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 MICHAEL REESE 
 
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 Cards. 
 
 N. B. — Take out carefully, leaving about quarter of an inch 
 at the back. To do otherwise would, in some cases, release 
 other leaves. 
 
 AUERBACH, BERTHOLD. Spinoza. (A 
 Novel.) By Berthold Auerbach. New York: 
 Henry Holt & Co., 1882. i6mo, pp. 444. (Leisure 
 Hour Series, No. 135.) 
 
 SPINOZA. (A Novel.) By Berthold Auerbach. 
 New York: Henry Holt & Co., 1882. i6mo., pp. 
 444. (Leisure Hour Series, No. 135.) 
 
 FICTION. Spinoza. (A Novel.) By Berthold 
 Auerbach. New York: Henry Holt & Co., 1882. 
 i6mo, pp. 444. (Leisure Hour Series, No. 135.) 
 
BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 
 
 {Leisure Hour Series.) 
 
 ON THE HEIGHTS. 2 vols. 
 
 THE VILLA ON THE RHINE, 2 vols., with Portrait. 
 
 BLACK FOREST VILLAGE STORIES. 
 
 THE LITTLE BAREP'OOT. 
 
 JOSEPH IN THE SNOW. 
 
 EDELWEISS. 
 
 GERMAN TALES. 
 
 THE CONVICTS. 
 
 LORLEY AND REINHARD. 
 
 ALOYS. 
 
 POET AND MERCHANT. 
 
 LANDOLIN. 
 
 WALDFRIED. 
 
 BRIGITTA. 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
LEISURE HOUR SERIES No. 135 
 
 SPINOZA 
 
 A NOVEL 
 
 BY 
 
 BERTHOLD AUERBACH 
 
 Author of " On the Heights,^' etc. 
 FROM THE GERMAN BY 
 
 E. NICHOLSON 
 
 All high things are as difficult 
 
 of attainment, as rare. "—Spinoza 
 
 
 NEW YORK 
 HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 
 
 1882 
 
a/^iJ 
 
A3 
 
 CONTENTS. IffJ^ 
 
 ■ Ai4/M 
 
 CHAPTER I. ' - 
 
 »AGS 
 
 ACOSTA 9 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 A Friday Evening 14 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 The Jewish Dominican 26 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 The Synagogue 39 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Father and Son 49 
 
 Manuela 55 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 Talmud and Latin 101 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 Thk Treaty op Peace 1^3 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 Thb Cabbalist 144 
 
iv CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Lucianist 165 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 Benedictus Sit 185 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 A New Man 200 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 Disciples of Descartes 215 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 The New Ally 229 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 Handicraft 235 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 The Unexpressed 255 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 Pantheism 268 
 
 ^ CHAPTER XVII. 
 Proselytes 295 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 Kissing and Dying 311 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 Sthx Life 322 
 
 # 
 
CONTENTS. V 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Confessions 338 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 MiCROCOSMOS 352 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 Peculiarities 365 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 Missionaries 377 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 The Excommunication 400 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 Wooing by Proxy 413 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 Scars and Purification 426 
 
 Epilogue 440 
 
SPINOZA. 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 ACOSTA. 
 
 ON a Friday afternoon at the end of April, 1647, 
 in an obscure corner of the Jewish cemetery at 
 Oudekerk, near Amsterdam, men were shovelling 
 quickly to cover a sunken coffin with earth. 
 
 No mourners stood by. The people present stood 
 in groups, and conversed on the events of the day 
 or of the life and death of him now given to the 
 earth, while the gravediggers hurried over their 
 work in silence and indifference ; for already the 
 sun sinking in the west showed that it would soon 
 be time "to greet the face of the Sabbath." 
 
 At the head of the grave stood a pale youth, who 
 watched the brown clods fall into the hole with 
 thoughtful looks. With his left hand he uncon- 
 sciously plucked the buds from the well-cut beech 
 hedge. 
 
 "Young friend," said a stranger to the youth in 
 Spanish, "are you the only kinsman here of him 
 
2 SPINOZA, 
 
 who rests beneath ? I perceive that you knew him 
 well, and could tell me who he is, that he should be 
 shovelled over like one plague-stricken without a 
 sigh or word of mourning or lamentation. I am a 
 stranger — " 
 
 *' I am no more related to him than you," said the 
 youth with some hesitation, "in so far as you, \ 
 presume, are of the race of Israel. You must in- 
 deed be a stranger, and come from distant lands, 
 not to have heard of the fate of this unhappy. God- 
 forsaken man. Oh ! he was great and glorious, and 
 how is he fallen into the depths !" 
 
 " Pray," interrupted the stranger, " do not do as 
 the others did whom I asked on turning in here 
 from the street; tell me — " 
 
 *'Do you know the family of Da Costa from 
 Oporto ?" asked the youth. 
 
 " Who has lived in Spain, and has not been im- 
 pressed with the renown of that name? The most 
 distinguished of knights bore it. Miguel da Costa, 
 after whose death the family disappeared from 
 Oporto, was one of the stateliest of the cavaliers, 
 whom I saw at the tournament of Lisbon; he was 
 once a zealous member of our secret community." 
 
 *'He, who there finds rest at last," began the 
 youth, *' was his son, and, as my father often said, 
 in figure and bearing the image of his sire. Gabriel, 
 as he was named, was practised in all knightly 
 exercises, deeply learned, especially in the law. 
 
ACOSTA, 2 
 
 Though so early tortured by religious doubts, he 
 accepted, in his twenty-fifth year, the office of 
 treasurer to the cathedral charities. Then a desire 
 awoke in him for the religion of his forefathers, and 
 with his mother and brothers he left the land where 
 rest the bones of so many slain for our faith, where 
 Jews without number kneel, and kiss the pictures, 
 which they — " Here the youth suddenly stopped, • 
 and listened to the conversation of the diggers at 
 the grave. 
 
 " God forgive my sins," said one, " but I maintain 
 this knave did not deserve to be buried on a Friday 
 evening; because the Sabbath is coming in he is 
 freed from the first torments of corruption. If his 
 soul gets safe over, he will come to a spread table, 
 and have no need to wander in Gehiftom (Hell), for 
 on the Sabbath all sinners rest from their torments. 
 I told them they should have let him lie till^Sunday 
 morning: it was time enough for the fate that await- 
 ed him; and at least his death need not have led us 
 to make a hole in the Sabbath. Make haste that we' 
 may finish." 
 
 *'Ay, ay," responded the other, ''he'll wonder 
 when he gets over, and the destroying angel whips 
 him with fiery rods; he'll believe then that there 
 is another world that he did not see while living. 
 Think you not so ?" 
 
 " Pray tell me more," said the stranger. 
 
 " You have heard what they said," answered the 
 
^ SPINOZA. 
 
 youth, " and the little man there with a hump on his 
 back, who scoffs at him now, enjoyed much of his 
 bounty; for his generosity was boundless. Gabriel 
 came to Amsterdam, submitted to every precept, 
 and entered our faith. Henceforth he bore the 
 name of Uriel Acosta. He followed zealously what 
 is written: * Thou shalt search therein day and 
 night.' I have often been told that it was affecting 
 to see how the stately man was not ashamed to be 
 instructed in Hebrew or the Holy Scriptures by the 
 merest boy. But an unclean spirit entered into him, 
 and he began to scoff at our pious Rabbis. You 
 have heard here that he was one of those who deny 
 the foundations of our faith; he has set down the 
 sins of his heart in his writings, and would prove 
 them from the Holy Word. Rabbi Solomon de Sil- 
 va, our celebrated physician, has refuted his errors. 
 Acosta was excommunicated, but freed himself by 
 recantation. The contrary spirit in him, however, 
 rested not. He not only opposed our holy religion, 
 in that, as his own nephew said, he violated the 
 Sabbath, and enjoying forbidden meats, and dis- 
 suaded two Christians, who would have changed to 
 Judaism, but he spoke openly, as a very apostate, 
 against all religion. For seven years he refused to 
 live according to the precepts of our faith, or under- 
 go the penance laid upon him. He* should have 
 been laid forever under the greater excommuni- 
 cation, and expelled from among our people. On 
 
ACOSTA. J 
 
 the persuasion of his former friend, the pious Rabbi 
 Naphthali Pereira, he submitted to the sentence of 
 the Beth-Din (the court of Rabbis), and bore all the 
 hard penances to which they subjected him. My 
 father often said, if Acosta had entered the field in 
 defence of our religion he would have cheerfully 
 and courageously gone to his death for it, but he 
 could not live for it. Domestic disunion, the break- 
 ing off of his engagement to a daughter of Josua di 
 Leon, disordered his mind entirely. He left as his 
 last will the story of his life, wherein he sought to 
 justify himself ; if you remain in Amsterdam you 
 may hear many other things about him. For a 
 long time he had not spoken with any one, contrary 
 to his former ways; men took it for repentance, but 
 he brooded over new misdeeds. He shunned the 
 Rabbi Naphthali Pereira, for he held him to be the 
 first cause of his sorrows and misfortunes. Early 
 yesterday, as the Rabbi passed Acosta's house on 
 his return from the synagogue, the apostate shot at 
 the holy man with a pistol. He was once a good 
 shot, and renowned for it in his native town ; but 
 an angel from heaven must have held his arm, for 
 it is wonderful that he did not wound the holy 
 man ! He seems to have premeditated the deed, 
 for he immediately seized a second loaded pistol, 
 and shot himself in the mouth, so that his brains are 
 said to have been blown even to the roof. For this, 
 therefore, is he now infamous — " 
 
6 SPINOZA, 
 
 ** Baruch," interrupted a long lank youth who 
 now approached them, '' Baruch, come; all is fin- 
 ished, and we return home with our master." 
 
 "I am coming, Chisdai," answered Baruch; and 
 bowing to the stranger he crossed to where those 
 assembled prayed in the Aramaic language for the 
 resurrection of the dead and the restoration of 
 Jerusalem. On leaving the graveyard each one 
 plucked grass three times from the ground, and 
 throwing it over his head said the following verse 
 in Hebrew: "And they of the city shall flourish like 
 grass of the earth" (Ps. Ixxii. ii). Three times, 
 in front of the graveyard, each one washed his 
 hands in the water brought for the purpose, to 
 cleanse himself from the touch of the demons who 
 haunt God's acre. While so doing they said the 
 verse (Is. xxv. 8), " He will swallow up death in 
 victory." Only then could they proceed on their 
 homeward way, but even on the road the verses of 
 Ps. xc. 15 and Ps. xci. must be three times repeated. 
 According to custom, they seated themselves while 
 commencing the verses on a stone, or sod; the first 
 verse being spoken they renewed their march. 
 Thus departed Baruch and Chisdai, with their 
 teacher Rabbi Saul Morteira between them. 
 
 "So let all thine enemies perish, O Lord!" 
 (Judges V. 31) said Chisdai at last. "On this 
 haughty man the judgment of the Lord has declared 
 itself in all its might. Thou didst not see his pen- 
 
ACOSTA. 7 
 
 ance, Baruch. I hope that mine eyes may never 
 see such another. A sinful pity arose in me until I 
 perceived with sorrow that men are constrained to 
 wield the lash of God. All is fixed in my memory. 
 I see the apostate before me as he read out his re- 
 cantation in the synagogue, in a white winding- 
 sheet, not in his former imperious tone; he carried 
 his front less audaciously high: but what good was 
 it that he, like the Prophet Isaiah, bowed his head 
 like a reed to the wind ? And when they led him to 
 the corner, and bound his Samson-like arms to the 
 pillar, and bared his broad back — I see it all before 
 me as plainly as if it were before these eyes now. 
 The Chacham stood near the sexton, and read out 
 the verse (Ps. Ixxviii. 38): "But he, being full of 
 compassion, forgave their iniquity, and destroyed 
 them not: yea, many a time turned he his anger 
 away, and did not stir up all his wrath." Three 
 times he repeated the thirteen words, and at each 
 word the sexton laid his lash on the bare back. Not 
 the slightest sign of pain did he give, and when he 
 had received the required number, he still lay there 
 motionless, his mouth kissing the ground his feet 
 had refused to tread. At last he was reclothed and 
 led to the entrance of the synagogue: there in the 
 doorway he was forced to kneel, the sexton hold- 
 ing his head, that each as he went out might set his 
 foot on the scarred back, and step over him in his 
 way; I made myself heavier as I stepped, that he 
 
8 SPINOZA. 
 
 might feel my foot also. I tell thee it is a shame 
 that thy father should have taken thee away with 
 him just on that day. I saw him, when all the 
 rest were gone, rise, and go back into the syna- 
 gogue; he tore the holy chest furiously open, and 
 gazed long on the scroll of laws, till the sexton 
 reminded him to go. "Are the gates of heaven 
 again opened to me ?" he asked — and he seemed 
 to me to laugh scornfully. He wrapped himself 
 in his mantle and sneaked home. The ways of 
 God are just ! He has fallen into the pit which 
 he digged for others. Thus must all such perish: 
 he is lost both here and there." Chisdai glanced 
 at his teacher to read in his looks the approval 
 of his holy zeal ; he, however, shook his head 
 thoughtfully, and repeated the prayer before him 
 quietly. 
 
 Baruch had twice opened his mouth to answer 
 his schoolfellow, but fearing to express his pity for 
 the sinner's fate too warmly, he had remained silent. 
 Now when he perceived the displeasure of his 
 teacher, he said, " Thou dost not appear to imitate 
 the Rabbi Myer's wife," alluding to a narrative in 
 the Talmud in which the woman changed the word 
 sinner in Ps. civ. 35, " Let the sinners be consumed 
 out of the earth, and let the wicked be no more," 
 into sins^ and continued, "for there is not a just 
 man upon earth, that doeth good and sinneth not " 
 (Ec. vii. 20). 
 
A CO STA. g 
 
 " I too abominate the teaching that led to the 
 perplexities of Uriel — " 
 
 "Name him no more: he is damned," interrupted 
 Chisdai; while Baruch continued: 
 
 " He has overthrown even his teachings, since 
 it drove him to suicide. While he lived men 
 judged him; now he is dead God alone can judge 
 him." 
 
 The Rabbi nodded to Baruch without saying a 
 word, being still busied with the Psalms. 
 
 "But it is written," said Chisdai defiantly (Prov. 
 X. 7), '^ ' The name of the wicked shall rot.' " 
 
 The three walked on for some minutes in silence, 
 each engrossed by his own thoughts. At last the 
 Rabbi broke the stillness, and explained that the 
 revealed law admitted of no denial, for God had 
 written it with His own hand, and delivered it to 
 us all that we might live according to it. 
 
 "Whoever desires to live according to the sug- 
 gestions of his reason, denies the necessity of reve- 
 lation, denies its truth, and thereby mocks the laws 
 that must rule him." 
 
 " There are men," concluded the Rabbi, " who 
 say: * Let each think and believe as he can answer it 
 to himself.' They are themselves, without knowing 
 it, fallen away. We dare not leave any one born 
 in our faith to perdition, for it would be our per- 
 dition also. If we can bring him with discourse 
 to repentance and penance, we sing * Hallelujah! * 
 
10 . SPINOZA. 
 
 but if he remain obdurate and stubborn, we rend 
 our garments; he is dead; he must die, or kill the 
 Satan in his heart. We constrain him with all the 
 power that God has given us." 
 
 "They constrain him until he says 'I will,'" 
 interrupted Chisdai from the Talmud; and the 
 Rabbi continued: 
 
 " If we cannot exorcise the lying spirit in him, we 
 exterminate him, and his devil also. When words 
 no longer reach, the Lord has given us the stone 
 wherewith to stone. Let not yourselves be led by 
 those who are now soft-hearted over the fate of the 
 apostate, and say, 'They should have saved him — 
 not driven him so far.' It is well for him that he 
 can sin no longer." 
 
 A singular train of thought must have risen in 
 Baruch's mind, for he asked after a pause: 
 
 " Where in Holy Scripture is suicide forbidden ?" 
 
 "What a question!" replied the Rabbi peevishly; 
 and Chisdai added: 
 
 " It says in the sixth commandment, ' Thou shalt 
 do no murder,' without comment, and that means 
 neither another nor thyself." 
 
 "You start strange questions to-day," said the 
 Rabbi disapprovingly to Baruch. He, however, 
 could not explain what disturbed him. The stranger 
 had aroused him from deep thought as he stood 
 by the grave of the heretic, gazing into the pit 
 while they lowered the body in; it seemed to him 
 
A CO STA. II 
 
 as though his own body were sunk therein, and 
 that his spirit wandered complainingly and ques- 
 tioningly through the world. Is it the fate of the 
 wanderer that he should be pushed over a preci- 
 pice ? Who can compel another's mind, who com- 
 pel his own, to keep to the path mapped out for 
 him ? How unalterable must have been the con- 
 victions of him who was there shovelled over, that 
 for their sake he should have tried to give death to 
 others, and have given death to himself ! Who dare 
 judge and condemn in such a case as this ? The 
 words of the stranger had broken in on these heavy 
 thoughts; the words of the Rabbi on their return 
 had awakened his opposition anew, and raised a for- 
 gotten memory in the mind of the youth. Years 
 before, when he stood for the first time among the 
 graves, this grief had disturbed the mind of the 
 boy. His uncle, Immanuel, was then buried; long 
 an invalid, he had been much with the children, 
 and had made them his messengers to the outer 
 world. When all the people had left the grave- 
 yard, some to school, others to the harbor or ex- 
 change, and others to workshops and counting- 
 houses, the noise of the city still going on, as if 
 nothing had happened, the boy's heart beat fast 
 within him as the question arose in it: 
 
 *• How can everything go on so uninterruptedly 
 when our uncle is really no longer at home ?" 
 
 For hours the child wept in the empty room of 
 
12 SPINOZA. 
 
 the dead man, where the window stood wide open 
 as it had never stood before; and he railed at the 
 cruel people, who left the sick man lying outside, 
 and acted as if they had known no uncle. His 
 mother — for he dared not complain to his father 
 so — sought to pacify him, and explain that his 
 uncle was no longer alone and ill, but well and 
 happy above with God and his forefathers and all 
 good men. The boy could not understand, and 
 cried: 
 
 '^ Ah! you have not seen them: they have put him 
 in a deep pit, and thrown great sods on the box in 
 which he was sleeping; he is surely awake and can- 
 not get out." His mother strove to explain that, 
 only the body was buried; the soul was with God. 
 The boy was pacified, but for weeks he thought, in 
 storm and rain, "How is it with our uncle in the 
 earth?" . . . 
 
 Since then he had stood at the grave of his 
 mother, and remembered her consoling words. 
 But to-day, at the grave of Acosta, the recollection 
 of his uncle's funeral awoke anew. The apostate 
 who was here buried had never been free all his 
 life long from this pain that made his heart beat so 
 fast. How does it happen that children and here- 
 tics ask the same questions ? Is it because the one 
 knows naught of revelation, and the other rejects it 
 wilfully, intending to answer the questions for him- 
 self ? Who dare punish for such struggles } 
 
A CO STA. 
 
 13 
 
 " Be not righteous over much; neither make thy- 
 self over wise: why shouldst thou destroy thyself? 
 (Ec. vii. 17,) said Baruch to himself, and was silent. 
 
 When they arrived at the Rabbi's house he re- 
 minded his scholars impressively that the morrow 
 would be the 6th of Ijar. They separated, each to 
 his own home, to change their garments and hasten 
 to the synagogue. 
 
 The corn-seed falls on open ground, a sod crum- 
 bles and covers it, and no one considers how it 
 sprouts and strikes root, thus hidden from human 
 eyes. Well may the life of man be likened to such 
 hidden growth: its laws are still less revealed; 
 only the result can be modified, not the process; 
 examination but reveals more and more interrup- 
 tions in this growth. 
 
 Again, no fruit grows to perfection except thus : 
 the seed-corn must renew the changes of its life; 
 must bud and sprout, become stem, foliage, and 
 tree, to give seven and a hundred fold of the fruit 
 that nourishes life anew. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 A FRIDAY EVENING. 
 
 THAT evening, in the corner room of the high 
 house with the large bow-windows and hand- 
 some stucco work that stood on the town wall near 
 the synagogue, unusual illumination and splen- 
 dor reigned. The silver chandelier in the centre 
 of the room, whose rare arabesques were usually 
 wrapped in gauze, shone brilliantly in reflection of 
 the seven candles that blazed in a circle round it. 
 There were many other beauties to illuminate: the 
 cushions of the carved chairs were stripped of their 
 ordinary gray covers, and revealed the magnificence 
 of their silk and gold embroidered flowers and birds 
 to the eyes of all beholders, so that hardly a glance 
 could be spared for the gorgeous carpet beneath. 
 The glittering goblets and glasses stood in regular 
 order on the sideboard, and reflected the light in 
 varied broken rays. From the stove, a light puff 
 of sandalwood smoke arose, and pervaded the 
 moderately spacious apartment, in whose midst 
 under the chandelier stood a round table covered 
 with pink-flowered damask, on which the silver 
 pitchers and goblets seemed to give promise of a 
 
A FRIDA V E VENING. 
 
 15 
 
 small but jovial company. On the east wall hung 
 a picture on gilt parchment, and above it in Hebrew- 
 characters was written, " From this side blows the 
 breath of Life." A frame brown with age enclosed 
 the picture, in whose faded outlines the walls of a 
 city were still recognizable, and underneath, in 
 Hebrew, the verse, " Then the heathen that are 
 left round about you shall know that I, the Lord, 
 build the ruined places, and plant that which was 
 desolate: I, the Lord, have spoken it, and I will do 
 it" (Ezek. xxxvi. 36). It was the ancient city of 
 the Lord, Jerusalem; and many eyes, now darkened 
 in the bosom of the earth, had rested, with tears of 
 grief or longing looks of joy, on this gilded parch- 
 ment. There was no other picture on the tapestry- 
 decked walls. On the ottoman reclined a youthful 
 maiden; her rounded cheek rested on her right 
 hand, the fingers were lost to sight in the abun- 
 dance of her unbound raven tresses as she thus 
 rested; an open prayer-book lay before her, but her 
 eyes wandered beyond it into vacancy. 
 
 Was it devotion, was it the thought of God, that 
 filled her soul? Was it a beautiful memory that 
 rose before her, or dream-pictures of the future that 
 entranced her and brought that celestial longing to 
 the rosy lips, and doubled the pulsations of her 
 heart? Or was it that happy unconscious waking 
 dream, that so often surprises the maiden develop- 
 ing into womanhood, and raises nameless and un- 
 
1 6 SPINOZA. 
 
 defined longings in her breast ? A Sabbath stillness 
 rested on all her fairy-like surroundings. " I be- 
 lieve you are tired, Miriam, and no wonder !" said 
 a nasal voice as the door opened. 
 
 Miriam sprang up hastily, pushed back her hair 
 from her brow, kissed the prayer-book fervently, 
 laid it on the window-seat, and quickly smoothed 
 the ottoman. 
 
 "Why, what a fright you are in ! Did you think 
 a witch was coming ? I may be ugly enough for one, 
 it is true; I have not had time to change my dress; 
 but that was a piece of work," said old Chaje; and 
 indeed her whole appearance verified her descrip- 
 tion of herself. A coif smoked by the fire covered 
 her gray hair, except where some locks escaped, 
 and strayed like cobwebs over her wrinkled face; a 
 black streak of soot on her left cheek, and half over 
 her nose was remarked upon by Miriam, and Chaje 
 tried to wipe it off before the mirror. 
 
 "You were quite right," she continued as she 
 wiped her face with her kitchen apron. " You were 
 quite right to lie down a little. Why should that 
 thing stand there the whole year round and never 
 be used ? I wish I could lie down on my bed for 
 awhile; I want nothing to eat to-night, I am so 
 weary. Ay! When one has been eighteen years in 
 one service, one feels the toil does not only wear 
 one's clothes out. You would be tired enough if 
 you had been ten times up and down, cleaning 
 
A FRIDAY EVENING. \j 
 
 everything yourself and getting a bed ready for the 
 strange guest; it is no little to do, but it is all set 
 to rights now: he will stare to see it. What a good 
 thing it is you bought the fish ! Wine, fish, and 
 meat — that the poor man has among the poor every 
 Sabbath. Without fish the Sabbath is not rightly 
 kept: it says so in the Thora. You are such a 
 good housewife, you ought to be married soon; 
 you will ask me to the wedding ? Only take care 
 not to wed such a little Schlemiehl as your Rebecca 
 has. Have you seen how Baruch looks again to- 
 day? As if he had been ten years underground. 
 I'm afraid — I'm afraid that much learning m«y — 
 God forbid it! — injure his health. Day and night, 
 nothing but learning, learning, learning; and how 
 will it end ? My brother Abraham had a son, who 
 was as knowing as Ristotles; he studied so much, 
 that at last he quite stupefied himself. But hark! I 
 think the service in the synagogue is over. I must 
 go; I wouldn't be seen by any decent Jew as I am 
 now. They are coming up the steps." Therewith 
 Chaje slipped through the door. 
 
 Miriam was glad to be free from the tiresome 
 talker. Her father, the stranger, whom we saw in 
 the graveyard in conversation with Baruch, and 
 Baruch himself entered. Miriam approached her 
 father, and bowed before him; he laid both hands 
 on her head, and blessed her in a low voice, saying 
 these words; " The Lord make thee like the mothers, 
 
1 8 ■ SPINOZA, 
 
 Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel, and Leah;" and he also 
 blessed Baruch, saying this verse in low tones: 
 "The Lord make thee like Ephraim and Manasseh." 
 He and Baruch then chanted a short canticle in 
 honor of the troop of angels who enter the house 
 of a Jew on each Sabbath. The father's voice took 
 a melancholy tone, as he sang, wi^h his son, in the 
 usual manner, the praise of woman in Prov. xxxi. 
 lo: "Who can find a virtuous woman ?" The 
 beauty, and even the management of the house, 
 were the same as ever; the careful housewife had 
 ensured its continuance; but she herself had been 
 torn from him by death. Doubly painful was the 
 thought of her loss amid Sabbath joys. The stran- 
 ger noticed the picture on the wall. 
 
 " Do you recognize it yet, Rodrigo?" said the father 
 when he had finished the whispered prayer. " It is 
 an old heirloom, and hung once in our cellar syna- 
 gogue at Guadalajara; I saved it with much danger." 
 
 While the two friends spoke of their old asso- 
 ciations, Baruch and Miriam stood at the opposite 
 end of the apartment. 
 
 " You have a dreadfully dismal face again to- 
 day," said Miriam, smoothing her brother's hair 
 from his brow as she spoke; "come to the mirror 
 and see." 
 
 Baruch caught his sister's hand and held it fast; 
 he said nothing, but listened to the conversation of 
 the men, 
 
A FRIDA Y E VENING. 
 
 19 
 
 '• It was an instance of divine providence, for 
 which I shall ever be thankful, that I recognized 
 you directly you passed," said his father to the 
 stranger. 
 
 " So you know my son, Baruch, already; this is 
 my youngest daughter. How old are you now, 
 Miriam ?" 
 
 "Only a year younger than Baruch," answered 
 the maiden, blushing. 
 
 "A foolish answer," said her father: "she is four- 
 teen, I believe. I have an elder daughter, already 
 married." 
 
 "Ah, my dears! I have two children also," said 
 the stranger. " My Isabella is about your age, 
 Miriam; my son will soon be twenty now. I hope 
 when my children come here you will take care of 
 them, especially in things pertaining to religion, 
 for in all such they are wholly inexperienced. 
 But stay," continued the stranger as he stood 
 with folded arms before Baruch. "When I look at 
 Baruch again, I cannot understand how it was I 
 did not recognize him in the graveyard: his sin- 
 gularly dark complexion, his long, dark, almost 
 black eyebrows, are just like yours in your younger 
 days, when you meditated some daring adventure 
 or other; and this frown on his uneven brow — that 
 is just you; but the black wavy hair, and fine-cut 
 mouth, with the soft dimple at the corner — ah, 
 with what celestial sweetness Manuela smiled with 
 
20 SPINOZA. 
 
 those lips ! A certain bold oppositiveness, that 
 speaks in the lines of his face, all give him a par- 
 tially Moorish look that he has from his mother. 
 Ah, if she still lived, what joy it would give her to 
 see me here to-day!" 
 
 Baruch listened to this description of tiirhself un- 
 willingly, and half in fear. When he heard thus 
 of his partially Moorish origin, he recollected that 
 Chisdai had taunted him with it in school; he was 
 indignant that his father had not imparted it to 
 him before. The latter noticed the annoyance of 
 bis son, and said to the stranger, 
 
 "You cannot conceal, Rodrigo, that you are a 
 pupil of Silva Velasquez, and helped him to point 
 out the beauty and ugliness of others to the dames 
 of Philip's court. Baruch, you must show this 
 gentleman your drawings to-morrow. Do not look 
 so timid; nothing has been done to you." 
 
 *' No, no," said the stranger, as he patted the 
 boy's cheek, " I hope we shall be good friends. 
 Did you not know my cousin, the learned Jacob 
 Casseres ?" 
 
 "Not himself," said Baruch, "but I knew his 
 book, 'The seven days of the week at the Crea- 
 tion.' " 
 
 They then sat down to table, blessed the bread 
 and the wine, and inaugurated the Sabbath. 
 
 " It is strange," remarked the host, after grace 
 was said: "on other days I can hardly finish the 
 
A FRIDAY EVENING. 2 1 
 
 last mouthful before I put my lighted cigar in my 
 mouth, but on the Sabbath it is as if all our habits 
 were changed; I do not desire to smoke, and it 
 gives me no annoyance to practise the self-denial." 
 The guest gave no response. 
 
 " Bless me," continued the host, " I notice now 
 you still keep to our native custom of mixing wine 
 with water. If you remain with us in the foggy 
 north, where we force land from the sea, and guard 
 it each hour; where half the year the earth is stiff, 
 and the blue canopy of heaven hidden with clouds; 
 where you breathe in mist and vapor, instead of 
 clear air; here in our town, where.no springs flow, 
 and water for drinking must be brought from a 
 distance; where men live as if imprisoned by the 
 sea; where the climate itself compels men to be 
 tranquil and com.posed, and the foresight and 
 patience which have made the land, and still hold 
 it, are the prime virtues of mankind: remain here, 
 I say, and believe me, you will soon conform to our 
 custom, and pour pure grape blood into your old 
 veins to make yours circulate the faster. Ah, it is 
 a glorious and precious country, our Spain ! Our 
 Eden inhabited by devils. Now when I must so 
 soon lay my weary head in the bosom of the earth, I 
 feel for the first time that it is not my native land 
 that will receive me." 
 
 "You are unjust," replied the stranger. "You 
 here sit at your table without fear: there your 
 
22 SPINOZA. 
 
 friend and your own child might be forced to con- 
 fess with a heavy heart that you secretly worshipped 
 the God of Israel; and the glow of a funeral pile 
 might warm your old veins instead of this costly 
 wine. You may drsam now of the pleasures of 
 your native land, and forget the terrible death that 
 stared us in the face ! The glorious chestnut woods 
 with their cool dark shade could not invite us to 
 rest, or the rich forests to the chase; on the morrow 
 those trees might be our fagots; on the morrow we 
 might be the hunter's prey. In truth, when I hear 
 you speak so, I could join with those zealots who 
 ascribe our afflictions to excessive love of our native 
 land, too great pride and gratification in the respect 
 we had won there." 
 
 "Yes, yes, you are right," answered his host; 
 "but let us not disturb the joy of our reunion with 
 dismal reflections. Come, drink ! But stay ! Mir- 
 iam, bring the Venetian goblets here; and let Elsje 
 light you to the cellar, and bring the two flasks 
 that De Castro sent me." 
 
 "Brilliant!" exclaimed the stranger as he raised 
 the glass of newly poured out wine to his lips; 
 " that is real Val de Pefias; where did it come from?" 
 
 " As I said, Ramiro de Castro sent it to me from 
 Hamburg. The wine has improved with us, but 
 now it grows more fiery; and we — !" 
 
 "Well, well, we have lived; be content. The 
 wine awakes the long-extinguished fire in me. Dost 
 
A FRIDAY EVENING. 
 
 n 
 
 thou remember yet? Such wine we drank that 
 evening in the Posada near the House of Donna 
 Ines, who had already made thee wait two even- 
 ings in vain. You struck the table, and swore 
 never to see her again; yet the next evening in the 
 silent Arbor it was * dear Alfonso ' and * dear Ines ' 
 again. Ha ! ha ! ha !" 
 
 The father warned his friend of the presence of 
 the children; the stranger took little notice, however, 
 and revelled in the wine of his native land. 
 
 " Do you remember that heavenly summer even- 
 ing?" he continued, "when we sauntered on the 
 Alameda in Guadalaxara? I see you now, when the 
 bells tolled nine, and every one stood still as if 
 by magic to pray a Pater Noster. I see you stand- 
 ing before me: how you crushed your hat in your 
 hands! Your eyes flashed fire as though they would 
 set the whole world in flames. Donna Ines not ex- 
 cepted. You were a dangerous cavalier." 
 
 " By G — ," continued the stranger, after he had 
 taken another pull at the wine. " The sweat still 
 stands on my brow when I think how we stood 
 once in Toledo before the church of 'Our Lady del 
 Transito.' * Do you see,' you said, gnashing your 
 teeth, * that splendid building was once the syna- 
 gogue of our fathers. Samuel Levi, who built it, 
 hangs rotting on the gallows, and now — ' It was a 
 real wonder that, in spite of thy audacity, we got 
 away with whole heads." 
 
:24 SPINOZA. 
 
 Thus the two old friends renewed the memories 
 of their youth. For an hour they lived a life of 
 pleasure and youthful fire. 
 
 " I cannot understand," said Baruch once, " how 
 a man could be happy for a moment in such a 
 land, where he would perpetually see scorn, shame, 
 and death before him." 
 
 " You are too young," said the stranger. " Believe 
 me, if men watched your lightest breath, there are 
 hours, yea days, when you can be happy, and for- 
 get everything. If men repulse you with scorn, 
 and push you and yours aside into the mud, there 
 is a holy of holies, wherein no earthly power enters: 
 it is your own consciousness, union with your own 
 faithful circle; the heaven that there surrounds us 
 no man can take from us; not even the ever present 
 horror of death. 
 
 " All these afflictions have passed over us, and yet 
 we were happy." 
 
 "But the incessant discord in the soul ? Chris- 
 tian before the world, and Jew at heart ?" 
 
 " That was our misfortune, that I witnessed in 
 your uncle Geronimo." 
 
 " Why does he not leave his dreary hermitage^ 
 and come to us ?" inquired Baruch. 
 
 " He has left his hermitage, and we shall go to 
 him: he is dead. Boy, these sad experiences you 
 should have lived through; it would do you good 
 your whole life long." 
 
A PRIDAV EVENING. 2 5 
 
 Baruch had risen from his seat, and repeated the 
 verse appointed to be said on hearing of a death: 
 
 " Praised be Thou, O Lord our God, King of the 
 World, and Righteous Judge!" 
 
 " Tell us of it, I pray you," he added; and Miriam 
 too approached the table, and joined in her brother's 
 request. 
 
 '' It is the Sabbath, and I ought not to do it," 
 said the stranger; "but as you ask it, so let it be. 
 It was his death that decided me to save myself 
 and all dear to me from such a lie." 
 
CHAPTER in. 
 
 THE JEWISH DOMINICAN. 
 
 RODRIGO CASSERES took another long 
 draught from his tall goblet, and began his 
 narration: 
 
 "About eight months ago I received a letter from 
 Seville through Philip Capsoli; I was horrified 
 when I read the address, ^ To Daniel Casseres in 
 Guadalaxara.' It could only be some thoughtless 
 Jew who would address me by my Hebrew name. 
 How I trembled at the contents ! ' Daniel, Man of 
 Pleasure,' it said, ' the day of vengeance and death 
 is at hand, and I must die among the Philistines. 
 Would you ask how it feels to be roasted ? Come 
 to me; I am watched by the holy police. In the 
 name of the High God, by the ashes of our mur- 
 dered brothers and sisters, I conjure you come to 
 thy dying Geronimo de Espinosa.' There could be 
 no doubt that Geronimo himself had written the 
 letter; the fine straight line under the signature, a 
 sign of the worship of the one true God, showed 
 me that plainly, even if I had failed to recognize 
 the trembling handwriting. 
 
 "When I told my children of my intention to 
 
THE JEWISH DÖMimCAI^. 27 
 
 travel to Seville, I was weak enough to be deterred 
 from its fulfilment by their prayers and tears. I 
 had almost forgotten poor Geronimo, when a dread- 
 ful dream reminded me of him, and the next day I 
 set out on my journey. 
 
 " I parted from my children with a beating heart, 
 telling them I was going to my sister in Cordova. 
 I travelled swiftly through Cordova, and passed my 
 sister's house unnoticed; I could neither stop nor 
 rest; it was as if an unseen hand drew me irresisti- 
 bly onward. I arrived at Seville. The clock struck 
 the hour as I mounted the hill. * There you dwell, 
 my brilliant Geronimo,' I said to myself, * and turn 
 your footsteps to the Chapel, with prayer on your 
 lips and scorn in your heart. Is it not a tempting 
 of Providence for you, at heart a Jew, to venture 
 your person in the councils of the Inquisition, 
 even to help your brethren ? ' I entered the chapel, 
 and knelt till the mass was ended. I then arose, 
 and looked round among the stout or ascetic 
 devotees again, but in none could I recognize Ge- 
 ronimo. 
 
 " I questioned a familiar; he said Geronimo had 
 lain for weeks between life and death, and talked 
 continually of Daniel in the lions' den. He led 
 me to his cell. The invalid slept, with averted 
 face; nothing was to be seen but the tonsured 
 crown. A crucifix hung over the bed, and a friar 
 sat praying beside him; he signed to me to enter 
 
28 SPINOZA. 
 
 softly. Only the slight breathing of the sick matt 
 and a light whisper of prayer spoke of life in this 
 grave-like stillness. 
 
 "At last the sick man rose; I did not recognize 
 him: he had deep-set eyes, hollow cheeks, blue 
 lips, overhung by a long flowing white beard. Ge- 
 ronimo's appearance could not be so altered. He 
 recognized me, however, immediately; and softly, 
 with hardly a movement of his lips, said, ' Are you 
 there, Daniel ? It is well that you do not desert 
 me; you need not be afraid; you too are in the 
 lions* den; but God will help you to get out, as he 
 did the prophet in Babylon; only from me they have 
 sucked the blood and the life: I cannot get out. 
 In truth, you will not leave me ?' 
 
 " I had feared that the momentary joy of reunion 
 might have hastened his death. I could hardly 
 understand him when he acted as if we had been 
 long together, as if we had never been parted. He 
 signed to the brother praying beside him, who took 
 his book under his arm and went out. As he went 
 he whispered in my ear that I could ring if I re- 
 quired aid. 
 
 "'Has he gone ?' then said Geronimo. 'Come 
 quick: give me the pitch-smeared hoops you carry 
 under your mantle; I will hide them in my bed. To- 
 night when they all sleep we will burn the nest over 
 their heads: that will be a joyful sacrifice; the 
 angels in heaven will laugh to see it; I am bound, 
 
THE JEWISH DOMINICAN. 20" 
 
 I cannot get out. It must be kindled at all four 
 sides at once; we must be quick, or the Guadal- 
 quivir itself will rise from its bed and extinguish 
 the flames on the- mount; they have it .in pay. 
 Help me ! the water takes my life. Lord God ! I 
 have sinned, I have denied Thy holy name. Once 
 Thou showedst Thyself in wonders; send down Thy 
 lightnings, that they may destroy me — me also, me 
 first. I have sinned, destroy me ! ' 
 
 " He spoke quickly, and beat his breast with his 
 bony fists till it resounded; I could not restrain 
 him. He sank back almost breathless; I feared 
 that he would die then, and would have rung the 
 bell, but he rose again, and said, weeping, 
 
 "* Come, give me your hand; it is pure — pure 
 from the blood of your brethren: it was at the sug- 
 gestion of Satan that I, a worm, tried to gnaw 
 through this giant tree. I do penance for my 
 pride; I have denied my God. I die useless, as I 
 have lived useless. Do you not see my father 
 there ? He comes to help us. Have you pitched 
 rings enough. Father ? Do you hear the prisoners 
 beneath singing Hallelujah? Ah, it is a beautiful 
 song: Hallelujah, Hallelu El ! We free you; you 
 dare die. Do not look so reproachful; I am not in 
 fault ! ' 
 
 "He sank back again, and stared at me with 
 unearthly glassy eyes. I prayed him, for God's 
 sake and our own, to be quiet: I told him how I 
 
30 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 had come in obedience to his letter; he should be 
 at peace, since he had saved many lives, and God 
 would be merciful, and look only at the heart. 
 
 " Then, in perfect consciousness, he spoke to me 
 of his approaching death, and how rejoiced he was 
 at the thought thereof. A flood of tears relieved his 
 mind of its heavy load: then suddenly all was fear- 
 ful confusion again; he called for consecrated water 
 to soften his pain on his heart, that burnt like hot 
 iron. * Drink also,-' he said to me, ' the holy father 
 has blessed it. Bless me ! Father, it is the Sab- 
 bath. Where is Mother ? Still below in the cellar of 
 the synagogue. Mother, rise; it is I, thy Moses.' 
 
 " So he talked, and I was dizzy to think of the 
 abyss before which I stood. 
 
 " Evening came, and Geronimo thought men came 
 to put him in a dark prison, and stretch him on the 
 rack; groaning painfully, and with an almost dying 
 voice, he cried continually, * I am no Jew, I do not 
 know where there are hidden Jews. Daniel, do not 
 forsake me; do not forsake me, Daniel ! * At last 
 he slept again. It was night; the full moon shone 
 through the window and shed its silver light over 
 the sick man. I prepared for death, since every 
 word of our conversation, if overheard, would have 
 brought me to a martyr's death; by good luck, how- 
 ever, almost the whole order was employed in a 
 search for Lutherans in the town. I prayed to God 
 to have pity on Geronimo, and send him death. 
 
THE JEWISH DOMINICAN, ^i 
 
 Children, it is terrible to pray for the death of a 
 man, and that man the friend of your youth. But 
 why should this soul undergo a longer martyrdom ? 
 It was, however, otherwise ordained; I must experi- 
 ence yet more terrible moments. 
 
 "I sat there, sunk in troubled thought, when a 
 familiar entered, and ordered me to come to the 
 Inquisitor. My heart beat loudly as I entered his 
 presence; I threw myself on my knees, and asked 
 his blessing. He gave it me, and said: 'You are a 
 friend of Geronimo. In that you are a good Chris- 
 tian ' — and here he gave me a piercing look — 'take 
 care that Geronimo is obstinate no longer, but 
 takes the Sacrament once more before he dies; en- 
 deavor to do this, and let me know immediately ; 
 he must not die thus.' 
 
 " I returned to the sick man's cell; he still slept; 
 I bent softly over him; he awoke. 
 
 "'Come,' he said, rising hastily, 'now is the time. 
 Look ! Gideon with his three hundred men come 
 also; they carry the fire-filled pitchers into the 
 camp of the Midianites. Hush ! be still ! do not 
 blow the trumpets yet. Let us celebrate High 
 Mass.' He folded his hands, and crossed himself 
 three times. I prayed, I implored him, I wept for 
 fear, and conjured him to be quiet. I spoke to him 
 of our childhood's days, and how he himself now 
 would murder me, if he did not take the Sacrament. 
 
 << < VVhy do they not give it me ?' he said quietly. 
 
32 SPINOZA. 
 
 '■ I am a priest; come, wash my hands; I am unclean; 
 then I will receive it.' 
 
 " I went to the Inquisitor and told him that Ge- 
 ronimo, though still confused, himself desired the 
 Sacrament. The Inquisitor assembled the whole 
 order, and as they carried the Elements along the 
 long corridor, singing the Requiem in the echoing 
 hall, Geronimo sang loudly with them, and even 
 when it was ended he sang the deprofundis clamavi 
 in a piercing voice with folded hands; then he tore 
 his hands asunder, covered his head with them, and 
 sangthe Hebrew words: 'Holy! Holy! Holy! Adonaj 
 Zebaoth ! (Jehovah, Lord of Hosts !) Ave Maria 
 gratia plena' he said in the same mechanical tone. 
 The Inquisitor used the moment to pass the Host 
 to him; he devoured it, as if famishing. 
 
 " 'The cup ! the cup ! ' he cried, 'lam a priest.' 
 The Inquisitor handed him the cup, he clasped, both 
 hands round it, and began the Jewish Sabbath 
 blessing over it ; then raising himself in bed with 
 all his strength, he stood in the full length of his 
 trembling figure, and cried: "On, Gideon! shatter 
 the pitchers ! Fire ! Fire ! ' he put the cup to his 
 lips, threw it at the wall, so that it shivered to 
 atoms, sank down, and was — dead." 
 
 The stranger covered his eyes with his hand, and 
 stood up, when he had said these words. No one 
 uttered a syllable, for who could enter into the 
 unutterable emotions of this soul ? Each one feared 
 
THE JEWISH DOMINICAN. 33 
 
 by a sound or a sigh to distyrb the deep emotion 
 of the other. It was the silence of death. Outside 
 something tapped as with ghostly fingers on .the 
 panes; all started; the stranger opened the window; 
 nothing was to be seen. He sat down again at the 
 table, and continued: 
 
 ** I had sunk down almost unconscious at the 
 bedside of Geronimo; the cup with the spilt wine 
 lay near me on the floor. I did not venture to rise, 
 for fear my first glance should read my fate. 
 
 "'Rise,' said a harsh voice near me. I rose; the 
 Inquisitor stood before me, not another monk was 
 present. 
 
 "'What is your name ?' he asked me sternly. I 
 was in painful uncertainty; should I give my real 
 name, or not ? but perhaps he had already seen it, 
 and a lie would make my death doubly certain. I 
 told the truth; he asked for a guarantee. 
 
 "'No one knows me here,' I answered, 'but my 
 brother-in-law, Don Juan Malveda in Cordova; he 
 can bear me witness that the Casseres, in whose 
 house at Segovia the first sitting of the Inquisition 
 was held, was my ancestor.' I yet wonder at the 
 courage with which I spoke to the Inquisitor in 
 this decisive moment. ' Swear to me,' he said after 
 a long and painful pause. ' No, swear not, but if 
 you let one syllable of what you have seen here 
 pass your lips, you and your two children die 
 the death by fire. You are in my power; I hold 
 
34 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 you in unseen bonds, from which you cannot run 
 loose.' 
 
 " He then ordered a familiar to conduct me from 
 the Castle. 
 
 '^ If we take the history of the prophet Jonah lit- 
 erally, his feelings must have been like mine when 
 he was thrown out by the sea monster. I thought 
 I continually heard the dreadful Requiem, though 
 all around was as still as death. Everything looked 
 so unearthly, so strange; every bush that trembled 
 in the moonlight seemed to beckon to me to has- 
 ten on. 
 
 ^' I was hardly capable of thought, through wear- 
 iness and fear; and nowhere in that wide country 
 was there a soul in whom I could trust. 
 
 "I looked up at the myriad host of stars; their 
 celestial light shone comfortingly on my heart. God, 
 the God of Hosts, watched over me; my whole soul 
 was a prayer; He answered it. 
 
 " I reached my inn, saddled my horse, and rode 
 as on the wings of the wind. 
 
 " The moon disappeared behind clouds, and only 
 the pale light of stars, shone on my lonely path. 
 The horse seemed as if he too were driven by an 
 unseen lash; he rushed irresistibly over hill and 
 dale, and snorted with fear. Perhaps, thought I, 
 the soul of some grim enemy of the Jews, perhaps 
 that of a dead Grand Inquisitor, has entered this 
 animal, and is now condemned to bear me through 
 
THE JEWISH DOMINICAN. 35 
 
 the night and save me from my enemies. Often, 
 when he turned his head and looked at me with 
 his fiery eyes, it seemed to say to me, ' Do I not 
 suffer enough for my earlier life ? ' 
 
 " I feared even my own shadow that danced over 
 rock and stone, and I drove the sharp spurs still 
 harder into the ribs of my steed. 
 
 " You, who have grown up and lived in freedom, 
 you cannot know what a confusion is life in such 
 moments; the earth is no longer firm, the heavens 
 disappear, and whatever has been heard of the fear- 
 ful and supernatural awakes anew. Anything super- 
 natural, if it appeared, would be regarded without 
 astonishment, for everything has become supernat- 
 ural, incomprehensible, our own life most of all. 
 Wearied out, I arrived at my sister's in Cordova, 
 and first imparted to her the terrible fear that 
 hardly let me breathe freely. 
 
 " When I went to my horse next morning in his 
 stall, he lay dead; his great eyes gazed at me as 
 strangely as on the previous evening. 
 
 " With a fresh Andalusian horse of my brother- 
 in-law's I set forward on my journey. I took leave 
 of my sister, but durst not tell her that I saw her 
 for the last time. 
 
 " When I arrived at home the old rest and tran- 
 quillity had disappeared from the house. In each 
 friend who bade me heartily welcome, in each 
 stranger whom I saw in the streets, I imagined a 
 
36 SPINOZA. 
 
 messenger from the band of murderers who called 
 themselves a tribunal. Each one, I thought, would 
 throw back his mantle and disclose the blood-red I 
 on his breast. The old freedom from care had dis- 
 appeared; I knew only fear and mistrust. Waking 
 and sleeping, the figure of Geronimo was before 
 me; 'you too, you too,' it said to me, 'may die such 
 a death; deserted by the faith that was a plaything 
 of thy cowardice; tossed hopelessly betwixt truth 
 and lies.' I sold all my goods, and not without 
 great danger — for you know no one is allowed to 
 leave Spain without special permission from the 
 king — was with God's help free. I sent my children 
 out of the country by different ways; they have 
 remained in Leyden. If God preserves my life, I 
 will bring them here next week. If I should relate 
 all that I suffered till I arrived here, it would keep 
 us till the morrow, and I should not have told a 
 tenth part; but it is already late, and if it pleases 
 God, we shall remain longer together." 
 
 " Yes, the lights are already burnt out, and to- 
 morrow is the sixth lyar; we must rise early, so we 
 will, in God's name, retire." So spake the father, 
 and they all parted. 
 
 Pleasant as a Jewish house is on Friday evening 
 in the festive hour, as weird and strange is it at the 
 time of separation. The seven lights burn alone 
 in the empty sitting-room, and it is a strange sen- 
 sation to imagine it as light after light burns out; 
 
THE JEWISH DOMINICAN. 37 
 
 for the law forbids a light to be extinguished or lit 
 on the Sabbath, or taken in the hand. 
 
 In the corner house on the wall, each one went to 
 rest in darkness, and each one was followed by some 
 figure of terror from the narrative of the stranger 
 guest. Old Chaje had already been long asleep, 
 and dreamt of Miriam's wedding, and what an im- 
 portant part she would play therein, when her com- 
 panion in the apartment, Miriam, entered and awoke 
 her with a cry and a shake. " What is the matter ? 
 what is it ?" said Chaje, rubbing her eyes. 
 
 " You snored so, and talked in your sleep, that I 
 was frightened," replied Miriam. It was, in truth, 
 another fear that made her a disturber of sleep. 
 In the thick darkness she expected the spirit of her 
 uncle to glide before her each moment, and wished 
 to banish the fear by conversation. Chaje related 
 her dream, and what a pity it was that she had been 
 awakened; her mouth watered yet for the good 
 things that she had enjoyed at the wedding; she had 
 been seated near the bridegroom, with her gold 
 chain and her red silk dress on. 
 
 " You may laugh," said she, " for what one dreams 
 on Friday night comes as certainly true as that it is 
 now Sabbath all over the world." 
 
 Miriam was glad to find Chaje so talkative, her 
 ghostly fears began to fade. " What did my bride- 
 groom look like ?" she asked, as she laid her head 
 on the pillow. But that Chaje unluckily did not 
 
33 
 
 SPINOZA, 
 
 know; what he wore, and what he said to her, she 
 could tell to a hair. She talked long after Miriam 
 was asleep. It could not be ghosts of which she 
 was dreaming, for when she awoke in the morning 
 she drew the coverlet over her, shut her eyes, and 
 tried to dream again. 
 
