conflict
between Becket and Henry deepened, John backed the church's
cause against the English crown, albeit somewhat reluctantly. John
consequently spent much of the 1160s in exile, either in France or at
the papal court, lobbying on behalf of Becket and against Henry and
the English bishops who backed the king. Most of the copious volume of
letters contained in John's second letter collection date from
and form important testimony to this period. Following Becket's
murder in December 1170, an event at which John was a bystander, he
served the English church in numerous capacities during the early
1170s. Importantly, John wrote one of the earliest hagiographies of
Becket, used in support of an initial canonization effort. John was
consecrated Bishop of Chartres in 1176 (a post in which he dedicated
himself to promoting the cult of Becket). He died there in 1180 and is
buried in the nearby abbey church of Notre-Dame-de-Josaphat.


## 2. Classical Philosophical Sources



It was once supposed that John of Salisbury was "the best-read
man of the twelfth century" (Poole 1932: 191). Janet Martin,
however, has convincingly demonstrated that much of John's
familiarity with Latin (and, to some extent, Greek) classics derived
from so-called *florilegia*, collections of brief passages
(Martin 1977, 1979, 1984). These compilations were probably readily
available in the extensive (pre-Reformation) library of Christ Church
monastery, attached to Canterbury Cathedral. This does not mean that
John lacked direct acquaintance with ancient philosophical texts and
ideas. At minimum, a list of his personal library (which he left to
Chartres Cathedral, where he served as bishop from 1176 to 1180)
mentions Cicero's *De officiis* and *De oratore*,
Seneca's *Naturalium quaestionum libros*, and Valerius
Maximus (Webb 1932: 65-69). Of course, John knew many more
ancient Latin authors and texts than those contained in his own
collection. In addition to Christ Church's library, John's
travels afforded him access to considerable textual resources.
Moreover, intellectuals of the time often traded volumes or
commissioned copies thereof. Hence, the Latin philosophers, especially
Cicero and Seneca, enjoyed wide dissemination during the twelfth
century, and John relied heavily upon them (see the comprehensive
overview by Hermand-Schebat 2015).



Among the Greek philosophers, John's knowledge was meager at
best, if only because the language of ancient Greece was almost
entirely absent in the Latin West during the twelfth century. Until
the dissemination of Latin translations of the Aristotelian corpus,
and a few works by Plato, over the course of the thirteenth century,
little in the way of acquaintance was possible. The only one of
Plato's texts that John could have accessed was the
*Timaeus* in the partial translation by Calcidius; among
Aristotle's writings, he clearly was somewhat familiar with the
six books of the *Organon*, which formed the foundation for the
Aristotelian logical and "scientific" system. In an
undated letter to his former teacher Richard of
l'Eveque, John expresses interest in acquiring
(unspecified) works by Aristotle (JL2: 294-95). (Bloch 2012
offers a thorough analysis of the technical aspects of John's
use of classical sources in his philosophy, with special, but not
exclusive, attention to Aristotle.)



Yet John clearly knew a great deal more about the doctrines of the
classical Greek philosophers than this account might indicate. There
were a number of Latin-language writers who transmitted to the Middle
Ages accounts of Greek philosophical teachings, including Apuleius,
Calcidius, Cicero, Seneca, Lactantius, and St. Augustine (O'Daly
2018). Thus, for example, John was aware of the existence of
Plato's *Republic* and some of its leading ideas, even
though that text did not circulate in Europe until the fifteenth
century (Dutton 1983; PC: 54, 137). He was also able to make
considerable reference to Epicurus, albeit primarily filtered through
the highly critical writings of Cicero and other Latin authors
(Nederman and Bollermann 2011). And, the translated texts of ancient
Greek thinkers sometimes contained passing references to other of
their philosophical precepts, forming so-called
"underground" sources (a term applied to John by Nederman
and Bruckmann 1983: 228-29). One instance of this is
John's use of key elements of Aristotelian ethical theory in his
major writings, nearly one hundred years before the circulation of a
Latin version of the *Nicomachean Ethics*, explicable by
Aristotle's occasional references to his moral principles in the
*Organon* (Nederman 1997).



Despite the relative paucity of John's access to ancient
philosophical writings, he pieced together a great deal of information
about the ideas posited by their authors. This was central to
John's vision of his intellectual enterprise. In a famous
comment in the *Metalogicon*, John speaks of the heritage to
which he owes a great debt:



> 
> 
> ... our age enjoys the benefit of the age preceding, and often
> knows more than it, not indeed because our intelligence outstrips
> theirs, but because we depend on the strength of others and on the
> abundant learning of our ancestors. Bernard of Chartres used to say
> that we are like dwarfs sitting on the shoulders of giants so that we
> are able to see more and further than they, not indeed by the
> sharpness of our own vision or the height of our bodies, but because
> we are lifted up on high and raised aloft by the greatness of giants.
> With these words I will readily concur.... (ML: 257)
> 
> 
> 



While what John owes to the great Christian theologians of the past
should by no means be diminished, he clearly and stridently viewed
himself as heir to the ancient traditions of philosophical inquiry.
For this reason, among others, the term "humanist" has
been bestowed upon him (by Leibschutz 1950 and more recently
Nederman 2005: 41-43, but challenged by Olsen 1998 and later
Bloch 2012: 61). The issue is not whether John read his classical
predecessors "accurately", but how he found inspiration in
and adapted them in such a manner as to defend and further his own
endeavors as a philosopher.


## 3. Philosophical Method



The most fundamental of John's philosophical commitments arises
expressly from Cicero. Beyond John's self-conscious (and largely
successful) effort to imitate Cicero's polished style of Latin
expression, he embraces the Ciceronian dedication to the program of
the New Academy (Nederman 2005; Grellard 2013). The New Academy
advocated an anti-dogmatic probabilistic theory of knowledge according
to which claims to certainty remain open to challenge, so long as they
have not been demonstrated beyond doubt. Cicero distanced himself from
the more radically skeptical method of the so-called "Old
Academy", which denied that anything whatsoever could be known
with certainty (Cicero *De natura deorum*: 1.1). As Cicero
explains, the New Academy does not foreclose the possibility of the
human mind attaining truth (*pace* the Old Academy), only
insisting that the criteria for discerning truth from falsity are not
self-evident or intuitive and that the senses can be deceived (Cicero
*Academica*: 2.24.76-2.30.98). Cicero's skeptical
stance has the character not of absolute doubt but of
anti-dogmatism.



John overtly adopted the same Ciceronian New Academic perspective in
all of his noteworthy contributions to philosophy: the
*Policraticus*, the *Metalogicon*, and the
*Entheticus de dogmate philosophorum maior*. The first is his
best-known work, a treatise on proper courtly and royal conduct which
contains a great measure of political theory; the second comprises his
critical appraisal of the state of education in twelfth-century
Europe, with special attention to the advances in knowledge occasioned
by the Aristotelian learning of his time; the last is a lengthy
didactic poem. While scholars have normally treated these writings as
discrete and largely unrelated (Wilks 1984a and von Moos 1984 are
exceptions), they are united methodologically by their shared
endorsement and application of Ciceronian moderate skepticism, which
proves to be crucial in framing the substance of John's
philosophical stance. Charles B. Schmitt's claim that
John's "treatment [of the New Academy] has little
philosophical sophistication" proves unsustainable (Schmitt
1972: 37-38).