 Baruch did not awake so pleasantly. He too went 
 to his chamber with a beating heart. It was not 
 the ghost of his uncle that appeared to him in the 
 darkness, but yet he was present to his thoughts. 
 A restless spirit filled him with horror, and op- 
 pressed his soul. With a loud voice, and out of the 
 depth of his heart, Baruch said the evening prayer, 
 and laid emphasis on the conjuration, which he 
 thrice repeated. " In the name of Adonaj (Jehovah), 
 the God of Israel, with Michael on the right, with 
 Gabriel on the left, before me Uriel, behind me 
 Raphael, and at my head Schechinath-El (the Holy 
 Ghost)" — he hid his face in the pillow, closed his 
 eyes, but it was long before sleep settled on them; 
 he was too deeply agitated. He had slept but a 
 few hours when his father woke him from a feverish 
 dream, for it was time to go to the synagogue. 
 
 « 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE SYNAGOGUE. 
 
 ALIGHT mist Still hung over the streets of Am- 
 sterdam; the golden letters of the words ^pj;** 
 n'«:^ (the House of Jacob) over the door of the 
 synagogue on the town wall shone but dimly, but 
 already a great many men and women crowded 
 through the seven columns that adorned the vesti- 
 bule of the synagogue. Baruch, his father, and 
 the stranger were there. On entering the inner 
 door, each stepped before one of the two huge 
 marble basins that stood beside each door-post, 
 turned on the brass tap and washed his hands. 
 Baruch observed the rule of the Talmud, to wash 
 the right hand first. Then they descended the 
 three steps. Every synagogue must be below 
 ground, for it is written: "Out of the depths have 
 I cried unto thee, O Lord!" (Ps. cxxx. i.) Each one 
 of those present placed over his shoulders a large 
 woollen cloth, with three blue stripes at the ends, 
 and tassels hanging from the four corners; the most 
 pious, Baruch among them, covered their hats with 
 it. " How lovely are thy tents, O Jacob! thy dwell- 
 ings, O Israel!'* sang a well-trained choir of boys; 
 and here these words did not sound ironical, for the 
 
40 SPINOZA. 
 
 simply built interior of the building was beautifully 
 ornamented. At the upper end, on the side towards 
 the east, where once the holy temple of Jerusalem 
 stood, towards which the Jew turns to pray, the 
 tables on which were engraved the ten command- 
 ments were supported by two stone lions. They 
 stood above the sacred ark, and around it, in a half 
 circle, almond and lemon trees bloomed in orna- 
 mental pots. For yearly, since they had been driven 
 out of their Spanish home, they sent to the Catholic 
 Peninsula for trees planted in the earth from which 
 they had sprung, wherewith to decorate the syna- 
 gogue, that for some few hours they might dream 
 themselves back into the well-known plains. 
 
 The long opening prayer, spoken aloud by the 
 choir-leader, gave all leisure enough for observa- 
 tion; but when at last the "Statutes of Israel" 
 (Deut. vi. 5) began, all joined in with a loud voice. 
 It was by no means harmonious; the whole build- 
 ing echoed with the wild war-cry, — for what was it 
 but a war-cry, with which they had conquered life 
 and death a thousand times ? — " Hear, O Israel ! 
 The Lord our God is one Lord !" The soul of each 
 would enter by force the impenetrable first cause of 
 the existence of God. Baruch, too, closed his eye- 
 lids fast, and clasped his hands, his nerves thrilling 
 in ecstasy, his whole consciousness, with its long- 
 ings towards that other world, drawn upward to 
 the rays concentrated in that one point of light 
 
THK SVNACÖGÜE. 
 
 41 
 
 where it found itself in God. With upturned 
 glance, as in the writings of the wise of old, he saw 
 all the dangers of the waters of death before his 
 eyes, that he would so readily have gone through 
 for his faith in the unity of his God. His whole 
 soul, thus elevated, felt refreshed as with heavenly 
 dew. 
 
 The first prayer was ended; the folding doors of 
 the sacred ark were opened on a glistening array 
 of rolls of the law bound in cloth of gold, and 
 ornamented with gold plate and jewels, that drew 
 all eyes to the holy place, where the three most 
 prominent men of the congregation read alternately 
 the names of the towns and lands in which faith- 
 ful Jews had suffered a martyr's death; the most 
 worthy of these martyrs were enumerated and read 
 out at the conclusion of the death-roll of the pre- 
 ceding year. Rachel Spinoza was among the first 
 of these; her name was said with a blessing, and 
 the pious legacies mentioned, which she had left 
 for prizes in the Talmud school, " Crown of the 
 Law." Baruch looked sadly at his father; for with 
 the sacred memory of his mother was mingled the 
 enigmatical mention of her Moorish origin. 
 
 The sacred ark was again closed, and Rabbi 
 Isaak Aboab advanced to the altar in the midst of 
 the synagogue. He was a thin little man, marked 
 with small-pox, with a high forehead and prominent 
 gray eyes, and a red beard on cheek and chin. 
 
41 SPINOZA. 
 
 "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the 
 shadow of death, I will fear no evil': for thou art 
 with me; thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me" 
 (Ps. xxiii. 3), he repeated in a harsh voice. The 
 corresponding text was added from the Talmud; 
 and further, this choice explanation of the expres- 
 sion "thy rod and thy staff," that by "rod" the 
 written and by " staff " the spoken law was under- 
 stood. The preacher then descended to his audi- 
 ence: " The living buried in a dungeon bemoans his 
 life; the unkempt hair of his head is his only pillow; 
 whether it be day or night, whether spring blos- 
 soms, or the autumn winds pluck the yellow leaves 
 from the trees, he knows not; dust and darkness 
 surround him, but in his heart are light and joyous 
 day, for God dwells therein. In his loneliness an 
 innumerable host of angels hover round him, who 
 bear him away out of the hard prison-walls, far 
 away, over the world to the throne of God, where 
 he rests in prayer." 
 
 All the grades of torture the Rabbi described to 
 his hearers, to the most extreme degree, when by 
 dropping of water on the top of the spine the 
 nerves of the brain itself are weakened. 
 
 "Woe!" he cried; "our eyes have seen the in- 
 describable afflictions with which the Lord menaces 
 us. No. Let us not cry Woe, but Praise and 
 Thanks to Him who has lifted them all to a pas- 
 turage in the glorious light of His Majesty!" The 
 
TffE SYNAGOGUE. 
 
 43 
 
 translator of Erira's " Doors of Heaven" here de- 
 scribed the joys of everlasting felicity in all their 
 exceeding glory, and praised that doctrine before 
 which the angels bow themselves, and the Uni- 
 verse trembles; he described that absorption of 
 self in the teachings of God and his creation, which, 
 to him whose inmost heart is so absorbed, gives 
 heavenly blessedness even here, and lends power to 
 create and to destroy. With the usual conclusion, 
 that God would soon send his Messiah, and restore 
 Israel to his inheritance, he finished his discourse. 
 
 Rabbi Saul Morteira, whose tall, well-covered per- 
 son we have already encountered on the previous 
 day, advanced next to the altar. " He will swallow 
 up death in victory; and the Lord God will wipe 
 away tears from off all faces; and the rebuke of his 
 people shall he take away from off all the earth" 
 (Is. XXV. 8), he began in a low voice. " I look round 
 on this assembly, and again a year has thinned its 
 ranks; another year will come, and with it this day 
 of mourning and of rejoicing; and many of us will 
 then have vanished from our places; perhaps I 
 also ! * I also, O Lord ! here am I,' I answer, if thou 
 callest to me." With these words the Rabbi beat 
 his breast with both hands till his voice trembled. 
 He spoke at greater length on the suddenness of 
 death, and the grief of the survivors; half-stifled 
 sobs were heard from the trellised gallery of the 
 women, and here and there among the men; only 
 
44 SPINOZA. 
 
 a few, who thought a funeral oration on the Sab- 
 bath unlawful, remained unmoved. 
 
 Baruch, too, stood with tears shining in his eyes 
 — tears of longing; he felt God to be so near, so 
 familiar, that he wished to die, and never more to 
 be separated from him. " Check the sigh that would 
 raise thy breast, for God the Lord wipes the tear 
 from every eye," cried the Rabbi. From the appli- 
 cation of his text to the fate of the individual he 
 turned to that of Israel. 
 
 " For the Lord will wipe the disgrace of his peo- 
 ple from off the face of the earth; but only those 
 who have guarded his word in their hearts dare de- 
 mand the fulfilment of his promise." The preacher 
 added to these words an ingenious but plain and 
 sharp argument against Christianity. With bitter 
 zeal he railed against the subtilizing intellect of 
 man, that aspired even to explain the immeasur- 
 able. 
 
 " In the Talmud tractate Chulin it is related that 
 *the Emperor Hadrian desired once of Rabbi 
 Jehosuah that he should show him the Uncreated 
 One, or else he would esteem his learning and faith 
 as naught. It was a hot summer-day; the Rabbi 
 led the Emperor out into the open air. * Look at 
 the sun,' he said to the Prince. *I cannot,' he re- 
 plied; ' it dazzles my eyes.' * Son of Dust ! ' said the 
 Rabbi, 'the rays of one single creation thou canst 
 not endure; how couldst thou see the Creator?'" 
 
THE SYNAGOGUE. ^5 
 
 So spake the preacher, and concluded his par- 
 ables from the Talmud with the one (well known 
 to readers of the New Testament, here slightly- 
 altered) on the laborers in the vineyard, and the 
 one of those prudent and foolish ones who awaited 
 the coming of the Saviour. He mingled amusing 
 anecdotes with his sermon, raising thereby an in- 
 voluntary laugh among his audience. The church 
 and its servants did not then stand in their present 
 frosty and oracular relation to the lay members. 
 The Jewish Church especially, which both could 
 and must offer all things to all men, did not re- 
 frain from godly jokes. An amused expression of 
 interest spread over the faces of all when the Rabbi 
 concluded; here and there men turned to their 
 neighbors, and gave vent to their approval by gest- 
 ures or exclamations. There are some Jews not 
 sufficiently objective to abstract their attention 
 from self enough to measure everything, even the 
 words of their teacher, by the measure of the re- 
 vealed law or their own reason. To these, there- 
 fore, it was no pleasure to hear yet another dis- 
 course; for now a man of compact figure and 
 polished worldly address had taken the deserted 
 place of Rabbi Saul Morteira. 
 
 It was that man of incomparable precocity and 
 universality of genius, who, already a Rabbi in his 
 eighteenth year, afterwards physician and states- 
 man, had entered into controversy with Hugo 
 
46 SPINOZA. 
 
 Grotius on the beauties of the Idyllic poetry of 
 Theocritus, and with Rabbi Isaak Aboab on the 
 mixture of metals in the image of Nebuchadnezzar. 
 It was Rabbi Manasseh ben Israel, whose wife, a 
 grand-daughter of the renowned Don Isaak Abra- 
 banel, derived her lineage in direct line from David, 
 King of Israel. 
 
 For some seconds Rabbi Manasseh covered his 
 eyes with his left hand, then began with a powerful 
 voice that reached all corners of the synagogue: 
 
 " 'O house of Jacob ! come ye, and let us walk in 
 the light of the Lord.' The day is again returned 
 on which we consecrated this house that we built 
 unto the Lord, for He allowed us here to find a 
 refuge from the hands of our persecutors; but not 
 by the strength of our hands have we obtained it. 
 If God build not the house, vain is the toil of the 
 laborer. We have built a house here unto the 
 Lord; oh that the walls would expand and rise, as 
 far as the heavens are stretched above the earth; 
 and that my voice would fill the whole world, that 
 I might awake the echoes with thunders, and lay 
 in their mouths these words, that one echo might 
 call them unto another. ^ O house of Jacob ! come 
 ye, and let us walk in the light of the Lord ' (Is. 
 ii. 5). I myself, you all know, I had an enlightened 
 father; he suffered martyrdom, and saved naught 
 but bare life from the hands of those who call 
 themselves Christians: but let us not look back 
 
THE SYNAGOGUE. 
 
 A7 
 
 into the dim dungeon, but gaze on the light that 
 streams on us from all quarters." 
 
 The author of the book on the " Salvation of Is- 
 rael" continued in spirited language, though often 
 in ambiguous and superfine phraseology, his ad- 
 dress on the necessity that the JeWs should join in 
 the universal striving towards the higher develop- 
 ment of the age. By the " Light of the Lord" he 
 understood the classics not less than the teachings 
 of Moses. ( He railed against the Polish Jews, 
 whose obscure customs and debased position he 
 ascribed principally to their want of solid learning; 
 at last he rejoiced his hearers with an *' Amen.'l 
 
 A roll of the law was then taken from the ark 
 amid songs of praise. When it was handed to 
 Baruch, he took the edge of the cloth of gold in 
 which it was wrapped, and pressed it fervently to 
 his lips. 
 
 The Thora was unrolled on the altar, and at 
 each extract that was read out one of the three 
 preachers was called upon to say the blessing 
 thereon. 
 
 At the fourth extract the reader raised his voice 
 and cried: " Rise, our teacher and master, Rabbi 
 Baruch Ben Benjamin !" Baruch Spinoza, who 
 was called to the Thora by this title of honor, was 
 fiery red; he left his seat and repaired to the altar, 
 where he read the blessing in a trembling voice. 
 Every one in the synagogue wondered at so un- 
 
48 SPINOZA, 
 
 precedented a case as for a youth of fifteen to 
 attain to such an honor; a few only there were 
 who thought it misplaced, for Baruch was beloved 
 of all who knew him. With the long, so-called 
 Mussaph (additional prayer) and some concluding 
 prayers the service was ended. 
 

 CHAPTER V. 
 
 FATHER AND SON. 
 
 AT the door the throng was great. Every one 
 congratulated Baruch and his father on the 
 honor that had befallen them. 
 
 " Certainly," said the father to his son on their 
 homeward way, " the discourses have lasted over 
 long to-day; the preachers should consider that 
 they preach to empty stomachs (for no one must 
 taste food before morning service). Let it be a 
 warning to you never to preach too long. Are you 
 pleased ?" 
 
 "I am confused," answered Baruch, "with my 
 rise to such a height; I am too weak." 
 
 "God keep you in that mind,'* said his father 
 approvingly. " Well-balanced natures are easily 
 abashed at the honors assigned to them. Trust 
 in God who has chosen you out; he will give you 
 strength to fulfil your vocation; only say to your- 
 self you are chosen for it, because you have the 
 strength to fulfil it." 
 
 On the threshold of their home, the father, as 
 on the previous evening, laid his hands on his son's 
 
50 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 head, and blessed him thus: "The Lord make thee 
 like unto Ephraim and Manasseh." 
 
 Miriam stood on the step, and gave Baruch a 
 parchment that Rabbi Saul Morteira had sent. It 
 was his diploma as Rabbi. 
 
 The father then opened his plate chest, and chose 
 out his heaviest gilt goblet, to send it to the teacher 
 some other day. 
 
 Baruch from that time was qualified to prefix the 
 title of Rabbi to his name. 
 
 He felt a strange shock whenever visitors ad- 
 dressed him by the title: it seemed to him as if he 
 wore an unseen crown on. his head. Soon, how^ 
 ever, this exaltation of mind was disturbed by inner 
 confusion, that henceforth augmented with ever 
 increasing force. 
 
 Baruch now belonged to the qualified guardians 
 of the law; and it was not mere modesty when he 
 protested to his congratulators that he felt too 
 weak for the burden imposed on him. Was it the 
 shiver of weakness that overtakes those who have 
 attained the goal long earnestly striven for t 
 
 What jealous demons would raise such inward 
 doubts ? Formerly they made themselves known 
 but fleetingly, and were easily conquered; but now 
 new ones too, unthought of before, forced them- 
 selves into notice, and mocked his honors. 
 
 Baruch seemed often lost in them. The ghost of 
 Geronimo, the man with the double life, that h^d 
 
FATHER AND SON. 
 
 51 
 
 not appeared to him in the night, appeared to him 
 now in full daylight, seizing on him at every 
 corner. 
 
 At table, where every one drank Baruch's health 
 and every one thought of him, he regained his 
 spirits and joined in the festivity. 
 
 In the afternoon, as he read the extracts for 
 the day of the week, and the commentary on them, 
 he was again aware that only lips and eyes were 
 reading; his mind was not there. He spurned the 
 contrary spirit in him, and fervently prayed to God 
 to stand by him, and help and strengthen his faith. 
 Tears fell on the open book; they softened the 
 anguish of his heart. In a clear, firm voice, as if 
 he would proclaim them to a congregation, he read 
 out the words of the law, and by this invocation 
 banished the demons from his heart, and a happy 
 animation pervaded his being. 
 
 His father came, and sat quietly beside him 
 awhile; then said, closing the book: 
 
 ** Baruch may now be less diligent, he has at- 
 tained to the highest honor in his youth; he must 
 now take pains to strengthen his body." 
 
 Baruch kissed the book again, and placed it on 
 the shelf, then warmly clasped his father's hand. 
 
 "O my son!" began his father again, "your 
 honor is sevenfold my own; you cannot realize it. 
 May you one day experience the like ! Naught is 
 like unto the blessedness of the father who him- 
 
52 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 self strives after an honor, and then sees his son 
 attain to it; my happiness and joy rest on your 
 head, are yours, and yet more than mine, better 
 than mine. I see the time of the Messiah before 
 me; I know now how it must be to the Father's 
 heart to call his Son the Saviour. God pardon 
 me, my heart is so overfull ! I should not say so 
 to you, but you may thus know how blessed you 
 make me. My last brother is dead; that wound is 
 healed with heavenly balm: you are my son, and 
 brother also." 
 
 Baruch had never seen his father so agitated; 
 with humble looks he gazed at his flashing eyes. 
 The souls of father and son found peace in com- 
 munion. The father covered his brow with one 
 hand, and after a pause said in a quiet tone: 
 
 " Have you no wish, Baruch ? Speak out; I 
 would willingly reward you for the joy with which 
 you have animated my heart." 
 
 It was a singular return to the common world, 
 and only because the desire was habitual to him 
 Baruch said: 
 
 " Let me at last learn the language of all secular 
 learning — Latin. Why should I know less than my 
 schoolfellows Isaak Pinhero, Ahron de Silva, and 
 many others ?" 
 
 " Yes, I will grant your request. God, the All- 
 good, who has led you hitherto, will guard you 
 further, that you may drink in no poison from 
 
FATHER AND SON, 53 
 
 Such writings. And now, have you no other 
 wish ?" 
 
 " Is it true," said Baruch, looking at the ground 
 and blushing, " is it true what Rodrigo Casseres 
 said yesterday evening about the Moorish origin of 
 my mother ? — blessed be her memory! Did I wrong 
 Chisdai Astruk when I struck him in the face a 
 year ago because he mocked me with it ?" 
 
 The father's face changed suddenly at these words, 
 he gazed before him, and pressed his lips together: 
 at last he took a key from his pocket, opened a 
 chest, and took out the death-gear that every pious 
 Jew keeps ready, unrolled them, until he found a 
 paper; this he handed to Baruch with these words: 
 
 "Take and read it; you have heard of the death 
 of my brother; you are the heir of all our traditions. 
 Remember that. These words should have been 
 yours when my mouth was mute, but it is better so. 
 You are strong enough." 
 
 The father pushed the writing towards him with 
 a trembling hand, and left the room to go with his 
 guest to the harbor, the so-called Buitenkant, where 
 the monotonous cry of the sailors echoed across the 
 water, and his co-religionists passing in the enjoy- 
 ment of the Sabbath repeatedly congratulated the 
 happy father. He showed his guest the verdure of 
 the reclaimed marshes; and to-day a certain pride 
 in his new home, and in its position gained by un- 
 remitting energy, arose in him. 
 
54 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 As he showed his friend the water-working wind* 
 mills, and explained the plan of the dykes and 
 dams, and how each piece of fruitful land had its 
 history, his hearer looked on in astonished sym- 
 pathy. 
 
 This man, who now first saw himself openly join- 
 ing in the faith of his fathers, must have followed a 
 devotional train of thought, for he said: 
 
 *' In these Netherlands our God seems a second 
 time to have miraculously dried up the sea, for the 
 salvation of his people Israel. He has not done it 
 by supernatural means, but taught his power to 
 men." 
 
 Meanwhile Baruch sat in his chamber and read: 
 
MANUELA. 
 
 FOR MY ONLY SON, BARUCH, ALONE. 
 
 WHEN these words come into your hands, my 
 mouth will be mute, my soul again with her 
 to whom it ever belonged, and of whom I am now 
 about to tell you 
 
 My whole youth rises before me, my cheeks burn; 
 from scorn and lies I have won a blessed life. 
 
 Give heed. 
 
 I was twenty years old the spring when I trav- 
 elled to Seville to visit my brother Moses, called 
 Geronimo, in his monastery. I say I was twenty 
 years of age; but I knew men, and their dishonest 
 ways. Misfortune and deceit age men before their 
 time and teach them experience. I arrived in Se- 
 ville. My brother received me with cruel coldness, 
 hardly giving me his hand through the bars of the 
 grating in the monastery parlor. ''Son of earth, I 
 have naught in common with thee; what wouldst 
 thou with me ?" he exclaimed. 
 
 Such a reception did not attract me to him. I 
 had business for some weeks in the town and neigh- 
 borhood. I remained, therefore, a week in Seville, 
 without seeing my brother again. 
 
 In the gay companionship of Lindos and Majos I 
 
56 SPINOZA. 
 
 passed many careless hours of pleasure, but the 
 thought of the fate of the flower of our faith in 
 Seville was too grimly earnest to be forgotten. I 
 visited the graveyard before the Minjoar gate, de- 
 stroyed five-and- twenty years ago: there the bones 
 of the great men of Israel once rested; there once 
 stood the noble monument of our ancestor, of the 
 great Rabbi Baruch de Espinosa, whose name you 
 bear; but nothing was to be seen, not a single in- 
 scription marked the spot wherein the bones of the 
 noble man had been laid; even in the grave Spain 
 had denied them rest, and searched it for gold, 
 silver, and unholy books. 
 
 One day an irrepressible inclination (after what 
 resulted, I must needs call it an inspiration) made 
 me revisit my unnatural priestly brother. 
 
 As if I were mounting the holy hill of Zion, 
 where once was enthroned the glory of God, I made 
 my way with equal joy towards the Castle of Triana, 
 where priests reigned in the name of the Creator. 
 I could neither account for my joy nor control it. 
 
 As T entered the parlor I was met by a sobbing 
 maiden, who left the room with veiled face. 
 
 "Sefiora," said I, "do you need a protector, and 
 dare I — " I could not finish the sentence; the maiden 
 raised her brilliant black eyes, a tear dropped from 
 the long lashes, she shook her head slightly in denial, 
 and went out. 
 
 I was led to my brother's cell by a familiar. He 
 
FATHER AND SON. 
 
 57 
 
 convulsively clasped my hand, and when the fa- 
 miliar left the cell, fell on my neck weeping. 
 
 " Benjamin, my brother, it is thou, indeed; but I 
 am no Joseph: I have sold myself. But no ! no ! I 
 will be quiet. See ! it is just as if we were at home — 
 thou art the younger, and yet thou hast power over 
 me. ' Oh how lovely is it when brethren are to- 
 gether! ' " he said. 
 
 He saw how the marked contrast between this 
 reception and the last surprised me, and prayed 
 me to pardon him; he could not act otherwise, be- 
 cause the parlor was so built, that the slightest 
 whisper could be heard by the prior, whose cell 
 was above. 
 
 They always half mistrusted him, and he wished 
 to show that he, if need be, could forcibly tear 
 asunder all the bonds of nature, and look upon 
 the priests alone as his brethren, the Church as his 
 true mother. He described his daily life to me, 
 and how he secretly prayed to the God of his fa- 
 thers; the most cunning intrigues, the most ghastly 
 tales of murder, he related with unmoved and pious 
 mien; only sometimes a faint smile hovered round 
 the corners of his mouth. I expressed my wonder 
 at this blank want of expression. 
 
 **An expressive countenance," he said, "is our 
 greatest enemy. Therefore with God's help I have 
 made mine blank and dull. Within all may be 
 rage and rebellion if you will, but on the surface 
 
58 SPINOZA. 
 
 must be peace — the blessed eternal peace of the 
 Holy One." 
 
 We talked long together. I reminded him of 
 Eleazar, called Constantine Montefiore, who with 
 the same view as Moses had become a Dominican. 
 
 "That is a case in point," said Geronimo; "he 
 was caught in the invisible snares that surround 
 the parlor. His father visited him, they were care- 
 less enough to trust their secrets to the gossiping 
 walls: an hour later they were thrown in prison. 
 Constantine (I will not blame him: he iß dead) could 
 not bear the thought that he was guilty of his father's 
 tortures and death; with a piece of broken glass he 
 opened a vein, and bled his young life away. Old 
 Montefiore, already half a corpse, two days after- 
 wards was burnt at an auto da //, with the body of 
 his son." Thus talked Geronimo. I conjured him, 
 by everything sacred, according to our father's 
 wishes, to take to flight; he swore hotly by all that 
 is holy never to leave his cloister alive. 
 
 I returned to the town; the inexplicable obstinacy 
 of my brother, with his life lost to the outer world, 
 made my whole being shudder; but all my thoughts 
 vanished like empty shadows when I saw the maiden, 
 who had met me on entering the parlor, now sitting 
 on a stone by the roadside. She did not notice 
 me, and I passed her; hardly was I three paces dis- 
 tant, however, when I was moved to return as if by 
 enchantment. 
 
JRATHER AND SON. 
 
 59 
 
 ".Sefiora," I said, " I have no right to penetrate 
 the secrets of your heart; but I have a right, if you 
 are in need of help, to offer it you, and you to de- 
 mand it from me." 
 
 She told me afterwards that the earnest tone of 
 my voice had given her more confidence in me than 
 my chivalrous words could have done. 
 
 " Leave me alone, kind Caballero; my knight must 
 be death alone," said she, in a voice in which tones 
 of sorrowful refusal and timorous appeal combined 
 in exquisite harmony. Oh, what an indescribable 
 charm was in her whole appearance! I felt it, though 
 in the twilight, and hidden by the carefully adjusted 
 folds of her mantilla, I had seen little of her except 
 her brilliant eyes. 
 
 An inexplicable thrill passed through me as I 
 stood before her; I remained fast bound to her 
 vicinity. It was more than mere pity, more than 
 sympathy with unknown grief, that held me there; 
 I did not know it was love, which reveals itself 
 when we approach the being whom the Lord has 
 created for us. 
 
 I talked longer with the maiden, or Manuela, as 
 she was called. She excused herself for refusing 
 my aid; I must not think ill of her; misfortune 
 and grief had taught her mistrust of men ! Tears' 
 choked her voice. 
 
 So grief was the companion of her youth also. 
 Ah ! the unhappy understand one another easily. 
 
6o SPINOZA, 
 
 She told me that her father had already been im- 
 prisoned in the castle three months. She wished 
 to wait here till the Inquisitor should return from 
 the town; she knew well enough that her own life 
 was in danger, because the law forbade any one, 
 even though a child, to beg for the pardon of one 
 accused of heresy; she would die with her father, 
 and yet she feared the approaching night. 
 
 *' I see already," she said, "it must be so; and I 
 must evermore await the morrow in weeping and 
 wailing." 
 
 She rose, and went quickly away. I stood as one 
 rooted to the spot, and when she disappeared from 
 my eyes at a turn of the road, a longing like home- 
 sickness overcame me, and I rushed after her. 
 From the brow of the hill overlooking the mag- 
 nificent bridge over the Guadalquivir I saw three 
 veiled figures in white cloaks approaching with 
 measured tread. Manuela threw herself at the feet 
 of the foremost one; a piercing cry of grief reached 
 me, and Manuela was forced aside. I sprang for- 
 ward; the men quietly pursued their way, and ad- 
 vanced towards me; I checked my rapid course, 
 removed my hat and bowed; it was the Inquisitor 
 accompanied by two Dominicans, who were return- 
 ing to the Castle of Triana from a hunt for souls. 
 
 The minutes I spent in humble trembling guise — 
 a thousand curses for this villain, and a thousand 
 cares for Manuela in my heart — were a foretaste of 
 
FATHER AND SON. 6 1 
 
 hell. Like an arrow shot swiftly from a bow, I 
 sped on to support Manuela, whose trembling steps 
 approached the gates. She recognized me, and 
 stood still. I could not speak for gasping, and 
 only grasped her hand. 
 
 " Leave me, I pray you," she said, but without 
 withdrawing her hand. I swore to her — oh, then 
 I felt how dreadful it was not to dare name the 
 Holiest by which a man can swear ! I thought 
 my tongue would become incapable, when I, at the 
 moment when I would have given the greatest as- 
 surance, was obliged to swear by St. Jago. I could 
 not speak, my whole soul was so agitated. Manuela 
 clasped my hand in both hers, her tearful eyes met 
 mine confidingly. 
 
 ^' Yes," she said, "I will follow my impulse; un- 
 happier than I am I cannot be; come with me, you 
 shall hear all." 
 
 I offered her my arm, and with some hesitation 
 she laid her trembling hand on it. 
 
 "These streets have never seen me thus," she 
 said in a low voice as we turned into a side street 
 from the gate. 
 
 I tried to soothe her; she was silent, and folded 
 her mantilla closer. Without a word we went on, 
 till in a narrow street, not far from the church of 
 Our Lady of the Pillar, we entered an insignificant 
 little house. 
 
 *' Have you come at last, Manuela ?" cried a loud 
 
62 ^ SPINOZA. 
 
 treble voice; and a round figure, with a light, rolled 
 like a woolsack down the steps. 
 
 " I have already prayed thirteen Ave Marias, and 
 vowed a three-pound wax-candle to St. Jago, if you 
 should come home safe. Ah ! my sweet little dove, 
 whom have you there? Praised be the Virgin, is 
 not that Don Alfonso Sajavedra from Valencia ? 
 Excuse me, sir, my old eyes — " 
 
 '' You have indeed seen wrong, Laura; it is not 
 my cousin, but a stranger — a friend, I should have 
 said, who will help us." 
 
 " Then I was right," continued the old woman; 
 '^ have I not often told you that if you went some 
 one would help us ? Whenever I went I was thrown 
 aside like a squeezed orange: but laugh away," 
 she croaked on; *'it is just as the proverb says, ' A 
 fresh stamped real, with the king's image — God 
 save him ! — is better than one defaced with use.' 
 You may pride yourself, noble knight, that my trem- 
 bling dove has made an exception in your favor." 
 
 The old woman was never tired of praising 
 Manuela, and said it could only be by a miracle 
 that I had gained so much from her. Manuela 
 silenced her with difficulty. After the old woman 
 had reviewed me to her satisfaction, she went out. 
 Manuela must have met my gaze^ for she dropped 
 her eyes. 
 
 '' Sefior," said she, and hastily grasped my hand^ 
 '' Sefior, what are you thinking of me ?" 
 
FATHER AND SON. 
 
 Ö3 
 
 "That we love each other," I answered, kissing 
 her hand. 
 
 " Yes, we love each other," said she. ** God in 
 heaven knows it, we love each other. O mother, 
 mother, why must you die before seeing the infinite 
 happiness of your child !" 
 
 The tears coursed down her glowing cheeks at 
 these words. 
 
 "Dare I love you, Sefior ?" she whispered, and 
 covered her eyes and cheeks with both hands; "do 
 you know me ? do I know you ?" 
 
 " We knew each other," I answered, " the mo- 
 ment God kindled the spark of love in us; we love 
 each other: is there a more intimate knowledge ?" 
 
 Ah! it is but a feeble echo of that feeling that I 
 can reawaken from the past; but even now, when 
 I approach the grave, even now it thrills me like 
 lightning, when I think how once almighty love 
 exalted me. It was God's providence, this self- 
 knowledge and comprehension without effort or 
 search. Then, I confess, I felt nothing of this; 
 sunk in unanticipated felicity I did not recognize 
 the unseen hand which guided me as clearly as now 
 it is evident to me it did. 
 
 In the midst of her joy, the memory of the joyless 
 hours spent by her imprisoned father recurred to 
 Manuela. I consoled her, promised my brother's 
 aid; but she trusted little to that. 
 
 The old woman came in with the supper, 
 
64 " SPINOZA. 
 
 " What is the noble Caballero's name ?" she 
 whispered to Manuela ; I saw the maiden's con- 
 fusion. 
 
 ''Tell my name aloud, Sefiora," I broke in; "it 
 sounds well in this land, and this good mother has 
 guessed the half prophetically. I am Alfonso de 
 Espinosa." 
 
 We sat down in comfort; the old woman watched 
 me continually, and bade Manuela notice whether 
 she were right or not in saying my hair was like 
 this or that friend's. 
 
 " By G — 's blood !" said she, " how glad I am that 
 there is again a sombrero on the nail! Two woman- 
 kind alone are but desolate creatures, and who 
 knows how things may go with old Valor?" 
 
 This name startled me; I pressed my Manuela to 
 tell me her father's history; she looked down, and 
 began after a short pause. 
 
 "You know there were many Moorish ladies 
 from Grenada in Cardia when the edict was read, 
 that in future none would be permitted to go out 
 veiled in the national manner. Among the ladies 
 whose veils were torn off by the soldiery in the 
 market-place of Cardia was my uncle's wife, called 
 the beautiful Mirzah. Her beauty was so great 
 that you would have thought an angel from Para- 
 dise had been sent to bless the boldest of the fol- 
 lowers of the former lords of Spain. No strange 
 man's eye had ever rested on this loveliness, and 
 
FATHER AND SON. 65 
 
 now to be the prize of the rude mob! The news of 
 this dreadful occurrence spread quickly amid the 
 lamentations of the ladies; it was as if a violent 
 earthquake had shaken the whole of Aljaniz, for 
 the intention to abolish the remaining customs of 
 the converted Moors was unmistakable. I do not 
 know why I relate the story; I never knew Mirzah, 
 who was cruelly repudiated by her husband, and 
 her fate was wholly unconnected with ours. Ex- 
 cuse me if I do not know where to begin: I have 
 not thought connectedly of these things, because I 
 never expected to be allowed to give an account of 
 them. My father, like the other Moorish Christians, 
 then lived in Aljaniz of Grenada. Ah ! I cannot 
 tell it you to-day !" Manuela stopped and rose 
 hastily from her chair. 
 
 "Well, well, I am here," said the Duenna; "don't 
 I know it all as well as you ? Was I not there when 
 your mother — God rest her soul ! — told it to you ? 
 I tremble to my heart's core when I think what life 
 must have been like then." 
 
 With much questioning and many interruptions 
 I learned at last that Manuela's father, Don Antonio 
 de Valor, called by the Moors Aben Hamed, was a 
 cousin of Aben Humega. 
 
 Don Antonio, who was averse to the Moorish 
 rebellion, had remained a Christian, did not leave 
 Grenada, and suffered as much abuse from his co- 
 religionists as from the native Spaniards. Even 
 
56 SPINOZA, 
 
 Don Antonio's two sons were enraged with him, 
 and when the premeditated storming of the Alham- 
 bra was unsuccessful, they fled to the so-called 
 King of the Alpujarras, Aben Humega, in the 
 Sierra Nevada, and fell covered with honor in that 
 unexampled war of extermination. 
 
 " You should have come to us sooner," inter- 
 rupted the Duenna; " then you would have looked 
 round you: it was not as it is now; Flanders car- 
 pets on the floors, tapestry of gold and silk on the 
 walls; gold and silver goblets on the tables, that 
 one thought they must break under them." We 
 silenced the old woman with difficulty, and Manuela 
 went on with the narrative. 
 
 ** The insurrection was suppressed, the Moors 
 scattered, fallen, or imprisoned. As long as the 
 philanthropic Marquis of Mondejar ruled in Gre- 
 nada, my father lived undisturbed in the seclusion 
 to which his own wish and his diminished fortune 
 consigned him; when the noble Marquis was re- 
 called, my father was arrested as a secret devotee 
 of Islamism. The King's half-brother, Don John 
 of Austria, who next held the government, again 
 set him free from prison. My father came here to 
 live in peace, far from the remains of his former 
 associations. For ten years he remained undis- 
 turbed; he went daily to church, but otherwise 
 never left the house, employing the whole of his time 
 in the study of learned writings and in my education. 
 
FATHER AND SON. 
 
 67 
 
 "Half a year later a malignant fever tore my 
 mother from us; hardly any one dared approach her 
 bed except my father; she died in his arms. From 
 the day my mother was buried, my father never 
 crossed the threshold of the house* even I, who' 
 once could do anything with him, could not per- 
 suade him to go near the church. 
 
 " Twelve weeks ago yesternight — O God ! I 
 shall never forget that hour! — two familiars de- 
 manded admission to the house in the name of the 
 Inquisition. Laura had the courage to admit them; 
 I could not move from my place. They forced their 
 way in, and dragged my father to the Castle of 
 Triana, where he must defend himself from suspi- 
 cion of heresy. An hour later everything in the 
 house was searched and sealed; I had to look on, 
 while they tore down my mother's picture, because 
 they thought treasure might be concealed behind 
 it, and, as they expressed it, the seductive heathen's 
 face might have swallowed money." Here Manuela 
 suddenly stopped. 
 
 " I have told you all," she then continued in a 
 confiding tone; " I have neither misuse of it to fear, 
 nor, alas ! advantage from its use to hope." 
 
 I used every inducement to comfort Manuela; 
 but the old woman looked ghostly to me. as, during 
 the latter part of the narration, she sat with folded 
 hands and staring eyes, her lips moving mechani- 
 cally in whispered prayer. Manuela did not notice 
 
68 SPINOZA. 
 
 her; for I had succeeded in turning her mind from 
 
 the sad visions of the past. Midnight had chimed 
 
 when I arrived at my Posada. When I awoke next 
 
 morning all seemed a dream. 
 
 • I sought Manuela next day, and really believed 
 
 I had reason to suppose it all a vision of my heated 
 
 imagination. 
 
 Repentance for violated custom, trouble and 
 doubt about the fate of her father, were evinced in 
 every movement. She appeared completely altered; 
 instead of bold, striving activity of mind, to-day 
 she evinced Tnere broken will and slavish submis- 
 sion, and repulsed me from her. 
 
 I, like a fool, believed that the heavenly exulta- 
 tion that raised us above all considerations of every- 
 day life could subsist forever wuth equal force. 
 Angry, that now the celestial must give place to the 
 terrestrial for me, I left Manuela, and only out of 
 pity, and not to neglect a duty once undertaken, I 
 went to Geronimo and told him all. 
 
 His sharp sight soon penetrated the state of 
 affairs. 
 
 " The maiden is either an angel or a devil," said 
 he. " Habitual dissimulation, like habitual virtue, 
 is not possible in such an extraordinary degree. 
 The perfectly passive submission to a higher will, 
 which has so deceived you, is merely the first article 
 of the Credo of the Great Prophet. But set your 
 mind at ease: I think I can manage to set old Valor 
 
FATHER AND SON. 
 
 69 
 
 free, though he is as little a Christian as you and 
 T. They found very little money belonging to him." 
 
 I wished not to revisit Manuela until her father 
 was set at liberty, for that would most convincingly 
 set her doubts at rest. That evening I again joined 
 the company of my friends. With a loud ''^ ola 
 amigoT I was greeted by the assembly; each one 
 wanted to know the reason of my two days' ab- 
 sence, and each one explained it according to his 
 own particular habit of mind and manners. I was 
 gay*and jovial. The next day after matins I again 
 visited my brother. It was astonishing to me how 
 quickly Don Antonio was set at liberty. For Gero- 
 nimo had hardly laid the affair before the Inquisitor 
 when they set him free. I was now permitted to 
 accompany Don Antonio home. At the entrance 
 of his dungeon I waited till he came out; for no 
 one but the accused might enter those dark regions. 
 When the emancipated prisoner came forth, it was 
 evident what rack and chains had done for him. 
 Don Antonio had hardly strength to stand upright; 
 his eyes, at the unaccustomed light, streamed with 
 tears until he was obliged to close them. I led him 
 forth, and related what had happened during the 
 last few days: his white lips tried to form a smile, 
 for he perceived in my representation of events my 
 love for Manuela. 
 
 " Does my child know of my liberation ?" he 
 asked, and forced open his eyes, whose wild look 
 
;ro SPINOZA. 
 
 went to my heart. I told him I v/ished to punish 
 Manuela for her doubt, and that she should first see 
 me again at his side. He did not answer, but shook 
 his head, muttering some inaudible words. I was 
 uncomfortable in his presence. 
 
 At last we arrived at Antonio's house. No one 
 noticed us. With much labor, and stopping for 
 breath at every step, Don Antonio mounted the 
 staircase. We entered the room, and he sank into 
 the easy-chair, in which he had borne his sorrows 
 during so many years. Still no one was aware of 
 our presence. I opened the inner door; in this 
 room I saw Laura standing beside a bed, on which 
 Manuela lay asleep. Don Antonio slid noiselessly 
 past me. When the Duenna saw us she cried out in 
 a fearfully shrill voice: 
 
 " O Jesu Maria, the master !" Manuela awoke, 
 stared blankly at us for a time as if dreaming, and, 
 trying to dispel the illusion, she passed her hand 
 across her brow. "Manuela, my child!" cried Don 
 Antonio. She rose quickly. "Father!" she cried, 
 and fell sobbing on his neck. It was a rapturous 
 moment, when words died away, powerless to ex- 
 press what soul would say to soul. 
 
 " Loose me, my child, loose me," said Don An- 
 tonio, and this time the tears that coursed down his 
 hollow cheeks were of joy; " I am not strong enough 
 to bear your caresses; command yourself, Manuela. 
 See ! there is our friend, our deliverer, Don Alfonso; 
 
 ^«^ 
 
FATHER AMD SON. 
 
 7t 
 
 thank him, who was sent by God to deliver us in 
 our need." 
 
 Manuela loosed her father. Her expressive eyes 
 had again the same entreating yet defiant expres- 
 sion as when I first saw her; she threw herself on 
 her knees before me, seized my hand, and covered 
 it with tears and kisses. 
 
 "Pardon me, dear sir," she entreated; '' I did not 
 realize your power and greatness; pardon a poor 
 inexperienced girl." 
 
 "Rise, Manuela, rise, I command you; that is 
 not what I meant; that is not the way to give 
 thanks," said Don Antonio; and Manuela obeyed. 
 
 From that time I visited Manuela daily. Her 
 father was very ill. The muscular action that had 
 been half destroyed by the rack the physician 
 hoped he might be able to restore, but despaired 
 of saving his sight. 
 
 Don Antonio had made them swear to conceal 
 nothing from him regarding his state; and at this 
 news inexpressible wrath filled his soul. " Man," he 
 once said, '' is the most abject creature on earth. 
 What beast of prey would be so cruel — I will not 
 say to those of his own species, but to such as it is 
 born to lord it over — as one man is to another ? 
 The hungry tiger and the tearing wolf suck the 
 blood from their prey, but that is mercy compared 
 to men who kill by thousand-fold deaths. Theyj 
 have noble gifts, boldly inventive minds, and theyl 
 
7^ SPINOZA. 
 
 invent graves in which their fellow-creatures may 
 rot alive. Oh, if I were but — " 
 
 He broke off, and gnashed his teeth. Manuela 
 understood her father's condition; she did not ven- 
 ture to calm him with conversation, but she sum- 
 moned all the resources of her wit to lighten his 
 melancholy. The innumerable small attentions 
 which she paid him so unassumingly, the wealth 
 of little anecdotes and favorite reminiscences of 
 her father's that flowed from her lips, the lively 
 songs which she sang to her guitar accompaniment 
 with all the freshness of youth — all this done in 
 such a manner could only be prompted by a richly 
 gifted mind. 
 
 Perhaps I wronged Manuela, but my vanity 
 flattered itself that in causing this joyous^ outpour- 
 ing of her inner life my presence had some part, 
 as well as filial affection. We loved each other 
 ever more and more tenderly and consciously. 
 Don Antonio grew better day by day; some slight 
 power of sight returned to his eyes by which he 
 could see the outlines of objects as if covered with 
 a dark veil. " Manuela," I said one day to her, 
 when we were alone during Don Antonio's siesta, 
 " Manuela, may I at last take some steps towards 
 our final union?" 
 
 " Please, please, do not speak to me of anything 
 so serious; I am too young to think of such things/' 
 she said. 
 
 ^^:, 
 
FATHER AND SON. 73 
 
 " But I told you before that my love was not 
 given to a child, but to a maiden with reason and 
 will of her own." 
 
 "And who is that happy creature?" laughed 
 Manuela. " I forgot to ask." 
 
 Then I swore I would no longer be put off with 
 a jest; she must confess whether she knew her 
 father's intentions or not. 
 
 " No," was the monosyllabic answer. 
 
 "And what have you determined to do, if your 
 father — God forbid it — should refuse me?" 
 
 She answered in a decided voice, " Filial duty is 
 above all others, but I will — " She could not 
 finish, for Don Antonio called from his chamber, 
 " What is that noise ? What are you quarrelling 
 about ?" 
 
 "Don Alfonso will not believe that I was only 
 fifteen a month ago." 
 
 "That you were already fifteen, say rather, my 
 child, for the older the man is, the worse for him in 
 this cursed land." 
 
 " Manuela is wrong," I said to Don Antonio as 
 he came out; " she has misinformed you; she would 
 not believe me when I said I should go away to- 
 morrow." 
 
 "I am heartily sorry for that," said the old man; 
 "I should like to have you always near me. Men 
 get accustomed to new friends with difficulty when 
 they are old, at least to friends of your age; but 
 
74 
 
 spnvoZA. 
 
 near you, I declare, I wish what I never wished be- 
 fore, to' be young again, merely in order to be 
 wholly your friend." 
 
 " Would you not rather be my father ?" I felt 
 how the blood rushed to my face, I saw how vio- 
 lently Manuela blushed, as I said these words with 
 difficulty. 
 
 "Go, child," said Don Antonio indifferently, " go 
 and fetch me that book from our neighbor, which 
 he has had so long." 
 
 Manuela went out. 
 
 " I am much indebted to you," Don Antonio then 
 said to me, " but it is not manly to clothe service 
 and thanks in soft words; also, according to the 
 rules of our religion, men should neither demand 
 nor offer thanks, since in all our goings and com- 
 ings we are but tools in the hand of God. I do not 
 know whether that is why there is so much ingrati- 
 tude in the world; but now, ask what you would 
 have, you shall have it, except my child, my Manuela! 
 I cannot do without her, she is as needful to my life 
 as the air I breathe, and as long as I live she shall 
 be no man's wife. Press it no further, spare your- 
 self and me the bootless words." I was stunned, 
 and could say nothing; tears stood in my eyes, I 
 took my hat, and went out. Don Antonio called 
 after me to return, but I did not turn round. Man- 
 uela met me on the steps; I hardly saw her, and 
 hastened away. 
 
PATtiER AN-Jb soJ\r. ^5 
 
 I went to Geronimo, and told him of my inten- 
 tion to travel, and the reason of it. 
 
 "It is not Manuela," he said, "whom you fly 
 from: it is from yourself, from the inclinations of 
 your own heart, you are forced to run; but they will 
 follow you as your shadow, they will not vanish 
 with distance; no, ever lovelier and more fascinat- 
 ing will they appear; and in longing and deferred 
 hope you will linger on in sickness of mind. The 
 Lord defend you doubly and trebly from the other 
 course. Trust me, for you know that I too have 
 loved, and my dead Isabella will live in my heart 
 until it shall cease to beat. Therefore guard care- 
 fully your first love, or see to it that you take with 
 you the certainty of your former delusion. Man 
 yourself, and go again to Manuela." 
 
 I willingly followed his advice. 
 
 That evening I went to take leave of my joyous 
 circle of friends. All congratulated me on my 
 lovely bride; one said I was truly condescending 
 still to remember my friends, when I was on the 
 point of uniting myself with a descendant of the 
 Chalifs of Cordova. 
 
 "The family is as noble as that of Ponce de 
 Leon; and he who denies it, I will plant the point 
 of my sword in his heart as the stem of a family 
 tree," I replied, and was ready to follow my words 
 with deeds. 
 
 All sprang up to appease the quarrel. My good 
 
y6 SPINOZA. 
 
 humor, however, was ruffled by this, and I sought 
 an opportunity to return home. I shook hands with 
 one after the other, but they all cried, " No, we will 
 not let you go that way; you shall see how much 
 we think of you; we will go to your beloved's house 
 with you, and send a musical scale of your feelings 
 for her into that quiet chamber where she lies 
 and dreams of you." The guitars and other instru- 
 ments were quickly taken down from the walls of 
 the Posada, and their harmony tried by a touch, 
 and the throats cleared with another pull at the 
 wine of La Mancha mixed with water. I thanked 
 them, and protested against their intention, but all 
 to no purpose. 
 
 " Will you not go with us ?" they all cried to- 
 gether. ''Very wellj we will go alone; and to-mor- 
 row you will hear wonders of the heaven-storming 
 love messages we have sent up to her." To tem- 
 per their recklessness I went with them through 
 the deserted streets with a beating heart; naught 
 else was to be heard but the echoing steps and 
 careless laughter of our jovial company. Hardly 
 was our first " Farewell " sung, when the windows 
 of the neighboring houses were filled with inquisi- 
 tive fair ones in light night-gear; the house of Man- 
 uela alone remained blank and silent. 
 
 My friends retired; I remained, and sang one 
 more song of melancholy farewell; but still no one 
 appeared, and I unwillingly returned home. 
 
FATHER AND SON. 
 
 77 
 
 I went early next morning to Manuela's house 
 with a doubting heart and trembling limbs. I sur- 
 prised her in her light morning-gown; she gave 
 a slight exclamation, and without answering my 
 greeting disappeared through the inner door, which 
 she closed after her. 
 
 " Good-morning, you haughty fugitive knight ! 
 Has your hot head left its ill-humors in its night- 
 cap ?" she called through to me laughingly. " Now 
 who was right, father ?" she continued ; " do I not 
 know something of human nature ? Did I not say 
 Don Alfonso would come again ? I was certain of 
 it. Now, Sir knight, as you have won me a victory 
 over my father, I allow you, by virtue of my author- 
 ity to bind and to loose, to remain three days longer 
 in Seville, if you lay the penance upon yourself of 
 making a pilgrimage every day to St. Manuela, and 
 kneeling before her praying for an hour; or would 
 you prefer some other favor ?" 
 
 "Yes," I replied, "this: that you would not waste 
 our limited number of minutes on unnecessary or- 
 namentation, but come out as soon as possible." 
 
 She made no reply, but sang the " Farewell " of 
 the previous evening in a trembling voice. She 
 had hardly finished the first verse before she came 
 out with her arms folded under a gray cloak. 
 
 " You Hotspur !" said she, "you are so niggardly 
 with your seconds, you do not leave me time to 
 dress myself properly. I am such a child, that for 
 
78 SPINOZA. 
 
 fear you should run away as you did yesterday 
 evening, I come wrapped in an old mantle of my 
 late mother's; but it is such an awkward old- 
 fashioned thing, that I cannot hold it on long, so 
 be quick that you may go away soon, or leave me 
 now and come back again shortly." 
 
 '' I shall not cause you inconvenience long, 
 Sefiora," I replied, irritated at her last words; she 
 perceived it, and walked backwards and forwards 
 with her eyes fixed on the ground. 
 
 " If we must part," she said, " I should prefer to 
 do so now; I see by your continued agitation that 
 the memories which should illuminate our dark 
 future will be colorless and broken. My father 
 knows how much I love you, I have concealed no- 
 thing from him; Heaven grant that your love is 
 equal to mine! I wish for nothing more. But I also 
 know how to obey." Don Antonio sat silently in 
 his arm-chair, wrapped in his dressing-gown, his 
 hands clasped between his knees, and his shoulders 
 bowed. 
 
 "What purifying fires of adversity has your 
 mutual love stood yet?" he murmured in a strange 
 voice, without moving in the least from his cower- 
 ing position. 
 
 "It was born in adversity," I answered, "but we 
 should soon forget that both freely and willingly." 
 
 "What would you have?" he cried, and rose 
 trembling from his seat. " Because by chance you 
 
 
FATHER AND SON. 79 
 
 aided in my deliverance do you seek to rob me 
 doubly and trebly of life, since you would rob me 
 of my child's love and obedience. I have given 
 you all, you proud Spaniards; you have sapped my 
 trunk, drop by drop, of strength and power; I am 
 but a dried stick; but as sure as the blood of the 
 old Valors runs in my veins, my child, my life you 
 shall not rob me of, as long as this hand has strength 
 to bury this dagger in her weak maiden's heart. 
 Go ! old fool that I am, I was deluded into thinking 
 you better than others. Go ! you are as covetous 
 and mischievous as all the rest." 
 
 His voice sounded like a war-cry, his foaming 
 lips trembled with rage; he sank back powerless 
 into his chair. Manuela hastened to him, stretched 
 her bare arms towards him, and prayed him to be 
 quiet. 
 
 " O God, where shall I turn to !" she cried. " I 
 saw my mistake, offered Don Antonio my hand, 
 and prayed him to forget the words he had just 
 spoken as readily as I, too, would forget them, that 
 we might part in peace. He pressed my hand con- 
 vulsively. 
 
 "You irritated me too much," he said, "Don 
 Antonio de Valor was never ungrateful, and never 
 permitted such an accusation to be made to his 
 face. My child is mine, as much my own as my 
 right hand; shall I cut it off, and give it you with 
 thanks ? I am angry no more, certainly not; be 
 
8o SPINOZA. 
 
 patient, it is but a short span of life that I have yet 
 to pass, and I shall not make the time longer." 
 
 He sat up, and concentrated all his powers of 
 sight to read the effect of his words on our coun- 
 tenances; he must have found something satisfac- 
 tory, for he continued in a gentler voice: 
 
 " I intended so well by you that in the spring 
 who knows whether I may not come to Guada- 
 laxara, to try, with your learned father's aid, to' 
 sharpen the sight of my bodily and spiritual eyes." 
 
 " Oh, that would be glorious !" said Manuela joy- 
 fully; " I will take such care of you, that you will 
 be quite young again. How far will you come to 
 meet us, Don Alfonso ?" 
 
 The conversation now took a gayer tone. 
 
 "I never thought it would all end so well; it is 
 lucky my father's old sword is rusted in its sheath 
 on the wall, or perhaps our room would have been 
 a bloody battle-field," said Manuela, her gayety 
 blooming yet brighter through grief.and tears. 
 
 Don Antonio did not speak again; but, amid 
 memories of the past and plans for the future, I 
 felt that the moment of separation had arrived, for 
 I must tear myself away from such joyous asso- 
 ciations. I put out my hand to take leave of Don 
 Antonio. 
 
 "Depart in peace," he said; "at peace with 
 yourself and with us; remember me to your worthy 
 father." 
 
 .MM- 
 
FATHER AND SON, %\ 
 
 "And shall we soon see each other again?" I 
 asked; he pressed my hand and nodded assent. 
 Manuela stood by motionless; our eyes met, as if 
 each would impress the image of the other once 
 more on the memory; the grief of parting agitated 
 both alike, and each sought to repress it. 
 
 "Manuela, farewell!" I said, approaching my 
 beloved. 
 
 " Farewell," she answered in a firm voice; " I am 
 certain that you will never forget me; and, if it is 
 fated that we should at one time belong to each 
 other, we shall find each other again; if it is other- 
 wise decreed, what is the use of complaint and 
 opposition ? Obedience is our duty. Be happy 
 therefore with another, who, however, will not love 
 you more than I have done; but all the powers of 
 earth and heaven shall not prevent me from loving 
 you till death and after. Farewell !" 
 
 I embraced her father again passionately; I be- 
 lieve I should have pressed the Grand Inquisitor 
 himself to my heart. I know nothing more of how 
 I tore myself away, but at the house-door the 
 Duenna stopped me, and strange to say, every word 
 of her address remains in my memory; I seem even 
 to hear her voice — 
 
 It often annoys us, but it is wisely ordained, that 
 near a nightingale there is always a cuckoo or some 
 other every-day bird, or a frog croaks in the marsh. 
 
 " The world is always the same," the old woman 
 
82 SPINOZA. 
 
 began, as she kissed the hem of my mantle. " Laura, 
 who means better than any one else in the world, is 
 forgotten by every one. You must not think I have 
 run after you to be thanked, for I do not know my- 
 self what for. But you are so proud that you 
 hardly say * Good-day ' to Laura, and yet I have 
 stood a good deal for you; I at least deserved that 
 your Honor should say ' Good-by ' to me. I should 
 have been offended if I were not so long used to 
 the ingratitude of the world. Holy Mary, Mother 
 of God, be with me ! poor sinner that I am, I could 
 wish in my heart that they would bring me the last 
 sacrament, and give me a house of six boards. Our 
 dear good Don Alfonso goes away, and we shall 
 have Ash Wednesday the whole year round. As 
 St. Jago is good to me, you may believe me, if I 
 were not so fond of Manuela I would not stay 
 twenty-four hours with the old cripple, who makes 
 a face like Judas every day in the year; and that 
 good child, what she suffers from him no one knows. 
 Oh ! it would be well enough for you, if only I need 
 not suffer from it. If it is all settled among ourselves, 
 no one will tell a whisper of it abroad; you see 
 what it is not to have old experienced persons who 
 have been much about in the world for advisers. 
 In my last situation I brought a pair together, whom 
 the old ones were much more against than is our 
 old grumbler upstairs; but they were not so proud 
 that for mere billing and cooing they have over- 
 
FATHER AND SON. 83 
 
 looked their best friend under their very noses. It 
 is true they rewarded me at last with ingratitude — 
 but that is nothing. * If you give to-day, you are 
 forgotten to-morrow,' so says the proverb; and a 
 proverb is a true speech. If you had but given me 
 a wink, I would have contrived it better. You may 
 be good and brave enough, but — don't be offended, 
 your Honor; I mean well, as sure as I am a sinner — 
 you are not clever. For six long weeks you have 
 sneaked round it like a cat after hot meat. Why, 
 the very next day, the very next hour, you brought 
 the old man home, you should have wooed my 
 sweet little dove. Put it to yourself, could he have 
 refused you ? * Press the lemon dry before it is 
 rotten,' says the proverb; but 'in six weeks — St. 
 James ! what cannot be forgotten in six weeks ! I 
 don't wonder he wipes his mouth, and dismisses 
 you with a mere Gratias ! There is no one prouder 
 than a knight of the hills, but I always thought he 
 was half a heathen — I would not stay in the house 
 if it were not for the good child, who is as dear to 
 me as if she were my own babe. I tell you I have 
 seen many lovers; I myself, stare as you will, was 
 once young and charming, and had good reason to 
 show myself. I was very fond of my first husband 
 — very fond indeed; but I never thought to see any 
 one in love as Manuela is, my whole life long. 
 What does the old man care ? For him she might 
 wait till her hair was -gray and her soft flesh 
 
84 SPINOZA. 
 
 wrinkled; his life is tough enough, he will not die 
 yet awhile; he will give her to no one else. God 
 be merciful to me, I believe he would marry her 
 himself, if it were not against nature. Oh ! it makes 
 my heart jump in my breast when I think how 
 pleasant everything might have been; it would 
 have been so different, and old Laura might then 
 have had the pleasure of rocking a rosy young 
 Manuelita or Alfonsito in her arms. But it is all 
 talking to the winds now, and I keep you here for 
 nothing. Don't take it amiss, your Honor; make 
 haste to come back soon, then let Laura act, and 
 you will see how w^ell things will turn out." 
 
 I listened to the old woman, half unwillingly, 
 as if compelled. Now I offered her some doubloons 
 as a farewell; she said she would not take them; 
 she did not know what they were for; she had not 
 earned them. After some protest she took them, 
 and with a roguish expression of gratitude said: 
 
 "You should have seen sooner the truth of the 
 proverb: 'Presents move rocks.' Have you no 
 more commissions for Manuela?" 
 
 I knew of none; she kissed my hand, and went 
 away grumbling and muttering at the heathenish 
 bald-head. After an hour passed in visiting Ge- 
 ronimo I had left Seville. I saw clearly that here 
 was a turning-point in my career that would in- 
 fluence my whole life. 
 
 But what are the intentions and decisions of pien ? 
 
FATHER AND SON, gj 
 
 A puf¥ of wind, a shadow, disturbs them, and they 
 are no more. 
 
 More tlian a year passed away; I had written 
 twice to Manuela and her father, but received no 
 answer. Her lovely image receded more and more 
 into the background of my soul; the exclusiveness 
 and self-sufficiency in which I had wrapped myself 
 disappeared by degrees. The retreat of our uncle 
 in Madrid and his family from our secret society, 
 his bitter repentance, and the penance he did for 
 the former half-heartedness of his faith, filled us all 
 with grief and anxiety. The powerful Espinosas 
 now in Spain are the descendants of this uncle. 
 But not by a single betrayal of his coreligionists 
 did he seek to lighten the hard penance laid upon 
 him. We heard, however, from Geronimo that 
 through a new edict of the Inquisition, which we 
 had believed would affect the Moorish Christians 
 alone, the Jewish Christians also would be exiled 
 to Africa. 
 
 Amid anxiety for myself and those belonging 
 to me, the memory of Manuela revived with all the 
 fascinations of her angelic being. I saw the finger 
 of God in it, when Rodrigo Casseres, who was 
 travelling to Seville, offered to take charge of my 
 commissions there. 
 
 I represented in my letter to Manuela all the 
 horrors that awaited us, and besought her to come 
 to us immediately with her father, that we might 
 
86 SPINOZA. 
 
 bear the future together. Almost without hope of 
 any result, and merely to fulfil love's last duty, I 
 sent off the letter. 
 
 My breast filled with a thousand cares and 
 anxieties, and blaming our ancestors, who had 
 laid on us a daily, ever-recurring, inglorious martyr- 
 dom, and doubled-faced religion, as an inheritance, 
 I sauntered one day along the country road. There 
 I saw a carriage advancing at a slow rate; I ap- 
 proached. A look, a cry, and Manuela was in my 
 arms. As if by magical attraction had she lightly 
 sprung over the side of the carriage. I quickly 
 got into the conveyance with her, and drew the cur- 
 tains, then drove towards the gate. Don Antonio 
 sat by Manuela, wrapped in a large woollen rug; he, 
 too, congratulated himself on the lucky accident 
 that had allowed us to meet so soon. 
 
 " If I had gone much longer over hill and dale," 
 he said, '' Manuela would have brought me to you 
 as a corpse; the journey rattled all my limbs to- 
 gether so, that I thought I was on the- rack again. 
 You have succeeded to your heart's content, have 
 you not, Manuela, now you have persuaded the old 
 fool to this long journey? Yes, yes; my life is 
 worth nothing now; the sooner I die the better, is 
 it not. Never mind, I shall not last long." 
 
 With a mocking laugh he scowled at us both, 
 and pushed Manuela's arm away. 
 
 If his former refusal had seemed diabolical ava- 
 
FATHER AND SON. 87 
 
 rice to me before, the way he now poisoned his 
 own child's happiness made it difficult for me to 
 conquer my disgust; but he was nevertheless Man- 
 uela's father. Manuela understood how to dispel 
 my annoyance by innumerable little questions and 
 reminiscences. She easily succeeded, for what an 
 infinitude we had to say to each other. But how 
 strange it is, that, while a hundred important ques- 
 tions crowd into the mind, it is so often the least 
 important that first forms itself into words ! 
 
 " How is old Laura ?" I inquired. 
 
 *' She is dead, the false viper ! Hear what hap- 
 pened to her. Hardly seven months since my father 
 lay very ill (he has hardly enjoyed a month's health 
 during your absence). Laura fell ill also; she was 
 taken to the hospital of San Lorenzo, which she 
 made heir to all her possessions. Her illness in- 
 creased; she was incurable. After she had received 
 the final sacrament, she expressed as a last wish 
 that they should bring me to her; she could not die 
 in peace till she had spoken to me once more alone. 
 My father, too, advised me to go to her, and with 
 almost insuperable disinclination I allowed myself 
 to be conducted to the hospital. I should hardly 
 have recognized Laura, so emaciated she had be- 
 come in a few weeks; she, however, knew me at 
 once, and wept as she stretched out her bony hands 
 to me. Her habitual talkativeness had not yet de- 
 serted her, and in a low voice, broken by groaning 
 
gg spiJsrozA. 
 
 and moaning, she avowed to me, that it was she 
 who in confession to the priest had told that my 
 father never went to church, and worshipped hea- 
 then gods in secret. 
 
 " The confessor, for this godly act, had absolved 
 her from all her sins; but now it seemed to her as 
 if she could not die before I too had forgiven her 
 for the many troubles that had ensued to me in con- 
 sequence. I must remember that she had pledged 
 her own soul that I was a good Christian child, and 
 thus I had been safe; I must remember, she said 
 — and the old wretch winked with her half-closed 
 eyes — that it was only so that I had come to know 
 that dear good Don Alfonso, and she promised me 
 soon to pray in heaven for our union. I thanked 
 her for her good intentions, but could not embitter 
 her dying hour, and forgave her, I must confess, 
 with a not wholly willing heart." 
 
 I then told Manuela of my last conversation with 
 Laura, and amid such talk we reached my father's 
 house. The arrivals were very welcome to my 
 father. Old Valor was carried up the steps, and 
 their limited baggage soon stowed in its place. My 
 sister, who was some years older than Manuela, 
 was soon her dearest friend, so that she felt com- 
 pletely at home with us. 
 
 We quietly prepared for our departure, but the 
 infirm state of Don Antonio, in wliich he would not 
 hear of a journey, made us all anxious; my father. 
 
FATHER AND SON. 89 
 
 who was reputed to be the most experienced phy- 
 sician in New Castile, feared that he would linger 
 long. We were astonished one morning, therefore, 
 to find him dead in bed, with a frightfully swollen 
 countenance. For this once, when Manuela first 
 saw the horrible state of her father's face, her 
 bodily powers sank unconscious under the burden 
 of her woe; otherwise she had endured with forti- 
 tude all the vicissitudes of life. 
 
 My father thought that he had not the appear- 
 ance of a natural death; and in fact, when the body 
 was laid out, the amulet that Don Antonio had 
 worn on his breast since his last imprisonment was 
 found open and empty, and nowhere were to be dis- 
 covered the remains of any poison. Manuela never 
 heard anything of this circumstance. 
 
 As old Valor was now dead, my father thought 
 our departure should be deferred no longer. The 
 departed had left no intimation of his last will: 
 what was more natural than that Manuela should 
 travel with us ? My father charged me to remind 
 her to take into speedy consideration her somewhat 
 unsettled affairs. I went to her, and found her 
 alone, weeping, and pensive. 
 
 " We all honor you for these signs of filial affec- 
 tion," I said ; " but why give yourself up any longer 
 to such melancholy thoughts ? My father will be 
 your father, and I — you know what I would be to 
 you." 
 
go SPINOZA. 
 
 " No, never !" she answered. '' Have pity on me, 
 poor orphan that I am, and let me go to my uncle 
 in Valencia. He will not visit my father's enmity 
 on me; he will not repel his sister's child. How 
 willingly would I remain with you ! but I §ee too 
 late that an iron wall separates us forever." 
 
 " Do you know already ?" I asked impatiently. 
 "Did my sister confide it to you ? Believe me, long 
 ago my heart felt guilty of cowardly perjury not 
 to have confessed everything to you; you would 
 never have betrayed me. Yes, I am a Jew, and 
 will stand by my oppressed brethren in the faith 
 as long as a breath of life remains in me ; and if you 
 can desert me, well and good — you never loved me. 
 Go to your uncle; no one will prevent you." 
 
 Manuela stared at me with despairing eyes. 
 
 " You are cruel, Sefior," she said; " I should never 
 have thought you could be so. Who has given you 
 the right to treat me with such scorn, and yet that 
 I must love you ? Think you that I am faint-hearted, 
 and ashamed of my faith ? Say outright — I know 
 you adhere to Islam, as your dead father did — and 
 I will embrace your knees and beg forgiveness, 
 but do not mock me. What have I done to you T' 
 
 A torrent of tears choked her voice; she turned 
 from me sobbing. " O father, father !" she cried, 
 " they treat your child so; why did you not take 
 me with you into your grave ?" 
 
 I called down all the curses of Heaven on my 
 
PATHER AND SON. 
 
 91 
 
 head if I had not told the truth. She looked at me 
 kindly again, and the tears in her eyes witnessed 
 her extreme sorrow for the injustice she had done 
 me, and for the awful abyss that opened before our 
 eyes. 
 
 " So near, and yet so infinitely far !" she said, 
 giving me her hand in reconciliation. I besought 
 her by all her former depth of love. 
 
 " God is a God of love w^herever he is wor- 
 shipped — in church, mosque, or synagogue. Were 
 it not the will of God, should we have found and 
 refound each other ?" In fiery words I placed be- 
 fore her the differences of creed as they appeared to 
 lovers; I troubled myself but little about what was 
 written in books or taught by priests. God for- 
 give me, I should not like to answer for it all now. 
 Manuela but half listened to me, and cried in a 
 heart-rending voice: 
 
 " Lord God, destroy me n<3t because I still doubt. 
 What law have I broken that you should lay on me 
 so intolerable a burden ? Can I cast out the faith 
 of my childhood from my mind, and yet live ? Why 
 should I, even I, a weak girl, be fated to be Moslem 
 at heart and Christian in appearance, at last to 
 give the lie to both ? Is there not one more Temple 
 through which I may be hunted, and my poor heart 
 torn asunder ? My father was wrong to throw an 
 old gypsy woman down the steps, as he did three 
 years ago, so that I thought she would never get 
 
92 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 up again; he did it because she prophesied that I 
 should not die in my present faith, and that I was 
 born for great things: I wish I knew what the great 
 things were to be. If the old witch should return, 
 how surprised she would be at her own wisdom !" 
 A shriek of horror interrupted Manuela's words. 
 
 " It is black art that plays such tricks !" she cried, 
 and shrank close to me in fear. I glanced at the 
 door: there stood an old gypsy woman leaning on 
 a staff, and asking me for alms with a shrewd 
 laugh. I soothed Manuela, who trembled all over; 
 she recovered herself, however, and approaching 
 the gypsy bravely, asked: 
 
 "Do you know me?" 
 
 "Why not, then ?" answered the old woman, and 
 raised her grinning face to hers. " Look, I have a 
 good memorial of you — that scar over my left eye, 
 I got it at your house in Seville. What do you say 
 now to my prophecies? are they not fulfilled ?" 
 
 " I do not know," answered Manuela. 
 
 "You don't know. Ay, ay, but I know." 
 
 " Thank you very much for your wisdom," an- 
 swered Manuela, handing her a present. 
 
 "Just a minute yet: give me that little velvet 
 hand; I know many another thing." 
 
 Manuela only half opposed her. The old woman 
 chuckled so much when she had looked at the lines 
 on the hand for a time, that her stick fell from her 
 grasp. 
 
FATHER AND SON. 03 
 
 "That is beyond everything," she cried. " Look 
 here! such a finely marked life-line I have only had 
 to look at once before: a handsome knight will 
 come and carry you over the sea; you may rely on 
 it; it is as certainly true — as true as that I would I 
 were as young and fair as you. Do you see that 
 little line that goes across there? That means 
 much sorrow and heartache. But wait a minute; 
 you must listen to this: that is a fine boy that you 
 will bear. You need not turn so red. There is a 
 bold, widely famed knight, whom no one can stand 
 against in the lists; he gives his strokes with such a 
 sure, quiet aim, that all his adversaries are stretched 
 on the sand; that circle outwards, that is a crown 
 he refuses." 
 
 Such, and much more such, were the fool's jests 
 that the garrulous old woman told us; I still won- 
 der at myself for having retained such nonsense in 
 my memory. Manuela seemed, however much she 
 tried to hide it, to believe more than I; I never 
 cared much for such things, and we have the clear- 
 est evidence now as to what they are worth. She 
 would have prophesied for me also, but I had other 
 things to do and think of. I gave her money, and 
 told her to go on her way. 
 
 By this strange incident Manuela's extreme agi- 
 tation, which had made me tremble, was happily 
 diverted. I now quietly represented the case to her, 
 and she, too, was quiet. I was obliged to promise 
 
94 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 not to disturb her with another word until the next 
 morning. 
 
 " I will think over it all faithfully and conscien- 
 tiously," she said; ''no one may, no one can, advise 
 me here." 
 
 When I awoke next morning my first thought 
 was: to-day the course of my whole future life will 
 be decided. It is not possible in such emergencies 
 to remain master of our thoughts; anxiety and im- 
 patience disturb us too much. I hastened out on 
 to the Alameda, spurred my horse, as if I could 
 quicken the time like his paces and make the seconds 
 run on, that I might at last go to Manuela. 
 
 " God alone knows how I have struggled," she 
 said as she came to me. "You have won; but I 
 entreat you, let us go away from here. I can bear 
 this place no longer." I told my father everything. 
 
 "You have not done well, my son," said he, "to 
 put such unequal weights in the scale; what you 
 tell me is no news to me: but the maiden should 
 not have been won to our faith and family with a 
 broken spirit. I will explain to her all the hard 
 duties which our faith enjoins, all the sorrows it 
 is still condemned to bear; if then she still holds 
 to her decision, may God grant his blessing, and 
 make her the mother of a pious progeny !" 
 
 Manuela stood firm. 
 
 There was now nothing to prevent our departure. 
 When we had with much difficulty put our posses- 
 
 m 
 
FATHER AND SON. 
 
 95 
 
 sions into a portable- form, Immanuel started with 
 our sister and Manuela, for we were obliged to do 
 our utmost to avoid attracting notice. The night 
 after, I followed with my father. I could hardly 
 restrain my tears as we slipped through the familiar 
 streets like thieves, surrounded by fear and dark- 
 ness. Oh ! we loved our step-fatherland with all 
 our hearts; I feel it now. My father did not utter 
 a syllable. When the red dawn first rose he com- 
 manded me there to take the sun to my witness, 
 and swear by God Almighty, that I would not take 
 Manuela to me as my own till she was accepted 
 into our faith and bound to me in the bonds of 
 marriage. 
 
 We overtook the others, and arrived after many 
 difficulties at Oporto. There we dwelt with the 
 father of Uriel da Costa till the day of our depart- 
 ure. We met Mendez Henrico from Madrid here; 
 he left an honorable post at court, and a passion- 
 ately beloved bride, to confess his faith with his 
 brethren in a distant land. He was a taciturn fel- 
 low-traveller. A fearful curse, such as no tongue 
 of man ever spoke before, he called down on un- 
 happy Spain as we raised the anchor; his eyes 
 rolled like a madman's, he gnashed his teeth and 
 stamped his foot, till I was afraid of his wrath, and 
 strove to soothe him. Without replying, or even 
 looking round, he went to the other end of the 
 ship, leant against a coil of ropes in a lonely corner, 
 
96 SPINOZA. 
 
 and cowered down. I had enough to do for my 
 own people, and left Henrico to his own devices. 
 
 Our journey was fair in the beginning; the change 
 of scene reawakened Manuela's gayety. But my 
 father fell ill the first evening. He tried, as here- 
 tofore, to avert the evil by strong medicines: but it 
 was no use; he grew worse from hour to hour. 
 
 " It is strange," he said to me once, as I sat be- 
 side his bed: "here I Heboid child that I am, in a 
 great cradle, that will rock the life out of me. Do 
 not throw my body out on to the cold flood. As 
 Joseph once his brethren, so I conjure you, my 
 children, take my bones and bury them in the land 
 whereto the Lord will lead you; I feel that my eyes 
 will never see it more." 
 
 I tried to divert him from such thoughts, but he 
 said: "I know my hours are numbered. I have ex- 
 perienced much joy and much sorrow in this world; 
 glory and thanks be to the Lord our God for both ! 
 Come, call my children — Manuela too; she also is 
 my child; you will be happy with her. Do not 
 weep," he said to them as they entered. " I sink 
 into the grave in peace, for I know that you will go 
 on unmolested, and may live at peace with your 
 God; but should an oppressor's hand repulse you, 
 despair not, for the law of our God, the Infinite and 
 only One, will one day be gloriously recognized h^ 
 all nations." 
 
 My father talked much longer about the regu- 
 
FATHER AND SON. 
 
 97 
 
 lation of our future life; his approaching death 
 seemed to have lent him insight into unknown con- 
 tingencies. He blessed us each singly, and de- 
 parted after a few hours with prayerful lips. Since 
 then I have seen the spirits of many depart from 
 the body, but I have never since seen so celestially 
 peaceful a countenance. Our tears flowed plen- 
 teously, but Manuela wept most violently; she was 
 an orphan a second time. When a return of life 
 to the body was hopeless, we emptied a large chest 
 quietly, and wrapped the corpse in the winding- 
 sheet my mother had prepared. A bag of earth 
 from the promised land, for which my father had 
 given much gold, lay beside the shroud. We 
 placed this holy earth under his head, and laid 
 the coffin in the lowest cabin, where my brother 
 watched it. 
 
 It was a foggy morning when we proceeded on- 
 ward. Towards midday a violent storm arose, with 
 all the horrors of which I had hitherto only heard 
 the narration in the numerous stories of my father's 
 travels. I thanked God that he had spared him 
 this fresh affliction, and sought by these thoughts 
 to soothe the trembling maidens. 
 
 The captain came to us, and ordered us in few 
 words to bring him the chest immediately wherein 
 the corpse lay, that he might not be obliged to 
 overturn everything, and lose much time thereby; 
 it was a well-known rule that the sea would not 
 
98 SPINOZA, 
 
 become smooth until the corpse that a ship might 
 hold was given up as an offering. I tried to pacify 
 him, but was foolish enough to strive to show him 
 the absurdity of his superstition. He had nearly 
 stabbed me for my advice, if Manuela had not held 
 his arm. I would have left my father's last wishes 
 only unfulfilled by my death, and prepared for op- 
 position; the girls wailed and wept; the whole ship's 
 company came, and I was obliged to comply. 
 When we had loaded the coffin with ballast, that 
 it might sink, I came with it into the raging ele- 
 ments, and with a bleeding heart saw how the high 
 swelling waves closed over the offered prey. For 
 a long time my rest was sunk with it. The whole 
 ship was in frightful commotion; one man alone 
 stood unmoved amid the uproar: it was Mendez 
 Henrico. A cocked pistol in one hand, and holding 
 on with all his strength to a rope with the other, he 
 stood on the deck. 
 
 " What do you want .? are you mad ?" I cried to 
 him; he smiled pityingly. 
 
 "Do you see the sea there?" he said; "do you 
 see ? It is a great font; we shall all be baptized 
 there according to the rites of the Greek Church; 
 but they shall not compel me to it while I live — 
 they, whom the elements deceive so slavishly. If 
 that breaks (here he pointed to the mast), this ball 
 shall burn in my heart; I will not — " At that mo- 
 ment the mast crashed down, a shot resounded, and 
 
FATHER AND SON. 
 
 99 
 
 Henrico fell head first overboard. I felt crushed 
 by all that was around me; we were playthings in 
 the hands of the storm. 
 
 My son, whoever would learn what is the good 
 of his own life and of what, he knows of the world, 
 and what is worthless in it, he will learn it best if 
 he be placed with all he is and has on the boundless 
 ocean. During that storm and the ensuing calm I 
 saw deeper into the meaning of things than ever 
 before. It was to me like the forty years' wander- 
 ing in the wilderness of our forefathers; the old 
 generation shall not enter into the promised land; 
 it died out in me, and a new man saw the abode of 
 freedom before him. 
 
 We landed at last in Antwerp, and it was in a 
 season of mourning that I first learnt to love our 
 new home. 
 
 For thirty days, as the law ordains, I mourned 
 for my father; but for a much longer period I de- 
 plored my inability to carry out his last wishes. 
 Manuela was meanwhile accepted as a member of 
 the Jewish congregation, and at her side I found 
 that peace and happiness for which I eternally 
 thank God. We had both many hard struggles in 
 life. We had both imagined the exercise of Juda- 
 ism in a free community to be a very different 
 thing; we did not know how strong the ties of 
 habit were in us, and I especially could not re- 
 concile myself to the mere freedom to live a life 
 
lOO SPINOZA. 
 
 hemmed in by a thousand religious observances. 
 God Almighty will forgive my sins, I have learned 
 to know that His Holy Will is over all, and that 
 the observance of the Law alone leads to him. We 
 have devoted all we have to the end that our chil- 
 dren might grow up in the peace of true faith. Be 
 thankful for it. You above all, my son. 
 
 Such is the story of my life and of my love, writ- 
 ten for my only son, Baruch, alone. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 TALMUD AND LATIN. 
 
 BARUCH'S hand trembled as he laid the pages 
 aside, and his brow was hot as he leant it on 
 his hand. 
 
 What confusion there is in the life of humanity 
 thus divided into races and sects, each one of 
 which hates and persecutes the other, and' thinks 
 itself alone wise and righteous ! Thus the Temples 
 become encampments, where the watchword given 
 out is salvation to the initiated, damnation to all 
 the rest. 
 
 A voice stronger and more piercing than that of 
 the synagogue now called upon Baruch to pro- 
 nounce the blessing on the revealed unwritten Law, 
 whose two pillars are freedom from all shackles of 
 race or creed, and love to, all mankind. Had not 
 Maimonides already taught that " the pious of all 
 religions shall inherit eternal felicity ?" Baruch 
 was no longer a son of Israel only; he was the child 
 of humanity. It was not his descent alone that 
 gave him this impulse thus to classify himself, 
 though possibly it was the first motive. The spirit 
 of life, the Spirit of God, seized upon him, carried 
 
102 SPINOZA, 
 
 him over all boundaries, and held him firm and free 
 in blissful uncertainty. 
 
 At first when his father called him on the mor- 
 row he remembered with difficulty who and where 
 he was. He returned the manuscript to his father 
 and kissed his hand: he held his son's hand fast in 
 his, and walked with him to the synagogue. 
 
 Baruch answered the congratulations of those 
 who waited at the door of the place of worship to 
 honor him on his attainment of the Rabbinical dig- 
 nity but absently and inappropriately. The people 
 thought him conceited. 
 
 This supposition had some truth in it when 
 after early service on the Sunday morning he went, 
 with his richly clasped folio under his arm, along 
 the road to the school called the " Crown of Law." 
 
 With what joyous haste he had formerly trodden 
 that path — and now he stared confusedly about 
 him, almost stumbling at every step. A feeling of 
 mingled sadness and pride filled his heart: must 
 he still follow this road as before; still study the 
 same books, and what new thing could he find in 
 them? He had attained the rank of Rabbi, .the 
 highest attainable in this career, and he must go on 
 studying the same subjects by which men merely 
 sharpened their cleverness into conceit. He was 
 familiar with all that could be learnt there; what 
 was the use of eternal repetition ? But more pain- 
 ful still was the thought that he had become a 
 
TALMUD AND LATIN, IÖ3 
 
 Stranger to it, for the experience of the previous 
 day had lifted him above all that was customary to 
 him. Was it not a sin to go on just the same as if 
 nothing had happened ? The Jewish community 
 and its doctrines no longer formed the heart of the 
 world, all the rest being but its shell. Houses 
 were built there, ships launched, streets laid out, 
 indifferent to this narrow circle; bells tolled and 
 called to the worship of other sanctuaries. Where 
 is centred the life of the world? The boy, ripened 
 into a courageous youth, would willingly have pen- 
 etrated' to those eternal halls, — and it was but the 
 door of the School of Law that opened to him now. 
 He could not understand that this world had not 
 suddenly changed to another, because it seemed to 
 have changed to him. Why was it impossible, 
 when thus awakened to conscious existence, to 
 begin life anew ? 
 
 The world goes on in its accustomed grooves. 
 
 The wounds of e^rly youth heal quickly; doubts 
 are soon extinguished, whether in forgetfulness or 
 in habitual repression by the will. 
 
 When Baruch had entered the school he was, as 
 is the habit of youth, quickly engaged with the 
 immediate interest of the moment; all others had 
 vanished. Rabbi Saul Morteira pointed to the 
 place on his left; that on his right hand Chisdai 
 held by right of seniority. The other students sat 
 at the long table in order of age or attainments, "at 
 
i04 SPINOZA. 
 
 the feet of the Rabbi." The master commanded 
 Baruch to read out the Friday's unfinished extract. 
 It was the place in the Talmud tractate, Kiduschin, 
 folio 2 2, Baruch read: 
 
 " It is written, Deuteronomy xxi. lo: 'When thou 
 goest forth to war with thine enemies, and the 
 Lord thy God hath delivered them into thine hands, 
 that thou hast taken them captive, and seest among 
 the captives a beautiful woman, and hast a desire 
 unto her that thou wouldst have her to thy wife: 
 . . . This indulgence is granted because the Israel- 
 ites had not abstained therefrom; and it is better 
 that they should do that w^hich is permitted than 
 that they should do that which is forbidden. ' " 
 
 Baruch had hardly read for a few minutes, when 
 a violent dispute arose between him and Chisdai. 
 The great schoolman, Rabbi Samuel Edels, had 
 added a problem to this proposition, and ended 
 with the words, "a solution is to be found for 
 this." 
 
 Chisdai thought he had discovered it, but one 
 of the youngest scholars at the lower end of the 
 table made him in a few words the butt of uni- 
 versal ridicule. Chisdai sprang up, and would 
 have stormed the saucy youth into silence, but 
 Baruch stood up and ranged himself on the side of 
 the boy. Chisdai turned to the adversary whom 
 he deemed his equal; he drew himself up and 
 stretched out his bedaubed fingers till they stood 
 
TALMUD AND LATIN. 
 
 105 
 
 out like a palisade of notes of exclamation: he 
 laughed compassionately, and with ironic aston- 
 ishment shook his learned head over the weak 
 grounds taken against him; but Baruch pressed 
 him more and more hotly, till at last Chisdai, shak- 
 ing himself free, rushed at his opponent; he seized 
 him by his cloak and would not allow him to say 
 another word. Chisdai struck the table, turned him- 
 self from side to side, first to one and then another; 
 it was all no good. Baruch had placed him in a 
 dilemma by his tranquillity, from which he could 
 not free himself. Chisdai sat down and bit his 
 nails. Baruch quite simply explained the problem. 
 
 *^ It seems strange to me," he then said, " that a 
 thing should be permitted because it was done; 
 that could be done in many another case as well." 
 
 " The punishment of him who marries a gentile 
 follows immediately," said Chisdai with a delighted 
 face that no one understood but Baruch and him- 
 self; " for, as the Talmud says, directly after these 
 verses follow those of the rebellious son, because of 
 such a marriage only the godless could be the fruit." 
 
 Baruch did not answer him. " Then is this the 
 conclusion," he inquired of the Rabbi, " that a mar- 
 riage with a gentile is no sin ?" 
 
 "You see that it is so," replied the Rabbi, "but 
 only in time of war." 
 
 " Can God make one law for war and another 
 for peace ?" 
 
Io6 SPINOZA. 
 
 " Why not ? There are many laws that refer only 
 to Palestine. Stand by the word: here it speaks 
 only of war, not of peace." 
 
 "Excuse me," persisted Baruch; "I must ask 
 something else. Just after this verse it stands 
 written: If a man have two wives, he loves one but 
 not the other; the permission to wed many wives 
 is granted for war and peace, for Palestine and other 
 lands; why is it no longer so ?" 
 
 " You know well enough that Rabbi Gerschon, 
 ' the Light of the Exile,' laid those of all time under 
 the ban who should wed more than one wife." 
 
 '■' But how dare he do so, since it is nowhere for- 
 bidden in the Holy Scriptures; and according to 
 the Talmud, King Solomon was merely forbidden 
 to wed more than eighteen wives .''" 
 
 "I believe you think," replied the Rabbi, *' that 
 the Sanhedrim of Mainz did not know that as well 
 as you. I cannot now explain everything, you are 
 not alone here; if you ask sophistical questions, I 
 cannot keep the others waiting till I answer them. 
 Chisdai, read on." 
 
 Chisdai did as commanded. The whole reading 
 was in a tone commonly believed to be traditional; 
 half melancholy chanting, half recitation as of a 
 litany, as little according to the rules of declama-, 
 mation or music as a grammar would be according 
 to rule if extracted from the Babel of dialects in 
 the Talmud. Each student sought to combine new 
 
TALMUD AND LATIN. 
 
 107 
 
 problems from the many sophistical questions in 
 the text and their numerous commentaries, again 
 to be drawn out in striking syllogisms, etc. In spite 
 of the license of intellectual activity shown on all 
 sides, a certain defined order was unmistakable. 
 The Rabbi listened carefully to all the questions, 
 and then, according as he considered the solution 
 easy or difficult, he called upon this one or that to 
 answer it. 
 
 Chisdai, who sat next to the Rabbi's chair, nodded 
 kindly to the younger ones, whose first efforts in 
 dialectic made them timid, with condescending en- 
 couragement. He smiled like a general, who, in the 
 anticipation of speedy advancement, claps his sub- 
 ordinate good-naturedly on the shoulder when he 
 has successfully led in some small skirmish. When 
 a pause intervened, he brought two plainly opposed 
 views of the great Maimonides into the field of 
 battle, while against the views here laid down he 
 brought up one of contrary signification from the 
 tractate of Chetuboth, with much circumlocution 
 and cunning. All were silent. 
 
 " Now, Baruch, what do you say to that ?" asked 
 the Rabbi. Baruch aroused himself as if from a 
 dream, for he had been employed on a very differ- 
 ent train of thought. 
 
 *' Now Baruch, what do you say to what Chisdai 
 advances ?" repeated the Rabbi. 
 
 " He is perfectly correct," was the quick answer. 
 
I08 SPINOZA, 
 
 A peal of laughter, begun by Chisdai, echoed 
 from one end of the table to the other. 
 
 " Where are your thoughts again ?" asked the 
 Rabbi softly. " Not on his words alone, but on his 
 thoughts, a man must place a curb. Now who can 
 answer Chisdai's question ?" 
 
 No one replied. Then Chisdai triumphantly 
 brought forward a finely woven chain of arguments 
 and authorities, Avith which he brilliantly solved the 
 apparently insoluble problem. Baruch tried forcibly 
 to master his wandering thoughts; with painful 
 diligence he repeated the words of the text before 
 him: it was all of no use; his mind unconsciously 
 glided over the words to other subjects. He soon 
 gave up the application afforded him by the whole 
 discussion to his mother's history; the doubts which 
 had arisen in him as to the eternal validity and im- 
 mutability of the Law, he thought he had repressed 
 by persuading himself that his teacher was not 
 sufficiently learned to answer such questions, or 
 held him as yet unworthy to partake of the tree of 
 knowledge. Much that had been nearly erased 
 from his memory arose within him again fresher 
 than ever, and he was glad when he heard his fel- 
 low pupils close their great folios, and the Rabbi 
 rise with a heavy sigh. 
 
 At home he sat down to table in silence with a 
 feeling of general discontent. His father left him 
 undisturbed, but Miriam looked at him inquir- 
 
TALMUD AND LATIN, 
 
 log 
 
 ingly. They talked of the approaching departure 
 of Rodrigo Casseres, and the anticipated company 
 of his family. 
 
 " What is the matter with you to-day, Baruch ?" 
 asked his father when the meal was over. "You 
 used always to recollect the saying of ' the fathers ': 
 ' When three sit together at table and speak no 
 godly word, it is as though they partook of a 
 funeral feast.' Must I remind you to read a pas- 
 sage from the Mishna before grace ?" 
 
 Baruch rose, fetched the handsome quarto, and 
 repeated the paragraphs before him. To-day, for 
 the first time, he found it tiresome that he could 
 not put a bit between his teeth without some con- 
 sideration of the old laws. 
 
 " I have already thought about your wishes to- 
 day," said his father; *' I have found you a Latin 
 master. But go on reading; I will tell you after- 
 wards." 
 
 Baruch read the appointed number of verses more 
 quickly than usual, but not to betray to his father 
 by ending too soon how much interested he was in 
 the deferred information, he read two more para- 
 graphs; his thoughts, however, did not follow the 
 lines his eyes and mouth read. He ascribed this 
 fault to his father's words, for he would not confess 
 to himself, or was not fully conscious, what an im- 
 measurable change had come over him. He closed 
 the book, and looked expectantly at his father, who 
 
no SPINOZA. 
 
 commanded him to repeat the long Hebrew grace. 
 Lucky force of habit ! If Baruch had not repeated 
 this prayer several times daily since his earliest 
 childhood, he would now have made many stumbles 
 therein; for while thanking God for bodily nourish- 
 ment, and praying for the rebuilding of Jerusalem, 
 his mind passed to the gods of Rome and Athens, 
 and rejoiced in the intellectual nourishment which 
 Aristotle and the Roman historians would offer 
 him. 
 
 After the " Amen" his father rose and lighted a 
 cigar, saying: 
 
 " When I have smoked this, Baruch, we will go 
 together to Salomon de Silva. I bit the sour apple 
 unwillingly at first, but it was so easily arranged, 
 that I have quite given up all opposition. I ac- 
 companied Rodrigo Casseres to the Amstel to-day, 
 where he took the boat for Leyden; and as I was 
 returning, our friend the Doctor met me. I doubt 
 the people make much too much of your dignity of 
 Rabbi; do not let them make you conceited with 
 such talk." 
 
 *' Certainly not," answered Baruch, without look- 
 ing up. How changed his father was to-day ! 
 Where was his Sabbath elation gone to ? 
 
 " One must always go on advancing; that is the 
 principal thing," continued his father. "While I 
 was speaking to the Doctor, I recollected my prom- 
 ise; and Silva said he could recommend such a 
 
TALMUD AND LATIN. m 
 
 Latin master to me, that half Europe could not 
 show his equal." 
 
 Baruch and his father went together to the phy- 
 sician. 
 
 " I have been expecting you for a long time," he 
 said, "and Magister Nigritius expected me to come 
 to him this morning," 
 
 The praise that Baruch now received personally 
 from the physician was doubly painful to him; he 
 felt so unworthy of it since his inner experiences 
 and the day's events in the school. 
 
 What if it were a foreordained necessity that he 
 should become an apostate ? Baruch trembled now 
 at the fulfilment of his ardently desired wish. 
 
 If apostasy were a necessity, who could oppose 
 it? 
 
 " I have felt a disinclination," said his father, as 
 the three proceeded together to the house, " to my 
 son's learning Latin, and still more to letting him 
 learn it from a Christian. I once heard the saying 
 in the Talmud, ' Cursed is he who allows his son 
 to study the learning of the Greeks.* Nothing else 
 turned Acosta's head; if in all his days he had never 
 seen Latin or Greek, I could swear he might now 
 be living among us in peace of mind, honor and 
 happiness." 
 
 " With all respect for your words, my dear Ben- 
 jamin," said the Doctor, " you are a skilful mer- 
 chant, and know how and when to effect a sale of 
 
112 , SPINOZA. 
 
 the rose-wood and cinnamon the East India Com- 
 pany bring you, but in this case you must let others 
 teach you. I cannot believe that you too are one 
 of those who forget their own youth and would 
 bring the darkness of the Poles down on us. For 
 the respect and honor which we enjoy (here the 
 Doctor's looks partook of pride), we have only to 
 thank the fact that in secular learning we can 
 speak a word as well as the others. It is another 
 thing whether to learn it from a Christian or not. 
 But your Baruch is so familiar with the Bible and 
 the Talmud, that against any evidence they might 
 adduce from the Bible for the Messiahship of Jesus, 
 he could easily find counter-evidence; and it is 
 generally the pious Christians who would leave 
 everyone to his own faith: the freethinkers among 
 the Christians are much more to be feared; they 
 could ruin our youths; for he who would deny the 
 foundations of all religion— he is the true betrayer. 
 True learning, however, leads back again to faith." 
 The learned Doctor enlarged yet more on his 
 theme; for he not only wanted to show off his 
 knowledge of theological and philosophical learn- 
 ing, rare indeed in a physician, but wished to have 
 his rude beginning forgotten. He had not finished 
 when he entered the house of Magister Nigritius, 
 and as he somewhat noisily mounted the five steps, 
 he gave his companions regulations how to behave 
 to the man whom they visited. They at last reached 
 
 -Ä 
 
TALMUD AND LATIN, I13 
 
 a landing, whose floor showed many cracks. The 
 Doctor opened the door: a little man with a 
 greenish-yellow complexion, and a neutral-tinted, 
 ink-spotted dressing-gown, sprang up to meet him, 
 stumbling over some folios that lay on the floor, 
 
 '■^ Eureka carissime amice /''"^ cried the Magister. 
 ^^ Marsi, not Mauri, is the reading. Look, Horace 
 wishes to derive the descent of Augustus from the 
 God of War, and says: 
 
 * Quern juvat clamor, galeaque leves, 
 Acer et Mauri peditis cruendum 
 Vultus in hostem.' f 
 
 But the Moors are neither warlike nor brave. 
 Here is a passage in Hirtius on the African war, 
 where less than thirty Gauls drove two thousand 
 Moorish cavalry from their position; and the Moors 
 had no infantry. Also the Moors were their enemies 
 then, and the conquered foe over whom Mars re- 
 joices was a Roman — how stupid and unpatriotic ! 
 So I read it Marsi^ and the Marsian infantry were 
 the boldest among the Italians, of which there are 
 many proofs in Strabo, Appian, and Vergil, and 
 two passages in Horace show the same. You see, 
 with this conjecture alone I can so fill the mouth 
 of that boaster, Kaspar Barläus, that he will have 
 
 * Found, my worthy friend ! 
 
 f The din of battle and the glittering helms delight, and the 
 Moorish foot-soldiers furious look at the bleeding enemy. 
 
1 14 SPINOZA. 
 
 had enough for his life. Ah, my dear Doctor, 
 how lucky I am to have a man to whom I can tell 
 all this, and who knows how to value such a dis- 
 covery! Ever since this morning I have been wait- 
 ing impatiently for you. I cannot understand now 
 how they could have thought for so long that the 
 most refined of Romans would have praised the 
 stupid Moors. Sit down, my dear Doctor/* 
 
 The Magister placed some open books that lay 
 on a chair carefully on the floor. He now first paid 
 his respects to the two strangers, whom he had not 
 hitherto appeared to notice. Baruch stared before 
 him absently during the long commentary of^the 
 Magister; he pressed his lips thoughtfully together; 
 it seemed to him as if to-day all the world con- 
 spired to remind him at every step of the Moorish 
 origin of his mother. 
 
 "What do they want with me,''" inquired the 
 Magister irritably. The physician appeased him, 
 and said they had a request to make. " Sit down 
 here," the Magister said to the father, and straight- 
 ened his arm-chair, covered with brown leather. 
 
 "You, young man, sit by me on the bed." 
 
 " Have you nearly finished the medicine ? and 
 how is your cough?" inquired the physician. 
 
 " Optime. Last night I coughed a long time in 
 bed, and when I had extinguished the lamp, the 
 letters still swam before my eyes; then it first 
 struck me that the reading was Mar si, I cried out 
 
TALMUD AND LATIN. 115 
 
 for joy. For fear I might lose the glorious discovery 
 in my sleep, I sprang out of bed; but if I had 
 searched myself dead I should never have found 
 the tinder-box. Look! there it is. So I wrote it on 
 the floor in the moonlight there with chalk. I then 
 went quietly to sleep, and woke early this morning 
 in a perspiration; so the cough seems to have gone 
 away." 
 
 "You must give up your former way of life," 
 said the Doctor, '' and in the coming spring leave 
 your cell oftener, or else I will not answer for it; if 
 that chest cough comes back, a fever of joy over a 
 lucky guess may not sweat it away." 
 
 The Magister laughed in good-humored incredu- 
 lity. The Doctor now brought forward his request, 
 and Nigritius agreed to it, with the proviso that 
 Silva must be answerable for it if the boy were not 
 clever enough. 
 
 " How old are you ?" he asked Baruch. 
 
 "Fifteen.' 
 
 "And you cannot say your declensions?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Hum, hum!" grumbled the Magister. ^^Arslonga^ 
 vita brevts, says Hippocrates; at fifteen Hugo Grotius 
 had already made his learned edition of Martianus 
 Capella, translated into Latin Stevini's art of navi- 
 gation, and so amplified the 'Phaenomena' of Ara- 
 tus that no one knew which wrote better Latin, 
 Cicero or he. I myself, ut at minora redeam^ had, 
 
I 1 6 SPINOZA. 
 
 when I was of that age, already made such a Carmen 
 that Vergil himself could not have pointed out a 
 Germanism or a false quantity in it. Fifteen! But 
 we will see: diligentia est mater studiorum — that is, you 
 must be industrious." 
 
 Baruch promised, and the Magister continued: 
 
 '' You can come to me every day at this time, 
 but you must not awaken me if I am asleep. 
 You need not bring any books; I have everything 
 here." 
 
 When the physician had repeated his congratula- 
 tions on the lucky guess, he left the house of the 
 Magister with Baruch and his father. 
 
 " You know I wish my children to learn every- 
 thing, I never spare in that; but I must not make 
 myself out to be greater than I am. I am not a 
 rich man, so I must know what the Magister re- 
 quires. I cannot give too much for Baruch alone, 
 but if I win my lawsuit I may be able to spend 
 more on him; now, however, I must remember that. 
 I have two more children." So spoke the father, 
 and the physician burst into a loud laugh. 
 
 "What are you laughing at now?" he asked 
 irritably. 
 
 " Nothing, except that you take the Magister for 
 a merchant; why, if he had nothing to eat to-mor- 
 row, he would rather starve than ask a penny in 
 pay for instruction. Like the Rabbis who think it 
 a sacred task to instruct any one in the Bible an4 
 
TALMUD AND LATIN. ii;f 
 
 Talmud, So does he with Greek and Latin. Shy as 
 he is of his fellows, he holds all mankind alike deaf 
 to his heart without distinction; and timid as he 
 looks when people are with him, he is bold, nay, 
 overbold, against them when he has hi§ pen in his 
 hand, and his ever-ready companions in arms, his 
 books, at his side. By means of his extraordinary 
 memory he can any minute raise a whole host of 
 witnesses. This Nigritius is a truly extraordinary 
 man." 
 
 " It is a dreary life to live so much alone, not a 
 soul near him, only books, books; I could not live 
 like that," said Baruch. 
 
 "I believe you," answered the physician. "You 
 see that is another unseen though incalculably val- 
 uable point of superiority in our religion; it is im- 
 possible that such hermit natures should arise within 
 it. Unless some one has cut loose from all sacred 
 duties, — which, God be praised, has never happened 
 yet unpunished, and which would not be permitted, 
 how could any one manage to live alone ? To pray 
 — three times a day in company with at least ten co- 
 religionists, and to attend the synagogue without 
 fail every Sabbath and fast-day, these are simple 
 precepts which make a hermit's seclusion impossi- 
 ble. And such narrow pedantic natures, with their 
 minute hair-splitting and small so-called love of 
 order, which are so common in this country, you 
 never meet among the Jews; that comes of their 
 
Il8 SPINOZA, 
 
 quick southern blood." The theologizing physician 
 would willingly have followed up this newly dis- 
 covered idea, but the father's curiosity interrupted 
 him with the question: 
 
 "Where does the Magister come from, and how 
 does he keep himself ?" 
 
 " He comes from Heidelberg, a German town 
 on the Rhine;* his name is Schwarz, but, like all 
 the learned men of the day, he has Latinized it. 
 He does not like to talk of his early life; but in an 
 hour of sadness he once confided to me that in 
 the war which has now lasted full thirty years his 
 native town was plundered and laid in ashes by the 
 Imperial troops. He was fortunate enough to save 
 the manuscripts taken from the University library 
 to Rome that belonged to him; he fled with them, 
 and remained deserted here. He had not crossed 
 the boundaries of his native town twice in his life; 
 in Attica, or Latium, he knew every house and every 
 road; but here he did not know his way out or in. 
 He joined a company of exiles and came here, where 
 he has now lived for six-and-twenty years. The 
 Heidelberg Library bought back his manuscripts, 
 which he had enriched with valuable comments. Be- 
 sides, he undertakes corrections for Gerhard Vossius, 
 his countryman, and for others. The best emenda- 
 tions in the ancient classics are his, and no one knows 
 them to be so; but that does not trouble him. It 
 
 * So in the original; it is on the Neckar.— TVöwj/. note. 
 
TALMUD AND LATIN. 
 
 119 
 
 verges on the incredible how little his requirements 
 are; study as much as he will, he is the same one 
 day as another, always gay and pleasant; but he 
 knows nothing of the world. He is long past sixty, 
 but he is as inexperienced as a child of ten years 
 old; he can tell you easily enough how many 
 sesterces Crassus had for his fortune; but if he pos- 
 sessed twenty stivers, and had to count them, he 
 would not know what to do or say about it. It is 
 well for him that he is in such an honest house; 
 Klaas Ufmsand and his wife, good Gertrui, take 
 care of everything for him. I tell you all this, 
 Baruch, that you may never make fun of him, even 
 if he is rather queer; he cannot bear ridicule. 
 Even if he often thrashes empty straw, he is so 
 thoroughly learned, and you can learn so much 
 from him, that you must always treat him with 
 respect," 
 
 " Yes, yes," said his father, "if you do not learn 
 Latin with him, you never will learn it." 
 
 From this time forth Baruch went to the Magister 
 every day. He soon found out that he was not the 
 man to introduce him to the famous temple of clas- 
 sical antiquity, but remembering his father's threat, 
 he said nothing about the disappointment of his 
 expectations. 
 