Because John enjoyed broad access to Cicero's main works of
philosophy, he possessed a comprehensive understanding of the issues
at stake in adherence to New Academic skepticism (Denery 2016),
clearly grasping the epistemological differences underpinning moderate
and rigorous skeptical stances. In his *Entheticus maior*, John
chides the radically skeptical view of the Old Academy that "the
human race is deprived of light" (EMM: 1.138), endorsing the
position associated with the New Academy that



> 
> 
> one should hesitate in all things except those which are proved by
> living reason ... These things, [the Academic] declares, are
> known; he passes doubtfully on other things, of which more certainty
> is to be had from experience. For the usual course of events makes
> probable what you always see under a similar pattern. Yet, since it
> sometimes happens otherwise, these things are not sufficiently
> certain, and yet not without evidence. What he, therefore, affirms to
> be true, he thinks to be necessary; for the rest, he says "I
> believe" or "I think it to be". (EMM, ll.
> 1143-44, 1147-54)
> 
> 
> 



Commencing with his first work of philosophical reflection, John had
already declared his allegiance to an essentially Ciceronian
outlook. John's *Metalogicon* reiterates this position,
repeatedly proclaiming his explicit commitment to the philosophical
program of the New Academy. In the prologue, he announces,



> 
> 
> An Academic in matters which to the wise man are doubtful, I do not
> swear that what I say is true, but, be it true or false, I remain
> content with probability alone. (ML: 122)
> 
> 
> 



While John distances his version of skepticism from more radical
views, he admits that the process of achieving knowledge is
troublesome. Echoing a remark by Cicero, John observes,



> 
> 
> ... it is a great thing to discover the truth, which, as our
> Academic friends claim, lies hidden as it were at the bottom of a well
> .... (ML: 205)
> 
> 
> 



John returns often in the *Metalogicon* to Cicero's
methodological injunction against embracing insufficiently
substantiated truth-claims too hastily. A main theme of the
*Metalogicon* might aptly be characterized as the refutation of
the arid argumentation that occurred among the teachers of his time as
a result of their unwillingness to renounce their rigid formulae and
fixed dogmas.



John of Salisbury's most extensive discussion and application of
the Ciceronian New Academy occurs in the *Policraticus*. That
treatise again contains repeated self-identification of its author
with the teachings of the Academy, its prologue echoing the words of
the *Metalogicon*:



> 
> 
> In philosophy, I am a devotee of Academic dispute, which measures by
> reason that which presents itself as more probable. ... I do not
> recede from their footprints in those matters about which the wise
> person has doubts. (PC: 7)
> 
> 
> 



This is raised to the level of an evaluative standard in Book
Seven's recounting of the major schools of Greco-Roman
philosophy, the stated aim of which is to discover the valuable
lessons of each as well as to demonstrate the limitations inherent in
all (PC: 148-49). The treatment of the Academic School is given
pride of place, opening this critical history of pagan philosophy.
Even as he admits his own devotion to the Academy, John stresses the
divide that exists within the School between an extreme skepticism and
his own moderate Ciceronian stance, offering a *reductio*
argument against the former:



> 
> 
> Yet I do not say that all those who are included under the name of
> Academic have upheld the rule of modesty, since even its basic creed
> is in dispute and parts of it are open as much to derision as to
> error... If the Academic is in doubt about each thing, he is
> certain about nothing... But he possesses uncertainty about
> whether he is in doubt, so long as he does not know for certain that
> he does not know this doubt itself. (PC: 150)
> 
> 
> 



Radical skepticism cannot attain the mantle of philosophy, John says,
because the philosopher's love of wisdom requires the admission
that one *may* know what is true (PC: 151-52).



John's moderate skepticism accepts that there are three reliable
foundations for knowledge: faith, reason, and the senses (PC:
153-56). Thus, it does not behoove the philosopher to question
his faith in the existence of God, nor the certainty of some
mathematical postulates, nor a number of other first principles which
"one is not permitted to doubt, except for those who are
occupied by the labors of not knowing anything" (PC: 154).
Though it might seem that John's skepticism is not so very
skeptical after all, he generates a lengthy list of



> 
> 
> doubtful matters about which the wise person is not convinced by the
> authority of either faith or his senses or manifest reason, and in
> which contrary claims rest on the support of some evidence. (PC:
> 152)
> 
> 
> 



These topics include major issues of metaphysics, cosmology, natural
science, theology, and ethics. Among the ethical topics that John
cites as susceptible to doubt, and thus open to rational debate,
are the uses and end and origins of virtues and vices, whether a man
who has one virtue has all the virtues, whether all sins are equal and
are punishable equally. (PC: 152)



The entire list is clearly meant to be illustrative rather than
inclusive (PC: 152-53). In sum, John opens up to rational
dispute an extraordinarily broad array of topics which are appropriate
for philosophical discourse. In confronting all such debatable
subjects, John counsels adherence to the Academic method, since



> 
> 
> the Academics have doubts regarding these matters with so much modesty
> that I perceive them to have guarded diligently against the danger of
> rashness. (PC: 153)
> 
> 
> 



Unique among all schools of philosophy, the Academy resists the
temptation to replace open discussion of uncertain matters with
prematurely closed dogma. In John's view, the moderate
skepticism of the New Academy alone defends the liberty of inquiry
that he regards to be necessary to the quest for truth.



Although the *Policraticus* does not restate the
epistemological bases of intellectual fallibility addressed in the
*Entheticus* and *Metalogicon*, it clearly takes for
granted that the human mind is furnished with the potential power to
comprehend truth. Hence, John rejects the Augustinian claim that even
Cicero's moderate skepticism



> 
> 
> piles up darkness from some hidden source, and warns that the whole of
> philosophy is obscure, and does not allow one to hope that any light
> will be found in it. (Augustine *Against the Academicians*:
> 3.14.30)
> 
> 
> 



In a surprising twist, John enlists Augustine himself in support of
those who evince Academic doubt:



> 
> 
> Even our Augustine does not assail them, since he himself somewhat
> frequently employs Academic moderation in his works and propounds many
> matters as ambiguous which would not seem to be in question to another
> arguing with greater confidence and just as safely. (PC: 152)
> 
> 
> 



On John's reading, Augustine practiced the Academic method even
while he excoriated it in principle. The validity of this
interpretation aside, John seeks any evidence whatsoever to bolster
his view that "mortals can know very little" (EMM, l.
1142).