 He was obliged to gnaw at the hard shell of the 
 rudiments of Latin grammar, while longing so ear- 
 nestly to get at the nourishing kernel. Not even 
 
14Ö SPINOZA. 
 
 the intellectual gymnastics of his Talmud studies 
 were in these empty forms, which merely required 
 impressing on the memory. A student like Baruch 
 required special treatment. A mind that had al- 
 ready exercised itself on the highest intellectual 
 questions was far beyond the degree of mere re- 
 ceptiveness; and only what he could work out for 
 himself he truly understood. His teacher tried to 
 satisfy Baruch's impatience with the assurance 
 that— 
 
 " It is only when all the forms are in the head 
 that a man can wander inoffenso pede in the paths of 
 classic learning." 
 
 Baruch by degrees learned his teacher's strange 
 ways, and learned to respect and to imitate them. 
 Just this steady but often painfully measured prog- 
 ress, which admitted of no haste, still less allowed 
 for digressions, even this hard discipline pleased 
 him after the showy hair-splitting of the Talmud- 
 school. He constrained himself to follow this reg- 
 ulated pace, and his master appreciated the devo- 
 tion, and found his scholar win on his affections, as 
 he rejoiced daily more and more to find a sympa- 
 thetic mind near him. He promised his pupil to 
 leave him his Cicero " On the Greatest Good and 
 the Greatest Evil," which he had enriched with val- 
 uable marginal notes, as a legacy. 
 
 One day when Baruch came to his tutor's house 
 he received him with unusual warmth, and told 
 
TALMUD AI^D LA TUST, 121 
 
 him that he had that day deciphered one of the 
 most difhcuh passages in Cicero's "Orator." The 
 commentators and the later philologists had always 
 given the easier reading, which would naturally be 
 more convenient; but it was the sacred duty of all 
 true philologists to regard the more difficult read- 
 ing — just because it was the more difficult, and not 
 so easily understood by every one — as the correct 
 and original. 
 
 "That is strange," said Baruch; "it seems to me 
 as though, if I were crossing a barley field, and saw 
 some sheaves lying there, I must say. Ay, those are 
 oat sheaves that have been brought from another 
 field, for to allow they were barley sheaves would 
 not evince skill." 
 
 Magister Nigritius started ; this application of 
 Talmudistic sophistry to a foreign, if not wholly 
 unkindred subject, disgusted him. He assured 
 Baruch that the transcriber of a difficult passage 
 would of course be willing to find an easier turn for 
 it; it was therefore his duty, if there were sense in 
 the more difficult reading, to prefer it. 
 
 Baruch was satisfied by this representation: the 
 acuteness of reasoning that thereby came into play 
 attracted him, but still unsatisfied he felt the long- 
 ing for that new world of serene beauty which 
 should have been opened to him. The increasing 
 chest disease of the Magister, and the secret dissat- 
 isfaction between him and Baruch, made the in- 
 
122 SPINOZA. 
 
 struction henceforward irregular and little profit- 
 able. 
 
 At this time Rabbi Saul began the tractate Eru- 
 bin with his scholars, and to facilitate the solution 
 of the geometrical problems there given, he under- 
 took a thorough course of mathematics according 
 to the Hebrew translation of Euclid. The restless 
 intellect of Baruch found sufficient employment 
 therein, and he also devoted himself again with un- 
 divided zeal to the study of the Talmud. He hoped 
 thus to re-find his former peace. His immediate 
 pleasure in this study had grown less, and yet he 
 still aspired with a perfectly ravenous craving to- 
 wards the fuller satisfaction of his longing for 
 knowledge. He did not tell any one his opinion, 
 nor confide in any one. For it is inherent in the 
 nature of a young growing human being, as it is in 
 every growth of nature in general, that, by means 
 of its power of attraction, its absorption far exceeds 
 its loss by rejection; thus its vital principle grows 
 and ripens into its destined form. In quietude as 
 of sleep the mind of the youth awoke to the sur- 
 prise of his own consciousness, and the insight of 
 others. 
 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE TREATY OF PEACE. 
 
 HONEST Mynheer Dodimus de Vries conscien- 
 tiously entered the date 24th October, 1648, 
 in conscientious clerkly style in his ledger, and wrote 
 underneath how much wool, saffron, and ginger 
 had arrived, and how much cheese, sugar, and tea 
 he had that day despatched. Afternoon tea was 
 delicious, and Mynheer de Vries told his dear 
 spouse that he had still seven hundredweight and 
 a half of that sort in his warehouse that would be 
 worth more every day, for the celebrated Dr. Beve- 
 rocius had written a treatise wherein he plainly 
 proved that tea was a preservative from all mala- 
 dies, and the East India Company had had this 
 treatise printed and circulated at their own expense. 
 Hereupon he slept softly and smiled in his dreams 
 like a child, but had no notion of the sweet sur- 
 prise Mevrouw de Vries was preparing for him. 
 Of the tulip bulbs of the rarest sorts and varied 
 sizes and species which she cultivated in her garden 
 she built a pyramid on the writing table opposite 
 the sleeper, so that when the happy man awoke 
 his eyes were met by the ingenious edifice. He 
 embraced his stout better-half heartily, and went 
 
124 SPINOZA. 
 
 gayly and happily to his counting-house. It was a 
 lucky day, a day like all others, except for the extra 
 pleasure of the tulip pyramid. What in the world 
 could happen more than usual ? 
 
 Three gorgeously dressed heralds rode at a sharp 
 trot with sound of trumpets through the streets of 
 Amsterdam, without drawing rein until they reached 
 the Town Hall. The hammers stopped in the 
 smithies, the weaver's shuttle hung on the loom, 
 the tradesman wiped his pen, the banker straight- 
 ened his spectacles on his nose, locked his black 
 box, and pulled a second time at the padlock to 
 make sure that it was safely locked. Our Mynheer 
 de Vries laid the blotting-paper thoughtfully on 
 the freshly written page, closed his ledger, and 
 locked it in the desk; then Mevrouw brought him 
 his wig and gold-headed cane. 
 
 " My love, have you noticed nothing strange 
 about me ? I am expecting all day long that some- 
 thing extraordinary is going to happen to the world." 
 So said Mynheer de Vries, and he took his son Simon 
 by the hand and went to the Town Hall to hear 
 the news which he had anticipated. 
 
 But it was not so quiet in the houses of the town 
 councillors; every hand and every foot therein was 
 set in motion to bring the robes and clothe the 
 stately person of the master; nothing would set well 
 in the hurry, and the stern old councillor scolded 
 over his wife's want of order, and tried to put 
 
THE TREATY OF PEACE. 125 
 
 things into a form worthy of his dignity on the 
 way. It required all his importance to force his 
 way to the entrance of the Town Hall through the 
 crowd which had assembled there. Artisans with 
 their aprons still tied on and their bare, sinewy 
 arms folded; clerks with their pens behind their 
 ears, and ink on their fingers; porters who had set 
 down their loads and seated themselves thereon; 
 soldiers, idlers, women and children, all stood hud- 
 dled together, and exchanged conjectures on the 
 arrivals. One loitering dandy praised the light 
 trot of the horses and the fine work on the robes 
 of the heralds; they fitted as if grown to them, and 
 must have been made either in Madrid or Paris, 
 civilization was as yet too backward in this coun- 
 try; no Amsterdam tailor knew how to give a waist- 
 coat such an undeniable cut. An apple-woman 
 admired to her neighbor the rich gold embroidery, 
 and the breadth and brilliancy of the herald's rib- 
 bons, and an apprentice remarked to his compan- 
 ion that those must be Utrecht ribbons, as they had 
 some in the warehouse which they sold at four and 
 a half stivers the yard to gain five and twenty per 
 cent. On the right hand corner of the Town Hall 
 a tall lean figure had planted himself, his legs care- 
 lessly crossed as he whistled a tune. 
 
 "A good thing you are here, Flyns," shouted 
 several porters. " You can tell us for certain what 
 the golden birds that h^ve flown up there have in 
 
126 SPINOZA, 
 
 their beaks; you have shaved the chins of more 
 than ten town councillors to-day; you ought to 
 know what is going on in the United Netherlands. 
 Have we captured a silver fleet or something of 
 that sort ? The devil ! You have a face like a 
 mynheer on the pier when he hears his ship has 
 foundered." They all shouted together, and the 
 barber tried to get away so that his dignified ap- 
 pearance might check their impertinence. 
 
 "Holla! stop! that won't do," they cried. "In 
 the Thunderbolt there with a full glass of gin you 
 may know everything as well or better than the 
 Grand Pensioner himself, and you can tell us all 
 about it there; now, brother, show us how much 
 you know, and if any one says you lie we will tan 
 his hide for him till he can't see or hear." 
 
 Their clenched fists showed that they meant to 
 keep their promise, but Flyns answered none the 
 more, and tried to get away from his evidently un- 
 pleasant surroundings. 
 
 " Let him alone," said one; "the chin scraper has 
 always shaved us over a spoon.* Why should he be 
 there if he knew any more than we do. He must wait 
 as well as we till they throw us something down." 
 
 " Ha, ha !" they all laughed; "good, but you will 
 have to wait too, you see." 
 
 "I only wait," said Flyns, "to amuse myself by 
 
 * Taken us in. 
 
THE TREATY OF PEACE. 127 
 
 seeing you march off with the wind in your ears. 
 You herring-hearts, you think they ought to grease 
 your dirty mouths with the news boiling hot. Go 
 to ! Eat your dinners, there is nothing here for 
 such lubbers as you. Off" with you; if I did not 
 know my own place I should despise myself for 
 having so much in common with you. That comes 
 of being too good, and not keeping one's proper 
 position continually before one's eyes. You have 
 seen too much of me." 
 
 " Nay, nay, we did not mean that; you must not 
 go away angry," they all cried. " If the little rat- 
 catcher says a word against you we will stop his 
 mouth so that it will bulge like a woolsack that has 
 lost its hoop. Don't be cross, and tell us all about 
 it; you surely know." 
 
 Thus invited and flattered he fell back into his 
 former easy position, and began: 
 
 "Do you remember what I said when we went 
 home yesterday evening, and saw fiery hosts fight- 
 ing in the eastern heavens ? You will soon see 
 what will come of it. I did not forget it. When I 
 went early this morning to rich Van Kampen, who 
 lives near the Oude Kerk, to shave him, he made a 
 face like a cat in thunder; he is always close, noth- 
 ing to be got out of him; but I laid my plans and 
 learned from him without his knowing it that the 
 war is going well at last. As for the Spaniard, we 
 have done with him long ago; he can say no more. 
 
128 SPINOZA. 
 
 But, my brethren, you will stare your eyes out with 
 astonishment, and we may pave a whole country 
 with men's heads. The Turk, as I said a short 
 time ago, won't rest, and would like to give Austria 
 a slap. But look ! There that puffy- cheeked mas- 
 ter rope-maker, Reuwerz, is on a cask, and babbles 
 something to the monkey-faced creatures that stand 
 round him. That lot are unendurable. Since the 
 rope-maker, Michel Ruyter, has become a hero of 
 the sea every one thinks if he can twist a cable of 
 tow he must have the making of an admiral in him. 
 Every apprentice who turns a windlass thinks we 
 have to thank him for the hundred ships of war 
 and the hundred merchantmen we could send to 
 sea any day; and a boy who has not a hair in front 
 of his ears babbles about freedom and rights. But 
 there is no God in Heaven if things do not change 
 again soon. Then men of stc.nding and education 
 were something; my father was first valet — " 
 
 "Ay, there you warm to the old story again; we 
 have heard that a hundred times, and have always 
 told you we will have none of the Orange rule. 
 Stadtholders they may be, we have nothing to say 
 against that, but under their rule we might starve, 
 and now we have enough to eat if we don't sit with 
 our hands in our laps." 
 
 So said Maessen Blutzaufer, who spoke for his 
 comrades, and before the barber could look round 
 he was deserted by his audience, 
 
THE TREATY OF PEACE. 
 
 129 
 
 " Hurrah for the United Provinces !" shouted one 
 of the crowd, and, as if by electricity, all the assem- 
 bly roared, " Hurrah for the United Provinces !" 
 till the window-panes clattered with the shout. 
 When silence ensued again, they all pressed round 
 the master rope-maker who was still speaking. 
 
 "Brethren!" he cried, "obedience is the first 
 duty of true citizens, obedience to the laws, and 
 respect and regard for governors, whom we no 
 longer receive from foreign tyrants, but whom we 
 elect from among ourselves. I have heard many 
 among you grumble that free citizens of the Repub- 
 lic are made to wait down here, while those above 
 sit behind locked doors, and keep for themselves 
 the state secrets which belong to us all, one as much 
 as another. You all know, brethren, I love free- 
 dom as much as any one. Without thinking twice 
 I would hang my best halter round the neck of my 
 own son if I heard that he was a traitor to free- 
 dom, or might become one. I hate those court flat- 
 terers, who would make themselves out better than 
 we, as I hate Old Nick. So you may trust me 
 that I mean well by you when I persuade you to 
 be quiet. There may be cases in which the fathers 
 of the Republic hold it better not to trumpet the 
 news to every wind. Think for yourselves; there 
 might be traitors among us !" 
 
 " Down with traitors ! Hurrah for freedom !" 
 burst from the crowd in one enthusiastic shout. 
 
130 SPINOZA. 
 
 " Therefore, brethren," continued the orator, 
 "whatever may come, war or peace, on water or 
 on land, we have the handle in our own hands, and 
 we will not let it be wrenched out. We have won 
 our freedom, we can protect it." 
 
 The cry of " Hurrah for Hooft ! Hurrah for the 
 States General I" here interrupted the orator, for 
 on the balcony of the Town Hall appeared old 
 Drost Hooft, and with him the town councillors, 
 as many as the balcony would hold. Attentive 
 silence reigned while Drost thanked them and 
 began: 
 
 " Brother citizens, a slight accident has prevented 
 me from sooner imparting the news which must fill 
 the heart of every one with joy and thankfulness. 
 Yesterday the thirty years of the horrors of war, 
 and the seven years' peace conference at last came 
 to an end. Honorable and favorable conditions for 
 the United Provinces are in the treaty, to which 
 all the powers of Europe have sworn. Above all, 
 Spain, with the approval of all Europe, has ac-* 
 knowledged the perfect independence of our Re- 
 public. It is merely a point of honor, nothing 
 more, for we have not waited for them to present 
 us with our freedom; we have won it with the help 
 of God and our own good swords. Our rightful 
 conquests in Brabant, Flanders and Limburg, the 
 right to close the Scheid at will, and other privileges 
 remain to us. Rejoice and thank God, for it is he 
 
 ■f^r-^- 
 
THE TREATY OF PEACE. 
 
 131 
 
 who decrees man to leave the sword in the sheath, 
 that peace may be between Christian and Chris- 
 tian. Pray to him that he may preserve the peace. 
 Love God, and guard our liberties !" 
 
 " Hurrah for freedom !" echoed and re-echoed 
 the cheers of the dispersing crowd through every 
 street, till at last it was lost in the clang of the 
 bells which spread the news of the peace through 
 the air. 
 
 It was a glorious, impressive sight to see the life 
 of a people as it can only spring from the conscious- 
 ness of a happily won and gladly enjoyed peace. 
 Many indeed could not accustom themselves to the 
 thought that the peace really existed, as one who is 
 freed from a heavy burden still feels its pressure, 
 even when he has long been relieved from it. 
 
 The pious were the first to accustom themselves 
 to the new state of affairs, for they had found it 
 plainly revealed in the prophecies of Daniel and 
 the Revelations of St. John that this year, whose 
 number, divided and added, gave the sacred num- 
 bers twelve and seven, must be a year of peace 
 and blessedness; and they went home, and called 
 their children and their household together, and 
 said: 
 
 "Watch and pray, for the Millennium, the reign 
 of the Lord has arrived; the promise will be ful- 
 filled, and the Lord will enter into his glory." 
 
 Those, however, who had not so much faitli 
 
132 SPINOZA. 
 
 trusted in the seven seals and the signatures of the 
 European powers, and were content therewith. 
 
 As Mynheer de Vries went home he said to his 
 son Simon, " Have you given your full attention ? 
 Such a day as this, please God, you will never see 
 in your life again." But any one a little way off 
 would not have found out from his walk and bear- 
 ing that Mynheer de Vries had thus explained to 
 his son that greatest of benefits — a citizen's free- 
 dom. He spoke with such quiet thoughtfulness, so 
 devoid of all outward excitement, evincing that 
 immovable tenacity of the Netherlanders, who, even 
 where their passions were concerned, still held to 
 the national ideal, the " makklyk," the comfortable. 
 At home Mynheer Dodimus embraced his beloved 
 wife in an ecstasy of joy. 
 
 " See, my dear," he said, pointing to the tulip 
 bulbs, " they can grow on peaceful ground, and my 
 tea has risen a third in price, for the soldiers who 
 are now coming home have not drunk tea for so 
 long that they will enjoy it all the more." 
 
 He sat down to table quietly and in silence, and 
 endeavored to control the extraordinary excitement 
 which had disturbed him during the day. That 
 evening he drank half a glass more than his usual 
 quantity; he did not speak a word at table, and 
 before tea came in he slept in peace. 
 
 It is a good thing that the house of the De Vries 
 is far from the Thunderbolt ale-house. The shouts 
 
THE TREATY OF PEACE. 
 
 133 
 
 and cheers that echoed from there would certainly 
 have awakened the good man from his slumbers. 
 There sat the whole gang of porters, and made 
 themselves happy with gin. The popular " Het 
 daghet uyt den Osten" was sung to an end, and 
 Maessen Blutzaufer had struck up " Wilhelmus van 
 Nassau," when he was interrupted by a tremendous 
 bawling. 
 
 " Hold ! here comes Judas the archknave, the 
 false prophet; stone him, crucify him, drown him !" 
 they all shouted together as Flyns entered. 
 
 " Now answer for it, why did you take us in this 
 morning ?" cried one. Flyns stood his ground and 
 smiled condescendingly. His father had not been 
 first valet to Prince Maurice of Nassau for nothing; 
 he had inherited so much of diplomatic talent from 
 him. He let the revellers stop blustering. 
 
 " Are you ready ?" he asked quietly. " You don't 
 understand a joke; I only wanted to make you look 
 foolish." 
 
 " But that is lying and rascally cheating," cried 
 the little man. 
 
 "Lie down, you rat-catcher," retorted Flyns; "if 
 you bark like that again I will grind your crooked 
 bones to meal, and sell it for rat-poison." 
 
 " Be quiet, be quiet, no disputes, we must have 
 peace everywhere. Give him your hand," they all 
 cried, and Flyns sat down with his friends. 
 
 " So here we sit," said Maessen Blutzaufer, " and 
 
134 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 ten horses shall not drag me from my seat. And 
 if the Emperor of Japan came, dressed like the one 
 in the East India House, and said, ' Take me that 
 gold chest two houses farther and you shall earn a 
 thousand stivers,* I should say, * Emperor, take a 
 glass; to-day I cannot serve you; sit down with us 
 here; we are all emperors as good as you;' and if 
 the Grand Pensioner himself sent for you, you 
 should not move from this spot, Flyns. No beard 
 shall come to harm to-day; even the beards shall 
 have peace." 
 
 " You all rejoice over the peace," said Flyns, 
 "and you don't know what name the child has." 
 
 *' Well, what is it called ?" 
 
 "The everlasting peace." 
 
 " Vivat ! Hurrah for the everlasting peace !" 
 they all cried, and emptied their glasses to the dregs. 
 Flyns prophesied the return of the jolly times of 
 Jacob van Artevelde in Ghent, and told them that 
 in* those old times, by wise management and ex- 
 tensive trade connection, men need only work two 
 days a week, and might sit in the ale-house all the 
 rest. It was a tempting bait, and each one had 
 his own ideal of how to enjoy it. Maessen Blut- 
 zaufer alone would hear nothing of it, and asserted 
 that it would be less godless to have no Sunday at 
 all than five a week. The jolly company revelled 
 far into the night, and then stumbled singing and 
 cheering home. 
 
THE TREATY OF PEACE. 135 
 
 Everywhere joy and merrymaking prevailed, in 
 church and tavern as well as in the family circle, 
 for peace was spread over the whole of Christendom. 
 Peace to all religions. Peace in heaven, and peace 
 on earth. 
 
 Only on the town-wall one soul mourned over 
 vanished peace, that no treaty made by earthly 
 potentates could restore, for the covenant of Heaven, 
 the Law of Moses lay torn before him. In the 
 library of the School of the Crown of the Law 
 Baruch Spinoza sat alone. Before him was Ebn 
 Esra's Commentary on the five Books of Moses, of 
 the difficulties and obscurities of which study his 
 teacher had often warned him. There were two 
 passages the solution of which had long occupied 
 him. On the history of the waters of strife 
 (Numbers xxix.) that were drawn from the rock 
 he found this commentary: " I will here point out 
 what appears to me to be the right explanation. 
 Understand, if the part knows the whole he com- 
 prehends it, and thereby can do miracles." The 
 passage (Numbers xiii.) "I cannot go beyond the 
 commandment of the Lord," he explains thus: 
 " The creature cannot alter the work of the Creator 
 or his law; the mystery is, a part cannot alter the 
 other part, but only the law of the whole can alter 
 that of a part. I can penetrate this mystery no 
 further for it is deep; at any rate the she-ass spoke. 
 When you have found out the secret of the angels 
 
136 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 of Abraham and of Jacob you will penetrate the 
 truth of this." 
 
 The passage where it says, " When you under- 
 stand the secret of the twelve," etc. Baruch under- 
 stood more easily. A kindred spirit here attracted 
 him; he recognized the caution and diligent veiling, 
 and boldly and freely gave this result, that inde- 
 pendent reason and traditional faith can only be 
 reconciled by mutual compulsion. It was made 
 clear to him that not the whole of the contents of 
 the Holy Scriptures were written by inspired men; 
 the glory had vanished; the whole was the work of 
 man. How could profane hands in later ages meddle 
 in the writings of God ? Who was the author of 
 the Bible ? who its commentator ? Dare any one 
 require an answer to this question, and who could 
 give it ? Who ? 
 
 Baruch read the passage commenting on Genesis 
 xii. 6. which the prudent Spaniard finishes with 
 these words, "And whoever has penetrated this 
 mystery, let him keep silence," "Yes, I will keep 
 silence," said Baruch to himself. Buried in thought 
 he recollected another assertion of Ebn Esra's, that 
 there is but one substance, and that is God, and 
 that God is the first category of the ten categories 
 of Aristotle, as the number one is the root of all 
 numbers; and marvellous was the explanation to 
 the almost incomprehensible verse, Job xxiii. 13. 
 " But he is in one mind, and who can turn him ?" 
 
THE TREATY OF PEACE. 
 
 137 
 
 The word /«, Ebn Esra explains, appears super- 
 fluous here, but is not so indeed; " I cannot explain 
 it, for herein lies a great secret." 
 
 What was the use of these enigmatical directions ? 
 What was the use of explaining and searching into 
 one word, one particle, if it were nothing more 
 than the often defective and involved expression 
 of a mere man ? Baruch shut the book quickly 
 and turned over the leaves of another, for he heard 
 steps approaching the library. Chisdai Astruk 
 and Ephraim Cardoso entered. Chisdai held out 
 his perpetually damp, lobster-red hand of friendship 
 to Baruch, and looked at the book to see what he 
 was reading. Chisdai had rather a tall figure, a 
 little bowed, and long black eyebrows, whose ends 
 encroached on his forehead; he always screwed them 
 together so that the hair stood out like bristles; his 
 not unhandsome but full forehead was nearly hid- 
 den by his untidy long black hair; the expression 
 of his brown eyes was not recognizable on account 
 of his large round spectacles. The wearing of 
 these had a special signification, for the orthodox 
 Jews as well as Christians forbade the practice as 
 an unseemly innovation. What ground the Chris- 
 tians took on the question we cannot tell; the Jews 
 probably had no other but the fact that Joshua and 
 Caleb wore no spectacles, and yet had seen every- 
 thing distinctly. While Chisdai excused himself 
 to the orthodox on the score of short-sight, hq 
 
138 SPINOZA, 
 
 nevertheless liked to please the more enlightened, 
 whose number was not small in the Amsterdam 
 congregation, by this adoption of a novelty, and 
 appear as a young man of advanced cultivation. 
 In the heat of controversy he was continually 
 obliged to put these significant instruments in their 
 right place, for, indeed, his nose did not seem to be 
 made for these evidences of western civilization; 
 they continually slipped over the bridge, from 
 whence his nose bent to a sharp point like a beak. 
 His wide mouth always formed a half smile, for 
 Chisdai was always mindful of the precept of the 
 Talmudist, that no pious Jew must laugh out- 
 right as long as the Holy City of Jerusalem 
 is laid waste, that it may be fulfilled as it is written, 
 Ps. cxxvi. I, 2, "When the Lord turned again the 
 captivity of Zion, we were like them that dream; 
 then was our mouth filled with laughter." A 
 strange contrast to the rest of Chisdai's face, dis- 
 torted by an eternal grimace, was the well-cut 
 rounded chin on which the long hair began to 
 darken, for he was four years older than Baruch. 
 He never shaved this beard. Besides the appointed 
 fast- days he fasted every Monday and Thursday, 
 and every Friday he dipped nine times in fresh 
 well water, which nevertheless did not lessen the 
 unattractive nature of his appearance. Wherever 
 he went or stayed he hummed inaudibly an extract 
 from the Mishna, or a synagogue melody, and 
 
THE TREATY OF PEACE. 139 
 
 when he sat he moved his crossed legs in palsied 
 jerks. When Chisdai was seated he said to Baruch: 
 
 "You are well met just now, you shall be arbi- 
 trator between me and Ephraim; but promise not 
 to give half answers as you usually do, and do not 
 be so close; I do not see why you should be. Are 
 we not brethren ?" 
 
 " In what am I so close ?" inquired Baruch. 
 
 " I will not explain now, we will leave that for 
 another time. So that you may be quite impartial 
 I will not tell you which is which of our views. 
 But to speak out. Do you believe in the existence 
 of angels ?" 
 
 " That is another strange question," answered 
 Baruch. 
 
 " Now, to put it another way,*' continued the 
 other, " must we believe in the existence of an- 
 gels ?" 
 
 " That is the same question. But are we not 
 Jews ? Must we not believe in the Bible, and in 
 all the goodly rows of books behind those wire 
 doors ?" 
 
 " But what is there in the Bible about the state 
 of angels ?" 
 
 "You know as well as I do," answered Baruch. 
 
 "But what does the Bible say about the state of 
 angels ? Are they material or immaterial ?" 
 
 " You have a whole list of examples," answered 
 Baruch, "and may choose at will. Abraham, Ha- 
 
J40 SPINOZA, 
 
 gar and Lot, Isaac, Abimelech and Jacob, angels 
 appeared to them all. They first set a fresh-killed 
 calf and fresh cakes before them; with Jacob one 
 wrestled the whole night long, and at last sprained 
 his right thigh, for which reason to this day we are 
 not allowed to eat the hinder part of a slain beast. 
 Have you not enough of angels ? If you wish for 
 yet more material ones, an angel appeared to Ba- 
 laam, and the ass saw him first; an angel appeared 
 to Joshua with a drawn sword; an angel appeared 
 twice to Samson's mother, after which she bore 
 her godless giant child. To Samuel and David 
 angels appeared everywhere. Do you want a 
 whole court of angels? In the very first chapter of 
 Hezekiah there is a great array of them. I once 
 heard the late Acosta say that court angels must 
 have been much more fortunate than our present 
 courtiers, for they had in fact four wings, four 
 hands, and, what is better still, four faces; a man's, 
 a lion's, an ox's, and an eagle's face, and wherever 
 they went they followed straight the face that best 
 pleased them. If you want immaterial angels, it is 
 written (Ps. civ. 4) ' Who maketh his angels spirits.* " 
 
 " Do you not believe in bad angels ?" asked 
 Chisdai. 
 
 " Do you believe, and do you believe ! You 
 ought to ask what is written, and, as far as I know 
 our Bible, there is nothing in it about such a Satan 
 or devil ^s the Christians believe in, Th'<& history 
 
THE 7'KEATY OF PEACE. 141 
 
 of Job, according to the Talmud, is merely a poem. 
 To God everything is good; it is only to us men 
 that many things appear bad, as it stands in our 
 glorious Isaiah (xlv. 6, 7), '■ I am the Lord and there 
 is none else; I form the light and create darkness; 
 I make peace and create evil ! ' " 
 
 " But can there not be bad angels ?" 
 
 " No; the distinctive mark of an angel is that he 
 is a mere tool of God without free will. Satan is 
 said to be a fallen angel who rebelled against God; 
 but that could never happen if God did not rebel 
 against himself." 
 
 " In the Midrasch the origin of bad angels is 
 very well explained," said Ephraim, who had till 
 then listened in silence. "Whenever an angel 
 wished to become visible on earth he must imbibe 
 a material essence, and none could be permitted to 
 stay longer on earth than seven days. Once sev- 
 eral exceeded this limit, and through their length- 
 ened sojourn they had imbibed so much material 
 essence that, thus overweighted, they could not 
 rise to heaven. Such is the origin of the devil by 
 which Genesis vi. 2 is explained." 
 
 "That may be very fine," said Baruch, "but is 
 it true ? How could an angel overstep the laws of 
 his being?" 
 
 " So you do not believe in the existence of bad 
 angels ?" put in Chisdai. 
 
 "There you are again with your 'Do you be- 
 
142 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 lieve ! ' " answered Baruch angrily, " I know as 
 well as you do that the daily Kadish prayer in the 
 synagogue is repeated in Chaldaic because the bad 
 angels cannot understand the idiom, and because 
 no contrary petition can prevail against it with 
 God; I know as well as you that by the Shophar* 
 trumpet on New Year's day Satan is confounded, 
 and a good year for Israel obtained.'* 
 
 Ephraim then expounded the view taken by the 
 great and learned Maimonides, who explained 
 away angelic appearances as mere prophetic vi- 
 sions. 
 
 " That borders on heresy ! that is abominable !" 
 cried Chisdai. 
 
 "Agreed," responded Baruch, with an odd smile. 
 " It is absurd, useless babble if Maimonides twists 
 his own inventions out of the Scriptures and ex^ 
 plains supernatural revelations away as dreams. 
 That is half-heartedness. He had not the courage 
 to say * Thus the Scripture teaches and thus rea- 
 sons.' " Baruch here stopped; he saw how far he 
 had let himself be led on. He read for awhile in a 
 book, and soon after left the room. 
 
 " There he goes," said Chisdai to Ephraim, " he 
 will be a second Acosta." 
 
 * A kind of horn upon which no melody is played, only a 
 tremolo of whole tones and semitones; probably an obsolete 
 war note. 
 
THE TREATY OF PEACE, 
 
 143 
 
 *' You have tried so ingeniously to lead him on 
 to bad speeches," responded Ephraim; " let him go 
 his own way." 
 
 " No," said Chisdai, and continued in the words 
 of the Talmud, " In religious matters each Israelite 
 has to answer for the other. On me, on thee, and 
 on us all lies the burden of sin which he commits." 
 He then left the room muttering to himself. 
 
 Uii^S^' 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE CABBALIST. 
 
 AT dusk Baruch and Miriam sat together, while 
 old Chaje told them a marvellous story. 
 
 ''Do you know that our servant for the Sabbath, 
 old Elsje, came to a terrible end this night ? I see 
 green and yellow before my eyes whenever I think 
 of it, and of what might have happened to us all, 
 and I have sat with her for hours by this fireside. 
 In old times, though, we used to hear of far more 
 wonderful things; my mother often used to tell me 
 how the synagogue in Warsaw was on fire once, 
 and the fire had nearly reached the windows, but 
 the Rabbi, who was a great Baal Shem,* threw a 
 parchment on which he had written some secret 
 words into the flame, and it went out like a puffed- 
 out candle. Thank God ! there are some pious men 
 left who can control the Schedim." f 
 
 " You talk such things that no one can tell what 
 you mean," said Miriam, and Chaje replied: 
 
 " I heard the whole story at the butcher's from 
 black Gudul; her sister is servant in the house of 
 the pious Rabbi Isaak Aboab. What a sweet child 
 
 * Exorcist. f Demon. 
 
THE CABBALIST, 
 
 US 
 
 Rabbi Aboab's Sara was ! I was always afraid she 
 would be bewitched, and nearly a year ago her face 
 went as black as a coal, and instead of speaking 
 clearly and pleasantly, she shrieked out such words 
 as one never heard in this world from a girl of 
 fifteen, and wrung her hands as if she had the 
 gout. Every one said she was bewitched and had 
 a spirit. No doctor or apothecary could do any 
 good. Rabbi Isaak wept and prayed the whole 
 night long, so that he might have softened a stone 
 in the wall. Since the misfortune befell him he 
 has fasted from one Sabbath to another; he only 
 takes soup and a couple of figs every night. 
 Yesterday he went to the Mikwe,* and dipped nine 
 times; when he went home he put on his winding 
 sheet, had his chair brought from the synagogue, 
 and his daughter placed in it; four men had to carry 
 her and bind her in it, the spirit struggled so. 
 When all the people had gone out he fastened 
 Psalm cxxx. to all the doors and windows in the 
 house, and forbade them to admit any one that 
 night, however they might beg and pray; no one 
 must attempt to open a door or window on pain 
 of death. God forbid ! Then he built up sacred 
 books round the chair as high as Sara, and took a 
 clean un-notched slaughtering-knife, and went nine 
 times round Sara with it; then, as she had a loud 
 
 * Bath for purification. 
 
146 SPINOZA. 
 
 rattling in her throat, he put a parchment with 
 some holy words on it on her heart, and on the left 
 side of the chair he put the slaughtering-knife. 
 When all this was done he opened the holy chest 
 in the corner, and took the Thora in his left hand 
 while he opened a window with the other. Then 
 he laid the Thora quickly on the table on which 
 six black wax-lights burned, and as he unrolled the 
 Thora he bent over it, threw himself on his knees, 
 and called on the name of God and all angels so 
 that all who heard him felt their blood run cold. 
 Then he took the Shophar, and blew it as on New 
 Year's Day, till they thought the Messiah was com- 
 ing. Twelve o'clock had hardly struck when there 
 came a knocking at the door, as if a hundred men 
 were battering it with clubs. 
 
 " ' Open, open, pray, I entreat you, open — have 
 mercy — I shall die — open, it is Elsje, it is I, 
 open ! * 
 
 " So the voice cried outside, and the spirit in 
 Sara began to scream again, so that you could hear 
 it ten houses off. No one attempted to open it. 
 Rabbi Aboab still went on praying and screaming, 
 and calling on God and the angels till he had no 
 voice left. At last all was still outside, and Sara 
 too was quiet, and when they looked at her a black 
 liquid like ink was pouring out of her right ear on 
 to the knife. It was quite clean before, but there 
 was a drop of blood as well on it now. 
 
THE CA BB A LI ST. 1 47 
 
 " * Thank God ! ' said Rabbi Aboab; ' my child is 
 saved.' 
 
 ** They took Sara to bed, and this morning she 
 got up as fresh and well and prettier than ever; 
 she knew nothing about it all, but thought she had 
 slept a long time. Elsje came home last night 
 about twelve o'clock with her mouth foaming, and 
 as she took hold of the lock of her room door she 
 fell down dead. You may believe it all, for black 
 Gudul's sister looked through the keyhole of Rabbi 
 Aboab's door. God is great to have left such men 
 still among us; but just imagine, children, who 
 would have thought that Elsje was such a cursed 
 witch ? Who knows how many children she may 
 have bewitched ? And the ingratitude of it ! She 
 might have starved if she had not earned a stiver 
 or two from the Jews as Sabbath servant. Many 
 a good bit have I got for her. I am afraid to 
 be two minutes alone in the kitchen; I always ex- 
 pect Elsje to come down the chimney in the form 
 of a black cat, or like a witch with fiery eyes, 
 snakes on her head, and a broomstick in her bony 
 hand. Ugh ! I should die of fright," 
 
 Suddenly there was a tremendous thud on the 
 ceiling of the room so that the house shook; cla- 
 mor and distant wailing were heard ; the old woman 
 screamed " Shema Israel !" Miriam clutched her 
 brother's hand. All stood still to listen to the dis- 
 tant wailing. 
 
148 SPINOZA. 
 
 " Come and bring a light," said Baruch rising, 
 "We must see what is there." Chaje, with trem- 
 bling hands, put a candle in the lantern, and, upon 
 her urgent entreaties, Baruch was obliged to take 
 his Thephillin* in his hand that no evil thing 
 might have power over them. Miriam went with 
 him, for she was afraid to be left in the room alone, 
 and even Baruch could not repress a slight shudder 
 as he mounted the stairs to the granary. When 
 they arrived there they found a chest, which had 
 long hobbled on three legs, overthrown. " So that 
 was it," said Baruch laughing; a black cat limped 
 from behind the chest, and disappeared through 
 the window in the roof. 
 
 '* Have mercy on our sins, it is Elsje !" screamed 
 old Chaje, and let the lantern fall in her fright. 
 The three remained in the dark, and speedily left 
 the place that appeared so haunted. Chaje and 
 Miriam held on to Baruch's coat-tails as they stum- 
 bled down the stairs. 
 
 Baruch regarded this little event in his home life 
 in its true light, but the enigmatical incantations of 
 Rabbi Aboab strengthened his determination to 
 endeavor by all means to penetrate the mysteries 
 of the black art. The Cabbala, of which every one 
 spoke in wonder and with bated breath, might con- 
 tain the solution of his doubts and questions; the 
 
 * Amulet inscribed with texts. 
 
 Jl 
 
THE CABBAUST. 
 
 149 
 
 initiated might form a community of the wise. 
 The next day, Thursday, he went to Rabbi Aboab. 
 He was a man in what is called the prime of life, 
 of stalwart figure; his many fasts had not much 
 injured him, for he looked in excellent condition; 
 his round face and ruddy cheeks, his black beard 
 falling to his breast, might have been called hand- 
 some, and were only disfigured by a large wart 
 over his left eye, which wagged merrily when he 
 spoke, and above all when he laughed. 
 
 Baruch was cordially received, but when he 
 brought forward his request the Rabbi replied 
 roundly: 
 
 " No, that cannot be; do you not know that Rabbi 
 Salomo ben Adereth has forbidden under penalty 
 of excommunication that any one should be intro- 
 duced to the study of the Cabbala before his twenty- 
 fifth year ?" 
 
 Baruch warmly entreated him. 
 
 " Do you know too," the Rabbi continued, " that 
 if you have — God forbid it ! — the slightest worldly 
 motive in the study of the Cabbala; if merely an 
 incongruous thought mixes therein, your own life 
 and the lives of all belonging to you are in some 
 inexplicable danger? Can you trust yourself? Dare 
 you face the risk ? Will you ?" 
 
 " I will," answered Baruch in a firm voice. 
 
 Without another word the Rabbi took Baruch's 
 left hand in his, and studied the fine lines marked 
 
i5o 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 on the palm; then he pushed his hat back from his 
 brow, and studied the lines of his face for awhile. 
 Then he thoughtfully paced the room; firmly and 
 mildly he did his utmost to dissuade Baruch from 
 his purpose. Baruch was almost moved to tears, 
 but, with a trembling voice, he still reiterated his 
 firm determination without irresolution. *'We]l, 
 so be it," said the Rabbi at last. " I am afraid you 
 will only endanger yourself and perish, but I will 
 be your leader. God will lead me in the way of 
 truth. Come to me to-night after evening ser- 
 vice." 
 
 The synagogue keeper Elasar Merimon could 
 not repress his astonishment when he saw the 
 youth coming with the Rabbi to the Mikwe. 
 
 " Peace be with you. Rabbi Baruch," he said, and 
 grinned curiously. 
 
 The Rabbi commanded him to say nothing to 
 any one of Baruch's presence there, and to go away 
 himself as he did not need him that day. He took 
 the key and lantern, and opened the tower-like 
 edifice. The dull light of the lantern illuminated 
 but dimly the bare, dusky walls and wooden benches 
 around; in the middle was a well-like hole that was 
 the bath. The Rabbi mutterqd a prayer and un- 
 dressed carefully, observing all the while the pre- 
 cepts from the " Book of Chastity" written above. 
 He had not quite undressed when he seized the 
 lantern, and with rapid strides descended the thirty 
 
 üR» 
 
 ^^^^^& 
 
THE CA BRAUST. 
 
 151 
 
 Stone steps of the bath. " Out of the depths I cry 
 unto thee, O Lord ! He hears me afar off, O my 
 God !" he cried with all his strength, and his voice 
 echoed weirdly from the depths of the well. Baruch 
 shuddered to hear in the quiet night a soul crying 
 to God, as it were, from the depths of the earth, for 
 redemption and resurrection. The Rabbi placed 
 the lantern on the lowest step of the bath, and 
 threw himself with a splash into the water. At 
 this sign Baruch laid himself down at the edge of 
 the well, and nine times, whenever the Rabbi raised 
 his head from the water and again dived, he cried 
 " Koscher" (pure) into the illuminated vault. 
 
 The Rabbi came out again half dressed and with 
 his head covered; his long beard, still dripping, and 
 his lank matted hair gave his usually homely face 
 a wild appearance. He gave Baruch a little book 
 in which a prayer was written; the names of the 
 angels therein must not be pronounced by lip or 
 tongue on pain of death, but only repeated in 
 thought. Baruch trembled with fear as he de- 
 scended the dark pit, his knees gave way, but he 
 took courage, and sprang lightly into the water. 
 The Rabbi then undertook the same service that 
 Baruch had performed for him; he too called the 
 word of purification nine times across the well. 
 
 Without another word they left the Mikwe. 
 
 When they entered the street, lighted by the pale 
 rays of the moon, Rabbi Aboab stood suddenly still, 
 
152 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 and shook his head as he gazed at the long shadow 
 which imitated his movements; then, looking heav- 
 enwards, he repeated the text usually said on awak- 
 ening: 
 
 " I thank thee, O living and eternal King ! that 
 through thy constant and great favor thou hast given 
 me my soul again." Baruch did not venture to ask 
 the reason of these proceedings; probably Rabbi 
 Aboab had not yet taught him the saying of the 
 Cabbala: "Whoever on the 'night of the sign'* 
 sees his full shadow in the moonlight will not die 
 that year." 
 
 Rabbi Isaak Loria saw his shadow headless that 
 night, and he died the day before the year ended. 
 
 Rabbi Aboab was gay and good-humored that 
 evening when Baruch supped with him. The no- 
 vice took care to bestow a glance on the fair Sara, 
 from whom the evil spirit had been driven, and 
 who, while she served the meal, shyly stared at the 
 pale youth whose fame had spread through the 
 whole congregation. 
 
 Rabbi Aboab sat long at table, and it was late 
 at night when he led Baruch into his study, and 
 taking the Thora from the sacred chest, unrolled 
 it at the place where stood the ten commandments. 
 
 Baruch then must lay his right hand thereon, and 
 speak thus: 
 
 * About 27th September. 
 
THE CAB BALI ST. 1 53 
 
 "I call on thee, God Almighty and Incompre- 
 hensible, who hast confided the secrets of thy exist- 
 ence to Adam, Enoch, Abraham, and Moses, who 
 have handed them down even unto our day. Let 
 thy Holy Spirit descend on me, and lead me, that 
 I do not stumble in the way in which I would walk, 
 and if ever I did violate or sin against Thy secrets 
 may all the evils of fear overtake me that I tremble 
 at my own shadow; may my tongue dry up, my 
 entraiis wither, my eyesight die out, my breath be- 
 come poison that destroyeth my best beloved when 
 they may approach me; may grass grow on the 
 threshold of my father's house because none enter 
 therein, and as I am damned here, may all the tor- 
 ments of Gehinom overwhelm me to all eternity. 
 Therefore, O Lord, lead me that I rest under the 
 shadow of thy wings, and bask in the light of thy 
 glory. Amen! Amen!" 
 
 A shudder thrilled through his whole being, his 
 lips blanched as he spoke these words, and even 
 while he spoke a voice seemed to cry in him, " Woe 
 unto thee! thou hast violated them since thou darest 
 to enter here. Return!" But there was no return 
 possible, the worst was over, and from that day 
 forth the Rabbi became more confidential to his 
 scholar. 
 
 They sat down to the table and the lesson began; 
 the mystic reason why the Holy Scriptures begin 
 with the letter Beth was disclosed; each letter and 
 
154 SPINOZA. 
 
 each stop, each phrase and each transposition therein 
 had its own deep signification. As proof that a 
 secret meaning lay hidden in the words of the Bible 
 it was alleged that the Holy Scriptures related so 
 many unimportant facts, as that (Genesis xix. ii) 
 " Rachel and Jacob kissed," the detailed enumera- 
 tion (Numbers viii.) of the contributions of the 
 twelve princes of the tribes to the building of the 
 tabernacle, and many similar passages. All this 
 must have a hidden signification. 
 
 They were deeply engrossed in these discussions 
 when the echoing chimes of the Zuyderkerk in- 
 formed them of the midnight hour. The Rabbi 
 rose, took off his shoes, strewed ashes on his head, 
 and sat down on the ground beside the door-post, 
 where a parchment on which was the Shema lay in 
 a niche; he covered his face, and amid tears repeated 
 the alphabetical confession of sins, then in a mourn- 
 ful voice sang Psalm cxxxvii.: "By the rivers of 
 Babylon there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we 
 remembered Zion. If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, 
 let my right hand forget her cunning — let my 
 tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth, if I prefer 
 not Jerusalem above my chief joy." 
 
 He repeated the Lamentations of Jeremiah in 
 the same position; then arose with the words, 
 "Shake thyself from the dust; arise, and sit down, 
 O Jerusalem: loose thyself from the bands of thy 
 neck, O captive daughter of Zion" (Isaiah lii. 2). 
 
THE CAB HA I.I ST. I 55 
 
 ** I have set watchmen upon thy walls, O Jerusalem, 
 which shall never hold their peace day nor nighty 
 ye that make mention of the Lord, keep not silence; 
 and give him no rest, till he establish and till he 
 make Jerusalem a praise in the earth" (Is. Ixii. 6). 
 
 Baruch did everything like the Rabbi, but was 
 ignorant of the hidden meaning, of each word, ges- 
 ture and tone. Teacher and pupil again seated 
 themselves at the table, drew on their shoes, and 
 studied until morning, when the hour for the syna- 
 gogue service arrived. Thus they spent the watches 
 of each Thursday night. 
 
 Baruch went through the Book of " The Secrets 
 of God," whose supposed author was Adam, and 
 the Book of the Creation, whose author is said to be 
 the Patriarch Abraham. Not only his whole mind, 
 but his whole body was excited by these studies; 
 he incessantly swayed himself about and exercised 
 his body, for the Cabbala teaches there is nothing 
 in the higher world that has not its counterpart in 
 the microcosm; thus the 248 commandments of the 
 Jewish religion correspond with the similar number 
 of members of the human body, and all these must 
 be active in and devoted to the sacred study. 
 Baruch knew the names and powers of all the 
 angels, and knew the formulas by which they are 
 constrained to the service of man; but all this, like 
 the solution of chemical and magic problems, had 
 but little interest for him. The mystery of mys- 
 
1 56 SPINOZA. 
 
 teries it was that he yearned for incessantly, and 
 here the Cabbala taught that all physical and 
 spiritual life was but an imitation of the original 
 in heaven, and a chain of existence and action 
 leading up to God. This is the heavenly ladder 
 which God showed to the Patriarch Jacob in a 
 dream, on which the powers of the created world 
 as angels, after their spiritual emancipation or 
 material concentration, mount and descend; the 
 graduated ladder of all existing things rests on 
 earth and reaches to heaven; there is the heavenly 
 Jerusalem, there the temple, the model of the 
 earthly one, there all is spiritual that on earth is 
 bound up in matter. From the Hebrew word Ruach 
 (soul) it is shown by the numbers which the letters 
 give that, the same being found in the various 
 Hebrew words for God, the soul must be a part of 
 God. The Hebrew word for Messiah contains the 
 same number as the Hebrew word for Serpent^ in 
 which image Satan seduced Eve; the Messiah will 
 therefore bruise the head of the Serpent, and banish 
 sin and death from the earth. To the Adam on 
 earth corresponds a threefold Adam in heaven; thus 
 are derived the three different expressions in the 
 accounts of the creation of the first parents (Gene- 
 sis i. 27); the original of the earthly Adam is 
 the Adam Kadmon in heaven, the image of God, 
 and his first born Son. There are four worlds, 
 which are spiritual or material according to their 
 
 ^ 
 
THE CABBALIST. 
 
 157 
 
 more or less remote emanation from God. The end 
 of creation, however, is the law; only for this reve- 
 lation was the world created, for, according to the 
 singular division of the words we read in Jen xxxiii. 
 25, " Thus saith the Lord, If my covenant be not 
 with day and night, and if I have not appointed the 
 ordinances of heaven and earth." 
 
 What is the triumph of victory or the power to 
 rule nation* compared to this immediate spiritual 
 intercourse! 
 
 Rabbi Aboab used his own Hebrew translation 
 of the Spanish Book of Erira as a guide to the oral 
 law, which, according to the words and sense of the 
 Cabbala, must ever remain unwritten, and only be 
 passed on from mind to mind. 
 
 Here at last Baruch attained a higher hold by 
 which he could swing himself onward. He strove 
 to separate the inner kernel from the outward shell 
 of grotesque and extraordinary observances, but he 
 found with pain that these especially were repre- 
 sented as essentials: that general ideas do not suffice 
 where the question is one of penetrating the actual, 
 and solving the enigmas of the fate of men and 
 nations, but must fall back on the strange supposi- 
 tions of the doctrine of metempsychosis, and the 
 powers of evil spirits, in which nature and her laws 
 lose themselves in confusion and anarchy. 
 
 The Rabbi was rejoiced at the zeal of his scholar, 
 but often reminded him that if any one would pen- 
 
1^8 SPINOZA. 
 
 etrate the real depths of the Cabbalistic practices, 
 he must put away from him all sensual desires, 
 which were the work of Satan. 
 
 " On the sixth day," he added, "woman, and with 
 her all low inclinations, was created; therefore the 
 Rabbis teach that men ought to marry at the age 
 of three times six; you have reached that age ex- 
 actly." There is no doubt that the views and efforts 
 of the Rabbi were raised above all things earthly, 
 but this need not hinder him from thinking of a 
 union between Baruch and Sara. The young Cab- 
 balist noticed nothing, even when the Rabbi once 
 intentionally left him alone with the fair Sara. 
 
 The Rabbi once taught his pupil that Jesus of 
 Nazareth also had been indoctrinated in the Cabbala 
 by the sect of Essenes. The Rabbi never antici- 
 pated what he led to thereby. 
 
 Baruch had often already been irresistibly fas- 
 cinated by a black bound book in the library of his 
 master Nigritius, but an inward fear held him back. 
 Now the question again arose, why, in the midst of 
 the free field of knowledge, a tree of gorgeous and 
 sweet-savored fruit should stand which he might 
 not dare to approach ? Who has the right, if the 
 fruit is not indeed deadly, to say, Thou darest take 
 of it, and thou not ? Unseen by any strange eyes 
 Baruch decided to open the book. 
 
 He read the New Testament. 
 
 His hands trembled as he held the book. It was 
 
TttE CAßBATJsT. 159 
 
 the force of habit which made such a commence- 
 ment seem apostasy. But yet he did not give it 
 up. A quiet power possessed him. He found no 
 new explanation of the Cabbala, but other things 
 most unanticipated. He now read a new Bible, and 
 not like a child following the finger of its teacher; 
 but, for the first time, with free eyes and unfettered, 
 independent judgment. It reacted on his concep- 
 tion of what had hitherto been to him the only 
 sacred writings. Must not these also be viewed 
 from the standpoint of independent criticism ? Is 
 it impossible to review the familiar, accepted with 
 a defined signification, in its simple reality ? 
 
 He passed over the miracles without difficulty. 
 The parables too, with their resemblances to the 
 Talmud, impressed him but little. He had seen 
 too often in the Rabbinical department how will- 
 ingly inward incompleteness, which is but unripe- 
 ness of reflection, and outward incompleteness, 
 which is but cowardice, make use of such disguises. 
 And is it not said that Christ even revealed the 
 truth to his disciples alone? Is it impossible to 
 teach men the naked truth? Is "becoming as a 
 child," the return to the simple world of nature, the 
 only means of salvation in an age confused with 
 dogmas and ruined by Pharisees ? Must not to 
 " become as a man," a development and growth of 
 mind in accordance with the recognized laws of 
 nature, be a means of salvation ? Do these alone 
 
I6ö SPINOZA. 
 
 offer a firm foothold, because the ordinances of 
 nature are in them immediately represented ? Must 
 the natural order too not be founded on knowledge? 
 