## 4. Moderation



John's admiration for temperate Academic skepticism supports
what is among the key themes of his philosophy: *modestia* or
*moderatio*. He was a convinced adherent of an
Aristotelian-tinged doctrine that virtue necessarily consists in the
mean, and that moderation in all things is the most valid standard for
judging human thought and action (Nederman 1997). As John points out
in the *Entheticus*, the Academic stance is consonant with



> 
> 
> a modest mind ... that no one may accuse it of being guilty of
> falsehood; it thus tempers all words with qualifiers, so that it
> should always be rightly credible. (EMM, ll. 155-58)
> 
> 
> 



John stresses that the possessors of such a modest mind
"restrain their words according to condition, time, cause, and
manner, [and] they avoid speaking with too much simplicity"
(EMM, ll. 161-62). Academic moderation results in rhetorical and
intellectual humility, if not caution, consistent with the virtuous
mean.



The counsel of moderation as crucial to any form of virtue permeates
John's later corpus as well. In the *Metalogicon*, he
insists that education has a definite ethical component that requires
recognition and examination. As he acknowledges in his prefatory
remarks,



> 
> 
> I have deliberately included a number of comments on moral issues,
> since my view is that everything that is read or written is valueless
> except in so far as it affords support to the way we live. Any
> profession of philosophy whatsoever is valueless and deceitful if it
> does manifest itself in the cultivation of virtue and the conduct of
> our lives. (ML: 122)
> 
> 
> 



Making men virtuous is not a distinct enterprise from making them
intelligent or knowledgeable; it is worthless to be well-educated if
one is unable to apply this learning in the service of moral
rectitude. Moreover, the very techniques one employs in the
acquisition of knowledge are subject to ethical evaluation and
judgment. Proper learning is defined not only by the quantity of
knowledge inculcated, but by the quality of the educational
experience. John believes that the doctrine of moderation and the
virtuous mean is essential to any pedagogy which takes seriously its
duty to mold morals as well as intellect.



The theme of moderation appears most prominently in the
*Metalogicon*'s discussion of the correct attitude that
the student ought to adopt toward his subject matter. Intellectual
discipline, John asserts, arises out of adherence to a mean course
between the overzealous pursuit of all topics and an absence of
intellectual curiosity: "If, however, there is no moderation,
all these qualities [of the mind] turn to their opposites. Subtlety is
reft of its utility" (ML: 194). The mind must first discriminate
among its potential subjects of study in order to eliminate those that
are unsuitable, namely, matters that pertain to God alone as well as
"things which are harmful; ... from which come pain, anger,
cupidity, and their followers, envy, hate, slander, lechery and vanity
..." (ML: 299). Yet, excessive caution yields an intellect
that resists inquiry into new or foreign territory. John maintains
that proper philosophical investigation demands careful reflection
upon the boundaries of one's intelligence in consort with the
correct application of our God-given powers of reason (ML:
180-82).



John extends his discussion of intellectual moderation to pedagogical
practice, such that a moderate attitude toward study is manifested in
the extent of materials one consults. The *Metalogicon* warns
that



> 
> 
> to follow up what some one even of the most contemptible of men has
> ever said is a sign either of complete masochism or of empty top-show,
> and it impedes and overwhelms minds which would be better off spending
> their time on other things. (ML: 177)
> 
> 
> 



The well-trained scholar will survey those authorities who are
deserving of respect, while ignoring works that do not merit effort
and attention. Equally importantly, learning ought not to be an
all-consuming, exclusive (and therefore excessive) way of life.
Rather,



> 
> 
> intelligence must ... be carefully cultivated under the control
> both of study and of relaxation, the former designed to give it
> strength, the latter encouragement ... Intelligence starts with
> nature, is assisted by practice, is dulled by excess of toil, and is
> sharpened by controlled exercise. (ML: 148)
> 
> 
> 



The overzealous scholar courts counterproductive conduct, if not the
peril of his soul.



The notion that wisdom entails a moderate cast of mind forms the basis
for John's criticism of pedagogical techniques then current in
the schools. The temper of the times discourages observation of the
mean, so that instructors prompt students to all manner of
intellectual excess. Disputations are conducted without concern for
time, place, or topic, in spite of the fact that



> 
> 
> Aristotle ought to have checked this immoderation on the part of those
> who identify indiscriminate volubility with the exercise of dialectic.
> (ML: 196)
> 
> 
> 



It is on grounds of immoderation that John objects to the unrestrained
use of the verbal duel:



> 
> 
> A voluble tongue ... throws one's life into confusion, and,
> unless checked by the curb of moderation, drives one's whole
> being headlong. (ML: 195-96; translation slightly altered)
> 
> 
> 



He has observed this situation, he says, at first hand. After visiting
former school associates from Paris, John reports his disappointment,
finding that "[t]hey had made progress--in just this one
thing that, having unlearned moderation, they had thereby lost all
modesty" (ML: 201). For like reasons, the *Metalogicon*
urges re-evaluation of the contemporary practices associated with
philosophical studies. When logic and dialectic are employed without
regard for the pursuit of wisdom, when their practice moves beyond the
mean, when, in sum, philosophy becomes immoderately fond of its own
image, the goal of wisdom ceases to be paramount and such study is
sterile and pointless.



The theme of moderation likewise infuses the *Policraticus*,
the audience for which was two-fold: first, courtiers and other
so-called "bureaucrats" (per Forhan 1985) who serve the
interests of the realm; and second, rulers who are ultimately
responsible for maintaining peace and justice in their kingdoms.
John's primary concern is to illuminate the vices of kings and
their servants in order to instruct them in the forms of behavior
appropriate to men of status and power. But John adopts a realistic
approach, explicitly acknowledging that the demands of an ascetic
morality are unsuitable for such people. Since John intended the
*Policraticus* to be a practical guidebook, he was prepared to
allow that



> 
> 
> if moderation is displayed, I do not judge it unbecoming ... to
> dwell at times upon the pleasures of the senses; as has been said,
> nothing is unseemly that is beyond measure ... Modestly pursued
> for purposes of recreation, they are excused upon the license of
> leisure. (FCP: 373)
> 
> 
> 



John orients the value of moderation toward the actual conditions
under which courtiers and princes live. But there is an implicit
political warning: Those in positions of leadership must not become so
in thrall to such pursuits that these become ends in themselves and
the business of the kingdom suffers.