 Is not the ''becoming as a child" in will often 
 impossible, while manly development of mind is a 
 necessary and rational task ? Must not the Talmud 
 phrase have its weight, " Everything is a gift of 
 God, except the fear of God ?" Is not righteousness, 
 which is attained by free thought, firmer and higher 
 than love ? What is the pure unrevealed thought 
 which (Mark iv. 34) Christ " without a parable 
 spake he unto them," and which is not given in the 
 Evangelists ? 
 
 It cannot be said how much of the spirit of op- 
 position inculcated by his early education lay in 
 these questions of- the young thinker. He sought 
 to free himself from it, and it came to him as a new 
 revelation, that nowhere is it said that God has 
 appeared to Christ, and has spoken to him with a 
 voice and by signs, and so on, as in the Old Testa- 
 ment, but that he had immediately revealed himself 
 to the Apostles in Christ. It was no revelation face 
 to face as to Moses; not in an outward material 
 form but from within. 
 
 Baruch knew the dogmas but ill which in the 
 churches were associated with the events of the 
 life and the teachings of wisdom here given. As 
 the highest that Christ had said of himself it is 
 written that, "he was a Temple of God," and John 
 
^ THE CABBALIST, l6l 
 
 said, to impress this more strongly, that, " the Word 
 was made flesh," for in Christ God had revealed 
 himself most immediately. 
 
 Baruch by natural affinity «felt extraordinarily 
 attracted to the life and teachings of the Crucified 
 One. Just because he came from a circle of life 
 which would know naught thereof, and whose mem- 
 bers were persecuted by the followers of Christ; just 
 because he was hampered by no Church rules, he 
 strove more freely towards pure justice, and learned 
 to apply it against the phenomena spread abroad 
 during so many centuries, whose outward embodi- 
 ment was to remain unknown to him. 
 
 How many apparently antagonistic and mutually 
 dissolving elements does youthful development re- 
 quire ! And as the spring breezes blow the young 
 tree hither and thither, it strikes its roots deeper 
 into the nourishing earth, and awakes to fresh pow- 
 ers of growth. And, as in outward nature much 
 enters the mind that does not immediately reap- 
 pear in a recognizable form, it awaits the riper 
 growth and development. 
 
 From the library of the Magister, Baruch must 
 again bury himself in the study of the Cabbala, and 
 he did so with evident zeal. The hidden disguises 
 fascinated him ever anew, for he might find therein 
 a solution of the enigma which puzzled him, but 
 the incomprehensible was here only replaced by 
 new incomprehensibility. Often a guiding sign 
 
102 SPINOZA, ^ 
 
 like a will-o'-the-wisp emerged from the darkness, 
 but sank again without leaving trace or connec- 
 tion. 
 
 Baruch longed to*be freed from the yoke which 
 he had laid on himself by his dutiful visit to the 
 Rabbi. It was done without his interference. 
 
 A Jewish colony was setting out for North Brazil. 
 Rabbi Isaak Aboab joined it. 
 
 At sea, it was said, dolphins and sea-monsters 
 surrounded the ship in which Rabbi Aboab was. 
 All were in fear of death. Rabbi Aboab alone was 
 tranquil. ^' Look ! in these are the souls of the god- 
 less. Be still," he cried in a mighty voice over the 
 floods; "have patience, yet longer ye must tarry, 
 for the time is not yet come that will release you." 
 He threw a parchment into the water and the 
 monsters vanished. 
 
 The fair Sara did not live to see this miracle of 
 her father's, which rumor spread so wide. She 
 had shed many tears on taking leave of Baruch; 
 she loved him secretly and passionately. She died 
 on the passage out. When the exiles landed in 
 North Brazil the first grave was dug in the newly 
 won inheritance, and the fair, girlish corpse of the 
 Cabbalist's daughter was buried therein. At her 
 interment the Shophar was blown according to 
 secret cabbalistic ordinances, a sign of the trumpet 
 to be blown at the Resurrection of the dead. In a 
 land never yet trodden by Jewish foot the trumpet 
 
THE CABBALIST, 
 
 163 
 
 notes of Canaan already sounded which echoed 
 from the olden times and from end to end of the 
 living world. 
 
 A few days after thö departure of Rabbi Aboab 
 Baruch went at the usual hour to the house of 
 Magister Nigritius. Frau Gertrui Ufmsand, the 
 landlady, met him with the news that the Magister 
 had that morning been found dead in his arm-chair, 
 his lamp still burning. 
 
 Baruch went in and looked once more at the set 
 face of his teacher; the gentleness of a child rested 
 on the features of the dead; his favorite book, Cicero 
 de Finibus Bonorum ei Malorum, lay open before him. 
 
 Thus the youth was separated forever from the 
 guides that should have led him to the treasures 
 which men had acquired before him. How many 
 thousands inherit the views of former ages without 
 effort, in a well-trodden path, happy in the posses- 
 sion, while Baruch must ever strive anew and never 
 rejoice in the acquisition. 
 
 In his youthful self-reproachfulness the loss of 
 his leader seemed to him a just punishment for his 
 sins, because of his silent opposition to the much 
 lauded results. But could he do otherwise ? Had 
 fate called him to be a first man, untrammelled by 
 the conclusions of his forefathers, unmisled by their 
 guide-posts, out of the depths of his own life, out 
 of his own conception of human nature and its laws 
 to create salvation? Must each one to whom a 
 
164 SPINOZA. 
 
 revelation of the Eternal is to be given withdraw 
 from the confusion of human society to the lifeless 
 desert, to solitudes where he is alone on earth, 
 where only the pulsations of his heart will be the 
 measure of his time ? 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE LUCIANIST. 
 
 ANEW reflection that now occurred to Baruch 
 did not, however, alter his ordinary way of 
 life. We bid adieu to many things, and the separa- 
 tion is hard, for in their absence the knowledge of. 
 how dear and true they were receives renewed force. 
 
 On the last day of Atonement Baruch had prayed 
 with a contrite spirit, " Lord God ! let me die rather 
 than be a sinner, or one of the godless !" He yet 
 lived, but had lost his truest friend, who had stood 
 by him in need. 
 
 Three times a day in the synagogue and else- 
 where, when he drank a glass of water or ate an 
 apple or piece of bread, when he began or ended 
 his studies, on every occasion of enjoyment, on 
 every event of life, he had repeated the appointed 
 prayers; and at night, as he lay alone in bed, he 
 repeated the alphabetical list of sins, and at each 
 word struck himself remorsefully on the breast; 
 then slept peacefully and pleasantly till morning. 
 
 Now, however, in the stillness of the night, doubt 
 approached him with soft footfalls, and whispered 
 in his ear, *'Why do you strike your breast for 
 things that trouble you not ? Have you ever 
 
1 66 SPINOZA. 
 
 robbed, stolen, wilfully sinned, given false counsel 
 to any one, as it is here laid down in this cauldron 
 of Hell ?" He replied, '' This prayer is not for 
 me alone; I pray for the whole of Israel, for all 
 mankind, indeed, that their sins may be forgiven 
 them." 
 
 " What other will be benefited by thy word who 
 has transgressed by deed ?" was the reply. He 
 broke off in the midst of the prayer and slept 
 quietly. 
 
 "If thou prayest, doubt not," said wise Jesus 
 Sirach; but how can a man command his doubts? 
 And when Baruch stood in the synagogue, and the 
 morning prayer lay before him, the tempter came to 
 him and said, "Art thou here again at the sound of 
 the bell ? How canst thou take in thy mouth the 
 words of David and other men spoken in their 
 great need ? Should thine own religious feelings be 
 first awakened by the mighty words of strangers ?" 
 He resolved henceforth to pray only in forms chosen 
 by himself, and at the times in which he felt so in- 
 clined. This did not happen for a long time, and 
 when it did he felt that, from long disuse, he had 
 fallen far from his Creator; he did not find him as 
 readily as formerly. Of what use are words ? he 
 then said to himself; thought must suffice. If God 
 is omniscient ... if he is. Alas ! he no longer 
 knew how to pray. 
 
 He felt this yet more distressingly as he sat be- 
 
THE LUCIA NI ST. 167 
 
 side the sick bed of his moaning father; deep sighs 
 rose from his laden breast; tears burnt in his eyes; 
 he could no longer weep. 
 
 " Compose yourself, my son," said his father; 
 "trust in the Almighty; he will help thee." He 
 knew not what a two-edged dagger these words 
 seemed to the heart of his son. No longer capable 
 of thought, he sat cold and mute. The surgeon 
 politician, Flyns, in the next chamber whistled the 
 air of " Wilhelm von Nassawe" and spread plasters; 
 the father held his son's hand and groaned perpetu- 
 ally. The Orange partisan outside suddenly was 
 silent; Miriam opened the door, and Salomon de 
 Silva, accompanied by a stranger, entered the room; 
 the surgeon followed them with plasters and a case 
 of instruments. 
 
 *' I cannot undertake it alone," began Silva, " so 
 I have asked my respected colleague. Dr. Van den 
 Ende, to perform the operation with me. Are you 
 now strong enough, and are you ready ?" 
 
 "I am," said the sick man; "my life is in God's 
 hand." A slight smile hovered round the corners 
 of the newly arrived physician's mouth. Baruch 
 had been watching him attentively, and thought he 
 read in this smile the certain intelligence of his 
 father's death. He was mistaken. Van den Ende 
 asked in Latin whether they might converse in that 
 language in presence of the son. Silva answered 
 in the affirmative, as Baruch knew but little Latin. 
 
1 68 . SPINOZA, 
 
 The two physicians then conversed for a consider- 
 able time. Van den Ende had a strange mocking 
 expression, and spoke eagerly. Long Flyns listened 
 to the medical consultation with wide open eyes, 
 and nodded to first one and then the other, as if 
 he understood it all, while in fact he did not under- 
 stand a word; and to Baruch's ears it was only a 
 word here and there that was borne as if by the 
 wind; nevertheless he gazed anxiously at the stran- 
 ger physician. In the ways and appearance of this 
 little man there lay such a rare serenity and peace 
 of mind that Baruch, in the mood he was then in, 
 was fascinated by him. His hands, which were cov- 
 ered nearly to the fingers with his crimped cuffs, 
 were crossed on the gold head of his Spanish cane; 
 he leaned comfortably over the cushioned back of 
 his chair; his plump round figure seemed almost 
 too extensive to be supported by feet so small and 
 neat, ornamented as they were with buckles and 
 ribbons; but attention was soon attracted again 
 from them to his head; from out the curled folds 
 of his peruke, which flowed to his shoulders, his 
 round face looked good-naturedly at the world, 
 and no one would have thought he had seen more 
 than fifty winters, but for some wrinkles that 
 nestled round his eyes when he smiled, and, like the 
 dark red on his nose and its neighborhood, were 
 evidences of a more advanced age. The deep-set 
 grey eyes moved incessantly, but the outward qui- 
 
THE LUCI ANIST, 169 
 
 etude of the little man was a contrast to the violent 
 gesticulations of Silva, who sometimes seized his 
 colleague unconsciously by the cloak, sometimes 
 tapped him on the arm, sometimes on the shoulder, 
 to exact proper attention to his words. As Baruch 
 watched the stranger he could have envied him 
 the rapid stream of Latin converse that flowed 
 from his lips if he had dared to think of his studies 
 beside his father's sick bed. 
 
 The operation was successful beyond all expecta- 
 tion. Van den Ende visited the convalescent nearly 
 every day, and conversed principally with Baruch; 
 the restlessness and active mind of the youth did 
 not long remain hidden from his penetrating sight. 
 The grateful father willingly granted his request 
 that he might instruct Baruch in classical learning. 
 
 Baruch accompanied the physician to his dwell- 
 ing at the end of Warmoes Street, not far from St. 
 Olave's Church, and the chapel built on the model 
 of the Temple of Jerusalem. Baruch had once 
 passed there with Chisdai. Chisdai spat at it three 
 times; Baruch merely remarked that the builder 
 had departed very much from the original, but that 
 it could not be otherwise, for even those learned in 
 the Talmud could not have a perfect idea of the 
 outward and inward appearance of the Temple of 
 Jerusalem, since the real original was in Heaven 
 itself. Now, however, he troubled himself but little 
 about the architecture of the Temple in heaven, or 
 
170 
 
 SPINOZA, 
 
 on earth, as he entered the house of the physician. 
 Here he found himself in a wholly novel atmos- 
 phere. Joyous singing in a young girl's voice, ac- 
 companied by an organ, reached his ears even on 
 the ground floor. The physician led his pupil into 
 a large room, and left him alone for a while. Bright 
 colored pictures looked down on him from all 
 sides, wantonly attracting remark: here a Leda 
 rising from her bath, an oil painting in fresh, allur- 
 ing tints; there a Venus, as she arose in all her 
 glorious perfection from the foam; near her a 
 Semele on whom a cloud was sinking; on the op- 
 posite wall hung Flemish still-life, fruit and flowers, 
 landscapes inimitable in truth of coloring. Little 
 statuettes of white and tinted marble stood on the 
 inlaid stands. Canaries in gilt cages repeated their 
 well-studied songs, and between whiles interposed 
 their powerful native wood-notes. Roses, tulips, 
 carnations, lilies, and anemones bloomed round the 
 windows in ornamental pots, and drew attention 
 there. The physician returned, aud explained the 
 beauties of the pictures to Baruch; some he took 
 down, and dusted them with a sponge for a better 
 view. Especially long he lingered over a picture 
 of natural solitude by his contemporary, Jacob 
 Ruysdael, and a rich landscape by his rival Nico- 
 laus Berghem, then still alive. He then led Ba- 
 ruch into another room, that created even greater 
 astonishment. The walls were hung with anatom- 
 
THE LUCIA NI ST. 
 
 171 
 
 ical drawings, one above another; glass cases, in 
 which butterflies and beetles were well arranged, 
 hung between; stuffed birds sat on little twigs fixed 
 into the book-cases. At one end of the room stood 
 phials and retorts; in one corner lay a large heap 
 of grey papers, from which emerged the stems and 
 leaves of dried plants; there also stood a large 
 skeleton in whose bony fingers was placed a gilt 
 paper sceptre. Above the green-covered writing- 
 table stood a marble bust, the acute Greek face 
 crowned with a laurel wreath. 
 
 Baruch took note of his surroundings, in which, 
 in spite of the superabundance, a certain order was 
 visible. Life could be filled with other things than 
 biblical rules, commentaries, and religious ceremo- 
 nies; here was quite another world, thus he assured 
 himself, and the physician did not disturb his 
 thoughts, for he was seeking through his shelves 
 for a book. At last he chose Cicero de Officits, and 
 required Baruch to construe it. The tutor shook 
 his head often reflectively; not that Baruch knew 
 no Latin; that could not be accurately said of him; 
 it was that with his characteristic quickness of 
 mind he burst the grammatical forms with a won- 
 derful comprehension of the author whom he read. 
 If but a few words were clear that gave an idea of 
 the progress of the narrative, or indicated the aim 
 of the train of thought, he would rapidly, and often 
 correctly, connect the sense of the whole. More fre- 
 
i;2 SPINOZA. 
 
 quently, however, in following the train of the au- 
 thor's ideas, he would spring over theift to his own 
 much more widely extended combinations. Van 
 den Ende saw that in this case a wholly different 
 mode of instruction must be carried out; here was 
 a well-grown tree that had seen the flowers and 
 fruit of many seasons fall, and which must now be 
 transplanted to another soil. 
 
 The progress that succeeded was not, however, 
 as great as might have been expected, the lessons 
 being nearly always interrupted by discussions on 
 wholly different subjects. Baruch had gained con- 
 fidence in his teacher, and told him once in a confi- 
 dential tone how he had lost the power to pray. 
 The physician laughed so heartily that he was 
 obliged to hold his sides; but he perceived how 
 seriously this annoyed his pupil. 
 
 '' Excuse me !" he said. " I am not laughing at 
 you; ha! ha ! ha ! We had, in the lunatic asylum 
 at Milan, an excellent example of a theological- 
 philosophical Narcissus. He covered his face with 
 a cloth, and remained the whole day on his knees, 
 praying, * Holy St. Christopher stand by me, and 
 forgive me my sins.' Ha \ ha ! ha ! and if he were 
 asked, ' Who and where is the holy St. Christopher ? * 
 he stood up, and lifted the cloth from his face, 
 crying in a majestic tone, ' Do you not see the glory 
 round my brow ? Kneel down and pray. I am 
 the holy Christopher.' Ha ! ha ! ha ! If one only 
 
THE LUCI ANIST. 
 
 173 
 
 thinks about it awhile, there lay much method in 
 his madness. What is the use of prayer ? To in- 
 fluence God ? Half a fool could see that it would 
 be a contradiction if God allowed himself to be dis- 
 turbed by us. The proverb says *" ora et laboraf it all 
 comes to this, then, that it raises and tranquillizes 
 our so-called souls, which are oppressed and per- 
 plexed by our sorrows and pains; if I could do it 
 by an anecdote, or a chapter on logic and physic, it 
 would be just as good; so don't trouble yourself 
 because you have become independent; don't hang 
 your head, but be merry and good-humored. I am 
 so, and for more than twenty years have never 
 thought of prayer. If one could only bring up the 
 young without wasting the fairest time of life in 
 useless fiddle-faddle !" So said the physician, and 
 his little grey eyes twinkled. Baruch could- not 
 oppose his exposition, but from that time he was 
 more reserved with him; he diligently studied the 
 works on mathematics and natural science that he 
 received from him, questioned him on any diffi- 
 culty therein, but carefully avoided any reference 
 to his own condition of mind. The physician, how- 
 ever, knew how to awaken confidence by his insin- 
 uating frankness. 
 
 " I was once as hampered by doubts as you," he 
 once said t© Baruch. " And I know what the effect 
 of such bondage is; even now when I think I have 
 freed myself I catch myself in that exclusiveness 
 
74 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 that proceeds from the fancied possession of the 
 one true creed. I am not come like you from the 
 Bible itself to the way of freedom. It was a 
 peculiar and in itself weaker impulse that led me 
 into it. I was sent as a pious Catholic to the 
 University of Leyden. One Ascension Eve I had 
 studied so long that my lamp burned out; as I lay 
 quietly in bed the thought passed like lightning 
 through my mind, 'Where is that illuminating 
 power now ? The fire has annihilated its fuel and 
 flowed into the Universe. What if it should be so 
 with our souls also ? ' My teacher had impressed 
 on me the once wide-spread theory that life was a 
 process of burning. It can be called so without ex- 
 plaining much thereby; what we call soul, thought, 
 and sensation is nothing but a combination of 
 matter that has its nourishment from matter, pal- 
 pable or impalpable, and will again become such. 
 One man digests with difficulty, another with ease, 
 one with comfort, another with discomfort." 
 
 " In what then lies our superiority to the 
 brutes ?" 
 
 " Who told you that such must exist ? But we 
 are indeed superior, only in so far, however, that 
 we are more richly gifted and composed of finer 
 material, therefore the so-called immaterial essences 
 of color, sound, and language act more ^^owerfully 
 on us. The brain of a man outweighs a fiftieth of 
 his whole body, therefore he has more of what is 
 
THE LUCIANIST. 1 75 
 
 called reason and intellect. In an ox, for example, 
 the brain amounts to hardly an eight-hundredth 
 part of its weight, therefore it is stupid; the ele- 
 phant is ponderous but sagacious, because he has a 
 proportionately large brain. Injure your brain and 
 you become an idiot; why then do you talk of your 
 future life and your eternal existence?" 
 
 " Our destiny then should be to make our life- 
 work, or our existence, as you call it, as agreeable 
 as possible." 
 
 "Decidedly." 
 
 "I did not think you were so selfish," replied 
 Baruch. 
 
 " I am not selfish," retorted the ph5^sician, " I 
 would joyfully give fortune and life for the good of 
 the community, for the State, but not for religion 
 and faith; I would not pull a hair from my wig for 
 them. The surest and highest good of mankind 
 lies in the well-being of the State, and to care for 
 that is the destined work of man; in all else we but 
 mount from one cloud to another." 
 
 "Your endeavors for the good of your fatherland 
 and mankind were in the end then nothing more 
 than to make it possible for this or that individual, 
 or, if you prefer it, the community at large, to eat, 
 drink, and take their pleasure with more ease and 
 comfort; in your extension of this you obtain 
 nothing higher, only something wider." 
 
 *' I will talk with you openly," added the phy- 
 
176 SPINOZA. 
 
 sician, coming nearer to his scholar with a rare 
 earnestness in his manner " Each one must go 
 through the crisis in which you are now. I too 
 was enthusiastic at your age about the higher or 
 spiritual needs of mankind, and thought they ought 
 never to be dissevered from their strivings towards 
 the good of the community. I was in that sense a 
 zealous Catholic, but only in that sense. It was the 
 time when 
 
 " Gomar and Arminius with .rage and grief 
 Strove which ought to be the best belief." 
 
 I saw the Advocate mount the scaffold, because he 
 defended himself from the old Jewish creed by 
 which, through election, they would make Chris- 
 tians into a body-guard of God; there, leaning on 
 his staff, the septuagenarian Oldenbarnaveldt stood 
 on the scaffold. 
 
 " ' O God ! ' he cried; ' what will become of man- 
 kind ? ' And all around stood the brainless crowd, 
 heads beyond heads, and gloated over it, and 
 shouted as that noblest head of all was severed 
 from the body. There and then I learned to despise 
 the multitude; there I gained the knowledge that 
 before all things it is necessary to reject all in- 
 fluence from what the crowd calls religion. Super- 
 stition is a hollow tooth; it leaves you long in 
 peace, but a harder morsel, or a colder whiff of air, 
 and you are maddened by it. Try to draw it out, 
 
THE LUCIA NI ST. 
 
 177 
 
 the patient strikes you in the face, you leave a 
 splinter in and cannot extract it except with the 
 danger of tearing the gum, or destroying a nerve. 
 Whoever would really help says he would but 
 look at it, then fixes the pincers in the jaws, then 
 back! out with it; but it is better not to help 
 him who has not the courage to let himself be 
 helped." 
 
 " You make the endeavor after possession and 
 increase of the ideal attainments of mankind an in- 
 tellectual luxury." 
 
 "Yes, it has no practical .aim; I don't grudge it 
 to you Jews, if you like to erect a heavenly king- 
 dom, since you have no earthly one. Why do you 
 laugh ? Am I not right ?" 
 
 " The Talmud says that the best of the physicians 
 go to hell; the professors of healing then had evi- 
 dently the same ideas as you have now." 
 
 "What does your Talmud matter to me? Your 
 Moses was a great statesman, but wise Solomon is 
 the man for me; he understood life, that is why he 
 says in Ecclesiastes, 'Then I commended mirth, 
 because a man hath no better thing under the sun 
 than to eat, and to drink, and to be merry.' " 
 
 "Then the brutes best fulfil their destiny, and 
 the mollusks who consist of a stomach are the most 
 perfect of creations." 
 
 " No; I grant you a brute can be merry, but man 
 is superior in this, not that he walks upright, can 
 
1 78 SPINOZA. 
 
 read and write, and thereby know what happened 
 before him and therefore may happen to him; no, 
 but men alone can laugh. Democritus and Lucian 
 were the two most sagacious men in Greece, the 
 others have mostly thrashed empty straw. I am 
 an old practitioner, believe me, no pleasure in the 
 world is so permanent as laughter, and in the en- 
 joyment of it men remain normally fresh and 
 healthy." 
 
 " It is odd that you are again in agreement with 
 the Talmud, for it says there, ' that laughter is the 
 prerogative of mankind.' " 
 
 "Truly? Then there is some wisdom in that 
 heavy book, but I go still further, and say, it is a 
 prerogative of men above gods, for he whom 
 nothing surprises cannot laugh." 
 
 " Let us remain among men," interrupted Ba- 
 ruch. " What in your view of things becomes of 
 the poor who moisten their crusts with tears, the 
 old, the sick, and the sorrowful, who find nothing 
 to enjoy, and nothing to laugh at ? Where are 
 comfort and joy for them ?" 
 
 "Such should believe and be merry in their godly 
 faith." 
 
 " But if they come to a fuller knowledge, and all 
 is overturned ?" 
 
 "There is no fear of that, it will never happen; 
 in all times there are but few clear-sighted ones; 
 the rabble will always believe: it must be so, be- 
 
THE LUCIANJST. 
 
 179 
 
 cause they are wanting in cultivation and judg- 
 ment; otherwise they would never be kept within 
 bounds." 
 
 "These are they who count themselves free; 
 even infidelity has its elect !" Such were Baruch's 
 thoughts as he went away. 
 
 On yet another occasion the books lay open be- 
 fore them, and teacher and learner spoke of other 
 things than what was written therein. 
 
 "Believe me," said the physician, and he blinked 
 with his grey eyes, like one who has penetrated the 
 deepest secrets; "believe me, I often looked behind 
 the curtains; I know the matrimonial history of 
 what men call matter and spirit, and have coupled 
 with a religious blessing." 
 
 "Yet every one desires to be believed," answered 
 the pupil. " But if I had wished it I should have 
 remained among the Rabbis; perhaps I might have 
 succeeded in building yet another story to that 
 Tower of Babel, the Talmud, which at last may 
 reach to Heaven; but I wish for knowledge, cer- 
 tainty." 
 
 " That you will only find in matter; of all other 
 things I can prove to you as readily that they exist 
 as that they do not exist." 
 
 " In the combination of my own unbroken suc- 
 cession of impressions, feelings, and thoughts I 
 know myself to be a spiritual unit, independent of, 
 and unconnected with, the body. Suicide, how- 
 
l8o SPINOZA. 
 
 ever much it is to be deprecated, does it not prove 
 an authority of the human mind over the body, 
 which extends even to the annihilation thereof ?" 
 
 " The arrogance of humanity !" answered the 
 physician; "that is the original sin that adheres to 
 us all. What you speak of may just as well be the 
 result of physical causes, what men call instinct in 
 animals without reason. For example, a marten 
 or a rat which is caught by one foot in a trap will 
 bite off that foot with its own teeth and run away. 
 A yet more striking example: in my travels in 
 lower Italy I often saw the peasants enjoy a cruel 
 pleasure in throwing a" scorpion into the centre of a 
 pretty large circle of glowing cinders. The poor 
 animal tried to fly, and shot from one side to the 
 other, but was everywhere stopped by the glowing 
 ring; it raised its head as if entreating the mercy 
 of the bystanders, but all laughed and cheered, and 
 no one offered it means of exit; then it shot into 
 the circle in a rage, hunted by anxiety and despair, 
 and tried to force the glowing cinders with its 
 claws, but quickly retreated and writhed through 
 its whole body. When it no longer saw means of 
 escape, it crouched in the middle of the circle far 
 away from the flames. Without motion it lay as if 
 dead, but suddenly putting out the sting of its tail, 
 it reared itself with all its might, stabbed itself 
 through, and was dead. Tell me, did the scorpion 
 feel its independent spiritual individuality?" 
 
THE LUCIANIST. l8l 
 
 Baruch would have conceded this, and allowed 
 spiritual powers to the whole of nature's created 
 beings; but he felt that he could not lay his own 
 reflections in the scale against so rich a treasure 
 of experience, where continual novelties were dis- 
 played before his eyes which he could not judge of 
 in a moment. An inner voice opposed the views 
 thus offered to him, but he did not know on what 
 to ground his opposition. He was silent. His 
 teacher did not doubt that he had won a proselyte, 
 and invited Baruch to come the following evening, 
 when he would reveal the secrets of a doctrine that 
 would extort his astonishment and wonder. 
 
 Baruch appeared at the appointed hour. Van 
 den Ende led him into his study and bolted the 
 door behind them, closed the window-shutters, and 
 listened to hear that no one was near the room. 
 Baruch almost laughed at the comically serious 
 manner of the physician as he placed a lighted 
 candle in the fingers of the skeleton. 
 
 " Do you know the legend of the prior of St. 
 Dominic at Tiel?" inquired the physician, as he 
 sought for something in a chest. 
 
 " No !" answered Baruch. 
 
 " Listen," continued his companion. " The pious 
 prior was once visited by the devil while he was 
 engaged in reading a holy book. The devil wanted 
 to distract the pious man's attention from his oc- 
 cupation; he jumped on the table and played all 
 
1 82 SPINOZA. 
 
 manner of antics before him; but the prior obliged 
 him to hold the candle for him until it was burned 
 down, when he graciously let him go. Look at the 
 Domine there, he shall light us while we read the 
 devil's testament. Ah ! there is the key. Look at 
 that bony frame a little again; the whole scaffold- 
 ing was once filled up with fat; that was a belly 
 that licked up many a scrap from the table of 
 Prince Maurice of Orange, those cheek and fore- 
 head bones had a carbuncle red covering; in those 
 holes sat obsequious eyes, which often practised 
 the human prerogative of looking heavenward; be- 
 fore those teeth was a pair of lips that railed much 
 at the Remonstrance, and exercised abstinence in 
 the sipping of costly Rhine wine. That was once 
 the fat Domine who abused the noble Oldenbarna- 
 veldt most, and led him on to the scaffold. He was 
 predestined to be stolen by me for a body to cut 
 up. I was in danger of death for the deed. It is 
 a pretty history; I will tell it you another time. 
 Holy Laurentius ! here is another disciple who 
 makes a pilgrimage to you to get wisdom from 
 your white head. Rejoice, for the crowd shall soon 
 be as the sands of the sea, or the stars in the firma- 
 ment." At these words the physician crossed his 
 arms on his breast, and bowed three times to the 
 skeleton. 
 
 " Ha, ha, ha !" he interrupted himself, '' it is too 
 good. I am getting quite biblical, but I will not 
 
 '^H^ 
 
THE LUCI ANIST. 1^3 
 
 make any more nonsense for you." He then 
 mounted on a stool, opened the upper part of the 
 skull with a key, took a manuscript out, and said 
 as he descended: 
 
 " As long as he was living he harbored nothing 
 so clever there as I have given him in charge. 
 Swear that you will not tell any one that you have 
 seen this book in my care; my citizenship would 
 be endangered." 
 
 " How shall I swear it ?" asked Baruch, while 
 he resolved to learn nothing rather than take such 
 another oath as the Cabbalist had imposed. 
 
 The physician misunderstood him. 
 
 "You are right," he said; "if you would swear 
 you could not understand this. Look at this 
 round, well-formed, legible writing; so fairly men 
 write in the devil's offices. The book is inherited 
 from a Dominican friar, who brought it irom Augs- 
 burg; a German emperor, Frederick the Second 
 of Hohenstaufen, was the author. The title you 
 will easily understand, it is called De Tribus Im" 
 postoribus ; there are only nine and twenty para- 
 graphs of it. Sit there and I will read it to you in 
 Dutch." 
 
 Baruch shuddered at the utter infidelity and 
 cold-blooded dissection of all faith here presented 
 to his mind's eye; and when he heard the twenty- 
 first paragraph, where it says, " Quid enim Deus sit, 
 in revelatione quaJii-uiique obscurius ionge est quam 
 
l84 SPINOZA. 
 
 antea^ it seemed as if his whole religious belief were 
 being torn out with red hot tongs. 
 
 " Young friend, when you know a little more of 
 life," said the physician as he rose, " you will see 
 that the morality which is bartered in the market 
 of life was not created out of ink-pots. Your Ju- 
 daism and our Judaism are worth nothing now; 
 your Judaism was a mummy long ago, and a puff 
 of air will scatter it in dust; ours, to the beginning 
 of the last century, was pure barbarism; it has 
 imbibed a classic spirit and this spirit will explode 
 it. Enter the bright halls of classic wisdom; you 
 will there learn to enjoy, to jest, and to be silent." 
 
 "A horrible labyrinth !" said Baruch in his heart 
 as he went away; "but I feel that a clue will be 
 found." 
 
 ii. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 BENEDICTUS SIT. 
 
 *' A maid in the morn should early rise, 
 And seek where her beloved one lies; 
 Beneath the lime trees she sought him, 
 Nor found her love where she thought him." 
 
 SO sang Olympia van den Ende, and drew out 
 the long resounding notes of her small organ 
 in powerful chords as her father entered the room. 
 
 "You have quite risen to your paradise of song 
 to-day again," said he, " and are no longer aware 
 of what happens below in our unmusical world. 
 We passed your room an hour ago. I have brought 
 the much spoken of M. de Spinoza here with me at 
 last. Allow me to introduce my daughter; she is 
 accredited minister in my sacred doctrinal office; 
 you must be on good terms with her." 
 
 " My father has spoken to me of you whenever 
 he returned from your house," said Olympia, " and 
 I am rejoiced to see my wish fulfilled at last. But 
 though I have heard so much about you, I see now 
 that I had quite a false conception of your personal 
 appearance. Tell me, since you are a philosopher, 
 may I not take that as a proof that all our impres- 
 sions of persons and things lying out of our imme- 
 
1 86 SPINOZA. 
 
 diäte sphere of observation are incorrect ?" What 
 a first encounter was this, which straightway threw 
 down a problem to be solved, and dubbed him for 
 the first time philosopher ! 
 
 Baruch lowered his eyes to avoid her scrutiny of 
 his features; he bowed mutely, and knew not what 
 to reply. 
 
 " You will find my daughter a half-fledged philos- 
 opher, with whom you can dispute as much as you 
 like," said the physician to help Baruch out of the 
 difficulty which he, however, was hardly conscious 
 of. 
 
 " Oldenburg has sent me such an exquisite song 
 to-day," said Olympia to her father as she passed 
 him the sheets of music and turned again to 
 Baruch. "Are you musical, Herr von Spinoza?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "But you can sing psalms ? You must sing me 
 a Hebrew psalm some day, I want to hear how it 
 sounds. Have they still the melodies of King 
 David ?" 
 
 " We have much older ones; for nearly all our 
 synagogue chants traditionally come from Mount 
 Sinai, though the words were composed much later; 
 the melodies were meanwhile passed on from miouth 
 to mouth." 
 
 " That is interesting; it is just as if clothes 
 walked without bodies, or an arsenal fought a bat- 
 tle without soldiers." 
 
BENEDICT us SIT. \%>j 
 
 **I spoke only of the accepted tradition," an- 
 swered Baruch. 
 
 " Oh, but it is a beautiful legend. It must have 
 been glorious," continued Olympia: " The rolling 
 thunder, and the sounding of the innumerable 
 trumpets was so magnificent an accompaniment, 
 truly fm'wso, but it must have been so; sing me 
 something from the Sinai Oratorio, if my Christian 
 ears may hear it." 
 
 Baruch excused himself on the plea that he did 
 not sing; but Olympia was so imperative that 
 Baruch did not know how to avoid the awkward 
 situation. 
 
 " A musical fanatic !" said Van den Ende. 
 " Wait awhile till Herr von Spinoza offers you the 
 scale of his creed himself; you put people who do 
 not know you in very awkward positions with your 
 queer whims." • 
 
 Olympia excused herself to Baruch for her 
 vehemence, she was so excited, he must not judge 
 unfavorably of her. After a short stay Baruch 
 went away in unwonted perplexity: he thought 
 Olympia had made fun of him, and not of him 
 alone, so much as of all Judaism. The perception 
 of this disturbed this deserter from his early asso- 
 ciations much more now, when he felt himself cut 
 off in thought and action from his associates. 
 
 Such was his first meeting with Olympia on the 
 day on which Van den Ende brought him first into 
 
1 88 SPINOZA. 
 
 his house. He often encountered her afterwards, 
 and exchanged a few words with her ; but other- 
 wise troubled himself but little about her. He 
 might have said with Job xxxi. i, " I made a 
 covenant with mine eyes; why then should I think 
 upon a maid ?" But now the time was come when 
 he must think upon a maid, and hang with fasci- 
 nated attention on her every word. The physician 
 had gone on a journey, and had resigned his lessons 
 to his daughter; Baruch too was her pupil. 
 
 Like her namesake Olympia Morata of Ferrara, 
 whose Greek and Latin verse, in the last century, 
 had been the wonder of her contemporaries, Olympia 
 van den Ende was quite at home in the world of 
 classics, but inclined more to scientific investigation, 
 so that she might easily have aspired to be crowned 
 with the hood of a doctor of philosophy; but she 
 knew too well that the black velvet cap with its 
 edging of Brussels point lace suited her blonde 
 locks and white skin much better than the pointed 
 red velvet hood of a doctor. Cicero's own daughter 
 Julia did not answer the letters of her eloquent 
 father in more elegant Latin than the daughter of 
 the Amsterdam physician. Her white hands often 
 bore traces of learned ink, for she exercised a 
 rigorous censorship over her pupil's modes of ex- 
 pression, if they would not have been accepted in 
 a Roman citizen; her smooth white brow gathered 
 into folds when a barbarism came under her notice; 
 
BENEDICTUS SIT, 1 89 
 
 her clear blue eyes sparkled, and her mouth, which 
 usually had a certain austerity in its lines, smiled 
 pleasantly and gently when she saw that her pupils 
 had made no false quantities in their Latin verses. 
 
 Baruch sat before his instructress with some dis- 
 satisfaction in their first lessons, as she demon- 
 strated the finer points of syntax in the periods of 
 the " History of Alexander" by Curtius. Olympia 
 was irritated at the awkward Jew, who answered 
 all her questions as bashfully as possible; she stood 
 up and paced the room thoughtfully. Baruch 
 watched the tall, slender figure with its ma- 
 jestic movements, and instead of following the 
 manoeuvres of Alexander, he studied the features 
 of Olympia, the syntax of whose enthusiastic tem- 
 per and acuteness of intellect he could as little 
 decipher as the involved periods of Curtius. 
 
 The instruction at first was as unsatisfactory in 
 this case as in that of the old Magister Nigritius; 
 for Baruch, since their first meeting, had always 
 approached Olympia with dislike. She soon, how- 
 ever, understood where to find points of agree- 
 ment between their differently constituted minds, 
 which made their meetings more agreeable to 
 Baruch. He was happy soon to find their conver- 
 sation of anything rather than Latin. He con- 
 versed with Olympia on the ruling laws of history, 
 on the fate of men and nations; she found Baruch's 
 ideas peculiar enough, often strange, for he was 
 
190 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 accustomed to look at everything from the stand- 
 point of Jewish history, and to judge by comparison 
 or affinity with that. This gave it a more interest- 
 ing turn for Olympia,. for all that Baruch said was 
 so uncommon, and showed such unusual intellectual 
 activity, that Olympia felt absolved from the sin of 
 unconscientiousness in neglecting instruction so 
 little needed. The minds of both penetrated to 
 the remotest zones and periods, and there found 
 each other again, for both felt the same impulse to 
 discover the origin of the world and its designs. 
 Baruch now looked forward eagerly to the lesson 
 hour, and set out on his way thither long before the 
 hour chimed. It often happened that Olympia, 
 looking out of the window, would see him far off, 
 and nod to him kindly. 
 
 One day they had been reading in the eighth 
 chapter of the seventh book the well-known con- 
 versation of the Scythian envoys with Alexander. 
 Olympia remarked, "It is characteristic that 
 Valerius Maximus relates how Aristarchus had 
 said to the king, * According to Democritus there 
 are innumerable worlds.' ' Alas ! * said the king, 
 *I unfortunately have not yet conquered one.' " 
 
 " In the Talmud there are many extraordinary 
 legends about the ' Macedonian Alexander,* for 
 whom the world was too narrow," replied Baruch. 
 
 " Oh, tell me them, do tell them," said Olympia. 
 
BENEDICTUS SIT. igi 
 
 " I do so like such flowers as these which have 
 sprung from the glowing East." 
 
 There was a knock heard, Olympia cried " Enter !" 
 and a stately man with handsome, refined features 
 entered the room. With quiet familiarity he ap- 
 proached Olympia, took her hand, and pressed it 
 to his lips. 
 
 '' I am rejoiced,' he said, " to be permitted to kiss 
 this hand that holds the plectrum and the style of 
 history with equal skill, and has already pointed 
 out to so many the way to Attica's and Latium's 
 glorious fields." 
 
 " It would have been a pity if you had not been 
 destined for a diplomatic career," replied Olympia. 
 
 " Otherwise I should not have had the pleasure 
 of telling you the news which has been brought to- 
 day that your favorite, the pious General Oliver 
 Cromwell, is named Lord Protector by the army. 
 Not for nothing has he expelled the Parliament 
 with the oratorical epithet of * you drunkards ! ' " 
 
 " You always laugh at his oratory; he is no 
 Demosthenes," said Olympia, " but a strong char- 
 acter with deep insight. I am very glad he has 
 risen so high. But how do things go with us ? 
 Can you tell me whether there are definite tidings 
 how many men were lost in the last storm ?" 
 
 "No; but some comedy was even there mingled 
 with the tragedy. I have often told you that my 
 
192 SPINOZA. 
 
 native Lower Saxony had considerable similarity in 
 customs and ideas with your native land; in one 
 thing, however, they are very different, and that is 
 in their treatment of the Jews. In my pious town 
 they never would have suffered one of the children 
 of Abraham to equip a ship and send it to sea in 
 the name of 'the Jew;' is not the Northern Ocean 
 Christian water ? So the sfea has overwhelmed the 
 Jews first. I heard from my window this morning 
 an old sailor telling his comrades that it all came 
 of associating with Jews." 
 
 Baruch had risen when the stranger entered, 
 he had put his book under his arm, and would 
 have taken leave of Olympia ; twice he would 
 have bowed, but as the stranger stood between 
 she did not see him ; he advanced again, but 
 again the stranger interposed between him and 
 Olympia. 
 
 " I must explain," continued the stranger, '' why 
 I have come at so unusual an hour. You are going 
 to the Rederykers Kamer * this evening, of course. 
 I wanted to remind you to go to the Botanical 
 Garden first; you will see what you have probably 
 never seen before, a palm-tree in bloom; the flowers 
 are so large that ten families of elves could easily 
 live therein." 
 
 Here was another pause, and Baruch at last 
 
 * A sort of theatre. 
 
BENEDICTUS SIT. 
 
 193 
 
 succeeded in bowing to Olympia and stammering 
 out a few words. 
 
 "You must not go yet, Herr von Spinoza," she 
 said; " you must first tell me the legend, and when 
 I go to see the lilies of the south I can tell them 
 something from their native land." 
 
 "The sailor's legends may be the truer, I there- 
 fore prefer to go," said Baruch with a glance at the 
 stranger. 
 
 "Ah!" said he rising, "my old friend Casper Bar- 
 laus was right, he had had much intercourse with 
 Jews, and was at first prejudiced in their favor, 
 thinking them all witty; but he often complained of 
 one of their failings, their sensitiveness; the most 
 innocent look, the most harmless jest, was mistaken 
 for mockery. I can assure you, that it was not my 
 object to offend you in the least, and Jufrow Olym- 
 pia can bear witness to my most unchristian par- 
 tiality for the Jews." 
 
 " Yes," she said, " and it was all my fault for not 
 introducing you; Herr von Spinoza you know now; 
 and this is Herr Oldenburg, a member off the 
 Bremen Embassy. Now pray tell me the legend, 
 or else I shall think myself the cause of a misunder- 
 standing that I should greatly regret." Baruch 
 tried to protest. 
 
 " I will give him a lesson," said Oldenburg. 
 ** Remember always that Jufrow Olympia prays 
 daily * May my will be done in Heaven as on 
 
194 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 earth,' so begin to narrate; you must do it in the 
 end." 
 
 Baruch then related the well-known legend of 
 how Alexander advanced to the gates of Eden with 
 his army. Oldenburg then told, out of the old 
 poems of the priest Lamprecht and Ulrich von 
 Eschenbach, the glorious legends in which the 
 poetical German spirit had celebrated the great 
 deeds of Alexander. And in interchange of opin- 
 ions on the great hero of old times, whose life, 
 though he had found no Homer, the poetical legends 
 of all nations, both Eastern and Western, had col- 
 ored in brightest hues, the three passed a pleasant 
 hour. The stranger and Olympia stared in aston- 
 ishment at Baruch when he declared with quiet 
 decision that fear was the original and sustaining 
 cause of superstition. He quoted Alexander as a 
 striking proof of this, for whenever circumstances 
 were unfavorable, or misfortunes occurred, he 
 called in sacrifices and superstitious observances to 
 his aid. While Baruch sought the corroborating 
 passages in Curtius, from Book iv. Chap. lo, and 
 Book V. Chap. 4, etc., his two listeners recognized 
 an extraordinary mind that would shed new mean- 
 ings on the past. 
 
 From that time Oldenburg came oftener, when 
 he knew that Baruch was with Olympia, and she 
 was glad to see the two young men become dally 
 more friendly. She took a certain pride in being 
 
BENEDICTUS SIT. 
 
 195 
 
 the link between two such dissimilar characters, 
 and she understood how to bring to light continual 
 affinities between the travelled experience and ex- 
 tensive reading of Oldenburg, and the deep pene- 
 trative spirit of Baruch. Besides the accomplish- 
 ments of a finished man of the world Oldenburg 
 possessed another quality, seldom noticed, but 
 which, though unnoticed, is an important element 
 in a first impression — this " is a full-toned, well- 
 modulated voice. All that Oldenburg said received 
 through this harmonious quality a fulness and 
 roundness which immediately and involuntarily 
 attracted favor. Baruch and Oldenburg were 
 friends without a word passing between them on 
 the subject. 
 
 " You will soon have finished your Latin course," 
 said Olympia to Baruch one day; " how would it be 
 if you gave me a course of Hebrew lessons?" 
 
 " I recommend to you then the Polyglot of the 
 Father in the Church, Origen," said Oldenburg 
 laughing, "then you may jump from one language 
 to another, as it may please your restless mind. 
 Apply to me, and I will get you appointed to the 
 chair of Casaubon or Scaliger. I can see how the 
 Studiosi would troop to the college, if the learned 
 Olympia van den Ende were to explain the Song 
 of Solomon in the language of the original." 
 
 " Remember," interrupted Baruch, " it is the 
 sacred language that you wish to learn." 
 
196 SPINOZA. 
 
 " Are you a saint then ?" retorted she. " You 
 must have a Hebrew name; what are you called ?" 
 
 " Baruch." 
 
 "Bahruch!" excJaimed Olympia, shaking with 
 laughter. "Bahruch! ugh! it makes me quite ill 
 and frightened, it is so like a conjuration. The 
 name would sound lugubrious in music; I should 
 accompany it with F minor; listen!" She went to 
 the organ, and sang " Bahruhcn !*' over and over 
 again, accompanying it with the dreary note. " For 
 Heaven's sake, give up the name, or something bad 
 will happen to you," she continued. "I had a dear 
 friend whose beloved was named Balthasar Prom- 
 pronius, who was very unfortunate. 'Dear Bal- 
 thasar ! ' no, that will not do, that cannot be said 
 expressively, it will not come out of your mouth, 
 and cracks your ear; my friend was very unhappy, 
 for she was always obliged to say * dear,' alone, and 
 at last meant some one else by it. The bad taste of 
 the name had a great deal to do with her misfor- 
 tunes, it is my firm belief." 
 
 "You are not such an infidel as you represent 
 yourself," said Baruch. 
 
 " Bahruch !" chanted Olympia again, and put 
 forth the full power of her deepest notes to lay the 
 most melancholy stress on the name. " Baruch ! 
 no, that will not do; for your future wife's sake, 
 take care that she does not meet the fate of mv 
 
 H 
 
BENEDICTUS SIT, 
 
 197 
 
 poor Matilda; follow my advice and take another 
 name. Has this cry of woe a meaning ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes ! it means ' blessed.' " 
 
 " Bravo ! Glorious !" cried Olympia, and clapped 
 her hands. " Benedictus ! that is a glorious name. 
 If you were a pope you would be the XIV.; seventy- 
 üve years after your death you would be canonized, 
 and people would make pilgrimages to the wonder- 
 working tomb of St. Benedict. ' Dear Benedict,' 
 listen how soft and tender that sounds; but Bah- 
 ruch, brrr ! Give me your hand, and promise me 
 henceforth to be called Benedictus. You are a 
 learned man, so you must have a Latin name. 
 You will be very celebrated some day, and then 
 I shall have handed down a name to posterity. 
 You must leave some occasion for wit to your ad- 
 versaries. I can see how an anathema against you 
 would begin: ^Benedictus est Spinoza^ quem recti us 
 maledictum dixeris' * The Romans turned the town 
 Malevent in Lower Italy into Benevent, and the 
 wise Magister, who christened you so wittily, was 
 after all only guilty of a plagiarism; but I can 
 imagine how he would stroke his chin, the black 
 cap on his learned head pushed back, simpering 
 with satisfaction that he had branded you in a 
 
 * Blessed is Spinoza named, who should rather be called 
 cursed. . 
 
19S 
 
 SPINOZA, 
 
 word And alas ! the merit will never be recog- 
 nized; I am the originator of this sublime jest; but 
 for me you would have been called Baruch for- 
 ever; a name that Aristophanes himself might 
 laugh at, but could never make a jest of." 
 
 Olympia thus talked on, all opposition and, in- 
 terruption from Baruch being fruitless. 
 
 " If you will not follow my advice with free 
 will," continued Olympia, " I will call you nothing 
 from this minute but Rabbi Bahruhch; yes, I will 
 buy a parrot, and teach him to repeat the words 
 ' Rabbi Bahruhch ' till he speaks them fluently; then 
 I will hang him in the window, and when you come 
 near the house he will call out to you, * Rabbi 
 Bahruhch ! Rabbi Bahruhch ! ' I can see how the 
 people will stop before the house to see what the 
 individual can look like who is called by a name 
 that sounds like a raven's croak. For the last time, 
 will you follow my advice ?" 
 
 ** Did I not tell you the first day we met," said 
 Oldenburg, " that Jufrow Olympia was the incar- 
 nation of self-will ? Obey without dispute. You 
 surely will not bring down strange torments on 
 yourself ?" 
 
 Baruch consented, and gave Olympia his hand, 
 which she pressed warmly. 
 
 "Sit down," she said; "and you, Herr Oldenburg, 
 come here, you shall be witness of the baptism." 
 She then laid her hands on Baruch's head, and 
 
^ENEDICTUS SIT. 
 
 199 
 
 said, " In the name of Aristotle, Bacon, and Des- 
 cartes I give thee the name Benedictus; that the 
 name may become great, and last forever and ever, 
 and that, whenever thou writest that name, thou 
 mayest think of her from whom the word arose. 
 Benedicite ! In scecida scBculormn^ Amen /" The con- 
 cluding words she sang to a church chant. 
 
 " Have I done it right ?" she asked as she raised 
 her hands, and as if involuntarily stroked Benedict's 
 cheek with the right. 
 
 "So well," said Oldenburg, "that if you should 
 find my name Henry, or Hendrik as it is called in 
 this country, unmusical, I would let you give me 
 another without fear of being accused of blas- 
 phemy. I should so like to know hew it feels to 
 be under your blessing hands." 
 
 Olympia blushed, but passed her hand over her 
 face to hide her confusion. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 A NEW MAN. 
 
 FROM the bright friendly circle where he was 
 named Benedict he must return to the mo- 
 notonous and uncongenial surroundings where he 
 was called Baruch, and think and act as such. 
 
 Why was the name Benedict more harmonious 
 than the name Baruch ? It was only the prejudice 
 of a Gentile, to whom the sacred language was 
 unfamiliar and harsh. But yet is not this naming 
 anew a sign that he was henceforth to live and 
 think like the whole intellectual world in word and 
 deed ? Is there not a deeper meaning in the fact 
 that the patriarchs Abraham and Jacob altered 
 their names on receiving a new covenant ? Darest 
 thou create precedents for thyself from the Bible ? 
 And always the Bible ? . . . 
 
 Pondering thus Spinoza left the Van den Ende's 
 house. His family name remained unaltered, and 
 with it the indissoluble connection between his past 
 and future; within these limits and depending on 
 these associations to no one is granted the power 
 of freely following out a train of thought. The 
 crown he had once received in the title of Rabbi 
 had passed from his brow; a fair consecrating hand 
 
A NEW MAN, 20 1 
 
 had rested on his head, and given him another 
 name. 
 