More broadly, John harnesses the principle of moderation to a general
theory of virtue, one that has important consequences for his
political as well as moral thought. It is central to John's
doctrine throughout the *Policraticus* that if any action



> 
> 
> exceeds the mean, it is a fault. Every virtue is marked by its own
> boundaries, and consists in the mean. If one exceeds this, one is off
> the road, not on it. (FCP: 157)
> 
> 
> 



Bad men "'withdraw from the mean between vices, which is
the field of virtue'" (FCP: 374). But John by no means
endorses zealotry. Employing the metaphor of the left and right hands,
John observes that



> 
> 
> to stray to the right is to insist vehemently upon the virtues
> themselves [that is, to be fanatical]. To stray to the left is to
> exceed the mean in works of virtue, which consists in the mean. Truly
> all vehemence is inimical to salvation, and all excess is in error; an
> excess of goodness and of habitually good deeds is very evil. (PC:
> 53)
> 
> 
> 



While this view may seem strange for an orthodox churchman to assert,
it reveals the extent of John's concern about how his audience
might interpret his remarks. All virtues by nature may be attained
only when pursued within definite limits, and so he is not expecting
courtiers to be saints. Almost certainly referring to Aristotle, John
remarks that



> 
> 
> the philosopher says: Beware that which is excessive because if one
> abandons this cautious moderation itself, to that extent does one
> withdraw incautiously from the path of virtue ... What, therefore
> is advanced by excess, if the queen of the virtues, justice, perishes
> in its excessiveness? (PC: 54)
> 
> 
> 



Overstepping good in the name of goodness itself is as repugnant as
the utter absence of moral propriety.



To determine the virtuous mean in any specific circumstance, John
advances an essentially Ciceronian standard: "Discretion with
regard to time, place, amount, person and cause readily draws the
proper distinction" between virtuous and vicious actions.
Indeed, one might understand John to advocate a sort of
circumstantialist--though by no means relativist--moral
theory, since discretion "is the origin and source of moderation
in its widest sense without which no duty is properly performed"
(FCP: 373). Attention to context is required, for John, to guide the
determinations one ought to make of what constitutes virtuous
behavior. Thus, it is clearly vicious to take a human life, yet as a
form of punishment or as the result of a justly fought battle, it may
be vicious *not* to take a life. This conception of virtue
posits the identification of a morally correct action as a sort of
moving target, rather than a fixed moral absolute that applies at all
times and in all places. This seems to be the philosophical premise
behind his argument that various activities that might be viewed as
reprehensible in themselves may be morally justifiable when conducted
in the proper measure. In Book One of the *Policraticus*,
following a lengthy and scathing critique of hunting--a favorite
pastime of the English aristocracy to whom he is writing--John
reverses course: "The activity, however, is laudable when
moderation is shown and hunting is pursued with judgment and, when
possible, with profit" (FCP: 25). The same holds for the many
other popular courtly "frivolities". John's
overarching aim is to keep his audience mindful of that
"moderation without which the good life is impossible"
(FCP: 161), the very essence of which is the performance of the right
act in the right way and in the right situation, in accordance with
one's best judgment. (For further discussion of this topic, see
the supplement on
 Practical Moderate Skepticism.)


## 5. Princely Moderation



John applies his principle that virtue is by definition a mean between
excess and deficiency emphatically to the ruler. The moral qualities
of the community as a whole are inextricable linked, in John's
view, to the moral characteristics of its royal head. By dint of his
personal character, the good prince--the king--assures the
coherence and well-being of the polity he rules; by contrast, a
vicious prince--the tyrant--will reduce his subjects to
slaves of his own private desires. Given the definition of virtue that
John posits, the actions of a king must themselves and by definition
be moderate. According to the *Policraticus*, the moderation
exercised by the good ruler necessarily unifies and balances the
relationship that his people enjoy with one another. Employing a
musical metaphor, he asks,



> 
> 
> How much more care should be taken by princes to be moderate--at
> one time by the vigour of justice, at another by the forgiveness of
> mercy--so that subjects are made to be of a single mind ...
> and the works of peace and charity create one perfect and great
> harmony out of pursuits which appear discordant? (PC: 51)
> 
> 
> 



This does not mean that the king is the absolute arbiter of his
subjects' morals. Rather, the good prince should instruct by
example, adopting that "tranquil moderation of mind" so
valued in the magistrates of antiquity (PC: 54). While never
encouraging vice, John's preferred ruler would tolerate--or
at least not punish hastily and harshly--those evils committed by
members of the community that do not endanger public order or
religious orthodoxy. John cautions that "the amount of the
affection, with which subjects are embraced [by the king] like
brothers in the arms of charity must be confined to the limits of
moderation", lest his people lose respect for him and believe
that they can perform all manner of wickedness without fear of
consequence (PC: 49). Yet, the *Policraticus* protests against
the ruler "who is too excessively inclined towards the punishing
of the faults of subjects" (PC: 54). While the king should
rapidly take action against those "flagrant crimes" that
"one is not permitted to endure or which cannot faithfully be
endured", he should also demonstrate mildness and patience
toward those acts of his subjects "which honor and religion can
securely endure" (PC: 140). Special royal virtue, the art of
governance, consists in the moderate use of the authority that God has
bestowed.



Although John regards the king as "the minister of God"
and the servant of divine law, the good ruler must restrain himself
with the bridle of law and hold back his will, while maintaining
humility in his relations with his subjects, since he is defined by
moderation in all his deeds and decrees (PC: 28-29,
46-49). A good ruler will display such restraint despite his
divinely mandated power, according to John, because the king's
ingrained moral character--the result of a careful program of
instruction--necessarily guides him to seek justice and to
respect divine dictates. It bears emphasis that John's
conception of the nature of political power is an entirely
personalized one: The incumbent makes the office. The king's
disposition to follow the path of moderation is reinforced by the
rewards that he receives: Honored among men, he guarantees a peaceful
reign and safe succession; beloved of God, he will receive the gift of
salvation. "Kings can both flourish and abound with the most
sweet worldly things", John proclaims, "and yet can pick
the most useful fruits of eternity" (PC: 55). Nor does he
suppose that such desserts pertain only to the most righteous of
rulers:



> 
> 
> To refuse evil is a great thing in them [princes], even if they do no
> great goodness, provided that they do not permit their subjects to
> indulge in evil. (PC: 55)
> 
> 
> 



The king who refrains from misusing his great powers and who pursues
policies that maintain the harmonious order of the community assures
happiness (temporal and eternal) for himself, his progeny, and his
subjects.



The opposite of the king is the tyrant, who is characterized by the
immoderate application of political power over those subject to him.
If the ruler seeks excessive domination, if he attempts to use his
power to enslave the community, then he is a tyrant. That is, the
tyrant is a person possessing a wholly self-interested and willful
character whose ambition for the supreme governmental office has been
fulfilled. What renders him a tyrant is, strictly speaking, neither
his moral qualities nor the power he exercises, but the conjunction
and combination of the two. A tyrant claims a monopoly of
discretionary authority over all those under his control, so that the
maintenance of his full license requires the absence of true freedom
for others. The *Policraticus* insists that "as long as
all, collectively and individually, are borne along at the will of a
single head, they are deprived of their own free will" (FCP:
184). Nor does John believe that the victim of the tyrant ought
"to make a virtue of necessity by uniting consent and necessity
and by gracefully embracing that which is incumbent upon him"
(FCP: 184), as this preserves the mere semblance of liberty. John
instead advocates positive measures to protect the community from its
tyrant--in the last instance, by tyrannicide (discussed below).
The good government of the king, typified by rule in accordance with
the virtuous mean, is regarded by the *Policraticus* to be the
sole guarantee of the freedom necessary for the exercise of moral
goodness in society.