 He went straight from Olympia to the School of 
 the Crown of the Law. It struck him as irony that 
 here, in this unrelieved monotony, men should 
 crown themselves. It all seemed so dull and de- 
 pressing, even more so than it really was. The gay 
 jests and pleasant voice of Olympia still rang in his 
 memory, the Litany of the scholars sitting here and 
 there at the tables sounded discordantly in his ears. 
 He sat down in a corner to follow his own thoughts 
 undisturbed ever an open book, when Chisdai came 
 to him and asked him the meaning of a difficult 
 passage in the Talmud. Baruch did not spend 
 long over it. 
 
 "I always said," began Chisdai, ** that you would 
 be a perfect Samson in intellect and learning. If 
 people will not let you in and out, you take the 
 door, locks and bolts and all, on your back, and 
 carry them off; but for God's sake, and your hopes 
 of his mercy, do not let yourself be allured by the 
 Delilah to whom you are now straying. I have 
 never seen her myself — God forbid ! — but from 
 what I hear from others she is no longer young 
 and should not be fair." 
 
 " I do not know what you mean; let me alone," 
 said Baruch crossly. 
 
 "What I mean ?" replied the other. " How you 
 pretend ! The physician's daughter, I mean; what 
 
202 spmozA. 
 
 is her name ? Oh, Olympia van den Ende, who is 
 so clever that she speaks seven languages. I entreat 
 you, follow my advice; if those over there really 
 mean well by you, they will have you out and out; 
 act like a Samson, catch the foxes, bind their tails, 
 set fire to them, and send them into the ripe corn- 
 fields of the Philistines. You understand what I 
 mean; but I fear, I fear, they will — God forbid ! — 
 put out your eyes; they will take away thy strength, 
 and make thee a jest." 
 
 " It is a pity," replied Baruch, " you have not 
 kept this new application of Samson's history to 
 religious controversy for your morning's sermon. 
 But, to add the conclusion to it, I will tell you, 
 that if they could or would do what you mean, I 
 too have the courage to cry with Samson, ' Let me 
 die with the Philistines ! ' and act accordingly." 
 
 It pained him like sacrilege to have Olympia's 
 name spoken by Chisdai, and to see her graceful 
 figure dragged into that dismal place. His dislike 
 to Chisdai increased more and more, for he saw 
 clearly how he watched every turn of his mind, 
 and spied into its workings; he must have some 
 special object in it, for Chisdai was not to be kept 
 at a distance by even the- most marked rudeness. 
 On that Sabbath Chisdai had given the first public 
 evidence of his oratorical powers. The attempt 
 was an utter failure. 
 
 " I was not wholly unfavorably disposed towards 
 
A NE IV MAM. 
 
 203 
 
 Chisdai's suit for your sister Miriam," said his 
 father as he left the synagogue with Baruch. 
 " Chisdai has some fortune, and will some day 
 have a fair addition to it; he is not so very plain, 
 and I cannot understand what has come to Miriam, 
 that she says she feels such an unconquerable aver- 
 sion for him. I see now, however, that he will 
 never be the remarkable man we thought he would 
 be; and if I am not to have the pleasure of seeing 
 my daughter the wife of a celebrated and learned 
 author, I would rather give her to Samuel Casseres." 
 Baruch assented. 
 
 " I think it is time," continued his father, " that 
 you should make yourself heard; it will give honor 
 to your whole family. I should like to see you up 
 there with my old eyes. Who knows how long I 
 may be here to have the pleasure ?" 
 
 Baruch made no reply; he thought a horrible 
 dizziness would seize him if he stood up there like 
 the others who spoke with such unhesitating deci- 
 sion, as if they had seen the Lord God shuffle the 
 cards, and knew exactly why he played this or that 
 trump, and what he would or ought to play out in 
 the future. 
 
 "Why are you so thoughtful?" began his father 
 again. " I verily believe you are shy; shame on you! 
 you were so bold once. Do you remember how 
 you once thought it would be the greatest happi- 
 ness to stand up there, and pour forth the living 
 
204 SPINOZA, 
 
 word of the Spirit of God for the whole congrega 
 
 tioii r 
 
 " I am ill, I have almost always palpitation of the 
 heart. You know not long ago I spat blood." 
 
 "Pooh, pooh, excuses! I have already spoken to 
 our Chacham Aboab; he is willing to let you preach 
 this day fortnight. I will speak to Silva, our doctor; 
 if he allows it you must fulfil my wishes, or I will 
 not forgive you it on my death-bed." 
 
 What could he reply to this ? Silva gave per- 
 mission, and Baruch must prepare to preach. Who 
 can imagine the conflicting feelings that were 
 aroused by the composition of this sermon ? Who 
 can calculate the mocking thoughts that followed 
 him when he went to Olympia, and read with her 
 the pictures of the gay, pleasurable life of the hea- 
 thens; when he enjoyed the worldly jests of Olden- 
 burg, and then returned to the working out of his 
 sermon ? 
 
 The young preacher had many books open before 
 him in which to search for examples, similes and 
 questions. His hand rested on an open volume of 
 Maimonides, and his eyes wandered to the rows of 
 books in shelves against the wall. There rested 
 the words and thoughts of vanished minds. They 
 too struggled, doubted, sorrowed and at last found 
 peace. Is it not presumption to turn their life and 
 learning to folly ? Thousands were wiser than thou 
 art. Bow thy proud spirit in humility, and thou 
 
A NEW MAN. 20^ 
 
 wilt again enter into peace; thou art heir of the 
 blessedness which made happy those of old times. 
 Thou wilt and thou canst, thou must. How wilt 
 thou find the strength for a lonely ro3.d in which 
 no one will follow thee but thine own conscious- 
 ness ? The spirits of thy forefathers rise and bless 
 thee, enclosing thee in their circle 
 
 Such is the traditional consolation which up- 
 holds the wavering powers as if with supernatural 
 aid; long vanished capabilities return to help and 
 support. 
 
 A radiant ecstasy shone from the eyes of the 
 gazer, and his left hand was laid on his breast as 
 the new peace possessed it. Will this traditional 
 consolation and resignation, which now pacifies the 
 stormy struggle, always bring the same calm ? Or 
 will the yearnings again awake in the soul that can 
 only receive satisfaction from itself ? 
 
 The appointed Sabbath came ; the silence of ex- 
 pectation reigned in the synagogue as Baruch 
 mounted the altar steps. What devil brought the 
 image of Olympia at that moment before his mind 
 so clearly that he heard her mocking tones, " Rabbi 
 Baruch! Rabbi Baruch!" He summoned his reso- 
 lution to banish all traces of the vision from his 
 mind in such a time and place. He stood up as 
 pale as a corpse, and dried the cold perspiration 
 from his brow. All eyes were upon him. He be- 
 gan in a trembling voice: 
 
2o6 SPINOZA. 
 
 "The Lord is nigh unto all them that call upon 
 him, to all that call upon him in truth." Ps. cxlv. 
 i8. He represented in vivid colors the fate of the 
 infidel, who had no God in Heaven, and none in 
 his heart. He had come to the second part of his 
 sermon, where he extolled the blessedness of the 
 faith common to all men; he described the felicity 
 of being even in life gathered to his fathers, united 
 in the acceptation and building up of what was 
 grounded by them; in this rests the strength of 
 their earthly existence. His eloquence was fiery, 
 his voice echoed powerfully, when he felt a violent 
 choking sensation; he stopped, and blood flowed 
 from his mouth into the damp handkerchief. 
 
 The stillness of a graveyard pervaded the whole 
 assembly; the people looked at one another, and 
 then pitifully at the fainting youth. The father 
 had already opened his mouth to tell his son to 
 come down, when Baruch stood up again and closed 
 the service with a short prayer. As with one mouth 
 the whole congregation cried out, '* Jejasher Koach!" 
 (the Lord strengthen thee) the usual applause in 
 the synagogue. 
 
 Baruch and his father left the synagogue imme- 
 diately. As they passed Chisdai's seat, he asked 
 kindly if he might accompany them. Baruch 
 thanked hJm. In all quarters the Sabbath talk was 
 of Baruch's misfortune; old women and the wise- 
 acres prophesied melancholy things. Only Chisdai, 
 
A NEW MAN- 
 
 207 
 
 usually not slow in his judgments, shrugged his 
 shoulders when questioned. He had his reasons 
 for not speaking out. 
 
 In three days Baruch again left his bed. He 
 wished to go to Olympia. 
 
 "You shall never mention that house to me 
 again," said his father in evident displeasure. 
 " Fine tales I have heard of the little doctor. He 
 is said to be the incarnation of Satan himself. The 
 son of the indigo merchant, Grönhof, who died a 
 week ago, confessed before his death that till then 
 he had had no faith; the doctor had brought him to 
 that pass. He has founded a whole sect. I did 
 know the name; what is it called ? But whether or 
 no, you shall never cross his threshold again." 
 
 Baruch tried to dissuade his father, but he only 
 went on: "The daughter is said to be worse than 
 the father; she can talk the devil's ear off in seven 
 different languages. I don't attend usually to com- 
 mon talk, but this lady is surrounded by a swarm 
 of learned flatterers. Believe me, I know the world 
 better than you; there all is jesting, laughter and 
 song, witty dispute, rich fanciful ideas, in finely 
 expressed trifling. A pure mind like yours sees 
 nothing in it but the laudable freedom and gayety 
 of the classic world. I have heard it called so too; 
 but, properly looked at, it is frivolous mummery, 
 that recognizes neither law nor limit. Have your 
 parents left their fair native land for this — resign- 
 
208 SPINOZA. 
 
 ing all glory and honor to endure mere sufferance 
 — that now their children may fall into frivolous 
 trifling with all that is most sacred ? You know the 
 writings of our religion better than I, but I have 
 more experience of the world. Let me not have it in 
 vain. Believe me, you will find dust and ashes if 
 you give yourself up to the allurements of the world. 
 Remain in the quiet sanctuary of sacred learning, 
 and rejoice that you can live there undisturbed, as 
 you proclaimed this day yourself." 
 
 The father's voice was deeply moved. Who knows 
 how much lay behind these hastily uttered words ? 
 Transplanted to a strange soil he had aged rapidly. 
 It seemed as if sorrow still oppressed him, that the 
 fair native land, with its proud pleasures, had van- 
 ished forever for him. Perhaps for that reason he 
 clung all the more to heavenly joys, and strove to 
 bind his son to such alone. 
 
 The father's existence was twofold. The rap- 
 turous sensations that had filled his soul when 
 Baruch received rabbinical honors were a com- 
 bination of religious exaltation and worldly pride. 
 On that Sabbath he was another man than on the 
 days of work. He had still to struggle against mem- 
 ories of the past, all the more since his wife had 
 been torn from him; he strove continually, more 
 than was apparently requisite, to live in the present, 
 and external cares and sorrows oppressed him 
 deeply. He was an exile; his own heart was never 
 
A NEW MAN. 
 
 209 
 
 free from the painful recollections of his home. He 
 had left it for the sake of his faith and to ensure 
 to his children freedom of worship. As it must be 
 so, all the more zealously was he determined to 
 watch over his son, that the peace of his life also 
 might not be disturbed by strange reminiscences. 
 The youth, whom the physician had warned against 
 all violent speaking, tried, in a soft voice and care- 
 fully guarded language, to teach his father to think 
 otherwise of Olympia and her friends. There was a 
 knock at the door, and Oldenburg entered, accom- 
 panied by a friend. Oldenburg advanced and held 
 out his hand to Baruch. 
 
 " That is well," he said; " you have not yet signed 
 yourself a candidate for the lower world. We were 
 anxious, because you gave us no information. 
 Jufrow Olympia sends you her compliments; she 
 remarked some time ago that you must be ill. So 
 on her bidding I ventured to make my first call on 
 you, and because I thought you must be seriously 
 ill, I brought my friend Dr. Ludwig Meyer with me, 
 who, moreover, has long wished to make your ac- 
 quaintance." 
 
 " Yes, I was very anxious about my son," said his 
 father, and Oldenburg bowed to the speaker. 
 
 " So you are the father of our young philosopher ? 
 Did you not come to me a short time ago about a 
 claim on the house of Trost ?" 
 
 " Yes," 
 
210 SPINOZA, 
 
 "Excuse me for being so short then; I was en- 
 gaged with pressing business. I was very sorry I 
 did not tell you so. Your affair was not forgotten, 
 however. I wrote to Bremen concerning it, and re- 
 ceived answer that if you were not paid within four 
 weeks an execution would be put in." 
 
 *' I am much obliged for your trouble, and for the 
 honor you have done my house by this visit" 
 
 Oldenburg then talked earnestly with the father, 
 who felt himself, to his surprise, much taken with 
 Oldenburg's open-hearted manner. It might be 
 said that Oldenburg's whole behavior in tone and 
 character was expressed in his voice, full, tranquil 
 and trustworthy. He told the father that Baruch 
 was the first Jew whom he had learned to know in- 
 timately. He was not only astonished at his powers 
 of mind, and in love with his noble spirit; he was 
 under obligations to him for having removed pre- 
 judices engrafted by early education and custom. 
 Oldenburg's sincere and extraordinary affection for 
 Baruch, never shown to him in words, was now re- 
 vealed to his father, and made his countenance 
 brighten with pleasure. The heart of the old 
 Spaniard was stirred by the chivalric appearance 
 of Oldenburg, whose grace was as a memory of his 
 youth. 
 
 Meyer meanwhile conversed with Baruch on his 
 breakdown of the previous Sabbath. 
 
 "You should have followed the example of our 
 
A NEW MAN. . 211 
 
 rough-spoken, brave old Dr. Luther," said the 
 young physician with the dark complexion and 
 flashing black eyes. 
 
 " What did he do ?" inquired Baruch. 
 
 " He once said: * When I mount the pulpit I look 
 at the human beings, but regard them as mere 
 blocks standing before me, and speak out God's 
 word.' In a certain sense — in which sense, however, 
 he did not mean it — I agree with him entirely. You 
 must study the man; he has a certain proportion of 
 faith which is wanting in me, but he was thoroughly 
 honest. I am much interested in him." 
 
 "I am glad you too are a theologian." 
 
 "I lead a sort of amphibious life between theology 
 and medicine." 
 
 " Yes, Herr von Spinoza," said Oldenburg join- 
 ing in the conversation. "Meyer has medicine for 
 a wife, and theology for a mistress. You can dispute 
 with him; he knows the Bible by heart." The father 
 accompanied Oldenburg and Meyer to the door on 
 their departure, and was not displeased that the 
 passers-by should see who had visited him. His 
 face was still bright when he returned to his son, 
 and he said: 
 
 "Herr Oldenburg thinks very highly of you. I 
 know the difference well enough between mere 
 patronage and real sincerity. You may congratu- 
 late yourself on having such a gallant, upright man 
 for a friend," 
 
212 SPINOZA. 
 
 "And yet I must avoid him and his associates?" 
 asked Baruch. 
 
 " I warned you," concluded his father, " against 
 underhand work; you are sharp-sighted enough 
 now to see through such. I have nothing against 
 your being with Oldenburg." 
 
 Spinoza continued his visits to Olympia un- 
 hindered. He became more and more intimate 
 with Oldenburg, while with Meyer their intellectual 
 intercourse led, through their common zeal for 
 study, to the same kind of intimacy which is 
 brought about by travelling companionship, where, 
 in the contemplation of the new and strange, they 
 knew themselves to be in dear and trusted com- 
 pany. Meyer was, though in some respects shal- 
 low, well informed in modern speculation. The his- 
 tory of nations, the study of physical science, then 
 followed with newly awakened zeal, above all, the 
 Cartesian philosophy opened new fields of study 
 with which Spinoza now made himself familiar. 
 The "Letters" and the "Treatise on Mankind," 
 which had appeared posthumously, Descartes being 
 then but lately dead, made his doctrine, just be- 
 cause of the light thrown on one so lately gone 
 from life, all the more impressive, for traces of the 
 breath of that life yet lay therein, and even phi- 
 losophy, which should remain independent of all 
 contemporary influences, has an inexplicably special 
 power in the presence of its origin. The treatise of 
 
A NE IV MAN. 213 
 
 Descartes on " Method " especially gave our young 
 thinker more immediate insight, for Descartes here 
 unites to the history of his own development the 
 foundations of thought in general, and of his own 
 system of philosophy in particular. Just this sup- 
 port from the individual facilitated his progress to 
 the universal. 
 
 The studies and investigations of our young 
 friend had hitherto merely been extended to the 
 limits of what had been done, showing the limit of 
 the territory illuminated by extinguished emotional 
 life. His mind was turned to the movements that 
 agitated the world around him. Human nature 
 and its peculiarities, and the wide kingdom of the 
 manifold forms of nature around us here, with 
 its governing laws, must now be learned. Is it im- 
 possible ? Must it not be possible to ascertain the 
 movements of immutable human nature as well 
 as under similarly fixed laws we understand the 
 natural life around us ? Is our knowledge merely 
 a knowledge of the dead, of the dead around us 
 and behind usf Is it not a knowledge of life 
 alone ? . . ,. 
 
 These were the questions to which his new 
 studies led our young friend; a presentiment arose 
 in him that he would be one of the first to fix the 
 science of life. His friends were astonished by his 
 affirming once in this sense that they who were 
 aroused to real and conscious life must draw every- 
 
214 SPINOZA. 
 
 thing from the living principle within them and 
 around them, and that therein lay the meaning of 
 the enigmatical expression of Christ (Mat. viii. 22), 
 " Let the dead bury their dead." In thought and 
 expression the expositions of Spinoza had some- 
 thing sacred and biblical, and this is exactly the 
 spirit which, penetrates to the origin of all life; the 
 eternal word is his also, if even it arises in a new 
 form and with a partially new signification. Olden- 
 burg, as well as Meyer, was often surprised at 
 Spinoza's "philosophical naivete," as the former 
 called it, while Meyer designated it " an intellectu- 
 ally clean tongue." There seemed to be a contra- 
 diction in speaking of " philosophical naivete," and 
 yet this formed the original foundation of free 
 thought as defined by Spinoza. In nothing could 
 he accept the ordinary or traditional point of view; 
 his individual perceptions remained uninfluenced 
 by the doctrines set before him. He grasped the 
 things of the material as well as the ideal world in 
 a wholly original and unbiassed manner as though 
 they were originated in him; as if he were the first 
 to comprehend this given external world as well as 
 the inner life of intellect. 
 
S^"^^ OF TUE '^ 
 
 <^^.:^\y>'.. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 DISCIPLES OF DESCARTES. 
 
 SPINOZA and Oldenburg stood laughing at 
 Meyer, who was playing with a ridiculously 
 impish figure of glass in a long phial; it jumped 
 up and down, and twisted about, as Meyer pressed 
 the india-rubber stopper and declaimed magic in- 
 cantations. He soon, however, ended the jest by 
 remarking: 
 
 "Is philosophy from beginning to end anything 
 more than this hollow imprisoned idea, the glass 
 imp in the phial ?" No one answered, and he con- 
 tinued, addressing Spinoza in particular: "What 
 do you think of Descartes' imp? Two thousand 
 years ago the creator of such a wonder might have 
 been the founder of a religion; his praise would 
 have been chanted in hymns to the furthest corners 
 of the earth, and all mankind would have entreated 
 his aid." 
 
 "That is very doubtful," was the reply. "With- 
 out some new world-stirring idea no mere worker of 
 miracles has made his name immortal. Descartes* 
 imp is nothing to the miracles the Jewish Cabbalists 
 are said to have performed." 
 
2l6 SPINOZA. 
 
 "Tell us them," said Meyer, while Oldenburg 
 made a wry face as Spinoza began: 
 
 " In my father's house we have an old servant 
 named Chaje. She is German, and is full of the 
 legends and superstitions of the German Jews. She 
 once explained to me why at Prague on Friday 
 evening they sing the hymn twice over by which 
 Israel is united in mystic bonds of matrimony to 
 the Sabbath. Once upon a time a great Cabbalist 
 lived in Prague, called the Rabbi Low. He made a 
 human figure of clay, and left a small aperture in 
 the lesser brain in which he laid a parchment with 
 the unutterable name of God written on it. The 
 clod immediately arose and was a man; he per- 
 formed all the duties of a servant for his creator, 
 he fetched water, and hewed wood. All through 
 the Jews' quarter he was known as the Golem of 
 the great Rabbi Low. Every Friday evening the 
 Rabbi took the parchment out of his head, and he 
 was clay until Sunday morning. Once the Rabbi 
 forgot this duty. All were in the synagogue, the 
 Sabbath hymn was begun, when all the women and 
 children in the assembly started and screamed out, 
 ' The Golem ! the Golem is destroying everything ! ' 
 The Rabbi ordered the precentor to pause at the 
 end of the prayer. It was yet possible to save all, 
 but later naught would avail, the whole world 
 would be destroyed. He hastened home, and saw 
 the Golem already seizing the joists of his house 
 
DISCIPLES OF DESCARTES. 21^ 
 
 to tear down the building; he sprang forward, took 
 the parchment out, and dead clay again lay at his 
 feet. From that day they sang the Sabbath bridal 
 song twice over in Prague. The great Rabbi Low 
 certainly never thought of Descartes, and yet his 
 Golem had as much life as any man, if we are to 
 accept the new view, that the union between soul 
 and body is so slight that at any moment it can be 
 disjoined, and again reunited." 
 
 Meyer did not seem to notice the argumentative 
 conclusion, for he said: 
 
 **When I publish my correspondence between 
 Adam and Eve, your Golem shall have an honorable 
 position therein." 
 
 With evident displeasure Oldenburg turned to 
 Spinoza. 
 
 "Meyer is perpetually hunting after strange 
 stories, which he arranges and classifies like his 
 beetles and butterflies. To my taste your legend 
 savors of Jewish spleen. To let a destroyer of the 
 world, the creation of a Cabbalist, loose on the 
 Jews' quarter ! If, after the free manner of the 
 popular legends, he had a love affair with a maiden, 
 who every Sabbath awaited him in vain, or had he 
 been a grand vizier, or advanced to be some other 
 great minister, whom his master could reduce to 
 dust, and raise again at will, there would at least 
 be either poetry or satire in the thing; as it is 
 the Golem of our lord and master pleases me 
 
2l8 SPINOZA. 
 
 much better. Look, his bows are so graceful that 
 no dame of the court of Louis XIV. could excel 
 them." 
 
 " Lord and master!" replied Spinoza; "that is too 
 strong. I am neither his servant nor his pupil." 
 
 " What do I hear ?" asked Meyer in astonishment. 
 " How long is it since you began to study his system 
 with me, and you already go beyond him, while I 
 am only glad if I can understand him ?" 
 
 " I fear for our friendship," interrupted Olden- 
 burg. " You have so often said that a similarity of 
 intellectual power must exist between friends, and 
 I have never once been able to grasp the system. 
 It was principally the astonishing externals that 
 attracted me first to the new teaching of Descartes; 
 I investigated the entrails of a calf with him will- 
 ingly; he called it his library, and found surprising 
 evidences therein; but to the vital principle of his 
 philosophical system I never could attain. I bolted 
 my door, I curtained my window, I sat down in a 
 corner alone, and concentrated my mind on the 
 book; for two or three sentences, for half an hour, 
 even an hour, I followed him completely; then arose, 
 without my knowing it, some strange thought be- 
 tween the lines: a former experience, a wish, above 
 all, the memory of a girl whom I once fervently 
 loved, intervened between the propositions, axioms, 
 corollaries, and I saw at last that I wished to pene- 
 trate to the foundation of things, and yet could 
 
 m 
 
DISCIPLES OF DESCARTES. 219 
 
 not distract myself from every-day life. I laid the 
 book down and took another, or went out and 
 dissipated my vexation and my cares." 
 
 " How is it then that you pass for so enthusiastic 
 a disciple of Descartes, and sometimes are really 
 such ?" 
 
 " I must go rather far back for that. In the first 
 place I am mostly a Cartesian, because I have gone 
 through much the same career of doubt as the 
 founder of the school. My father was pastor of the 
 place where I was born; from childhood I sat in his 
 library and read everything. Witch legends, his- 
 tory, anatomy, alchemy and theology, all came 
 alike to me if I had something to read. When I 
 was older, this miscellaneous knowledge mixed and 
 fermented in my brain; religious doubts intervened; 
 in nothing and in no occupation could I find any 
 real pleasure. After my father's death, to the 
 great scandal of the worthy citizens of my native 
 town, I led a somewhat loose life, but that did not 
 amuse me long. I tied up my bundle and followed 
 the banners of Gustavus Adolphus as a volunteer. I 
 was employed as commissioner to raise the contribu- 
 tions demanded by the Swedish host from my native 
 town, and so gained considerable importance among 
 my fellow citizens. The trade of war, for it was 
 nothing more, soon wearied me. In camp and on 
 the march doubts of all the faiths, for whose differ- 
 ences men fought so bloodily, overtook me. It was 
 
220 SPINOZA. ^ 
 
 continual murder for no one knows what. The most 
 superstitious of all popular ideas, that of bravery, 
 alone made its value felt on its own merits. As 
 Hugo Grotius says, towns and countries became as 
 corpses, that men might no longer grieve for the 
 fate of individuals. I long doubted whether I did 
 right or not; a trivial circumstance at last decided 
 me. I took my leave and went to the University 
 of Utrecht. The students and professors there were 
 divided into two parties; you can imagine that I 
 did not hesitate long in ranking myself against the 
 pious pastor, Gisbert Votius, and on the side of 
 Regius. He taught the new philosophy of Descartes. 
 I was then twenty-one years of age, full of arrogance 
 and restless energy, and as I had made something 
 of a name as a swordsman I soon won a certain 
 amount of authority among the students." 
 
 "Yes, I can assure you," interrupted Meyer, "I 
 have faithfully seconded Oldenburg when he en- 
 forced the belief on the Vötiusians that they were 
 predestined to have circumflex accents and all other 
 marks of Cain written on their brows by us." 
 
 " What a much more active youth you had than 
 I," sighed Spinoza. 
 
 "That is the question," answered Meyer, and 
 Oldenburg resumed his narration. 
 
 "As Regius became more and more bitterly per- 
 secuted by Votius the father and son, without the 
 spirit, we went one evening to the house of his Ex- 
 
DISCIPLES OF DESCARTES. 221 
 
 cellency and set up some cat's music there. I was 
 expelled as a ringleader; Meyer slipped through 
 with a whole head; so I was a martyr for a doctrine 
 which, as I saw later, Regius himself did not rightly 
 understand. I wandered about Holland and stayed 
 for some months with Descartes himself. I know 
 nearly every sentence of his doctrine, but I never 
 could acquire the penetrative conternplativeness 
 necessary to follow this germ through all its trellis 
 work of development to the lattice of mathemati- 
 cal certainty." 
 
 "It is often so with me too," said Meyer; "I re- 
 turned from my philosophical pilgrimage, on which 
 I would conquer the Holy Sepulchre, wrong-side 
 up, or, as our proverb says, 'feet foremost.' " 
 
 " Oldenburg has described the struggle better 
 as one for contemplative power," replied Spinoza. 
 "Look around; here, there and everywhere you 
 see illusion and error. What assurance have you 
 that all you see, all you know by experience, and 
 feel in your heart is aught else than illusion and 
 deception ? What is so firmly and deeply founded 
 that it cannot be torn up by doubts ? So you close 
 your eyes, cut loose from all your surroundings, and 
 then, thus isolated, the whole visible world is cast 
 into nonentity; you yourself perhaps a nonentity 
 too ? How do you know that you really exist ? 
 Here you are at the end of doubt, and here a still, 
 small voice cries to you, 'I, I am, for I think, I 
 
222 SPINOZA. 
 
 doubt my being; I, the thought, the doubt within 
 me, I exist, even if all around me disappe'ar in 
 illusion and shadow.' Begin with doubt and you 
 can stop at no arbitrary resting-place. Why doubt 
 only the higher spiritual things ? Has the physical 
 world greater certainty because it is apparent to 
 the senses ? Are the deceptions of our senses more 
 numerous than the illusions of our hearts and im- 
 aginations ? Can you not imagine yourself a purely 
 spiritual being. Can you not lay aside as prejudice 
 all that hitherto appeared certainty, for example, the 
 existence of your body ? If not, you will strive in 
 vain after incontrovertible truth. Can you do it, 
 however. Then, if you have penetrated the central 
 point of your self-consciousness, then forward ! 
 Open your eyes; let everything come before them 
 that was hitherto confined to your thoughts; let 
 nothing remain unexamined. You have a measure 
 of the truth and existence of everything: what 
 seems to you as incontrovertible as your knowledge 
 of your own self, that alone is truth." 
 
 " I understand you," said Meyer. " You arrive at 
 the fundamental axiom of the ancients, ' Man is the 
 measure of all things.' The inner man as well as 
 the outer man is a foot-rule, as we place the figures 
 of men in pictures to show dimensions by contrast. 
 Man is the ideal, universally accepted yard measure 
 for the world." 
 
 "But if any spoke with further skepticism," inter- 
 
DISCIPLES OF DESCARTES. 223 
 
 rupted Oldenburg. " I have no perfect assurance 
 of that fundamental truth which should serve me 
 as a rule, and I stilV do not know whether any inner 
 intelligence dwells in me or not ?" 
 
 " Either such an one would speak against his own 
 consciousness, or we must believe that there are 
 men who, by birth or prejudice, that is, through 
 outward circumstances, are spiritually blind. For 
 such do not think about themselves; whether they 
 agree with or doubt anything, they do not know 
 what they do; they say they do not know, and then 
 even do not know that they do not know. They do 
 not say it absolutely, for they are afraid to recognize 
 their existence as know-nothings, so they must re- 
 main silent if they will not recognize anything that 
 yet comprises a truth. In short, with such it is im- 
 possible to speak of knowledge, for in daily life and 
 intercourse they are obliged to recognize of neces- 
 sity that they exist, that they use their judgment, 
 and witness on oath in favor of one and against 
 another. But if anything is proved to them, they 
 do not know whether the proof is there; deny, 
 agree with, or dispute, they know naught of it; they 
 are soulless automatons. For reasonable men, how- 
 ever, proof lies in the spiritual eyes. We can see 
 the unseen things, which are but the objects of 
 our thoughts, with no other eyes than with these 
 proofs." 
 
 " You are becoming quite enthusiastic," said 
 
224 SPINOZA. 
 
 Meyer, " Lucian disposed of the whole in a jest by 
 making a radical doubter be sold as a slave, and 
 still doubt under the lash of slavery." 
 
 *' But what does Descartes mean," asked Olden- 
 burg, " by his unprofitable dicing with quadrangles, 
 triangles, and the devil knows what angles ?" 
 
 " Mathematical proof," answered Meyer, ''' is alone 
 admissible. The definitions are the exact represen- 
 tations of an object described with its name and 
 attributes; the postulates and axioms by which the 
 proposition is proved are such truisms that whoever 
 knows the alphabet must see them." 
 
 "You must come yet nearer, and be yet more 
 definite," interposed Spinoza. " Definitions merely 
 affirm the essence of a thing; attributes cannot be 
 learned by definitions, they must be learned by ex- 
 perience. By mathematical laws alone can we under- 
 stand and follow up all things, all processes of both 
 the external and internal world. Everything is 
 the necessary and inevitable result of its primal 
 cause. Mathematical truths alone have the same 
 inherent necessity and external evidence as our 
 consciousness of ourselves. By the same means 
 that I know certainly that I am, I also know that 
 the three angles of a triangle are equal to two right 
 angles. The intricacies of higher mathematical 
 problems make no difference, for they all rest on 
 the same simple and incontrovertible principles, 
 and every link of their necessary progress is as in- 
 
DISCIPLES OF DESCARTES. 225 
 
 controvertible as the principle itself. A number, 
 as such, is the earliest definite idea; it is without 
 regard to the characteristics of things, and merely, 
 includes their existence. Apples, trees, men and 
 beasts are all included. Larger growth does not 
 increase the number, but draws from the first ab- 
 stract idea a second, and letters are set in the place 
 of numbers. The individual objects now lie far 
 apart, but at all times we must be prepared to re- 
 trace their origin. To the building up of the whole 
 intelligence, however, this would be a hindrance; 
 here we have only to deal with pure thought — " 
 
 " And he who gets dizzy over it let him remain 
 on the ground," jestingly interrupted Meyer. And 
 Oldenburg inquired: 
 
 " Do you believe in the possibility of mathemati- 
 cal psychology ?" 
 
 " Call it so if you like," continued Spinoza; " the 
 conditions and laws of action of our intelligence 
 and sensations have as definite rules as anything 
 in nature; they are as ascertainable, they must be 
 so; all that prevents us from being so to ourselves 
 is—" 
 
 "And custom and passion put a stroke through 
 the calculation," interposed Meyer. "In you Des- 
 cartes is a second time Renatus.* If the master 
 
 * Descartes' Christian name was Renatus, and this pun is in 
 a poem prefixed to the first work of Spinoza, which was edited 
 and prefaced by Ludwig Meyer. 
 
220 SPINOZA. 
 
 called the inside of a calf his library, you have a 
 much better. You have learned the weapons of both 
 sides in the enemy's camp. The Jesuit school edu- 
 cated and inspired Descartes — the Talmud school 
 you. What wonderful ways hath history ! But 
 you will go further yet. I see you with a broom 
 at the mast-head, like our Admiral Tromp, sailing 
 the ocean, as a sign that you have cleared the ele- 
 ments of life of arbitrary prejudices." 
 
 Spinoza entered into the jesting humor of his 
 friend, only so far pursuing his object as to explain 
 that even this stroke through the calculation must 
 be an effect of the same cause; that the passions 
 must not be regarded as exceptional, but recog- 
 nized as natural laws. Meyer tried in all ways to 
 analyze Spinoza's intellectual method, and bent on 
 this study he came again to talk with him. 
 
 " I have been thinking," he said to him one day, 
 "of what you once said to me about the study of 
 the Talmud, and think I understand how it is that 
 you Jews can clamber up and down such intellect- 
 ual ladders; if you jump over two or three rounds 
 you do not miss your footipg. It all comes by 
 studying the Talmud, which accustoms you so 
 early to free intellectual gymnastics. We, how- 
 ever — I can only use myself for an example — we 
 were very differently trained. If one of us bring a 
 thought into the world the midwives of the cate- 
 chism come, and in accordance with immemorial 
 
 -Or 
 
DISCIPLES OF DESCARTES. 
 
 227 
 
 custom and manipulation, the embryo is brought 
 to light, then it is wrapped in cotton-wool and tied 
 into a pillow that it may not freeze, and when it is 
 older goes in leading strings." 
 
 " I know your methods of education too little," 
 replied Spinoza, '' and so cannot rightly understand 
 how a religion with a dogmatic-historic basis can 
 be developed in a Socratic manner; but what 
 you say of the Jews may be true enough. It has 
 often happened that, like David, they have over- 
 thrown a champion well armed and practised in 
 rules of fence with a well-directed pebble; but this 
 want of discipline destroys all true, well-founded 
 learning among the Jews. My endeavor is to with- 
 draw myself from that vagabond intellectual life, 
 and follow the progress of a study from point to 
 point. Herein Descartes is my surest leader." 
 
 How wonderful it is that the thousand buds on 
 a tree open at once ! They are but one flower-cup, 
 and the innumerable trees but one blooming tree, 
 but to the eyes of men they are thousands. So 
 bloom the flowers in the heart of man. It is but 
 one force that awakens our intelligence, will, be- 
 nevolence and love; we, however, can only see 
 them individually. 
 
 The kingdom of knowledge and the joys of 
 friendship awoke in Spinoza together; indeed, they' 
 were but one; for knowledge is the joyful recogni- 
 tion of external laws, the endeavor after, and con- 
 
228 SPINOZA. 
 
 sciousness of agreement with them;' and friendship 
 is the living practice of them in more defined form, 
 impelling us by the same forces. 
 
 Yet a third powerful influence worked on Spi- 
 noza which he dared not name to himself. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE NEW ALLY. 
 
 OLYMPIA sat at the window and looked in the 
 window seat mirror, the so-called " spy," a 
 standing evidence of Dutch love of comfort and 
 sight-seeing. A young man stood by the lady. He 
 was of middle height; his oval face, when seen in 
 profile, might have been called handsome; it had 
 some resemblance to Olympia's, but there was 
 none of the restless fire in his glance that shone 
 from Olympia's eyes. His left hand rested on the 
 gilt handle of his rapier, and with his right he 
 stroked his blonde whiskers. Every now and then he 
 screwed up his eyes and looked out of the corners 
 at every point in his costume. It was all faultless: 
 the white cravat was in its proper position, the 
 black mantle of finest Venetian velvet fell in ma- 
 jestic folds, and the tassel of gold thread hung 
 gracefully on his breast, the quilted satin breeches 
 were tied ornamentally at the knees, the silk stock- 
 ings, and shoes with gold buckles, all were irre- 
 proachable. *' Look there," said Olympia, and the 
 well-dressed individual looked at her amiably; " do 
 you see that young man who is coming so thought- 
 fully down the street ?" 
 
230 SPINOZA, 
 
 The person addressed quickly drew a red mo- 
 rocco case from his pocket, and took a jewelled 
 opera-glass from it. 
 
 " Do you mean that one ?" he then said. " He is 
 of middle height and brown complexion; is he not 
 a Jew ?" 
 
 "Whatever he is," replied Olympia, "he comes 
 of an honorable Spanish family. My father re- 
 spects him highly, and I — I consider him one of 
 my dearest friends. Just because he was born a 
 Jew, whom the whole world is against, he has 
 attained to an unprejudiced conscientiousness of 
 judgment, an unswerving rectitude, which com- 
 mand our regard, and often put us to shame." 
 
 " But what do you say to my physiognomical 
 guess ?" continued the stranger as he curled his 
 moustache round his first finger, and let his glance 
 wander complacently to the window-glass in which 
 he saw himself reflected. " I too find the Jews 
 very interesting; they are a sort of historical relic, 
 and I have to thank you for my taste for history. 
 I look upon the Jews as a fragment of some Asiatic 
 root which we can study in this strange form." 
 
 " Had you much intercourse with Jews in Ham- 
 burg ?" inquired Olympia. 
 
 "You jest," was the reply, "but I know the Jews 
 thoroughly. En detail, there may be many honor- 
 able men among them. In my native town there 
 was an old rogue to whom I used to sell my old 
 
THE NEW ALLY. 231 
 
 Clothes. I had many a joke with him; he took 
 everything in good part if he could make a good 
 bargain; covetous as he was, I have still seen sev- 
 eral instances of his uprightness; but looked at en 
 gros all Jews are pickpockets; a dirty, disgusting 
 lot, who, alas ! my father has often said, will soon 
 have all the trade of our town to themselves. Only 
 think ! I had a friend staying with me once who 
 actually condescended to a noble passion for a 
 Jewess, so much so, indeed, that he actually thought 
 of uniting himself to his Rachel. I cannot yet 
 understand how a man of honorable family could 
 bear to have a dirty Jew for a brother-in-law smell- 
 ing of leeks. But the maiden appears to have been 
 educated above her greasy locked compatriots. 
 One morning my friend was in Cuxhaven when 
 they were dragging a corpse out of the water. He 
 recognized it as Rachel. We had to hold him to 
 prevent him from doing himself a mischief. I was 
 right sorry for my friend's trouble. He swore hard 
 and fast that he would never belong to another, 
 but one knows what those vows are. He recovered 
 sooner than we expected, and in a year he was 
 the happy spouse of a town councillor's daughter. 
 When we remind him of his earlier passion he 
 only laughs quietly. Surely Jufrow Olympia either 
 jests or plays with paradoxes when she honors a 
 Jew with the enviable title of her best friend." 
 During this discourse Olympia had placed her- 
 
232 SPINOZA. 
 
 self at the organ and lightly played a prelude. She 
 looked quietly at the stranger, who emphasized his 
 words and beat time with his thumb and finger, 
 which he had passed through a ring. 
 
 "You have gained much experience of life," she 
 said at last, ''but you forget that you are in Hol- 
 land, where religions are not divided into dominant 
 and subordinate. I believe Amsterdam is the only 
 town in the world which has carried toleration so 
 far that Christians have been converted to Judaism. 
 You must be acquainted with de Spinoza; believe 
 me, he is a remarkable man. You are not ill- 
 natured; be friendly with him for my sake. But 
 hush ! here he comes." 
 
 Spinoza entered. 
 
 " Here is Herr Kerkering at last," said Olympia, 
 *'of whom I have often spoken to you as my pupil 
 of years ago, and who was prevented from return- 
 ing to us by his father's death." 
 
 "You will assuredly approve of my resolution, 
 Herr de Spinoza," interrupted Kerkering, "to re- 
 turn again to Jufrow Olympia, and hear the wis- 
 dom of the ancients from her honeyed lips." 
 
 "A questionable compliment," replied Olympia; 
 " you say I have yellow lips, and remind me of my 
 age." Kerkering protested. Spinoza helped him 
 out by saying: 
 
 " You have probably forgotten, Herr Kerkering, 
 that Jufrow Olympia demands, like the highest 
 
THE NEW ALLY, 
 
 233 
 
 Being, that we should make no image of her of 
 things heavenly or earthly." 
 
 " O you heretic!" said Olympia, and her flash- 
 ing eyes seemed indeed capable of an auto-da-fe. 
 "You will surely permit Herr Kerkering," she 
 continued after a pause, " to join our Latin con- 
 versations. I cannot call them lessons now." 
 
 Spinoza agreed, and while he was speaking 
 Oldenburg entered. He looked Kerkering over, as 
 Olympia introduced him, with a rapid glance. 
 
 "I thought I should meet thee here," he said 
 turning to Spinoza, " and so spared myself the 
 journey to thy house." 
 
 "Thou?" said Olympia. "Oh, the cordial thou! 
 how lucky men are that they can address their 
 friends so when they please without hesitation. 
 The Romans little knew their good fortune in ad- 
 dressing each other as thou. I am proud that you 
 two are already so intimate, as I was the means of 
 it." 
 
 "If two quantities are equal to a third then the 
 three are equal," jested Spinoza. 
 
 "And not a fourth also?" inquired Olympia. 
 "We are here the representatives of four great 
 powers; we will conclude a quadruple alliance. 
 You must represent Moses, Herr von Spinoza; you 
 Calvin, Herr Oldenburg; Herr Kerkering, you must 
 stand up for your Luther, and I — I will represent 
 the Pope; he cannot object, for I am called Olympia 
 
234 SPINOZA. 
 
 Maria Honoria. Herr Kerkering, give the two 
 gentlemen your hands. We have long been allies; 
 we four will represent the circle which includes 
 and reconciles all religious differences." 
 
 " I am afraid that is the reverse problem of the 
 squaring of the circle," said Oldenburg as he joined 
 them, and added, " You go even further than Hugo 
 Grotius, who also dreamed of an eternal Peace of 
 the Religions, but forgot the Jews in his projected 
 union." 
 
 Olympia took Kerkering's hands and placed 
 them in the hands of the two friends. 
 
 " Always extravagant and arbitrary !" said Olden- 
 burg to Spinoza, as they went away. *' Women 
 never can resist match-making; if they are mar- 
 ried, they try to find similar good fortune for 
 others; if they have one friend, another must be his 
 friend also, even if by force. What has this Ker- 
 kering, whom she treats like an automaton, to do 
 with us ?" 
 
 " You should not be so discontented with such 
 alliances," replied Spinoza; " it is another example 
 for your lord and master, Descartes. Without the 
 perpetual external interference of a higher third 
 element no real existence can be imagined; all 
 would fall to pieces." 
 
Chapter xiv. 
 
 HANDICRAFT. 
 
 WHILE Spinoza was absorbed in consideration 
 of the actual existence of things, the inherent 
 cause of their existence, their necessary and acci- 
 dental destinies, and the appropriate mathematical 
 demonstrations of Descartes, his father had also 
 been considering the sufficient cause of actual ex- 
 istence, and his demonstrations were not less 
 founded on ciphers and numbers than the philoso- 
 pher's. 
 
 " Are you still resolved not to be a Rabbi ?" he 
 said one day to his son. "Have you thought over 
 all the consequences to both you and me ? I, alas ! 
 see my greatest joy sink before me into the grave." 
 
 " In the sayings of the Fathers it is written," an- 
 swered Baruch in a low voice, " that Rabbi Zadok 
 said, * Make not a crown of glory of thy knowledge 
 of the sacred law to pride thyself thereon, neither 
 make a spade thereof wherewith to dig.' It always 
 goes ill with a religion if its expounders earn 
 wages thereby." 
 
 "Good, I am of Rabbi Zadok's opinion; but 
 what if a man hath no other spade ? Listen to me; 
 I will be open with you. Our Miriam is now the 
 
236 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 betrothed of Samuel Casseres; he wishes, with Re- 
 becca's husband, to enlarge the diamond mill; he has 
 fresh secrets. My daughters are now, with God's 
 help, taken care of; you alone remain. Should I 
 have concealments from you? My lawsuit is going 
 against me, and what I have to leave you at my 
 death is so little that you could not live on it. 
 May God preserve my children and my children's 
 children from saying with sorrow^ in their daily 
 prayers, ' Lord, let us not be bounden to them of 
 flesh and blood for alms ! ' So tell me what is to 
 be done?" 
 
 "Must I go into trade?" 
 
 "No, I should never agree to that; from child- 
 hood up you have had no inclination for trade. 
 Now, indeed, there are new channels for com- 
 merce, and we need not be so confined as we 
 are in Holland here, where each one snaps the op- 
 portunity from before the other's face. There is 
 no use in going to Batavia, for it goes so ill with 
 those that'are there that many wish to return; but 
 there is a report that Rabbi Manasseh Ben Israel, 
 who is treating with the Lord Protector, may prob- 
 ably obtain leave for the Jews to go to England 
 again." 
 
 "I heard of it," answered Baruch. "Rabbi Ma- 
 nasseh won most votes by saying that the true 
 coming of the Messiah could not be until the ful- 
 filment of the prophecy that the Jews would be 
 
HANDICRAFT. 237 
 
 scattered through all lands. It was a sophistical 
 trick." 
 
 "That may be," said his father, "the greater pro- 
 portion of people cannot be treated any other way 
 than by being duped, so we do them that favor. 
 But that is not what concerns us. Consider how 
 you are to ensure a livelihood in the future." 
 
 " Rabbi Gamaliel teaches that ' Study of the law 
 united with a trade is good; diligence in both 
 causes us to forget sin; study without work is idle- 
 ness, and leads to sin.' " Baruch then gave several 
 examples of fathers of the synagogue who were 
 handicraftsmen, and concluded with the words, " I 
 should like to learn a handicraft." 
 
 "You need not quote the Talmud so much for 
 it; I have nothing against your learning an honora- 
 ble craft." 
 
 Spinoza was glad that his father was not merely 
 moved by his examples to agree to his purpose, for 
 he had in a measure thereby lent himself to well- 
 known "pious deceptions." He was firmly resolved 
 never to join in the usual routine, and sell his 
 knowledge and convictions for daily bread. If he 
 could earn his livelihood by the labor of his hands, 
 his convictions would remain free from the neces- 
 sities and constraints of every-day life. Or even 
 to minds of the first order does that vague, unsatis- 
 fied longing occur, which so often comes over us 
 if we are fated always and always to drive the pen. 
 
238 SPINOZA, 
 
 to inspire dead words, and dig out and chisel new 
 thoughts and feelings ? Do they feel that irresisti- 
 ble need for physical exercise to restore the over- 
 strained nerve power ? 
 
 Our young friend found plentiful consideration 
 in the decision as to what handicraft he would de- 
 vote himself to. He now remembered how often 
 he had stood near the diamond mill, and watched 
 the horses in the lower story as they turned the 
 wheel that set in motion the machinery in the mill 
 above. The polishing and cutting of diamonds was 
 the secret of his co-religionists, an attraction for 
 the boy, as well as the knowledge, freely entrusted 
 to him, that diamonds could only be cut and pol- 
 ished with diamond dust. How often, on his way 
 to the Talmud school, or Magister Nigritius, had he 
 stood in self-forgetfulness at the open doors or 
 windows of the workshops while the men inside 
 pursued their trade. The boy's eyes had been fas- 
 cinated by this handicraft, and a longing for simi- 
 lar work possessed his mind. Now for the first 
 time the knowledge flashed upon him that what we 
 call a free decision is really only the result of past 
 influences, often generating again its own scarcely 
 perceptible results. He paused but little to consider 
 this fleeting thought, for his imagination dwelt on 
 the numerous workshops wherein the powers of 
 man build up and mould the results of nature into 
 new shapes. Only he who reforms and controls 
 
HANDICRAFT. 239 
 
 the materials of life has received irue life. What a 
 thousandfold blessing lies in work itself, as well 
 as in its results. One hand clasps the other, and 
 one thought runs into another in the imagination 
 of its effects. The whole activity of man forms one 
 immense fraternal workshop. Here, too, however, 
 one individual has forcibly separated from another, 
 and as the churches had done in the kingdom of 
 thought and feeling, so had the guilds in the handi- 
 crafts of their chosen companies. There was no 
 legal prohibition excluding the Jews from any trade, 
 but custom and convenience made the guild-masters 
 exclusive and reluctant. 
 
 Again it was Descartes from whom Spinoza 
 received the decisive impulse towards his object. 
 Spinoza was studying the " Dioptrika" of Des- 
 cartes, and there learned for the first time the law 
 of refraction, and the first correct explanation of 
 the rainbow. The objection raised by Huyghens, 
 and universally shared, that Descartes had taken 
 the law from the manuscript of Snellius, then widely 
 circulated through Holland, and had learned the 
 explanation of the rainbow from Antonio de Dom- 
 inis and Kepler, without acknowledging either, 
 all this appeared trivial to our young inquirer; but 
 it disturbed him to think that deception should exist 
 even in the don^ain of intellect. The otherwise en- 
 igmatical saying of the Talmud, " Whoever reveals 
 a word or thought in the name of its author, he 
 
240 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 brings salvation to the world," now appeared to 
 him a law of truth. 
 
 This proceeding of Descartes, if inexcusable, was 
 still explicable in that he was accustomed as a 
 courtier to find himself with easy adaptability 
 among the strange and objective, and to regard it 
 easily as his own and subjective. 
 
 It was with pure enthusiasm that the determina- 
 tion took firm hold of Spinoza to owe his livelihood 
 solely to his own activity; to owe it to no inheri- 
 tance, and in the same manner to find the truth by 
 his own intellect. 
 
 One day Spinoza explained to his father that he 
 wished to learn the art of making optical glasses. 
 
 ''But that is a trade that barely feeds a man," 
 replied his father; "how can you support a family 
 on it ? Or do you intend our honorable name to 
 die out with you ?" 
 
 Spinoza did not answer this remonstrance imme- 
 diately; perhaps he hoped and expected to perpet- 
 uate the name in another manner. He had touched 
 a painful chord in his father's mind, and while 
 explaining his inclination for independence he re- 
 marked that a Rabbi, by his salary as well as by 
 grateful offerings, was but a servant of individuals. 
 Mingled melancholy and pride was on the face of 
 the fatheratthis statement; he nodded assentingly. 
 The old Spaniard recognized in his son the same 
 proud spirit which was not yet dead in himself. If 
 
HANDICRAFT. 
 
 241 
 
 a man cannot win from society respect and power, 
 it is as well to avoid it, and in seclusion lose all 
 care for it. So it seemed to the father; and again 
 we see the loosened foundations and singular mix- 
 ture of circumstances that awoke the powers of 
 Spinoza to their full bloom. 
 
 "As far as I am concerned," the father agreed 
 at last, " having thought over all the trades, I can 
 think of none better if one has no great capital." 
 
 Father and son went to the skilful and well- 
 known master. Christian Huyghens, an uncle of the 
 mathematical scholar of that name, but who seemed 
 to have neither the poetical genius of his brother, 
 nor that of his nephew. 
 
 Spinoza explained to the master, in the course of 
 conversation, that he already knew the laws of 
 optics, and had also considerable acquaintance with 
 mathematics; he then inquired if it were possible 
 to learn the handiwork in half a year. The 
 master, who, till then, had listened quietly to all 
 remarks, sprang up at this so violently that his 
 spectacles dropped from his nose. 
 
 " The deuce you can ! May I turn Catholic, what 
 maggots the youth of this day have In their heads !" 
 he cried. '* I have been seven and forty years in the 
 business, and I may say I understand it, and can 
 teach it to others; but I have people in the work- 
 shop who have already been five and seven years at 
 it, and if I lay a microscope down there may I eat 
 
242 
 
 SPINOZA, 
 
 it as it stands if any one of them can put it together 
 as it ought to be. You think you can learn every- 
 thing out of books. I would not give a snap for all 
 your histories; paper is patient, and lets you print 
 what you like on it. I once tried to make a micro- 
 scope after a description as it stood in the book, 
 but it was good for nothing. Whoever is not in 
 the business himself will never know as long as he 
 lives how to bring the right focus into the gl'ass. 
 Go away with your learned disquisitions !" The 
 master's wife came in; she had the pincers in her 
 hand, and flourished the instrument violently. 
 
 *'Yes," she cried; 'Mf they could only learn how 
 in a trice, every ignoramus would come here and 
 turn optician in less than no time." 
 
 It was no little trouble to pacify the good folks 
 again. 
 
 " I am a man like a lamb," then said the master; 
 " if you cannot get on with me you will never get 
 on with any one in this world." 
 
 " Yes, he is only too good to the people," inter- 
 rupted his wife, "and what he wastes on other 
 people I have to make up for." 
 
 "Never mind," said the master; "you take good 
 care of yourself; but I will be honest with you, you 
 shall not have it to say later that I kept anything 
 back from you. In the first place, it is an unhealthy 
 trade. Look at me, see what I am; I have already 
 swallowed more than three hundredweighj: of glass. 
 
HANDICRAFT. 
 
 243 
 
 I know I shall not last much longer. God's will 
 be done !" 
 
 " Don't belie yourself, Christian," interrupted his 
 wife; "if one is as strong as that in the sixties, 
 and for three years has not paid the doctor or the 
 apothecary a farthing, I think one may thank God. 
 You must not believe all he says." 
 
 "Let me speak, I know what I am saying," re- 
 torted the master, trying to give himself an air of 
 importance. He first clasped his little finger round 
 the ring-finger of his left hand, then said, " Sec- 
 ondly, it is a poor trade; you get nothing by it." 
 
 "Yes, yes, he is right there," commented his 
 wife. " When we began business we and the late 
 Greenwond, who lived by the Town Hall that is 
 burned down, were the only two, and there are 
 twenty-three in the town now; we hardly earn 
 water enough for soup, and the worst of it is we 
 cannot for shame give up the business. We are two 
 old people and do not need much; with scraping 
 and saving we manage to pull through, so that at 
 the end of the year we still keep our things to- 
 gether. I don't know how folks get on with a house 
 full of children, living on scanty wages." 
 
 His father, moved by these representations, 
 would have retracted his consent, but Spinoza 
 stood firm; so they came to an agreement with the 
 master that, for a moderate premium, Spinoza 
 should learn as long from him as he pleased. 
 
244 
 
 SPINOZA, 
 
 Such was the wholly new atmosphere, one filled 
 with the smell of pitch and glass dust, into which 
 Spinoza now entered. Henceforward he spent the 
 greater part of the day in the workshop. He learned 
 to handle the sharp diamond set in one leg of a com- 
 pass, to cut pieces of a certain size out of panes, 
 the pieces still keeping their crystal facets when 
 split. Spinoza then entered on the first grade of 
 the honorable art of polishing. The cut piece was 
 fixed on a vise with pitch, this fixed to a lever, and 
 a wheel worked with the right foot. A strap was 
 fastened round this and to a roller, on which was 
 fixed a perfectly smooth plate of lead. The plate 
 turned, and with the left hand the fragment of 
 glass was pressed against it, thus inscribing suc- 
 cessive circles on it until the glass received the 
 required form. Wet sand must be continually scat- 
 tered over it to avoid setting the hard material on 
 fire by friction, and to increase the roughness of 
 the lead. The first stage was then finished. 
 Spinoza would have preferred a less troublesome 
 and, above all, a cleaner handicraft; but it was just 
 these additions to his work which became his in- 
 tellectual means to further penetration of the laws 
 of existence. Men are much inclined to regard 
 apparently rough and repulsive labors as inferior. 
 Spinoza accustomed himself to regard the circum- 
 stances of life, not according to their popular 
 estimation, but on the essential grounds of their 
 
HANDICRAFT. 
 
 245 
 
 existence. The work is but unclean 'from one 
 point of view; while engaged in it the workman is 
 covered with dust and sand, but its aim is the 
 highest degree of purity and cleanliness. At the 
 second stage it was decided whether the smooth 
 glass was to receive a concave or a convex form, 
 and a concave or convex brass plate accordingly- 
 fixed on the cylinder; a screw was fixed alternately 
 on either glass with pitch, and this by means of a 
 peg turned round on the brass plate, on which the 
 same movement as in the first stage was employed. 
 Meanwhile the fine sand, now ground to polishing 
 dust, must be spread on the plate by means of a 
 brush, and water from the tin can near spurted out 
 of the mouth on to the plate. After the two sides 
 were so prepared the third stage was proceeded 
 to; the brass plate was made hot, a drilled hole on 
 the wrong side smeared with cement, covered on 
 the right side with so-called caput mortuum (oxyd 
 of iron), water being still sprinkled continually on 
 it, and the glass thus polished. The glass hav- 
 ing passed through the three stages of cutting, 
 smoothing and polishing, so that neither crack nor 
 flaw was discoverable, was perfect. 
 
 Spinoza soon mastered the mechanical difficulties, 
 and the first glass that he perfected without ex- 
 traneous aid from its roughest state to the satisfac- 
 tion of the master made his eyes light up with 
 pleasure. The sight of the perfected work was a 
 
246 SPINOZA. 
 
 double gratification, gratification that tke raw ma- 
 terial was perfected to its end, and gratification to 
 the mind of the workman that the raw material 
 bore the impress of his will. 
 
 He understood the mathematical calculation of 
 the glasses and their combination sooner than the 
 master had expected. The books must have con- 
 tained something more than mere nonsense. 
 
 While Spinoza chipped glasses for the short and 
 weak-sighted, to bring the distant near, and the 
 near nearer, he worked out in his mind the finest 
 optical problems to clear and strengthen the mind's 
 eyes of his contemporaries and successors. He was 
 glad that the continual whirring allowed but short 
 intervals of intercourse with his comrades; he could 
 -thus follow his own thoughts undisturbed. 
 
 There was one merry fellow in the workshop, 
 with finely cut, handsome features, and rough, curly 
 brown hair; he always sang and laughed as he 
 pushed the door open, for he went on crutches, 
 having club feet. While he placed his crutches 
 near, and, rolling his shirt-sleeves up, put his lathe 
 in order — he worked it in a way of his own with 
 his knees — he regularly treated his fellow-workmen 
 to a speech. Once he said: "Am I not better off 
 than King Nebuchadnezzar? He, I believe, had 
 earthen feet, and could never have stumbled over 
 our bad pavements. I have pulled the arms out of 
 a tree and made myself feet thereof; the next time 
 
■ HANDICRAFT. 247 
 
 an eagle flies between my legs I will pull his wings 
 out and sew them on me. I have a right to ask 
 wings from our Lord God. Why has he given me 
 feet I cannot use ? Brethren, it would be all up 
 then; you might keep St. Monday five days in the 
 week; you would want no more telescopes. Does 
 any learned gentleman want to know what a star 
 looks like ? Here I am, Mr. Peter Blyning, at your 
 service; for a good tip I will fly up and spy it all 
 out for you. Perhaps I might stay up there and 
 come down no more. If a pretty moon maiden 
 would marry me I should be quite willing; down 
 here I must die a bachelor." 
 
 A peal of laughter always followed his words, 
 and he took every opportunity of treating them to 
 his oratory. 
 
 "After all, as things are, we are all crutch makers; 
 what our Lord and God has bungled over we have 
 to set to rights. If he had stuck better eyes in the 
 folks we need have no telescopes and no spectacles. 
 May God forgive me ! but I am often right down 
 angry with him. What have I done to him that 
 he should send me into the world half made ? If 
 he does not give me better feet up there he may 
 keep his eternal life to himself. I'll none of it." 
 
 They all stared at him with blank faces when he 
 spoke like this. Spinoza alone tried to show him 
 that physical pains and imperfections are not real 
 evils; and that it is a man's highest vocation to lead 
 
248 SPINOZA. 
 
 well the life God has allotted to him, and not to 
 pine for powers denied to us by nature, for in so 
 doing we shall never attain to true peace of mind. 
 
 "Yes, you have spoken well," said Peter, and his 
 voice had a melancholy tremble in its tones; "you 
 have spoken well, but do I demand more than be- 
 longs to me by right as a man ? Look here; if but 
 for once in my life I could dance I swear I should 
 be ready to go to my grave in peace. When I hear 
 dance-music, nay, even now, this moment, when I 
 only think of it, I think I could jump out of my 
 skin with rage; I could tear my eyes out; and 
 shame on me ! but I have drunk myself often 
 enough blind drunk, because I was afraid the 
 people all the while might see me crying." 
 
 Spinoza strove to soothe Peter; he won his good 
 will, so that he was occasionally shown how to 
 handle his work by him; but our philosopher, in 
 the midst of his discourse, was often aware how 
 infinitely difficult it is to descend from the heights 
 of ideal generalities to daily needs and the ques- 
 tions of ordinary men. 
 
 The rumor spread through the workshop that 
 Spinoza was a great scholar. His companions were 
 proud of their apprentice, and boasted of him in 
 the ale-house; but in their behavior to Spinoza 
 himself they gave him plainly to understand that 
 he was only a Jew, and took certain airs of supe- 
 rior birth and familiar condescension with regard to 
 
HANDICRAFT. 
 
 249 
 
 him. Conquering all sensitiveness, Spinoza only- 
 noticed the latter, and his gentle yet self-possessed 
 manner turned off all rudeness; his companions 
 soon acquired a certain half unwilling respect for 
 Spinoza. A short, impressive sentence spoken by 
 him often worked long in the minds of those who 
 heard it. Master Huyghens, and his wife too, soon 
 became fond of the modest, quiet young man. 
 These were not shepherds and fishermen, not men 
 of simple life in continual intercourse with eternal 
 nature, with whom he could live like the wise of 
 old, enriching and widening his own intelligence. 
 It was a world whose activity lay far from aborigi- 
 nal simplicity; whose inhabitants spent their days 
 in every imaginable noise; on whose minds even on 
 holidays it was difficult to impress a word. But by 
 the rushing brook or the whirring wheel the souls 
 of men are as alike as the winds that carry the 
 different waves of sound, and the priesthood that 
 serves the eternal laws must be perpetually renewed. 
 As in nature each plant shoots upward, it lives for 
 itself alone, and yet to the minds of men it seems 
 to open and close with the greatest uniformity; so 
 the activity of mankind is divided into different 
 callings, each man being devoted to one in partic- 
 ular, and striving to fulfil it; but to the thinking 
 mind all are united in the working of one great 
 machine. Spinoza felt especially glad to stand in 
 the ranks of those who earn their daily bread by 
 
2^0 SPINOZA. 
 
 the labor of their hands. For all thus engaged 
 quietly fulfil the requirements of the law of their 
 nature. Work is the attribute of man; he fulfils the 
 law in employing himself of his own free will; and 
 it is a great and glorious chorus that comprises all 
 the teaching and writing, the hammering and dig- 
 ging, the drilling and boiling in the individual 
 workshops of the universe, and what results there- 
 from. The quiet life of nature is mere existence; 
 intelligence is thought; work is existence and 
 thought united. 
 
 Spinoza was sociable, gay and contented. 
 
 Not so Olympia when he described his new way 
 of life to her. 
 
 "I am glad we agree in one thing,*' she said; 
 " that to spend the livelong day in brooding over 
 the thought of others is either too much or too 
 little work; so much so that it becomes tiresome to 
 me, and I am glad to count * my stitches again. 
 When I am sewing my best thoughts come. Do 
 you see that garland of roses ? Legends as foolish 
 and extravagant as those of the Gesta Romanorum 
 are imprisoned in those stitches. Ah ! how glad I 
 was then that I knew some handicraft." 
 
 " But I do not work merely to do something with 
 my hands, but to give my teeth something to chew." 
 
 " I have noticed for a long time," replied Olym- 
 pia, " that reading Tacitus has made you quite 
 humorous." 
 
HANDICRAFT. 
 
 2St 
 
 " I was not aware of it, but I am in sober earnest, 
 that, for the future, I must earn my own liveli- 
 hood." 
 
 " What did you acquire so much learning for 
 then ? Not for mere vanity, I hope ? My father 
 will enlarge his Institute, and you shall be a head- 
 master in it; will you not be my colleague ?" 
 
 '* I am sorry to say, No. You may call it ego- 
 tism, but my first duties are to myself, and I must 
 first be clear of these; then, if I can teach anything 
 that would be of service to mankind I will think of 
 it; but neither now, nor ever, will I sell the smallest 
 of my convictions for material good." 
 
 " You always appear like a Z>eus ex machinal' 
 said Olympia to Oldenburg, as he entered. " Do 
 you know that your god-child is preparing to be a 
 master-craftsman ?" 
 
 "An apostle to all lands, rather, you would say," 
 replied Oldenburg." 
 
 " If it were only some pursuit," continued 
 Olympia, " such as the learned men and statesmen 
 of old times followed, like agriculture, I should not 
 have minded so much; there was something great 
 in making extremes meet, and doing with the most 
 cultivated minds the work of the rudest aborigi- 
 nes; even fishing and carpentering have some- 
 thing poetical in them ; but to polish glass in 
 an obscure room cramps and stupefies body and 
 soul. It sets my teeth on edge to think of glass 
 
252 
 
 SPINOZA, 
 
 polishing. The hand of a philosopher turning the 
 wheel of a machine, and employed in stupid manu- 
 facture; it is too repulsive a thought /" 
 
 "Do not abuse handicraft," replied Spinoza 
 earnestly, " it is a privilege of humanity. The 
 beasts have only their instinctive faculties of work, 
 to build their nests, obtain their nourishment, to 
 attack and to defend. Mankind has made the exter- 
 nal productions of nature his limbs. If he wants the 
 flight of birds, the speed of deer, arrow and ball 
 will overtake either. His hands can with, difficulty 
 dig up the earth; he melts iron and points it as 
 hatchet or plough, yokes the strength of beasts to 
 it, and carves and shapes both wood and stone. 
 The peaceful crafts of shaping and building are the 
 noblest inheritance of mankind, are sacred tradi- 
 tions. Whoever leaves an improved tool to pos- 
 terity gives a helping hand, and here a thousand 
 immortal minds work on in obscurity. If I could 
 in thought or deed invent something that would 
 serve men after me in the enlightenment and beauti- 
 fying of life, I should be happy; but never must 
 we forget that all that is so handed down is but a 
 tool for our own formation." 
 
 " That is all very fine and witty," said Olympia, 
 womanlike seizing one thought out of the whole to 
 reply to; "every one can think that, without being 
 an artisan himself. Why should you work with 
 sacred axes, sacred hatchets, and sacred files ?'* 
 
HANDICRAFT. 
 
 253 
 
 "Because, to answer in your own way, I am 
 cumbered with a sacred body, that requires food; 
 and with the handicraft I have chosen I will de- 
 monstrate the whole theory of dialectics to you : 
 Two concave glasses laid on one another show the 
 object at which you look through them upside 
 down, the reflecting glass between brings it again 
 into its right position." 
 
 "When were you born?" interrupted Oldenburg. 
 
 "A strange question. Sir Godfather," replied 
 Spinoza, " if you do not yet know, in November of 
 the year 1632." 
 
 "That is excellent," continued Oldenburg; "did 
 you never hear of the Görlitz Apostle who raved 
 in perpetual apostolic ecstasies ? On November, 
 '24, he departed this life. He was by trade an hon- 
 orable shoemaker, and I will show you from the 
 Apocalypse that, seven years after his death, a new 
 philosopher must be born, also a handicraftsman." 
 
 " Your comparison limps," said Olympia, " for 
 your Jacob Böhme was a shoemaker, and became 
 a philosopher, while our Maledict, from a philoso- 
 pher became a handicraftsman." 
 
 " Excuse me," said Spinoza; " the jest does not 
 limp, but has a leg too many, for there are eight 
 years between 24 and 32." 
 
 "That does not matter," answered Oldenburg, 
 " if you amputate a year. But in truth and earnest, 
 you offend your friends by the aim to which you 
 
254 SPINOZA. 
 
 are devoting your life; the case is so clear to me 
 that I can not only speak before our friend, but 
 before every one. Have you not declared to me 
 yourself that among friends everything is. in com- 
 mon ? Are we so ethereal that we can only ex- 
 change words and feelings, and not clinking gold ?" 
 
 '^ I know your generous heart, and you know I 
 thereby thank you," replied Spinoza; " but I have 
 already told you that I will never receive a gift 
 from a friend, as long as I can work for my living 
 with my hands." 
 
 Spinoza was not to be dissuaded from diligently 
 following his trade. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE UNEXPRESSED. 
 
 **TTOW do you like Kerkering?" inquired Olympia 
 1 1 one day when he did not come to the lesson. 
 
 "As you do," retorted Spinoza. 
 
 "You build too much on our habit of taking the 
 words out of each other's mouths," answered Olym- 
 pia. " What fault do you find with him ?" 
 
 Spinoza flushed red at having to answer this, 
 partly because he had silently extended similar 
 blame to Olympia, partly because he feared 
 Olympia might misconstrue his words as jealousy. 
 These contradictory thoughts flashed through his 
 mind in a second, and after a short pause Olympia 
 continued : 
 
 "Kerkering is thoroughly good-hearted; his lo- 
 quacity is the national failing of the Hanseatic 
 towns of Germany." 
 
 "Now I see," replied Spinoza, " that the Jews 
 are not alone in having the fate to be judged in a 
 body by the first and best individual that chance 
 throws in the way. But consider the self-possession 
 and calm judgment of ethical subjects that charac- 
 terize our friend Oldenburg. Why not take him 
 as a type of the Hanseatic townsmen ?" 
 
256 SPINOZA. 
 
 "You are right," replied Olympia; "but you 
 make such progress with me that I shall never allow 
 myself to judge in future. I am too easily influenced 
 by surrounding circumstances, and you compre- 
 hend the general view so acutely." 
 
 " Do not call it masculine vanity," responded 
 Spinoza; "but you confirm what I have observed 
 with my sisters and their friends; women seldom 
 seem to feel pleasure in mere rectitude; they do 
 not judge of the deed but the doer, and of him 
 with either partiality or prejudice." 
 
 " Agreed. Well, we are not in the world to phi- 
 losophize. You agree with me there; you too do 
 not like this jingling prattle, with its cut and dried 
 ready-coined thoughts; if these pennies are always 
 in circulation they become worn out, lose all fresh- 
 ness in the impression, and retain only nominal 
 value. So it is with Kerkering, he is wanting in 
 true inner worth." 
 
 " He has his compensations," said Spinoza, "he 
 has all the more jingle." 
 
 Olympia seemed to have no inclination to pursue 
 this turn of the conversation, for she continued 
 with her eyes sparkling strangely: 
 
 " Our friend Oldenburg always wants me to try 
 mv hand at poetry like my namesake Olympia 
 Morata; but I must confess that I pity poets almost 
 as much as I respect them, because they both can 
 and must lay bare their deepest feelings to the eyes 
 
THE UNEXPRESSED. 257 
 
 of the whole world. It seems to me that if I were 
 to express to the world my inner life, what con- 
 stitutes the core of my being, I should no longer 
 be my own; the world would have me, I should re- 
 main but a shadow of what I had resigned, and 
 must suddenly vanish away. So I prefer the 
 ancient philosophers' way, who never made their 
 own minds the subject of discussion; they had an 
 esoteric doctrine expressed only in symbols, never 
 in words." 
 
 "With the idea with which you started," said 
 Spinoza, " I am in perfect harmony. If I were a 
 theologian I might make an allegory of it: how 
 the high-priest of the temple of Jerusalem, on peril 
 of his life, entered the Holy of Holies but once a 
 year, declaring the unutterable name of Jehovah 
 therefrom, while all the people without fell on their 
 faces. By a little ' pious fraud ' we might easily 
 substitute the idea which you have otherwise ex- 
 pressed; but I am not fond of such interpretations, 
 they are usually self-deception or worse." 
 
 " Do not take the thing so barbarously literally; 
 that is a glorious interpretation; but once, when 
 the divine unites itself with the human, the Holy of 
 Holies of the temple of the heart may be opened, 
 and the unutterable incorporate itself in words. 
 Why, it would be a good symbol, too, for many 
 situations in life; in daily intercourse those who 
 are near and dear to each other keep their isolated 
 
258 SPINOZA. 
 
 niches, which then would open, and would forebode 
 what lies so deep in the heart and cannot be ex- 
 pressed." 
 
 " Forebodings, even between the most confiden- 
 tial, are often illusions," 
 
 " No, not in this case, indeed not. Ah ! it is so 
 heavenly to feel, dispensing with words, yet with 
 undoubting confidence, that the very depths of ou< 
 souls, which no eye can penetrate, are in friendly 
 communication with another's. What can be better 
 than, in the thousand varying circumstances of life, 
 to look into other eyes and know that there every 
 feeling exists with equal power, and in unchange- 
 able harmony with your own?" 
 
 With what deep unutterable yearning Olympia 
 gazed at Spinoza; a rich color flushed her cheeks, 
 her lips trembled with excitement, her whole at- 
 titude was one of abandonment. 
 
 Spinoza regarded her with unmoved countenance. 
 Could a man of such fine feeling, sensitive to the 
 slightest influences of thought and imagination, 
 could he not see that here was a soul yearning for 
 conscious communion with his ? Had he no feel- 
 ing for her ? Or did he by force of will repress an 
 inclination that could only bring trouble to both 
 himself and Olympia? 
 
 "The unutterable of which you speak," said 
 Spinoza after a painful pause, " I see more clearly 
 day by day must rem/ain such with our thoughts 
 
THE UNEXPRESSED. 
 
 259 
 
 of God and nature; we are never more than half 
 understood, or are misunderstood." 
 
 Clearly he had comprehended Olympia, and 
 wished to turn her thoughts into another channel. 
 
 " I shall not be able to come here to-morrow," 
 continued Spinoza; "my sister is to be married to 
 young Casseres. May she be truly happy ! She 
 understands me best; we often converse together 
 half the night through." 
 
 This digression had not the desired effect. 
 
 "You are more fortunate than I," replied Olym- 
 pia. " I am so lonely. I never knew my mother. 
 You cannot imagine what it is for a girl never to 
 have known her mother. I have often thought how 
 very different I should have been if I had not 
 grown up among men, and been educated almost 
 entirely by my father. That dreadful war robbed 
 me of my only brother; my cousin Cecilia, who has 
 stayed here during my father's absence, was his 
 betrothed. Ah ! you would have been a dear friend 
 to Cornelius, perhaps more so than to me." 
 
 ''Certainly not that — but it is odd you should 
 both have such heathenish names." 
 
 Did Olympia not agree to this, or did she really not 
 hear him ? Anyhow she continued in the same tone: 
 
 "I have often thought that, if one of us must 
 die, would it not have been better if I had died ? 
 Cornelius could have been of use to and enjoyed 
 the world; buv I — what should I live for?" 
 
26o SPINOZA. 
 
 " To feel joy in yourself, to illuminate and charm 
 with your intellect and graceful presence," an- 
 swered Spinoza, inwardly blaming himself, think- 
 ing he had committed a fault in speaking thus. 
 
 " You jest," Olympia answered bitterly. " Once, 
 I confess, I was vain enough to think so, but I have 
 learned to see that nature should have sent me 
 into the world under another mask, and at another 
 period." 
 
 "Pray, do not belie yourself," interrupted Spi- 
 noza. " I am sure you think better of the world 
 and of yourself. I dare not praise you, you say 
 so often I have no eye for beauty." 
 
 Cecilia entered the room at this point, and re- 
 lieved them both from a painful conversation. 
 Spinoza soon after took his departure. He went 
 home with a peaceful sense of self -conquest, for he 
 thought that he had suppressed, with masculine 
 power, the first buds of Olympia's inclination for 
 him. A certain secret triumph he could not repress, 
 that he should without solicitation be beloved by 
 such a woman as Olympia. 
 
 Olympia was out of temper the whole evening, 
 and as she lay on her bed she bedewed the pillows 
 with bitter tears. 
 
 " Has it gone so far with thee," she said to her- 
 self, " that thou throwest thyself on any one's neck, 
 and he stands with straightened arms!" 
 
 She sighed deeply, and Cecilia often inquired 
 
 «a 
 
THE UNEXPRESSED. 261 
 
 what was the matter with her; she gave no answer, 
 and pretended to be no longer awake, but in fact 
 could find no rest. 
 
 " He is a heartless, selfish man, with a frosty in- 
 tellect !" 
 
 No, she could not say that, she could not think 
 so of him. His youthful modesty, his invincible 
 truthfulness, and above all, the unmistakable signs 
 of good will and love for humanity in his counte- 
 nance, the tender smile of his loving mouth, and 
 the glowing depths of his dark eyes! No, she could 
 not make him a caricature. 
 
 Singing and carolling she arose next morning, 
 and as she stood before the glass her looks said: 
 
 " No, it has not come to that yet, and were he a 
 god, and thought himself raised above all human 
 woes, my honor and self-respect require that he 
 should kneel to me; and then, having won him, I 
 will see how to begin." 
 
 With gay self-satisfaction she continued her toi- 
 lette. 
 
 Not with suchgayety did Miriam de Spinoza don 
 her wedding garments, for religious custom had 
 here ordained a strange and harsh contrast. Be- 
 neath the glistening bridal robes the bride must 
 wear the sheet in which she will one day be laid 
 in the bosom of the earth, her winding-sheet; the 
 lovely ringlets of Miriam from this day forward 
 would be hidden beneath the cap and veil; the long 
 
202 SPINOZA. 
 
 prayer of the Day of Atonement with its list of sins 
 niust be repeated; neither meat nor drink must pass 
 her lips till, beneath the wedding canopy, her bride- 
 groom pass her the love-draught in the wedding- 
 goblet, allowing her to drink thereof, then shatter- 
 ing the glass against the wall. 
 
 The family feast — since his banishment among all 
 nations the only one of joy remaining to the Jew — • 
 aroused to the full his inwardly fostered yearnings. 
 The agitation which the wedding preliminaries and 
 the wedding itself caused in all hearts was now 
 dissipated in unchecked gayety. The married pair 
 pressed each other's hands and told each other that, 
 in. view of the newly consummated union, all so 
 long suppressed would receive new life. Youths and 
 maidens looked glowingly at one another; the one 
 became quieter, the other more openly animated 
 to hide their emotions. . A tearful thrill was in 
 every voice of the assembly, and yet it sounded as 
 harmony to each, and as they looked from one to 
 the other each read joy in the other's countenance. 
 At tableau rejoiced in the affectionate meeting and 
 suitable union, all expressed their joy, and drank 
 to each other's health, and in this expression of their 
 rejoicing it grew yet greater. All praised the bride 
 and bridegroom, their beauty, their good-hearted- 
 ness, their future happiness, and found a reflection 
 of all these in themselves. 
 
 Baruch, in the midst of this com.munity of feel- 
 
 M 
 
THE UNEXPRESSED. 
 
 263 
 
 ing and rejoicing, was but the more sad and lonely. 
 Was it because he could not help thinking of Olym- 
 pia that he felt a stranger, or because he was so 
 far removed from the present company in point of 
 thought ? 
 
 The meal was over, the cigars puffed cheerily, the 
 company grouped themselves according to their 
 liking, and the hum of voices became still more 
 animated as it was heightened by an occasional 
 laugh. 
 
 Baruch remained seated at the table; his face was 
 flushed, for he had imbibed no less than the others 
 of the " sweet fire." He dreamily gazed into the 
 bottom of his glass. 
 
 Chisdai, who had come to Miriam's wedding feast 
 to conceal the fact of his former wooing, approached 
 Baruch with Ephraim Cardoso. " Wine that re- 
 joices the heart of man" (Ps. civ. 15) he recited, 
 waving his glass with jovial emphasis. 
 
 " That is probably the reason why the Talmudists 
 wished men to have no vivifying wine," replied 
 Baruch, "but wgakened it by the admixture of 
 water." Baruch addressed the words to his glass, 
 but Chisdai must have overheard them. 
 
 "Yes," said Ephraim, as he drank to Baruch, 
 "our forefathers knew how to live. Does not the 
 Talmud say, ' The Spirit of God only rests on man 
 in gladsomeness ' ? I was once by when the late 
 Professor Barläus said to Rabbi Manasseh Ben Is- 
 
264 SPINOZA. 
 
 rael, ' Only the Greeks, not even the Romans, un- 
 derstood how really to enjoy life; the Jews were 
 always too much engrossed in fathoming what God 
 was, what he was like, and how he should be served. 
 That they had been fairly successful in, but mean- 
 while all enjoyment of earthly life had gone to 
 the ground.' He should come here now and see 
 whether we cannot be jovial good fellows in the 
 fear of God." 
 
 "Well met, Ephraim," said Baruch, and drank to 
 him kindly. 
 
 "And even if what Christ said was true," said 
 Chisdai, as he struck the table, "we could give up 
 all pleasures, ay, even life itself, for the truth that 
 we alone possess, the revelation of the real nature of 
 God. We alone are free from error and deception." 
 
 " Ho, ho!" laughed Baruch, " you take too much 
 in your mouth. Do you not know that in the 
 tractate Sabbath" (and he added, according to cus- 
 tom of the Scribes, page 32) " it tells of the Tal- 
 mudist Rabbi Samuel, who would never go over a 
 bridge unless accompanied by soQie one of another 
 faith, because Satan could not prevail against two 
 religions ?" 
 
 Chisdai stroked his young beard and inquired: 
 
 "You are now studying the Greeks and Romans; 
 tell me, do you not find all, and much more than 
 all, in Judaism that the learning of other nations 
 can show ?" 
 
THE UNEXPRESSED. 265 
 
 ** Look at the thing aright," answered Baruch; 
 "there is as much and as little of mere truth in 
 the Bible as in other books. Look at it impartially 
 and not with Jewish prejudice. Is not the human 
 soul sometimes spoken of as contained in blood, 
 sometimes in breath ? Ay, and moreover, is God 
 an immaterial being in all passages of the Bible ? 
 I know the Bible is said to tell people the literal 
 truth; but consider: God is represented as filling 
 space, for he appears on Mount Sinai in clouds and 
 fire; in the vision of Moses his foot was of white 
 sapphire. And that is the highest ideal of God ! 
 There are sublime and pure ideas of God to be 
 found in the Bible; but how he is in and about 
 things, how he creates and maintains, that seems to 
 me to be taken for granted, never proved. And 
 even that on which we lay most stress — the con- 
 ception of him as the one only Godhead — is not 
 sufficing, and can only be used figuratively, because 
 we cannot form any idea of or expression for the 
 omnipresence of God." 
 
 Chisdai clenched his fists under the table. "And 
 the prophets," he asked, " have they all known 
 nothing aright ?" 
 
 " The prophets," answered Spinoza, " were great 
 and upright men, endowed with a spirit that strove 
 to comprehend the infinite whole; men to whose 
 hearts not only the fate of Israel but that of the 
 whole world lay near. As Isaiah says (xvi. 9), 
 
266 SPINOZA. 
 
 'Therefore I will bewail with the weeping of Jazer/ 
 but beyond that they were men as we are, ay, in 
 many things more ignorant than we are, for in 
 many cases they did not know the first principles 
 of the laws of nature. If the Spirit of God spoke 
 directly by them how could they remain ignorant 
 of such simple things ?" 
 
 He spoke yet further on these subjects, and in 
 the details he adduced he became yet sharper and 
 more decided. Chisdai remained quiet and cold, 
 but ground his teeth. When he had heard enough 
 he went away with Ephraim without saying a word. 
 
 Spinoza remained at the table alone; he would 
 not rise; all seemed so uncongenial and repulsive 
 to him. He had just drunk off a glass of wine to 
 distract his thoughts when his sister Miriam ap- 
 proached him. 
 
 " What have you done ?" she said. " That spite- 
 ful Chisdai is breathing fire and fury against you. 
 I was standing by Chaje in the kitchen, and re- 
 minding her how she once dreamed of my wed- 
 ding, when I heard Chisdai cry, ' Cursed be the air 
 breathed by this shameless one ! You have heard, 
 Ephraim, how Baruch has slandered God and the 
 prophets. Oh, that no hand will stretch from 
 heaven to tear his lying tongue from his jaws ! 
 But I will not lay my head down to rest until he is 
 swept from the earth.' Ephraim tried to pacify 
 him. * It is well you were by,' continued Chisdai. 
 
THE UNEXPRESSED. 267 
 
 * One witness is not evidence; you must go with 
 me before the Sanhedrim; we will accuse him; he 
 must be laid under the great ban; I will yet set my 
 foot on his neck.* Ephraim said he would not 
 witness against you — he had heard nothing. 'So 
 you will not ! ' cried Chisdai, and seized him by the 
 arm; * then you must swear you heard nothing, 
 and if you do you may go to the devil with him.' 
 I heard it all, for they did not notice me. But, 
 dear brother, you bring the most fearful misfor- 
 tunes on us. I would rather die now, on my wed- 
 ding day, than live through this." 
 
 Spinoza pacified his sister, but he could not pac- 
 ify himself. 
 
 " How great you thought yourself yesterday," he 
 said to himself, "when you told Olympia that our 
 conceptions of highest things should remain un- 
 expressed in the soul. Now you have proved your- 
 self." The whole day he remained sunk in grief. 
 
 Chisdai's efforts had not the wished-for result. 
 Every one had regard for Benjamin Spinoza and 
 his influential connections; and there were only 
 words not deeds adduced against Baruch. Chisdai 
 was obliged to defer his undertaking to a more 
 favorable opportunity; he could easily wait that 
 length of time, for soon after Miriam's wedding 
 Baruch's father again lay dangerously ill. No one 
 would inform the sick man of the rumor that at- 
 tached to his son. ^<^<^ T^Tn^^^ 
 
 UHIVSRSITY^ 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 PANTHEISM. 
 
 OLYMPIA from day to day revealed the wealth 
 of her intellectual and spiritual life more 
 freely to Spinoza, and he felt himself most agreea- 
 bly excited by the vivacity and elasticity of her 
 mental powers. She had not only that rare qual- 
 ity in a woman — the desire for unvarnished truth 
 in the correction of her modes of thought, but 
 that of accepting unreservedly and freely these 
 demands against herself. She had, moreover, a 
 sort of hospitable motherliness which took charge 
 with friendly alacrity of all that was brought to 
 her, even of what she did not know what to do 
 with. Thus it happened that she perpetually at- 
 tracted fresh offerings, and many things that the 
 bringer had wholly forgotten she brought forward 
 on some later occasion to his astonishment, and 
 occasioned a double feeling of pleasure to the 
 original possessor — pleasure in the unforeseen pos- 
 session and in its faithful guardian. Thus Spinoza's 
 thoughts easily took reference to Olympia, and he 
 was more communicative to her than to his friends. 
 Was not such devotion love ? 
 
 Spinoza knew himself to be free from all desire 
 
Pantheism, 26g 
 
 to possess Olympia; he found so much to blame in 
 her, and can love find anything to blame in the 
 object of its regard ? He rightly disapproved, 
 however, of Olympia's referring so often with 
 indestructible naivete to the wealth and lux- 
 ury of her earlier experiences; if a new life had 
 begun for her with his appearance, what was this 
 resurrection of the dead for ? Ought not the past 
 to disappear without leaving a trace behind in 
 view of present happiness ? Olympia, strange to 
 say, thought to strengthen her partially weakened 
 natural power by her traditional power, but Spi- 
 noza's disapproval thereof ought to have served as 
 a proof that he was not perfectly free from the 
 desire for possession, since he certainly desired 
 monopoly of rule. One day Spinoza and Olden- 
 burg were with Olympia. 
 
 ^" Heaven is not favorable to us to-day," said 
 Oldenburg, " for it makes such a tearful face at 
 us that we must renounce all idea of spending a 
 pleasant day at your hospitable Buiten (country 
 house)." 
 
 " Heaven, that is a fine invention !" retorted 
 Olympia jestingly; *' that weather prophet (pointing 
 to a barometer) is the thing now. Heaven can no 
 longer do as it likes, Torricelli has shown himself 
 its master. Is it not perfect despair to think that 
 we have now neither Heaven nor Hell ? Copernicus 
 and Galileo, more fortunate than the Titans, have 
 
2/0 SPINOZA. 
 
 stormed Heaven. The stars nearest to us are dark 
 bodies like the earth, and the earth far off is as 
 bright as the twinkling stars; our star-decked 
 carpet is gone; where now can we place the throne 
 of God ? . Hell, too, we have no more. There, we 
 used to think, below, far below, roasted and stewed 
 the godless, till Columbus steered ever westward, 
 and now we know that people live there too just 
 as we live. What shall we do now with our pious 
 and godless ones ?" 
 
 "Jufrow Olympia," answered Spinoza, "did you 
 not perfectly agree with me last Friday when I ex- 
 plained to you that the external appearances of 
 things had justly fallen away that*men might hold 
 fast to the ideal of them ? Every elevation of mind 
 by which a man rises above his personal harmony 
 and chimes in with the universal harmony — the 
 existence of God you may call it, if you are so fond 
 of the term — is, to my ideas. Heaven and its felicity; 
 that state of forcible separation from self, no hold 
 in self, and no external support in opposition 
 to the laws of natural destiny, shaken by the 
 slightest impulse, without consciousness of unity 
 with the whole — can there be a more frightful 
 hell ?" 
 
 "Granted," replied Olympia, "but I prefer my 
 earlier ideas." 
 
 "That I believe," said Oldenburg; "but you 
 cannot throw such metaphysical ideas at any 
 
 <i& 
 
PANTHEISM. 271 
 
 one's head; that is not friend Spinoza's fault, how^ 
 ever." 
 
 Oldenburg had not intended his words to contain 
 any double meaning, but they gave that impression. 
 Olympia blushed, and a pause ensued; but, though 
 embarrassed, she quickly tried to resume the thread 
 of their discussion. 
 
 "You can hardly believe," she began, "how in- 
 expressibly miserable I was, when, as a child of 
 ten years old — you must not find out how long ago 
 that is — I realized that there was no sky, and that 
 the earth turned round in infinite space. It seemed 
 as if I held my life in my hand, and might at any 
 moment let it fall. My father soon set me at rest 
 as to the movement of the earth, but I cannot en- 
 dure the loss of the heavens yet. It was so beauti- 
 ful when it was a firm canopy, and now the blue 
 dome is nothing but refraction, the blue of the 
 heavens nothing but the blue of the distant moun- 
 tains, produced by light on one side, and dark 
 bodies in the background on the other. Oh, our 
 beautiful blue heavens !" 
 
 Spinoza thought of his grief at the death of his 
 Uncle Immanuel; it was singularly fascinating to 
 feel that Olympia had gone through the same 
 struggle as himself. Oldenburg took it upon him 
 to answer. 
 
 "I condole sincerely with you," he said, "to be 
 robbed of the delicious hope of one day hearing 
 
2/2 SPINOZA. 
 
 your silvery voice resound in the chorus of the 
 angels, and with wings on your back, glistening 
 with rainbow tints, sing Hallelujah and Hosanna all 
 day long for entertainment." 
 
 " The ambassadors of Heaven do not use such 
 stale compliments as the envoys of the Hanse 
 towns," replied Olympia hastily, and, turning to 
 Spinoza, continued: "Listen, I can give you an ex- 
 ample from very near what a good refuge the old 
 Heaven, is. My cousin Cecilia, who has stayed very 
 long at mass to-day, was the betrothed of my 
 brother Cornelius; now he is dead she is pleased 
 to see her charms fade, for her daily prayer is 
 that God may be pleased soon to take her to 
 her bridegroom in Heaven. On his birthday she 
 writes to him regularly, and describes her life of 
 the past year, rejoicing that another year of their 
 long probation has gone before their eternal uiiion. 
 It is often quite weird to me to be with her. I feel 
 as if I had a sleep-walker with me who, by some 
 unexpected cry, might be startled from her safe 
 elevation." 
 
 Cecilia entered dressed in the deep mourning 
 which she had never laid aside since the death of 
 her lover; from the customary black veil, which 
 covered her from head to foot, looked forth a pale, 
 refined face on which pain and sorrow were at 
 home; the weary eyelids drooped over the blue 
 eyes, whose fire was extinguished. The painful 
 
PANTHEISM, 273 
 
 shock which pervades a company when any one 
 enters who has just been spoken of was deepened 
 now by the singular apparition of Cecilia; with a 
 rose-garland in her hand and that pious endurance 
 in her countenance she looked like some beatified 
 penitent. Olympia was secretly annoyed that she 
 had — for which the two friends had already blamed 
 her in their own minds — so publicly revealed the 
 secrets of a broken heart. No one could find a 
 word with which to resume the conversation; even 
 Oldenburg, the sworn foe of all melancholy, could 
 not suppress a shudder when he looked at Cecilia. 
 She, too, felt that she had caused embarrassment, 
 and soon excused herself on the pretext of having 
 forgotten a visit. 
 
 '* I often envy Cecilia the peacef ulness of her 
 faith," said Olympia. 
 
 " You can acquire it yourself," replied Spinoza. 
 
 " No, I cannot," replied Olympia hastily. " I once 
 complained of my unhappiness to my uncle Boni- 
 face, who was priest of St. John's here. He advised 
 '^ me to read the Bible; I did, but it was of no use. 
 He told me perpetually to read it with a believing 
 mind, but that is what I was seeking in it; if I had 
 it already I should not want the Bible. It seems 
 so hard and difficult often, when I think that I can- 
 not understand the reason and object of the world." 
 
 "I think Descartes could help you over your 
 doubts." 
 
2/4 SPINOZA. 
 
 " Oldenburg, you are a zealous missionary for 
 your philosophical warrior," said Spinoza. "Do 
 you think Jufrow Olympia would agree with the 
 view that soul and body are each self-existent 
 beings, who would not follow each other if the 
 miraculous intervention of God did not connect 
 them, and constrain them to mutual obedience ?" 
 
 " That would be a pair in harness such as Frau 
 Gertrui Ufmsand calls unwilling matrimony. I 
 hate that like death." 
 
 "Tell me plainly, do you find the doctrine of 
 Öfescartes so thoroughly unsatisfactory ?" inquired 
 Oldenburg. 
 
 " It is not my business to discover the faults of 
 others." 
 
 " Then tell us simply your own solution of the 
 eternal problem." 
 
 "That is not so easy to do; rules concerning ex- 
 ternal facts are much more easily defined than con- 
 cerning processes of thought." 
 
 " I have noticed," said Oldenburg, " instead of 
 Descartes' cogito ergo S2cm you put sum cogitans. To 
 think and to be are inclusive, not exclusive. In that 
 case thunder and lightning are one, even though two 
 different minds first perceive them one after an- 
 other." 
 
 Spinoza nodded smilingly, and after considerable 
 opposition he explained: "The connection into 
 which Descartes has brought his two substances by 
 
 m 
 
PANTHEISM. 
 
 275 
 
 means of a third is only apparent. Two perfectly- 
 independent and unconnected substances cannot be 
 co-existent, for where the one ceases the other be- 
 gins; they exist in proportion, in the exact propor- 
 tion to their limitation and negation of each other, 
 each one thus neutralizing the absolute independ- 
 ence of the other. Nor can two equally perfect 
 wholes co-exist together, for either they are totally 
 "or partially dissimilar, so that neither is perfect, 
 l)ecause each one lacks certain perfections of the 
 other, or they are totally similar, in which case they 
 are identical. So that these two substances are not 
 'held together by a third, but are merely different 
 ^appearances of one thing; and we can only think 
 of one thing as perfect and independent of all 
 others, and that is God. Spirit and matter, thought 
 and space, are but different manifestations of one 
 and the same being." 
 
 "Is there then a God ?" asked Olympia. 
 
 "God alone is; the idea of God as necessarily 
 includes the idea of existence as the idea of a 
 triangle includes the idea that the three angles are 
 equal to two right angles." 
 
 ~ " Can we have as clear an idea of God as of a 
 triangle ?" 
 
 " If you ask. Can we have as clear an idea of God 
 as of a triangle? I answer, 'Yes.' If you ask, Can 
 we have as plain an image of him as of a triangle ? 
 I answer, * No.' For we cannot represent God to 
 
 % 
 
2/6 SPINOZA. 
 
 ourselves in an image; we can only recognize him 
 in thought. He is the infinitude of all qualities 
 thought of as a unit; but we recognize him only 
 in single manifestations, which we trace back to 
 him as the centre; but we cannot comprehend this 
 centre as such, nor make any exhaustive representa- 
 tion of it. The words one and only one, with which 
 we could designate God as the only self-existent 
 substance, are always founded on human concep- 
 tions. God is an incommensurable quantity, which 
 can have no reference to any other, because nothing 
 beyond it exists. One and only one, though taken in 
 their exclusive sense, still presuppose a reference to 
 some other.". 
 
 *' Does God then stand in no relation of com- 
 parison with nature and history?" 
 
 " Nothing exists that is not of him and from him; 
 all that occurs he does; all that is he is; it is only 
 a change of form; the eternal, the infinite is ever the 
 same." 
 
 "Oh, that is glorious!" cried Olympia; "the pure 
 childlike joy of nature, with its hidden, smiling 
 deities, such as the ancients had, is here so beauti- 
 fully combined with the awe-inspired reverence 
 that Jews and Christians observe in the contempla- 
 tion of nature. God lives in us, ourselves; from the 
 crimson lips of the rose, from the modest eyes of 
 the violet, in the melting notes of the nightingale, 
 the same spirit speaks that lives in me; they know. 
 
 15: 
 
PANTHEISM. 
 
 277 
 
 and see, and hear me as I see them; we are one. 
 Yea, I think even the inanimate objects have what 
 we call individual life or soul, and cannot under- 
 stand. Any unskilful lout can blow a flute, but, as 
 we express it, the tones are no longer pure and 
 true; and though we notice no difference in the 
 material, its Psyche is injured. Only a skilful master 
 can again draw out its rightful tones with careful 
 handling; and again we notice no alteration in the 
 material parts. Ay, and the soul of man can just 
 the same be put out of tune, and how it rejoices 
 when the right tone is again elicited." 
 
 It Was difficult after this digression, which had a 
 certain relative aim, to return to the original com- 
 mon train of thought. Oldenburg wished to hold 
 fast to his more than ordinarily communicative 
 friend, and, in his peculiar manner, he tried first 
 to secure his ally, and enable him to proceed at 
 the same pace. So he turned to Olympia and 
 said: 
 
 " Women do not like demonstrations that are not 
 pictorial, in which they are often like children. If 
 philosophy, however, is to be compared to any art 
 it should not be to music, but to the plastic art. 
 Yes, you may smile. Ideas are cold and colorless 
 as marble. The images of the chisel, like abstract 
 thoughts, are not mere portraits of this or that par- 
 ticular figure. They rise the higher the more they 
 become typical. There the beauty of humanity, 
 
278 SPINOZA. 
 
 here true humanity. The philosopher is a sculptor, 
 however paradoxical it may sound." 
 
 Olympia, too, was ready to fall in with his humor, 
 but she turned, not to Oldenburg, but to Spinoza, 
 and said: 
 
 " Many ways lead to Rome, also to the Rome oj 
 free thought. Each one works out the given mate- 
 rial, according to his custom and requirements. 1 
 will prove to you that I understand you. When 
 you say we have as clear an idea, but not as cleai 
 an image of God as of a triangle, I translate it to 
 myself thus: there are no pure notes; each tone 
 comprises several different ones as it is struck, 
 swells, and dies away. We cannot perceive the 
 pure note, it is too fine for us. Even so we can, in 
 the thought of God, form only an ideal, not an 
 image." 
 
 Spinoza said at last, smiling: 
 
 " I would only explain still further, that though 
 we feel ourselves one with the infinite, the degrees 
 of consciousness of the innate divine power are yet 
 infinitely different. Above all we must lay aside 
 that pride of humanity that regards everything 
 around it as mere means, and itself alone as the 
 end and aim; that values everything only in its re- 
 lation to itself — the supposed turning-point. Every- 
 thing in the world consists of means and end com- 
 bined." 
 
 "I follow the banner of my generalissimo," inter- 
 
PANTHEISM. 279 
 
 rupted Oldenburg, "and ask, Is iL_liot merely a_ 
 refined materialism to which you return ?" 
 
 "Were it rational, it would be justifiable, but I 
 come to quite another result. The only and exclu- 
 sively enduring substance, which to me remains the 
 only conceivable one, is not the rough clod which 
 cannot in any case be got rid of. I do not material- 
 ize spirit, I spiritualize matter." 
 
 " How do you explain with this eternally identi- 
 cal substance the origin of the world ?" 
 
 " The idea of cause and effect is innate in us, 
 and recognized by external evidence. If you follow 
 up the train of effects and causes you must at last 
 come to a first cause; this first cannot be the result 
 of any other; it contains the reason of its existence 
 in itself; it is cause and effect in its original un- 
 createdness; , is God in his revelation as world.. 
 The origin of the world is the" origin of God him- 
 self; the one is not imaginable without the other. 
 Tlie world is the only external manifestation of the 
 existing God. If God has the .power in himself to 
 create the world he must create it, for in him 
 dwells no power that does not immediately pro- 
 ceed to its exercise; a latent, useless power would 
 be imperfection which we could not ascribe to 
 God as the ideal of all perfection. It can neither 
 be a casual nor an arbitrary external, nor a similar 
 internal motive which sets this power in motion; 
 not external, for God, as the epitome of all per- 
 
28o SPINOZA. 
 
 fection, must be absolutely independent, and cannot 
 be subject to any external influence; it cannot be 
 internal either, as a mere exertion of arbitrary will, 
 for if God could will this, or will the other, he 
 might also will something imperfect, in opposition 
 to his nature; he can only will the perfect, and his 
 will is deed, so all in him is inevitable necessity. 
 God has the world in him, and is in it; God and 
 the world are alike eternal. Truly those who have 
 thought of God as something above the world, 
 floating in empty space (which does not exist), to 
 them God was before the world; he created it out 
 of nothing, and still hovers over it in Heaven. But 
 long ago men were aware that from nothing some- 
 thing cannot come, and so must have recourse to 
 strange theories of emanation. So the world re- 
 mains ever something that God has cut loose from 
 himself, which he watches over and with which he 
 interferes from time to time; so that, according to 
 their theory of things, the miracles are acts by 
 which God disturbs the once firmly settled order 
 of nature, his own revelation. But miracles were 
 done only as long as men believed in them; in our 
 time there are no more. Are we therefore forsaken 
 of God ? In any case, if this were the true view, 
 but it is not, for God is not the external cause, but 
 the internal innate cause of the world's existence, 
 in him all is an act of free necessity, everything — " 
 **Look! look! there is a white raven!" cried 
 
PANTHEISM. 281 
 
 Olympia, rushing to the window, ana Oldenburg 
 stood up to see what she meant by the ill-timed 
 jest; Spinoza only sat still and smiled quietly; but 
 Olympia could hardly contain herself for laugh- 
 ing. 
 
 "You a statesman !" cried Spinoza, "and not see 
 that I was guilty of a mesalliance between royal 
 families of ideas ! But sit down again, and I will 
 avenge you on the jester, I purposely chose the 
 expression. Tell me what is the meaning of ne- 
 cessity ?" 
 
 " I was confirmed long ago, and need not be cat- 
 echised so strictly; yet — necessity is anything that 
 must be." 
 
 " Only half expressed; all that without innate op- 
 position to its own nature cannot otherwise than be, 
 ^hat is necessity. That no slumbering power can 
 fee imagined in God I have already proved to you; 
 and all that he does, and is, he is and does from 
 innate necessity, but freely; for to be free is to be 
 moved to act of himself, and from no outward or 
 neighboring cause. God, therefore, outside whom 
 nothing is, and who continually wills of himself, 
 acts continually in perfect freedom; ay, even men 
 then are not free (as is usually believed) when they 
 act in contradiction to the laws of their nature; for 
 there it is always an external impulse they obey, 
 not their own nature; they are only truly free when 
 they act in accordance with the necessities, or, if 
 
282 SPINOZA, 
 
 you prefer it, the laws, of their nature, for then it 
 is only themselves whom they obey." 
 
 ^' Still another question occurs to me," inter- 
 rupted Olympia. " God, who has his laws or his 
 necessities in himself, is in all his acts free; but 
 men, who have received the cause and laws of their 
 actions from God, act according to the universal 
 will, and yet are not free ?" 
 
 " The individual inclination is as different from 
 the universal will as Peter and Paul are from man- 
 kind; they exist and act for themselves in indi- 
 vidual freedom, though they fall collectively under 
 the idea and laws of humanity, of which they 
 cannot pretend to be perfect representatives. Who- 
 ever has advanced so far that his individual in- 
 clinations are in immediate accord with the uni- 
 versal laws of reason, so that he destines himself 
 for what God or nature has destined him, he lives 
 in God, and is a partaker in the highest felicity, 
 but only a partaker. In the individual the com- 
 munity cannot be included; it is as impossible as 
 the squaring of the circle." 
 