## 6. Anti-Epicureanism



In line with John's heavy emphasis on moderation, significant
sections of Books Seven and Eight of the *Policraticus* deliver
a withering critique of a philosophy he regards as the antithesis of
moderation, namely, Epicureanism (despite virtually no mention of
Epicurus and/or his school in the examination of John's use of
classical philosophy in Hermand-Schebat 2015). While John's
views reflect Cicero's highly critical perspective (similar
criticisms exist in Seneca and Augustine's *De civitate
dei*), several aspects of John's presentation of
Epicureanism seem highly distinctive and innovative. In selectively
appropriating Epicurean doctrines, he omits significant dimensions of
the tradition, while extending other elements in novel directions.
Classical Epicureanism depended upon an atomistic cosmology that
posited random occurrences in the void as the ontological premise of
the universe. As a consequence, classical Epicureans insisted that no
political lessons followed from their moral theory. John sets aside
the cosmological backdrop to Epicurean ethical teachings, while also
finding in them the source of a potent (albeit dangerous) political
doctrine. There does not seem to be any direct precedent for such an
interpretation, but, given John's inventive use of authorities
and *exempla*, one ought not to be surprised by his selective
and idiosyncratic treatment of the Epicurean school (von Moos 1984;
Martin 1984).



One indication that John is offering a unique reading of the Epicurean
tradition emerges from his claim that the ideas of Epicurus himself
are not to be mainly disdained, but that his followers should be
blamed for turning his ethics into a form of untrammeled hedonism.
Deviating from his ancient and patristic sources, John detaches master
from school, finding some merit in Epicurus' notion that
happiness may be sought through the pursuit of moderate hedonism.
"[I]f moderation is displayed", John states,



> 
> 
> I do not judge it unbecoming ... to dwell at times upon these
> pleasures of the senses ... [for] nothing is unseemly except that
> which is beyond measure. (FCP: 373)
> 
> 
> 



"[T]he field of virtue" consists neither in excessive
enjoyment of nor denial of pleasure, but is to be found in "the
mean between vices" (FCP: 374).



John asserts that the followers of Epicurus broke loose from the
crucial restraint of moderation, such that Epicureanism became the
pursuit of sensual pleasure without bounds. John separates
Epicurus' acceptable philosophy from its later practice:



> 
> 
> ...[W]hat should have been the instrument of virtue has been
> diverted by writers to the profit of filthiness. Flesh then has
> concluded (for assuredly no man endowed with sense holds the opinion)
> that to think, say, and do all that the mind, tongue, and hand covet
> and to thwart oneself or to repress one's inclination in nothing
> is the life of a man enjoying supreme happiness .... (FCP:
> 273)
> 
> 
> 



The sensual has been placed above the philosophical, the external
above the internal, and pleasure above wisdom, so that in all ways
Epicureanism subverts true happiness. Epicureanism not only perverts
the individual, but also the entire body politic, inasmuch as a nation
that "has ... been conquered by its own
self-indulgence" is ripe for conquest (FCP: 331).



Those whom John labels Epicureans are so branded not because of any
self-proclaimed adherence to the school of Epicurus, but rather
because of their observable behaviors and deeds. Excess is the
defining characteristic of Epicureans, "who in all matters serve
their own personal desires" (PC: 182). Because they "teach
philosophy and ... serve their own private wills", they are
also hypocrites (PC: 175). Despite John's flexible standard for
evaluating moderation, he finds that "the world is filled with
Epicureans for the reason that in its great multitude of men there are
few who are not slaves to lust" (FCP: 399-400). Since most
people are susceptible to sensual gratification, one need not call
oneself an Epicurean, John asserts, in order to practice its
teachings.



John is convinced that Epicureans, lacking moderation, cannot achieve
the happiness that Epicurus himself postulated (FCP: 399), because



> 
> 
> toilsome is the passage to happiness by the route of pleasure, for its
> votaries gather wealth to maintain themselves, seek grandeur to be
> upheld by power, position to inspire respect and to avoid contempt,
> and aim at glory to win fame. Yet that life which Epicurus describes
> is not acquired by all these means. (FCP: 274)
> 
> 
> 



One sign that a man driven by Epicurean acquisitiveness is
notoriety--whether in conduct, speech, or dress--"for
notoriety connotes lack of moderation" (FCP: 371). Thus it is
that "ermine makes the judge" (FCP: 386). A person's
desire for possessions "exhaust[s] the strength of [his] whole
being" and can never lead to the good life, "[f]or the
frenzy of avarice ... covets to excess the possessions of others
or guards its own too tenaciously" (FCP: 277). John is explicit
about the origin of this vicious cycle: "Pride is the beginning
of all sin", creating in man the desire to be pre-eminent. From
its "poisonous root" spring ambition, acquisitiveness,
hoarding, resentment, flattery, false modesty, over-indulgence, and
all manner of evils (FCP: 295).



While John recognizes hierarchy as intrinsic to human and corporate
relations, he warns of the perverting effects hierarchy can produce
when the twin pillars of liberality and justice have been toppled:
"Wealth, influence, and favor, since they confer much power, put
character to a severe test" (FCP: 298). The only way to survive
such a test is to embrace the guiding light of moderation, for
"[e]ach one more easily becomes puffed up with pride in that in
which he excels others, unless he be sustained by the grace of
moderation" (FCP: 297). Though aware of Plato's contention
that such pleasures ought to be actively struggled against (a stock
view of classical philosophers), John advocates that "the safer
course [is] to flee and evade the conflict", as he has never
"read of anyone who has challenged carnal pleasures who has not
fallen in the encounter" (FCP: 353). Likely, his own experience
and observations of rampant Epicureanism also inform his views.



John's treatment of Epicureanism leads him to identify a
political component not present in the ancient school. For John, the
Epicurean mindset and lifestyle are intimately associated with and
form the foundation for tyranny, which is not a wholly political
concept. The *Policraticus* details several species of tyrant:
the private tyrant, the ecclesiastical tyrant, and the public or royal
tyrant (PC: 191-92). According to John, anyone who employs power
to impose his will arbitrarily upon another is a tyrant. John admits
that his definition deviates considerably from the ordinary
understanding:



> 
> 
> It is said that the tyrant is one who oppresses a people by forceful
> domination; but it is not solely over a people that [the tyrant]
> exercises his tyranny, but he can do so from the lowest position. For
> if not over a people, still he will lord over (*dominatur*)
> whomever he can ... Who is it who does not wish to come before
> some other one if he might be subdued? (PC: 163)
> 
> 
> 



Anyone, in John's estimation, is capable of behaving
tyrannically, owing to humans' deep-seated desire to seek
sensual gratification. "They who wish to do their own will are
to be rated as Epicureans", John concludes, "for when
actions become the slave of lust, affection changes to passion"
(FCP: 399). The vices of Epicureanism spring from "the well of
passion", which leads men to suppose that they "can do
with impunity" whatever they wish and "can to a certain
degree be just like God"--not in imitation of divine
goodness, but in the belief that their wills can supplant God's
own. Thus, Epicureanism promotes pride and ambition, leading to
"a passion for power and honors" that constitutes the root
of tyranny (PC: 162-63). (For John's paradigmatic example,
see the supplement on
 The Epicurean Tyrant.)


## 7. Naturalism



Another substantive philosophical issue John of Salisbury engages is
the role played by nature in the foundations of social and political
order, an interest evident across his works. That John adopts a
naturalistic framework in the *Policraticus* might seem
sensible, but it appears also as a crucial feature of the
*Metalogicon*, wherein John develops the Ciceronian theme that
humans are transformed from animalistic primordial beings into civil
creatures as a consequence of the realization of the inhering human
capacities of reason and language. Thus, education forms a highly
relevant element of his naturalism.



John's appeal to a Ciceronian conception of the natural
foundations of society in the *Metalogicon* arises out of his
attempt to refute the doctrine, ascribed to the possibly fictional
Cornificius and his followers, that the qualities and powers with
which men are born constitute the limit of their knowledge and
faculties (Tobin 1989). Under this view, human beings ought not to
seek to improve their condition or to develop their minds and skills,
relying instead on God's redemptive grace, while shunning the
material world and their own natures completely (ML: 137,
141-42). In opposition to Cornificius, John argues that the
mundane and sinful character of human nature does not end the debate.
Rather, God through nature has granted to mankind the capacity to
improve its lot by diligent application of the native faculties of
reason and speech. This is not to say that John considers man's
nature (in Aristotelian terms) to be wholly perfectible; grace is
still required. Yet men may accomplish much by nature alone, contrary
to the Cornifician teaching that no attempt can (or perhaps should) be
made to develop post-lapsarian man (ML: 125-26).



A major pillar supporting John's case against the Cornificians
is an adapted version of Cicero's depiction of the primitive
development of human association. John deploys his source in order to
demonstrate that social interaction among men is an important
well-spring of true (albeit partial, because merely mortal) happiness
or blessedness (*beatitudo*). The *Metalogicon* regards
nature (in Stoic fashion), "the most benign parent and governor
of all things in order most due", as imprinted with a divine
plan (ML: 124). Thus, if nature has granted to man alone the powers of
speech and reason, this is so he may "gain blessedness"
(ML: 125). Such a plan emerges from the rational observation of the
structure of the universe:



> 
> 
> [T]he one and true God, in order to bind the parts of the universe in
> a firm alliance and to keep charity alive, ordered them in such a way
> that one thing needed the help of another, and one made good the
> deficiency of another, every single one being as it were a member of
> every other one. All things if separated from one another are thus
> only half complete, but are made perfect when allied to others, since
> all things are held together by mutual support. (ML: 125)
> 
> 
> 



This theme of reciprocity imbues John's corpus, employed in his
correspondence and forming the basis of his organic metaphor for the
polity (addressed below) (see JL1: 181). In the *Metalogicon*,
this universal model of mutual interconnection indicates the natural
course which ought to guide human behavior: "[I]t is not
possible even to imagine a kind of blessedness which knows nothing of
communion or exists outside society", John declares, because
nature decrees that earthly happiness derives from human association
(ML: 125). To imperil society by assailing man's capacity to
improve his rational powers--an accusation which John levels
against Cornificius--is thus to cut man off from the happiness
which God has allotted to him in the present life, as well as to
exclude the possibility of fulfilling the terms of divinely bestowed
grace.



John's view is that man's rational faculty demands a level
of sociability unparalleled in nature. In Ciceronian fashion, the
*Metalogicon* argues that reason's discovery of the
naturalness of association is not sufficient, because such individual
realization can never generate the community that it knows to be
natural to and beneficial for human existence. Speech is the mechanism
by which mute wisdom translates its insights into public proclamations
and persuades men to follow their natural inclination by surrendering
their private interests in favor of the common good (ML: 126). Should
humans retain their rational abilities yet be deprived of speech,
"they will become brute beasts, and ... cities will seem
like farmyards rather than gatherings of human beings united in the
bonds of society" (ML: 126). Enlightened eloquence, however,



> 
> 
> gave birth to so many glorious cities ... and bound so many
> peoples in the bonds of charity, that whoever strives to put asunder
> what God has joined together for the common benefit of all would
> rightly be accounted the common enemy of all. (ML: 126)
> 
> 
> 



John's vision of society is comparable to Cicero's in its
quasi-contractual quality, in that human association requires, beyond
geographic proximity, explicit agreement to share a common life in all
of the features that compose a community. Only the eloquent use of
language can convince selfish men that by nature they prefer the
common good to personal welfare. In this regard, John's reliance
on Cicero is pronounced: The *Metalogicon* presumes that the
bond of association among men is simultaneously a product of their
active cooperation, a natural, but not purely natural (in contrast to
Aristotle), outcome.



The real significance of the Cornifician position lies in its
opposition to "all cities simultaneously and the whole of civil
life", since, by claiming that men should not develop their
capacities for reason and speech, any opportunity for man to associate
is in the process denied (ML: 127). The Cornifician error is to
interpret the fixity of post-lapsarian human nature as a permanent
condition, whereas, if this were correct, society could never have
been formed originally, let alone maintained. Yet, John recognizes
that conscious effort is required if men are to join together in
communal life. John conceives of human association as a process of man
refining and improving his own abilities in order to aid the cause of
nature. The *Metalogicon*'s understanding of the genesis
of society is profoundly indebted to Cicero's notion that
nature's endowment is only a point of departure which men must
develop and shape if they are truly to live in accordance with their
own natural inclinations.



This commitment to naturalism is perhaps even more on display in the
*Policraticus*, in which John repeatedly asserts that
"nature is the best guide to living" (PC: 27, 127, 201).
The *Policraticus* follows the teaching in the
*Metalogicon* that, while nature provides the foundation for
human capabilities, they are only potentialities. "The beginning
of each thing is from nature", John observes, but people may
(and should) develop their natural capacities by means of practice
until they master their art, a principle that "obtains in
liberal and mechanical occupations" alike (PC: 125). While
nature offers a model for human conduct and association, the natural
scheme for living well may only be realized with the cooperation of
people who partake in it.


## 8. The Body Politic



John's naturalistic conception of cooperative association
informs the famous organic analogy that he proposes and develops in
the *Policraticus*. Ascribing his insight to a letter of
instruction (John's creation) purportedly by Plutarch to Emperor
Trajan, John commences with the simple observation that the
commonwealth may be likened to a "body which is animated"
(PC: 66; on the history of the controversy about the letter's
authenticity, see Martin 1984: 194-96). The different offices of
political society are represented as analogous to the distinct parts
of the human anatomy. Like all bodies, the commonwealth is guided by a
soul, which John assigns to "those who direct the practice of
religion" (PC: 67). Yet, just as the eternal human soul is not
coextensive with the mortal physical organism within which it resides,
the clerical soul of the polity is not, strictly speaking, a member of
the commonwealth (see Nederman 2013). Because the political creature
is an essentially secular entity, the body politic is ruled by the
prince, who "occupies the place of the head" (PC: 69).
(For further discussion of the relationship between the secular body
and its ecclesiastical soul, see the supplement on
 Princely Tyranny and the Liberty of the Church.)



The senate, composed of the prince's counselors, functions as
the commonwealth's heart. The senses correspond to the royal
judges and local agents who exercise jurisdiction in the king's
name. The financial officers constitute the body's stomach and
intestines, while the tax-collector and the soldier represent the two
hands. Finally, John compares the feet to the artisans and peasants
"who erect, sustain and move forward the mass of the whole
body" (PC: 67). Each part of the organism, according to the
*Policraticus*, has its own definite function, fixed by its
location within the overall scheme of the body. None of the members
may be excluded or removed without serious damage to the whole.



John's functional depiction of the community was not, as is
sometimes supposed, primarily intended to justify hierarchy and
division within society (for a contrary view, see Struve 1984:
309-11). Rather, the body politic found in the
*Policraticus* is the expression of a principle of cooperative
harmony through which otherwise disparate individuals and interests
are reconciled and bound together. John adopts a
"physiological" approach to the political organism,
according to which all of the organs cooperate reciprocally in order
to achieve a common purpose. The *Policraticus* insists that
"there can be no faithful and firm coherence where there is not
a tenacious unity of wills and a virtual joining together of souls
themselves" (PC: 77). Echoing the naturalistic principle
articulated in the *Metalogicon*, John posits that all parts of
the body must be truly oriented toward and dedicated to a common or
public welfare that supersedes the aggregate private goods within the
polity. The ruler and magistrates are advised to attend "to the
utility of all", the feet are counseled "to concentrate on
the public utility in all matters", and in general "all
the members" are expected to "keep watch over the public
advantage" (PC: 136, 126, 135). The security of the body politic
can only be maintained by means of a joint commitment to a public good
which benefits all, so that



> 
> 
> each individual may be likened to a part of the others reciprocally
> and each believes what is to his own advantage to be determined by
> that which he recognizes to be most useful for others. (PC: 126)
> 
> 
> 



John's political body is one in which, beyond all social
differentiation, there is "mutual charity reigning
everywhere", because all segments are attuned to the same
enduring common purpose that encompasses the valid interests of the
whole (PC: 142). Unity follows from cooperation, and cooperation stems
from the existence of a good shared by the entire community and each
of its members.



Following from his use of a physiological model of social
organization, John identifies maintenance of the 'health'
of the body politic as necessary to ensuring a cooperative spirit and
avoiding fragmentation. For John, the political body's health
depends on the practice of justice by the organs and members. This
association between the common good and justice entails a correlative
obligation on the part of all members of the commonwealth:



> 
> 
> Inasmuch as the duties of each individual are practiced so that
> provision is made for the corporate community, as long as justice is
> practiced, the ends of all are imbued with the sweetness of honey.
> (PC: 131)
> 
> 
> 



Every organ and limb must conduct itself according to the dictates of
justice if the polity is to exist as a corporate whole. John's
conception of justice follows the Ciceronian duality (Cicero *De
officiis*: I.7.23) of negative obligation and positive duty:



> 
> 
> Justice consists chiefly in this: do not do harm and prevent the doing
> of harm out of duty to humanity. When you do harm, you assent to
> injury. When you do not impede the doing of harm, you are a servant of
> injustice. (PC: 62)
> 
> 
> 



Because justice is inherently productive of social cooperation,
whereas injustice necessarily tends to disharmony and social
disintegration, John construes justice as both a generalized virtue
and the guarantor of the body's health. Since justice is the
salient characteristic of the common good, it determines the manner in
which each bodily member performs its functions. Not only kings and
magistrates, but even the lowliest of parts, are viewed by John as
potential agents of public justice (see Nederman 1997), reinforced by
the fact that the function of each is absolutely necessary for the
well-being of all. The wide diffusion of responsibility for the
maintenance of justice assures that all members of the body politic
possess the basic faculties necessary for guarding and protecting the
common good.



John is willing, under exceptional circumstances, to extend this
discretion to direct political action against evil rulers. He
describes two circumstances that warrant public concern: the
commission by rulers of minor offenses, which can be tolerated by the
community, and of flagrant crimes, which endanger the well-being of
the body politic (PC: 140-41). In the first instance, citizens
should express their disapproval and recommend corrective measures,
but should not challenge the king's position. In the second
case, when the common good and religion are threatened by a tyrant,
members of the political organism ought--indeed, are bound by the
functionalist terms of the political order--to take action to
deflect injury to the body. This claim forms the basis for
John's controversial doctrine of tyrannicide. Scholars have
debated whether these remarks amount to a theory of tyrant-killing or
merely an account of the bad endings that have come to all tyrants
(Van Laarhoven 1984; Nederman 1988). John's seemingly
contradictory claim that tyrants are both the servants of God and
assured of divine punishment (PC: 201-02) finds resolution
through numerous historical examples of the destruction of tyrannical
rulers once their ordained purpose has been achieved.



Yet, as elsewhere in John's writings, this religious dimension
of tyrannicide is paralleled by a philosophical justification that
depends on reason alone. Because John considers tyranny to be a crime
against "the body of justice itself" (PC: 25), he invokes
the organic nature of the community to explain the legitimacy, albeit
rare, of tyrannicide. Inasmuch as one enjoys membership in the
political community, one may ultimately be responsible--based on
each part's duty to see justice served in the whole--for
eradicating the incorrigible tyrant. John does not believe that such
action should be undertaken lightly, specifying a set of conditions
that must be met prior to eliminating a tyrant (PC: 209; see
207-09 for the paradigmatic proper tyrannicide). Following from
his naturalistic paradigm, John asserts that "whoever does not
prosecute [the tyrant] transgresses against himself and against the
whole body of the secular republic" (PC: 25). Note that slaying
a tyrant, under the caveats John specifies, falls within the general
obligation on the part of every member of the political body, without
distinction, to pursue justice. Since the health of each depends upon
the health of all, John posits a strong link between the organic
nature of social and political order and the widespread public defense
of that order, extending even to the act of removing a tyrant (on
John's use of medical metaphors, see Shogimen and Nederman
2011).


## 9. Practical Philosophy



John's supposedly non-philosophical works--two substantial
letter collections, two hagiographies, and a (brief)
history--attest, in various ways, to his central commitment to a
practical philosophy. John's contemporary readers shared his
understanding that all of his works both partake in the moral and
philosophical and have immediate, real-world relevance. Upon receiving
a copy of John's first letter collection, his close friend and
frequent correspondent Peter of Celle described it as "seasoned
with philosophy, clothed in the characters of rhetoric" (quoted
in JL1, x). In myriad ways within and across his non-theoretical
texts, John addresses the nature of philosophy, provides examples of
moderate skepticism at work, outlines the parameters of moderation and
immoderation as to both virtues and vices, and examines the
relationship between the secular body politic and its ecclesiastical
soul.



John often drew attention to the practical dimensions of philosophy.
In a passage in John's *Life of Saint Anselm*, for
instance, he expands on his critique of what he viewed as the sterile
approach to learning--both philosophy for its own sake and for a
purpose not oriented toward the cultivation of virtue--then
dominant in the schools. John reports that Anselm, having been perhaps
overly diligent in his studies, "c[ame] back to his senses and
wisely examin[ed] his ways", a pedagogical practice recommended
in the *Metalogicon*. He then realized "that a stream of
eloquence or this world's philosophy does not confer true
happiness. These often produce pride ..." (A&B: 21). In
light of John's sustained indictment of rampant Epicurean
tendencies, as well as his judgment that Epicureanism is incapable of
leading to the *summum bonum*, it is likely that "this
world's philosophy" represents a retroactive reference to
John's present.



A number of the letters John wrote during his Becket-related exile in
France include meditations on the true purpose of philosophy and the
role of the true philosopher. In a letter to his fellow churchman
Gerard of Pucelle, John characterizes his exile as "the trial of
the purpose of true philosophers ... those who suffer in
innocence and for the defence of faith and justice" (JL2:
68-69). In light of the very real constraints on John's
finances, it is not surprising that he found comfort in the
philosophic tradition of rejecting worldly possessions, claiming that
"[n]othing is more fitting for a philosopher than to profess the
truth, reverence justice, despise the world, and, when necessary, to
love poverty" (JL2: 68-69). In a letter dating to the same
period, John explains to his friend Hugh, abbot of Bury St. Edmunds,
that philosophy is the "foster parent of virtues and governess
of duty ... She lays down that the useful and the honourable are
linked together by mutual predication ..." (JL2:
264-65), a distinctively Ciceronian theme. To fellow philosopher
John Saracen, John casts his state of exile--in language that
both echoes the *Policraticus* and calls to mind
Boethius--as conducive to philosophy, writing that he now views
his present condition as a



> 
> 
> friend, who opened my eyes, formerly dazzled by the absurd fantasies
> of fortune, drove away courtly trifles and alluring pleasures, urged
> me on the path of virtue, and numbered me among the throngs of the
> philosophers. (JL2: 270-71)
> 
> 
> 



Occupying the pinnacle of this throng, in John's estimation, is
his former teacher, Gilbert of Poitiers, "the most learned man
of our day" (HP: 15), whose heresy trial at the 1148 Council of
Rheims John attended and reports at length in his *Historia
Pontificalis* (for an analysis of John's account of the
trial and its aftermath, see Bollermann and Nederman 2014). Among the
qualities that single Gilbert--and, hence, the ideal (Christian)
philosopher--out, John notes that he possessed



> 
> 
> the very keenest intelligence ... had read most things and
> ... after spending almost sixty years in reading and close study,
> was so learned in the liberal arts that ... he was held to
> surpass all in every subject ... [and was] thoroughly conversant
> with the [church] doctors. (HP: 16, 27)
> 
> 
> 



While displaying "the great moderation always habitual to
him", Gilbert "made use of every branch of learning as
occasion demanded, knowing that all were consistent with each other,
and mutually illuminating" (HP: 26-27). These sentiments
echo and reinforce the *Metalogicon*'s lessons on
scholars and study.



Finally, in the prologue to the *Historia Pontificalis*, John
delineates a philosophy of history firmly rooted in the practical: A
chronicle such as his will "profit my contemporaries and future
generations" because it generates a record



> 
> 
> valuable for establishing or abolishing customs, for strengthening or
> destroying privileges; and nothing ... teaches the living more
> surely and soundly than knowledge of the deeds of the departed. (HP:
> 3)
> 
> 
> 



John's mention of customs and privileges is particularly
noteworthy, as he wrote the *Historia* early in his exile, when
King Henry II was insisting that Becket and the English church submit
to the so-called ancient customs and privileges his royal predecessors
had purportedly enjoyed.



In sum, John does not embrace the traditional doctrine that
contemplation is inherently superior to and more praiseworthy than
action. Quite to the contrary, he adopts the position that the entire
point of philosophical inquiry is to provide guidance in the conduct
of one's affairs. John's principles of philosophical
inquiry should thus be viewed in the context of his broadly humanistic
project, namely, the identification of the features conducive to human
happiness. Throughout his writings, he stresses that philosophy ought
not to be a specialized, dry, and obscure pursuit, but rather an
integral feature of an active, dutiful, and devout life within the
political arena. Philosophical investigation is to be valued because
knowledge and its by-products (including social order and virtue)
promote the earthly *summum bonum* of humanity. In contrast to
the Epicureans, whom he observes abounding at court, John's
standard of living well is not found in the physical comfort
associated with wealth, power, status, and luxury. Rather, he proposes
that wisdom, properly attained, promotes the useful goods of virtue,
qualities of the human soul that ultimately generate the highest
degree of happiness. We should desire to be wise and virtuous, John
believes, because we will thereby fulfill our natural (and divinely
ordained) purpose as human beings. And when we flourish in this way,
we cannot fail to become happy in the way God intended.



This basic orientation of mind constitutes the core of John's
main contributions to philosophy. The *Metalogicon* is meant to
be a practical guidebook to such happiness through a morally-guided
quest for knowledge, a goal that John regards to be of far greater
worth and far more befitting the philosopher than the technical
pursuits too commonly found in the schools. Likewise, in proposing the
political ideas of the *Policraticus*, he sought to illustrate
the principle that philosophy provides invaluable aid in achieving the
good life of both the individual and the entire community. The
vitality of John's thought consists primarily in its
confrontation with the tensions between the demands of everyday life,
whether in the classroom or at court, and the requirements of living
well in a moral and religious sense. His vision of philosophy is the
self-consciously practical one of revealing how our moral and
intellectual characteristics may help us to navigate toward lives that
are fulfilling on earth, while also attaining the ultimate heavenly
reward. Much of John's career proves a testament to his
conviction that philosophy only possesses value to the extent that it
shapes our choices and actions.



Tracing the philosophical lineage of John's thought through his
later works illustrates the essential unity of his intellectual
perspective. He did not discriminate radically between his speculative
and his practical work. On the contrary, he seems to have
enthusiastically incorporated philosophical principles into the
conduct of his everyday life as well as his analysis of contemporary
events and personalities. Philosophy for John was not to be left at
the schoolhouse door, for it ought to occupy an important place in the
world at large. The task of philosophical discourse is to aid in
discerning the good from the evil, the true from the false, and so to
illuminate the path toward happiness by navigating the tricky by-ways
of public life.