 " But in that way," objected Oldenburg, " if 
 everything happened inside the limits and accord- 
 ing to the laws of the universal or divine will, the 
 evil would be as much of necessity as the good, 
 and he who does evil is not accountable for it. All 
 therefore must be blessed. And the Scriptures lie 
 
PANTHEISM. 
 
 283 
 
 that say, God punishes the wicked. Evil is thus a 
 necessity, and why did God create it ?" 
 
 " When it is called so in the Scriptures, it is be- 
 cause they are not written to teach men philosophy, 
 but only obedience and righteous living, and there- 
 fore accommodate themselves to ordinary ways of 
 expression. God, however, did create what we in 
 our ordinary conceptions call imperfections, because 
 he had the material to create everything with one 
 word, from the highest to the lowest degrees of 
 perfection; or, to speak more exactly, because the 
 laws of his nature are so comprehensive that they 
 are sufficient for the creation of all that can only 
 be grasped by an infinite intelligence. Men can be 
 excused their deeds, and though losing in happi- 
 ness on that account, they may be chastened with 
 much trouble and sorrow. I answer with Paul," 
 continued Spinoza in a stern voice, ' They act ac- 
 cording to their nature like serpents, and like ser- 
 pents must therefore be destroyed.' He who be- 
 comes mad through a dog's bite, is he not excused ? 
 And yet men do right to burn him. He who cannot 
 restrain his inclinations, or control himself by re- 
 gard for the law, is to be excused on account of his 
 weakness; but yet he will never rejoice in peace of 
 mind, the knowledge and love of God, which is the 
 only true good; it is a matter of necessity that he 
 goes to ruin." 
 
284 SPINOZA. 
 
 " You speak of the love of God," said Olden- 
 burg, " of that which we have for him, and of that 
 which he bestows upon us. If, as you say, God does 
 everything of necessity, he does nothing for love, 
 and because he must do everything, if he would 
 not resign his own existence, he cannot demand 
 our love, and we could not offer it to him." 
 
 " That is a fine objection !" replied Spinoza. 
 " Must love be something in opposition to nature, 
 or arbitrary, to be accepted as such, or to earn a 
 return of love ? Was it not love that your father 
 bestowed upon you ? And did you love him less, 
 because he must love you according to his innate 
 nature? What is commonly called the miracle of 
 love arises from that innate, and therefore free, 
 determination by that highest necessity which is 
 placed in our nature; and that is true love, with 
 the indelible stamp of divinity. Each outward act, 
 each labor, each work of art is the freer and more 
 perfect the less arbitrary will has to do with it, the 
 more thorough the innate law has become and lets 
 it appear to be a free product of nature. The self- 
 knowledge of what each one will, or ought to do, 
 that is salvation; therefore love of God is the 
 highest salvation, or, as I might call it, the highest 
 felicity." 
 
 Olympia followed the two friends but unwill- 
 ingly and with difficulty into the icy region of meta- 
 physical contemplation, where no flowers bloomed, 
 
PANTHEISM. 285 
 
 and no birds sang, and all below was enveloped in 
 the mists of the universal. She admired and rev- 
 erenced Spinoza's intellectual power that could 
 bear her up there, and give her a glimpse of the 
 infinite, but it was strange to her to be here above 
 the clouds, the way to her organ, her well-ordered 
 books and gay canary birds lay so far away; so 
 she greeted these words of Spinoza's as a message 
 from her happy, familiar home life. She was no 
 longer afraid of this heaven-storming hero-mind, 
 for he who could speak such words as these, he 
 must know how to love. Her cheeks glowed, her 
 sparkling eyes gazed absently into space, her whole 
 soul was deeply moved. The two friends did not 
 notice it, for they were discussing the unbroken 
 and insoluble connection of the universe. At last 
 Spinoza looked at Olympia, and she at him; their 
 eyes met. 
 
 " Where were you then ?" asked Spinoza with • 
 tender reproach. 
 
 "Oh, everywhere !" answered Olympia as if just 
 awakened. 
 
 " But not with us," said Spinoza. He little knew 
 how these words wounded Olympia. 
 
 "There I have another plain proof," triumphed 
 Oldenburg, " that body and soul are tv/o perfectly 
 distinct and independent things. Your soul floated/ 
 far away in far distant realms, and wholly forgot' 
 that you were simply here with us." 
 
286 SPINOZA. 
 
 " If you turn all the events of the moment so 
 quickly to your own interest, I congratulate the 
 inhabitants of the good town of Bremen on their 
 envoy." 
 
 "Never mind," said Spinoza; "he only wants 
 to revenge himself for the white crow; he is not in 
 earnest." 
 
 "At least I am in earnest in thinking that such 
 examples taken from surrounding circumstances 
 are the best warnings against vague specula- 
 tions." 
 
 " So-called practical proofs easily take a some- 
 what angry or fanatical tone," answered Spinoza, 
 laughing. " I only said spirit and body were in- 
 separable and dependent on each other in so far 
 that they can only be viewed as different manifesta- 
 tions of one and the same being; the spirit cannot 
 be confined by the body nor the body by the spirit. 
 Still no one has discovered what the body is capa- 
 ble of without the spirit, or by what means the 
 spirit sets the body in motion. Indeed there is a 
 considerable class of ideas to which we know in- 
 dubitably certain qualities of body are needful. 
 Speech and silence even, which we regard as pre- 
 rogatives of the mind, and from which man de- 
 duces his absolute pre-eminence, prove nothing, for 
 in sleep and delirium men speak without any vol- 
 untary effort, yet through the mind. Free thought, 
 reaching far beyond our mere bodily sphere, always 
 
 .^ipfw-' 
 
PANTHEISM. 287 
 
 finds room without the intervention 01 any inde- 
 pendent separation from the body." 
 
 " As for me I will not attempt to oppose your 
 theory," said Oldenburg; "this co-ordinance, and 
 so to say co-divinity of mind and body, agrees with 
 a favorite idea of my own. I always disliked to 
 hear the phrase, ' fleshly desires war against the 
 spiritual.' This helotry of our body with the godly 
 suppression of the devil-nature of our physical 
 selves, must if consistent, as with the Hindoos, not 
 only excuse suicide, but even represent it as the 
 highest moral duty." 
 
 " Paradox, rank paradox !" said Spinoza. "A sui- 
 cide under any circumstances is guilty of spiritual 
 cowardice, for he lets himself be completely over- 
 come by external things that happen to be in op- 
 position to his nature. From the lowest stage to 
 the higher of the natural order it is the fundamental 
 duty of every component part to fulfil its destiny, 
 and this in a reasonable manner; that is, as our 
 veritable constitution, shown by nature, would do 
 by Virtue. This is no egotistical principle, for this 
 self-preservation is impossible without the corre- 
 sponding preservation of others. What corresponds 
 externally with our nature and this effort of self- 
 preservation is good, so much the more what lies 
 in our nature itself is good; naturally we must 
 herewith keep firmly before our eyes that only the 
 true knowledge of God and our own nature is the 
 
288 SPINOZA. 
 
 essential good, and that we must direct the aim of 
 our lives to this. Good and evil, viewed on their 
 own merits, are not positive qualities (which is also, 
 to a certain extent, the watchword of your General); 
 they are only differing forms of thought or concep- 
 tion which arise because we compare things to one 
 another. Your favorite occupation, for example, 
 Jufrow Olympia, music, is good to the melan- 
 choly, bad to the sad, and to the deaf is neither 
 good nor bad." Olympia would have objected, but 
 Spinoza continued with animation: 
 
 " We would have it for the ideal of mankind 
 that we should consider the expression Good as 
 answering to all of which we certainly know that 
 it is approximate to the original model of human 
 nature, and Evilj of which we certainly know that it 
 is in opposition to it. No man, thief, murderer or 
 debauchee, no man desires evil for evil's sake; but, 
 in the moment in which he commits the crime, it 
 seems good to him for his self-preservation, for the 
 increase and improvement of his own well-being, 
 and is only erroneous in this, that in following his 
 passions he becomes unfaithful to the laws of his 
 nature. The freeman, that is one who, coming 
 straight from the hands of God or nature, knows 
 naught of the ideas of good or evil, acts in every 
 circumstance according to the immediate impulse 
 of the laws of his nature; then, when the dissension 
 between his wishes and requirements, and the com- 
 
PANTHEISM. 
 
 289 
 
 mands of his nature first enters, and when he wishes 
 to avoid this by the intervention of others, the 
 knowledge of good and evil, and evil itself, enters. 
 The dissension occurs because he wishes to control 
 himself by another and an external means, and no 
 longer acts in free accord with his internal laws; the 
 discord lies in the fact that, for the fulfilment of 
 his natural laws he requires an agreement with 
 outward circumstances. The free, independent 
 human being, such as the earliest one, knows no 
 difference of good and evil; he acts ever in accord- 
 ance with internal harmony and freedom. With 
 society entered dissension, sin and history. It 
 must ever remain our highest object again to in- 
 corporate this freedom and independence, without 
 disturbing the existing constitution of society . On 
 the contrary, not in solitude, but in communities, 
 where we live in mutual conformity, we are free. 
 We must mentally return to that standpoint of in- 
 nate freedom where it was given us to know and 
 follow of necessity the laws of God, that is, of our 
 nature. Such was the pure object of Jesus Christ, 
 to lead mankind back to the original freedom of 
 their laws, in natural harmony with them. There- 
 fore was he come, according to his own words, not 
 to destroy the law, but to fulfil it." 
 
 Spinoza had carefully avoided all details that 
 could give occasion for a digression; but Olympia, 
 
290 SPINOZA. 
 
 who had again obliged herself to follow the dis- 
 cussion, now asked: 
 
 " Can we not demand from your ideas that they 
 should heal the ills of the world, and make the sick 
 and sorrowful whole and joyful !" 
 
 '■'' I do not understand what you mean." 
 
 " I ask how, in your view of the creation, do you 
 explain physical ill ? That is, something actual ? 
 You have told us of the merry glass-polisher, Peter 
 Blyning. How was the good man in fault that he 
 should be doomed to shuffle along club-footed ?" 
 
 " You confuse your questions so one with another 
 that I must take the liberty of separating them. 
 What consolation has the usual view of things for 
 Peter Blyning ? such as, ' Whom God loveth he 
 chasteneth,' or 'We are here but candidates for a 
 higher career.' The question still remains, Why 
 should his candidature be made so difficult ? Above, 
 all will be set right for him, they say; but if he is to 
 have two feet up there, he has not them here, and 
 has much pain for want of them. The easiest way 
 of shuffling off this question is to say, * The ways 
 of God are unfathomable;' that is, in other words, 
 to let the question remain a question. But the so- 
 lution of this problem lies in quite another direc- 
 tion. All ideas of perfection and imperfection, 
 beauty and ugliness, like the final causes which we 
 ascribe to nature, are not necessarily appropriate, 
 
PANTHEISM. 291 
 
 but merely ascribed to her by us, for we give things 
 relations which they do not possess. All these 
 ideas merely arise because we compare things of 
 similar form and species, and then discover faults 
 and failings where none such exist. Everything is 
 perfect, for each thing must be compared with 
 itself alone. Error and confusion always arise be- 
 cause we prefer to measure things by ideals, that 
 is, with universal ideas which we have acquired or 
 imagined. The ideal or pure idea of any given 
 thing should only be derived from itself, from its 
 own nature and attributes. Then the complaint 
 ceases, that the world does not realize our expecta- 
 tions. Each force exists and appears according to 
 its own laws, not according to an ideal. What does 
 not follow inevitably from the necessary working 
 of the natural cause is no part of the nature of a 
 thing, and all that necessarily follows from the na- 
 ture of the effecting cause rnust of necessity be. 
 Beyond this we cannot and must not demand any- 
 thing; there is no rule and no obligation beyond, 
 and we can apply no higher measure. Peter Blyn- 
 ing is, when viewed on his own merits, as perfect 
 as the most perfect Adonis. He can no more de- 
 sire other feet than he can demand wings, for the 
 fundamental cause of his being merely suffices for 
 this form, and for no other. Do you think it an 
 imperfection that an ox is an ox and not an eagle ? 
 To every stage of human existence it is permitted 
 
292 SPINOZA. 
 
 to feel and to find agreement with self and with the 
 universe, and to be raised to, and sustained in, se- 
 renity by it. Our consciousness of harmony or 
 discord with our assigned nature; the belief that 
 this consciousness is given us, which man as a mere 
 instinct calls conscience — " 
 
 " Conscience is a stocking that fits any foot. The 
 savage strikes his father dead when he is old and 
 infirm, and thinks it his conscientious duty; the 
 Jew's conscience reproaches him when he eats the 
 flesh of swine, and the Catholic beats his breast 
 when he has neglected mass." 
 
 So spoke old Van den Ende, who then suddenly 
 entered. Spinoza quietly replied that no man 
 could reason away conscience. That pure con- 
 science which merely exists in the feelings, and 
 which men have dressed in all manner of external 
 shapes, must often be liable to deception; but that 
 inner voice which enters our consciousness, which 
 tells us so plainly when we have acted in opposi- 
 tion to the laws of our nature and the universal 
 order, is as undeniable and reliable as our knowl- 
 edge of our own existence." 
 
 "Yes, my dear father," said Olympia;"! shall 
 always be grateful to Herr von Spinoza for the 
 many great ideas which he has imparted to us." 
 
 She then explained to her father the leading ideas 
 of what had just been said. Spinoza had now and 
 then to add something, but on the whole he saw 
 
 
PANTHEISM. 
 
 293 
 
 with inexpressible pleasure how completely Olympia 
 had entered into the grounds of his views. This 
 pleasure did not long remain undisturbed, for the 
 laughter of old Van den Ende annoyed him ex- 
 tremely. 
 
 " Do you remember the saintly Christopher in 
 the asylum at Milan, of whom I told you ?" he said. 
 "He would suit you very well; he, too, was of a 
 piece with God. Ha, ha, ha ! There is yet some- 
 thing excellent left to laugh at." 
 
 Spinoza's whole soul rose against these words. 
 Mockery is the deadliest poison to kill the seed of 
 life in a growing character or a growing idea. Our 
 philosopher, however, was sufficiently strong al- 
 ready to blunt and turn off with little trouble all the 
 pointed arrows that Van den Ende discharged at 
 his speculations. Spinoza felt strangely touched 
 when Olympia said to him at parting : 
 
 " I am now quite grateful to the rain for having 
 confined us to four walls. I do not think such con- 
 nected trains of thought as you have given us 
 could arise, or be expressed, in the freedom of 
 nature; color, sound and fragrance would protest 
 against it, for that we must be alone and at home. 
 The wise Greeks did not attain to it because they 
 lived and taught in the open air. Come to-morrow 
 to our Buiten; Socrates and Plato await you among 
 the green bushes." 
 
 Spinoza had not time to explain what a singular 
 
294 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 echo this expression awoke in him, for he recol- 
 lected that the Rabbis ordain: ''When two go 
 together to speak of the Revelation (the Thora), 
 and one says, ' Look how beautiful that field is, 
 how beautiful that tree ' — he has committed a 
 deadly sin." 
 
 Does the highest thought demand abstraction 
 from the outer world ? 
 
 The two friends left the house in silence; Cecilia 
 met them just in front of it. 
 
 " You too must say, ' He that is able to receive 
 it let him receive it' " (Matt. xix. 12), said Olden- 
 burg; Spinoza pressed his hand and they separated. 
 
 After such a discussion he was obliged to go to 
 the synagogue. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 PROSELYTES. 
 
 "FVE LAGCHLUST" was the inscription over 
 JLy the entrance to the Van den Ende's country 
 house outside the Utrecht Gate, with its freshly- 
 painted doors and window shutters; it was neat and 
 modest, and gave evidence, in the laying out of the 
 garden, the well-covered espaliers, rich flower-beds 
 and shady groves, of the Dutch character, which, 
 failing in the beauties of mountainous country, 
 found means by higher culture to give their plains 
 a quiet beauty of their own. 
 
 We meet our familiar companions here in the 
 open air at last, Olympic gods hidden in the 
 bushes, and above them all on a soft green lawn 
 the bust of Democritus attracted all eyes. 
 
 To-day the garden and house did not seem to 
 answer to their name. No desire to laugh was ap- 
 parent. A peculiar feeling of depression seemed to 
 possess them all. 
 
 Kerkering and Van den Ende walked away to 
 a distant path in animated conversation; the two 
 friends joined Olympia and Cecilia. Olympia bade 
 Spinoza lay his cares aside; his father's illness was 
 
296 SPINOZA. 
 
 certainly not serious. He should give himself up 
 to the serene enjoyment of nature for the present. 
 
 "Your King Solomon," she continued, "must 
 have been very fortunate to understand the speech 
 of all birds and beasts; he must have been so much 
 at home with nature." 
 
 " Perhaps he was too much at home therein, and 
 that is why he said all is vanity," interposed Olden- 
 burg. 
 
 "I do not miss Solomon's skill in my enjoyment 
 of nature," said Spinoza. " Nature would annoy 
 me if she were eternally chattering to me of all her 
 doings, and never left me to myself." 
 
 He had no second thought in saying these words, 
 but Oldenburg and Cecilia looked at each other in 
 embarrassment as they listened to them, for Olym- 
 pia often had somewhat of the lecturing tone com- 
 mon to most teachers, who, from the habit of seeing 
 pupils stand before them in mute attention, carry 
 their explanations and expositions into conversa- 
 tion also. 
 
 Olympia, however, had not the faintest idea of 
 such an application of this speech. She applied it 
 rather to their parting words of the previous day, 
 
 " I cannot bear to enjoy nature alone," she said. 
 "When I felt myself carried away into other worlds 
 by the enjoyment of pure sight, I Involuntarily 
 grasped at my side to press some friendly hand «n 
 mute sympathy." 
 
 m 
 
PROSEL YTES. 
 
 297 
 
 No one answered; each one looked at the ground. 
 Oldenburg had for some time perceived the rela- 
 tions arising between Olympia and Spinoza by 
 their occasional glances and turns of speech. He 
 was diplomatist enough to believe he could employ 
 these intercepted secret messages towards founding 
 a friendly compromise without an open explana- 
 tion. 
 
 " What do you say," he said, " to Queen Christina 
 of Sweden having presented her crown and sceptre 
 to her cousin, not, as we at first supposed, to gar- 
 land herself merely with the poet's laurel, but to 
 deck her brows with the myrtle wreath ?" 
 
 "What !" exclaimed Olympia; "is Queen Chris- 
 tina going to be married ?" 
 
 "Commercial advices arrived yesterday from 
 Rome, in which it is decidedly affirmed that the 
 daughter of Gustavus Adolphus will return to the 
 bosom of the one true Church, in order to be able 
 to marry her High-Chamberlain Monaldeschi." 
 
 " Indeed Queen Christina has cast off all earthly 
 considerations freely and unrestrainedly to partake 
 of the blessings of our faith," said Cecilia in a 
 gentle voice, and no one contradicted her. 
 
 " If the daughter of Gustavus Adolphus has done 
 this," said Olympia after a pause, " that she might 
 belong wholly to the man of her choice, the deed is 
 above all reproach; love is a bond which ought to 
 loosen all earlier ones. How simply and truly it is 
 
298 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 /• 
 
 expressed in the Bible where it says, 'For her 
 sake leave father and mother.' The question here 
 is only whether the obedience of the so-called 
 weaker sex goes so far as to make the sacrifice hers 
 in this case. Christina of Sweden has certainly 
 done enough by her abdication; is it not rather the 
 man's duty to take this unpleasant step instead of 
 hers ? If he would not do it he would be unworthy 
 of, and lost to, her love, and her step would- be 
 censurable." , 
 
 " But if such a step were in opposition to his own 
 convictions ?" 
 
 Olympia did not answer and looked at the 
 ground. 
 
 Spinoza hesitated whether to join in the conver- 
 sation or not, for he had partly penetrated Olden- 
 burg's intention. As Olympia, however, here looked 
 at him with an entreating and inquiring glance, he 
 replied : 
 
 " If Monaldeschi were the cause of her abdica- 
 tion, and knew it, he had taken upon himself re- 
 ^ sponsibilities towards the Queen, and nothing ought 
 longer to prevent him from agreeing to her wishes 
 in everything; but if insuperable objections existed 
 for him, he ought, as a man of honor, to have 
 rejected the connection from the beginning, as one 
 whose obligations he neither could nor would 
 fulfil. I might make a more general application of 
 this event. The reformed ministers of this country 
 
PROSEL YTES. 299 
 
 accept the doctrine of Descartes as the best deduc- 
 tion from Calvin's. Queen Christina, the most 
 zealous follower of this philosopher, who taught 
 her himself, can find proofs in it on which to 
 ground her conversion to the Catholic Church." 
 
 " The Catholic religion is the mother Church, and 
 it is a natural impulse to return to it." 
 
 " Speak out," said Oldenburg to Spinoza. " I 
 see by the corners of your mouth you wish to an- 
 swer, If the Catholic Church is the mother, the 
 Jewish is the grandmother Church, and could just 
 as well demand that we should don her vestments. 
 But we will take another example. Turenne is so 
 pre-eminently a field marshal by nature, he will 
 only bear the star of his own faith on his breast, 
 standing in the front, and not in the ranks among 
 the members of the Catholic Church like a com- 
 mon soldier. Is he not right to do so ?" 
 
 Spinoza noticed the digression as Van den Ende, 
 who had come into the circle with Kerkering, in- 
 terposed: 
 
 ** Turenne is a soldier, and soldiers, who hourly 
 risk their lives, do not willingly lay aside their 
 familiar armor; they think this or that superstition 
 has made them shot free; but if once peace were 
 made I do not think it would be difficult to make 
 Turenne turn Catholic." 
 
 " Were he capable of loving a girl tenderly and 
 ardently," added Kerkering, " he would soon join 
 
300 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 the one saving faith of her possession. It would be 
 cowardice then, when the greatest was at stake, 
 not to be able to conquer a prejudice acquired in 
 the nursery. He who truly loves can only believe 
 in his beloved one; her heart is his church, her 
 words his only revelation, she alone is worthy of 
 his reverence, and nothing is above her. That is 
 the true regeneration that we/ desire in a maiden's 
 love, which makes us inseparably one with her. 
 Who can think then of the limitations w^hich men 
 place around one another?" 
 
 His companions stared in astonishment at Ker- 
 kering's words; only old Van dan Ende nodded ap- 
 provingly, and Olympia said after an awkward 
 pause: 
 
 " While we are talking over principles, a poet's 
 mistress, sick unto death, is perhaps dying for such 
 principles." 
 
 "Who is that?" inquired Oldenburg. 
 
 "The betrothed of your former friend, the poet- 
 ess Maria Tesselschade, will hardly greet to-mor- 
 row's dawn. Did you know Caspar Barläus, Herr 
 von Spinoza?" 
 
 " No, Jufrow Olympia, but my old master, 
 Nigritius, who was once insulted by him, has often 
 abused him to me." 
 
 " Seven years since," continued Olympia, " I re- 
 member it quite well, it was not long after New 
 Year's Day of 1648, they found him in the well 
 
 '-■«;, 
 
PROSEL YTES, 
 
 301 
 
 near the weighing-house quite dead. He had been 
 with his betrothed the evening before. The well 
 was on the way to his own house." 
 
 " Had he thrown himself in ?" 
 
 Olympia nodded assent; she forbore to assent in 
 words. 
 
 '* He certainly killed himself," Oldenburg re- 
 marked; "but it is incomprehensible to me how he 
 could hold fast to Tesselschade for so many long 
 years, and at last, when they were both grown old, 
 take such a desperate step because he could not 
 marry her." 
 
 "Why could he not?" 
 
 "She was Catholic and he was Protestant; in- 
 deed, he had formerly suffered much persecution as 
 a Remonstrant. His whole thoughts were borrowed 
 from the ancient Greek and Roman world, and yet 
 he could not make up his mind for love of Tessel- 
 schade to change his form of faith." 
 
 " It is ridiculous," added Van den Ende, taking 
 up his daughter's words; "he sang all the stories of 
 the Old and New Testaments, with all the Greek 
 and Roman mythology, and Arcadian pastorals; 
 he could not say a word without parading the 
 whole Olympus; he translated even his own love 
 into the language of Horace." 
 
 " It seems to me, dear father," said Olympia, 
 ** that BarUuis was obliged to translate all his 
 thoughts into Latin in order to understand them 
 
302 SPINOZA, 
 
 perfectly. Herr von Spinoza, you must read his 
 poems; a soul overflowing with human love is ex- 
 pressed in them. He had a Rubric of his own, 
 Tessaltca, in which he sang to his mistress as she 
 sat her horse, and as she sang to her harp, to her 
 ruff and her string of pearls; everything of hers 
 inspired him to poetise. In one ode he sang, 
 
 Tessela quae coelo potes deducere lunam, 
 Et tetricos cantu demeruisse Deos — * 
 
 Do you understand the pun by which he changed 
 the name Tesseischade into Tessela?" 
 
 ^^No." 
 
 " In the second Idyl of Theocritus Tessela is an 
 infallible love-charm, the name was given to the 
 plant from which the philter was prepared, but we 
 do not know the plant itself." 
 
 "You will always and forever be my instruc- 
 tress," said Spinoza. 
 
 " Will you not, when you have found out how, 
 instruct us in magic ?" inquired Kerkering. 
 
 " You are already an enchanted prince," replied 
 Olympia. " Herr von Spinoza, do you believe in 
 magic?" 
 
 " In yours," he replied hastily. Oldenburg shook 
 his head disapprovingly. 
 
 "You have forgotten one main point in the love 
 
 * Tessela, thou canst draw down the moon from Heaven 
 with thy songs, and bind the gods of darkness with gratitude. 
 
PROSEL YTES. 
 
 303 
 
 Story of Barlaus," he said. '' Do you recollect that, 
 in the epistle dedicatory prefixed to his poems, he 
 maintains that the three L's are incompatible with 
 matrimony, Libri, Liberi and Libei'tas^ as they do 
 not co-operate well ? • Poor fellow, he wrote epi- 
 thalamiums for all the world, and could not have a 
 wedding of his own." 
 
 " He wrote a lovely Carmen on the wedding of 
 my Uncle Overbeck, in Hamburg," Kerkering 
 threw in. Oldenburg continued: 
 
 "If a truly sublime and thoroughly poetic soul 
 had dwelt in Barlaus, and the professor not peeped 
 out from every hole and corner in him, the denied 
 possession of his Tesselschade and his own pure 
 love for her alone might have made him become 
 as a fragrant garden of heavenly poetic bloom. If 
 Dante had embraced his Beatrice, if Laura had 
 cooked bread-soup for Petrarch, never would the 
 one have raised himself to be the Homer of the 
 Christian cosmography by his immortal canzones, 
 and the eternal harmony of Petrarch's sonnets 
 would have been drowned in the cries of fretful 
 children. Poetry is not the vulture of fable that 
 perpetually consumes life; it is the flame from which 
 the phoenix springs rejuvenescent, and with unin- 
 jured flight soars heavenward. For individual men, 
 as well as for struggling humanity, the highest pos- 
 session would be disgust and death, or happy deli- 
 rium." 
 
304 SPINOZA. 
 
 "What! can this be Herr Oldenburg?" asked 
 Olympia in astonishment. 
 
 " That is a very original idea. Then monks and 
 nuns, in their self-renunciation, are the chosen 
 army of poets." 
 
 " You want to put me in the wrong by a clever 
 sophistry," answered Oldenburg, " but I am not so 
 stupid. I only affirm that a man of truly great 
 mind must not cling with his whole vitality to any 
 one arbitrarily idealized person; if he does so he 
 has fallen from God to man, and he dies the death 
 of a man, for he is coffined between the hard boards 
 of every-day regrets and necessities. Ay, even 
 could he be free, and find his self-created ideal real- 
 ized, he would be obliged to fly from it." 
 
 " I am also of your opinion," said old Van den 
 Ende; "the gods could not have more effectually 
 punished Pygmalion than when they granted his 
 prayer. Such a marriage must be barren." 
 
 "There are no ideals on earth and can be none," 
 said Oldenburg in an animated tone; "foolish is he 
 who seeks such, and still more foolish is he who be- 
 lieves he has found them. They may live in us, 
 and hover above us in glorified memories. How 
 infinitely great is Dante when he sings his pure, 
 refined love !" 
 
 " There was a time when you thought otherwise," 
 said Olympia. 
 
 " T think so still. I myself have no claim to the 
 
PROSEL YTES. 3b5 
 
 highest crown of humanity; as I am live thousands 
 of the great multitude; I must surrender myself 
 prisoner. But if I see a friend, gifted with an ex- 
 alted and commanding mind, letting himself be 
 imprisoned within the four walls of commonplace, 
 bowing his great mind to serve a self-created idol, 
 I would spurn him from me; for he thus becomes 
 a traitor to the greatness and majesty of his call- 
 ing; but if he can keep that ideal, which has never 
 perfectly appeared to his consciousness, pure and 
 high, I esteem him happy." 
 
 "A sad martyrdom it is to which you condemn 
 the higher minds," said Olympia. 
 
 The shades of night were falling; they separated. 
 
 Spinoza accompanied Olympia home. She hung 
 on his arm. He did not know how he had gained 
 courage and good fortune for such close commu- 
 nion. Old Van den Ende took care of Cecilia. 
 Olympia and Spinoza followed in silence. When 
 they came to the roadside house Olympia said: 
 
 " Look, there is the well in which the weak, good- 
 natured Barläus drank his death. Would it not have 
 been more reasonable and manly to give up his 
 faith than his life ?" 
 
 " We have not given ourselves either faith or life," 
 answered Spinoza. " Suicide of either one or the 
 other is cowardly and weak; strength lies in bear- 
 ing one and the other; deny yourself for them, or 
 learn to free them." Olympia was silent. 
 
3o6 SPINOZA. 
 
 "This diplomatic obtrusive mediation enrages 
 me," she said after a pause, " that Oldenburg 
 thought to effect so artfully to-day. A third, who 
 disturbs a tender relation with a word, originates 
 estrangements and misunderstandings which but 
 for him would never have arisen, or would much 
 sooner have been extinguished." 
 
 " I am glad you think so," said Spinoza, and bit 
 his lips in violent mental conflict. " Dear Olympia," 
 he continued, " I have struggled with all my might, 
 but I am not so strong as you think. I fall if you 
 do not grant me your hand, or rather if you do not 
 withdraw it from me. I cannot say the word that 
 my heart would speak to you, but I conjure you, 
 send me from you; never, never must we belong to 
 one another." 
 
 Olympia pressed his arm closer to her, her voice 
 trembled, both hands were clasped. 
 
 "What!" she asked. "Why not? Have we 
 nailed Christ to the cross? What does it matter to 
 us what a fanatical crowd did thousands of years 
 ago ? Have you risen to such a height of intellect 
 to be frightened by a form to which men have 
 bound themselves ? Have you not told me a hun- 
 dred times you loved and reverenced the spirit of 
 Christ as that of the Saviour of the world ? Would 
 to God our relative positions were reversed! Joy- 
 fully would I follow you to the altar. Where love is 
 
PROSEL YTES. 307 
 
 perjury cannot be. Or shall I hasten to the syna- 
 gogue, and be baptized by the Rabbis ?" 
 
 " Dear Olympia, if you but knew the force of the 
 pain which now rends my heart you would not 
 speak to me so. It would be perjury, naught else, 
 if I swore to accept knowingly any other faith. 
 Thanks to progressive development I can declare 
 myself free from the form of faith into which I was 
 born, and can build up for myself a view of higher 
 things as nature gives the hand to my powers of 
 mind. I can and will be withheld by no personal 
 consideration from speaking out, and living accord- 
 ing to my convictions of faith and opinion; a reli- 
 gious community in which I have been placed by 
 chance of birth cannot hinder me therefrom. But 
 it is otherwise wilfully to entersuch. The new com- 
 munity could justly ask me, What draws you to us 
 if it is not Truth ? You have no longer a claim to 
 influence in the old, or in the newly accepted sanc- 
 tuary. I know the sophisms well enough that are 
 suggested to us: you merely follow the form, your 
 intellect is still free. But it is and ever will be per- 
 jury, and durst I, a perjurer, ever take the word 
 truuh on my lips without blushing ? My unhappy 
 countryman Uriel Acosta, of whom I have told you 
 before, thus ended his life by a dreadful suicide, 
 because he had already commit.ted tlie suicide of 
 his intellect by recantation. He must have ap- 
 
3o8 SPINOZA. 
 
 peared to himself despicable, and unworthy of life 
 in face of that truth. Yes and no were worth 
 nothing to him; they had become meaningless." 
 Olympia was silent; she pressed one hand to her 
 eyes, and allowed herself to be blindly led by 
 Spinoza. He continued in an agitated voice: 
 
 " I return your question: Have we thus climbed 
 these heights of intelligence to aWow ourselves to 
 be conquered by an inclination which must be the 
 source of infinite trouble to us ? I fought long, but 
 I must at last speak to you frankly and honorably; 
 from this hour henceforward let us forget and lay 
 aside all that we were to each other and that we 
 wished to be. It is yet time. Separation and a 
 strong will may enable us again to find peace. We 
 have loved, that is enough. Seek with another the 
 happiness I dare not offer, cannot offer." 
 
 His tongue refused to go on; he was obliged to 
 stop. Olympia's hand trembled in his. 
 
 " I am not ashamed to confess I have thought it 
 over," said she. " You can become a Christian 
 without any denial of your convictions; I have even 
 consulted the passage for you. Do you know that 
 the root of your new views lies in the words of 
 John ? ' Hereby we know that we dwell in Him 
 and He in us, because He hath given us of His 
 spirit.' Indeed, without any inconsistency you 
 must be a Christian." 
 
 " Why do you not quote the preceding verse," 
 
 |Wj -^^ 
 
PROSEL YTES. 
 
 309 
 
 answered Spinoza, " which has so close an applica- 
 tion to our case? 'If we love one another God 
 dwelleth in us, and his love is perfected in us.' 
 But reflect; if some results of my process of thought 
 agree with the Christian views of the world, must 
 I therefore swear to the Church creed ? Perhaps 
 that would be the result contemplated by Justus 
 Lipsius, who, as you know, wrote a book called 
 De Constantia (on constancy), and changed his faith 
 every two years." 
 
 " I thought you were more independent, but I 
 see Oldenburg has perverted you too," said Olympia 
 in a cutting tone. " You strive after the glory of 
 Dante, but I am no Beatrice, and will not be. Oh, 
 it is too bad ! You will throw yourself into active 
 life; a youthful affection is easily forgotten then. 
 Perhaps you will jest over it, while I — what does 
 it matter if I fade away in grief ?" 
 
 *'Dear Olympia," interposed Spinoza, " your own 
 heart must blame you for such words. Reflect a 
 moment; what could 1 offer you ? Nothing but a 
 poverty-stricken life of self-denial. If I could for- 
 swear the faith of my fathers, if I could live wholly 
 for you alone — be wholly yours . ." 
 
 " Schalom Alechem, Rabbi Baruch, you need not 
 be in haste. Maariph * is ended,'' a harsh voice 
 interrupted their conversation. Spmoza turned 
 
 * Evening prayer in the synagogfue. 
 
3IO 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 round; it was Chisdai, who, without awaiting a 
 response, went on shaking his head. 
 
 " Did that man hear what I said ?" asked Spi- 
 noza. 
 
 " I think not," answered Olympia; "but it is hor- 
 rible that such Medusa faces can speak familiarly 
 to you. That decide^ it; a higher duty has its 
 claims. I will not desert you. I hate renunciation; 
 it is nothing but hypocritical cowardice; it would 
 be unworthy of yourself and of me." 
 
 They had arrived at the Van den Ende's house. 
 Spinoza would have taken his leave. 
 
 "You must come in with us," said Olympia. 
 " You can hardly imagine how dreary it seems to 
 me when I have gone through great agitation of 
 mind out of doors to go in alone where the familiar 
 walls seem altered and strange. Everything is a 
 burden to me. T think I shall die of restlessness 
 and inexpressible longing. Generally I then play 
 the organ until I find rest in perfect stupefaction. 
 Come in with me, I entreat you.' 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 KISSING AND DYING. 
 
 CECILIA was praying in the next room before 
 her crucifix. Spinoza sat silently near Olym- 
 pia; her hand rested close to his, but he did not 
 attempt to clasp it. Dreamily and reflectively the 
 two lovers looked long at each other in silence. 
 
 " When I am so exalted to the very highest point 
 of rapturous spiritual emjoyment," said Olympia, 
 " I feel nothing but longing for death. Now, borne 
 so far above all small annoyances, now I would 
 that I might die. So near and akin to the Highest, 
 I should be absorbed into his being." 
 . " Formerly, when I was still capable of such re- 
 ligious raptures, I was often possessed by such a 
 desire for death," replied Spinoza. "We might, 
 perhaps, find the explanation of this sensation in 
 the Talmudist legend that Moses died of a kiss, in 
 that God the Lord recalled his soul to himself in 
 a kiss." 
 
 Olympia was taken by surprise at this strange 
 turn. Was this mind always absorbed in its inves- 
 tigations, or did he .wish by such parables to veil 
 the ardent wish of his heart, and yet to explain it ? 
 Formerly their exchange of thoughts had been easy; 
 
312 SPINOZA. 
 
 now they sat mutely together and did not know 
 what to say to one another. At Spinoza's desire 
 Olympia sang the ballad he had surprised her 
 while singing the first time he saw her. She sang 
 the refrain 
 
 " You are my own true wife, 
 No other shall be my own for life" 
 
 with such melting tenderness, and drew out the 
 notes of the organ by which she accompanied her- 
 self into such long-drawn sighs that Spinoza pain- 
 fully missed the repose which the song had once 
 given to his agitated heart. It was with difficulty 
 that he refrained from clasping her to him and 
 sealing the melodious spring of song with a kiss. 
 He could trust himself no longer, so he took his 
 hat and went away. Olympia took the lamp and 
 lighted him down the steps, but without a word. 
 Below Spinoza held out his hand; she laid her curly 
 head on his breast; he embraced her; her heart 
 beat violently under his hand. 
 
 "Dear Olympia," he said, "I conjure you by all 
 that is holy, love me not; I am not worthy of it." 
 
 *4 must love you," she said. "Command my 
 heart to cease beating. I cannot leave you !" Her 
 voice trembled; he pressed her closer to his breast, 
 and held her fast with an ardent kiss. He then 
 tore himself from her embrace and rushed out. 
 Olympia sprang warbling up the steps and cried in 
 
KISSING AND DYING. 
 
 313 
 
 a sprightly voice, '' Good night, Herr von Spi- 
 
 noza 
 
 He stood before the house; the door shut behind 
 him. With heavy sighs passed care-laden married 
 couples who endeavored to enjoy the holiday even- 
 ing in the fresh air; lovers passed with quicker 
 steps and livelier conversation; sailors sauntered 
 on and merrily sang and chorused the old Dutch 
 ballad: 
 
 ** To eastern lands will I journey, 
 There dwells my sweetest love; 
 Over hill, and over valley, 
 Far over the moorland, 
 There dwells my sweetest love. 
 
 " The sun from sight has sunk under; 
 The stars now blink out so clear; 
 I know that I with my loved one, 
 Far over the moorland, 
 Was in that orchard so near. 
 
 ** The garden door is fastened. 
 And no one can come in, 
 But the nightingales only, 
 Far over the moorland, 
 Who fly from far to come in. 
 
 ** We must the nightingales fasten 
 Their heads to their feet close to. 
 That they may tell naught to others, 
 Far over the moorland, 
 Of what two sweet lovers there do. 
 
3 14 SPINOZA. 
 
 " And though you had thus bound me. 
 My heart is not the less sound; 
 So thus I can yet prattle, 
 Far over the moorland, 
 Of two sweetest lovers' death-wound." 
 
 • It was a varied throng. Spinoza hardly noticed it. 
 
 "Women's ways are indeed unfathomable!" he 
 said to himself. " Did she not feel the infinite 
 depth of that moment ? Or did she act with such 
 apparent indifference to all that had passed to hide 
 it quickly from Cecilia ? But how could she possi- 
 bly do it?" 
 
 He could not go home in such agitation of mind; 
 he crossed the street, and sat down on the steps of 
 the chapel of St. Olave's. He looked across at 
 Olympia's lighted windows, and often saw her 
 shadow pass backwards and forwards until the 
 light was extinguished. He was almost ashamed 
 of himself, gazing at the windows of his beloved 
 like a sentimental knight, and laughed internally 
 as Tessala occurred to him. 
 
 " I cannot leave you, say you. I will not, I dare 
 not leave you, I tell you; have I not pressed your 
 coy, pure lips to mine ? You are mine, mine for- 
 ever. Was not my mother a Moslem, and changed 
 to our faith ? Should I have remained a Moslem if 
 by chance I had been born such ? But thy father 
 and mother loved each other wholly and uncon- 
 trollably at first sight, and as to thee, dost thou 
 
KISSING AND DYING. 
 
 315 
 
 think Olympia faultless ? Hast thou not, flattered 
 by her wild charms, persuaded thyself into a con- 
 nection that at first appeared to thee so objection- 
 able ? A love that must overcome doubt is greater 
 and more enduring than that other that seems as 
 if fallen from Heaven; it is intellectual love. Thou 
 wouldst picture to thyself a life of self-denial. Away 
 with it! She loves thee, and at her side thou wilt 
 find renown and happiness, honor and joy. What 
 will give me back the pleasures that I would cast 
 from me for the sake of truth ? Truth ! But must 
 I be her slave ? I alone, of so many thousands, 
 condemn myself to give up my inborn right to the 
 gay pleasures of life ? I will deck truth with the 
 figleaf of orthodoxy, will choose words with double 
 »meanings to save superstition; should I not thus 
 serve truth still more ? Thou wouldst serve her by 
 lies. No, I would never speak against my convic- 
 tions, but only shut them close in my breast. And 
 the CathcMc confession of faith ? Olympia loves 
 me; must I not save her? Some day in happier 
 times it may be otherwise, but now I must obey 
 the times. And thy father and Geronimo — they 
 were believing Jews, but thou ?" 
 
 Such thoughts disturbed Spinoza's mind, to which 
 the ever-returning chime at the quarter hours in the 
 quiet night made a singular accompaniment. To 
 him life was not measured by the notes from the 
 church tower. 
 
3l6 SPINOZA, 
 
 Is no other way to be found ? . . . . 
 
 He must have sat there a long time, for towards 
 midnight Maessen Blutzaufer and Flyns, arm in arm 
 like two powers holding each other in equipoise, 
 reeling homewards, jested over the poor sinner, 
 who, instead of seeking his mistress, cowered there 
 in the cold night on the hard stones. Spinoza no- 
 ticed nothing of what went on around him. At last 
 he stood up, and when he looked at the place in 
 which he had remained so long he was forced to 
 laugh against his will; it was the church built on 
 the model of the Temple of Jerusalem. 
 
 " Sleep sweetly," he said to himself, as he looked 
 at Olympia's window. " I have watched over thee; 
 thou shalt rest ever at my side." 
 
 The bells rang loudly, the organ resounded 
 through the whole building, an innumerable throng 
 filled the Catholic cathedral. Spinoza stood be- 
 fore the altar between Dr. Van den Ende and his 
 daughter. Olympia w^as in bridal attire. Above, 
 in the gallery, stood Spinoza's father, his garments 
 rent, his countenance pale and stony. High mass 
 began. Cecilia and Olympia knelt down. Van den 
 Ende and Spinoza followed their example. Chisdai 
 and the skeleton of the fat Domine were dressed as 
 acolytes. Chisdai swung the censer, and whenever 
 he made the sign of the cross on his brow, his fin- 
 gers caught on the bridge of his nose; and when the 
 skeleton did likewise, his fleshless fingers stuck in. 
 
JCISSING A ATD DYING. 317 
 
 the hole in which his nose once had been; and when 
 they rang the bell, his bare ribs clattered like dry 
 poppy-heads shaken by the w^ind. High mass was 
 ended. Spinoza advanced alone, and knelt before 
 the priest on the steps of the altar. He cursed the 
 mother who bore him, and the father who had be- 
 gotten him, because they had not taken him from his 
 birth to the bosom of the one saving faith. A cry of 
 grief was heard from the gallery, and a corpse was 
 carried out. Spinoza repeated the creed in a low 
 voice, inaudible to all but the priest. The priest laid 
 both hands on the head of the candidate, blessed 
 him gently, and sprinkled his brow three times 
 with holy water. The organ broke out in joyous 
 tones. 
 
 '' Baruch, Baruch !" it now cried, "get up !" It 
 was only a dream. Spinoza lay in his bed, and old 
 Chaje stood before him with a light. He passed 
 his hand over his brow; it was wet with cold per- 
 spiration. 
 
 " What is the matter ?" he asked. 
 
 " Your father is dying; it would break the heart 
 of a stone ! The men from the neighborhood are 
 already below." 
 
 Baruch sprang hastily out of bed, dressed as much 
 as was absolutely necessary, and ran down stairs; 
 his father must already be very bad, for he heard 
 the men chant in loud chorus, " Hear, O Israel, the 
 Lord our God is one God." 
 
3l8 SPINOZA. 
 
 As he entered the room his father was repeating 
 the conclusion of the prayer: 
 
 "Master of the world! Lord of pardon and 
 mercy, it is by thy grace, my God and my fathers' 
 God, that my thoughts mount to the throne of thy 
 glory, to thy goodness ! Look on my trouble, for 
 because of thine anger there is no soundness in my 
 flesh, neither is there any rest in my bones be- 
 cause of my sin. Now, O God of pardon, grant 
 me thy grace, and go not into judgment with thy 
 servant. If this be indeed my hour of' death, may 
 the knowledge of thy Unity not leave my lips, as 
 it is written in thy scriptures, ' Hear, O Israel, 
 the Lord our God is one God ! ' I confess before 
 thee, Eternal One, my God and the God of my 
 fathers, God of all spirit and flesh, that my re- 
 covery and my death are in thy power. It would 
 be by thy mercy if thou shouldst allow me per- 
 fect recovery, and my thoughts and my prayers 
 should mount unto thee like the prayer of Heze- 
 kiah in his sickness. But if the hour of my death 
 be indeed come, may my death be the atonement 
 for all the sins of omission and commission which 
 I have sinned and committed in thy sight from 
 the day of my birth. Give me my share in the 
 Garden of Eden, and console me in the future 
 world reserved for the pious. Show me the way of 
 Life, make me full of joy before thy face, for at 
 thy right hand are eternity and glory. Praised 
 
JCISSING AND DYING. 
 
 319 
 
 be thou, Eternal, Hearer of prayers. Into thy 
 hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit. Thou wilt 
 save me, Eternal God of truth." 
 
 Baruch sat down at the bedside of his father 
 whose breath came with ever-increasing difficulty; 
 he clasped his son's hand whose fever heat the cold 
 hand of death could not cool. 
 
 " Father !" cried Baruch; he could say no more. 
 
 " Pray for me, my son," said his father gently. 
 The rattle became ever louder, every instant they 
 thought his breath must stop; all those assembled 
 cried incessantly: 
 
 " Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God is one God !" 
 
 The sick man prayed with them. He raised his 
 eyes to Heaven, and with the word " one" he gave 
 up his breath; his lips still pressed together, opened 
 as if for a kiss — he was dead. 
 
 Rabbi Saul Morteira opened a window as a sign 
 that the soul journeyed to Heaven, and all present 
 repeated: 
 " " Praised be the Righteous Judge !" 
 
 Baruch sank from his father's bed to the floor, 
 and pressed the dead hand to his hot brow; from 
 above in another chamber echoed the half sup- 
 pressed lamentations of Miriam and Rebecca. Those 
 present conversed in low whispers, and were just on 
 the point of going away, when some one was heard 
 to mount the stairs with loud, stumbling haste. The 
 door was thrown open. 
 
320 SPINOZA, 
 
 " Is he dead ?" inquired a voice. 
 
 " Hush, silence, Rabbi Chisdai !" answered those 
 present. 
 
 "Woe, treble woe to this house !" cried Chisdai. 
 " He alone could have yet saved his Ben sorer 
 umoreh.^ I heard with my own ears that he meant 
 to turn Christian, and marry a Christian w^oman." 
 
 '^ If you do not go out this instant," answered 
 Samuel Casseres, " and if you say another such word 
 against my brother-in-law, I will show you the way 
 out. No one invited you." 
 
 " You will invite me, and I ^hall not come," an- 
 swered Chisdai, as he was shouldered out by the 
 others. 
 
 Benjamin von Spinoza had desired in his will 
 that his broken old Spanish sword should be laid 
 in the grave with him; the Rabbis objected for 
 some time to fulfil this- desire, whose meaning but 
 few could imagine. Spinoza was obliged to bring 
 forward many authorities from the Talmud before 
 he could see his father's wish fulfilled. Outside 
 in the graveyard, in accordance with old Jewish 
 custom, he was made to kneel down at his father's 
 feet, and beg forgiveness from God and his father 
 for all in which he had sinned against them; then 
 he must tear his garments on the left breast, and 
 when the coffin was lowered, the son must be the 
 
 * Stubborn and rebellious son. 
 
 g/St 
 
KISSING AND DYING. 32 1 
 
 first to enter the grave, and throw a handful of 
 earth thereon. He did all this with uncertain step 
 and trembling hand; Chisdai sprang forward to 
 support him. 
 
 For seven long days Spinoza was obliged to sit 
 on the ground with rent garments and without 
 shoes, and for thirty days he was not permitted to 
 shave his beard; but his outward appearance was 
 not so uncared for and torn as his inward feelings. 
 How often as he rested his elbows on his knees, 
 his face covered with his hands, how often he 
 thought of Olympia. What would become of 
 them ? 
 
 His greatest trial was a visit from Oldenburg 
 and Meyer, who came just as he was sitting on the 
 ground with his sisters, and the Rabbis were chant- 
 ing a litany or sort of mass for the dead before the 
 congregation. 
 
 He thought much about the free, unfettered life 
 he would make for himself. Desire for rest and 
 contemplative solitude often rose in him like an 
 overwhelming homesickness; he felt imprisoned by 
 the tumult of the world and its ways. And again 
 he saw how his whole former life had been beset 
 by difficulties. He would strive for consistency; 
 should he find it in union with Olympia or not, it 
 was at least a painful consolation that the unmiti- 
 gated opposition of his father no longer stood be- 
 tween them. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 STILL LIFE. 
 
 SPINOZA was walking thoughtfully down the 
 Kalverstraat, when some one said, "Ha, ha! 
 how proud we are !" 
 
 Spinoza turned round; it was Frau Gertrui 
 Ufmsand who was looking out of her ground floor 
 window. 
 
 ^' How are you ?" she said. *^ You look as sour as 
 vinegar. I have only seen you once in this street 
 isince Magister Nigritius died, and that was a fort- 
 night ago. You passed with Olympia Tan den 
 Ende. I said ' Good evening ' twice, but you were 
 better employed, neither of you either heard or saw 
 me. Those were fine times, were they not, when 
 you came every day to the Magister ? But you 
 have grown twenty years older since those days. 
 Ah ! we have gone through a deal with our apart- 
 ments since then. First we had a painter, who 
 went to vespers in the church where clinking 
 glasses are the bells, then he would come home a 
 full fool and awake us out of our beauty sleep. 
 Then we had a widow who would have skinned a 
 flint, and looked so sharply after us all day we 
 could hardly breathe before her. It was my hus- 
 
 Ü 
 
STILL LIFE. 
 
 323 
 
 band — he is a queer fellow — who at last gave her 
 notice. I never said anything to her, but said to 
 my Klaas, 'She is a widow, we must excuse her.' 
 The beautifuljittle room has now stood empty for 
 half a year, and we. have just had it fresh painted; 
 it is all fresh done up, and looks like a little chapel. 
 I never like to go up the stairs to it." 
 
 " Geert, be so good as to shut the window, the 
 bits all fly in my eyes. If you want to talk to the 
 gentleman, go out and let him in," cried a gruff 
 voice from inside the room. 
 
 "Come in for a bit," said Gertrui shutting the 
 window. Spinoza went in and said he should be 
 glad to take the room, as, to do his work, he must 
 either be in an open place or high up for a good 
 light. The good people thought at first he was jest- 
 ing, and were greatly rejoiced when they found he 
 was in earnest. Gertrui showed him the little 
 room, on whose floor the fine sand was artistically 
 sprinkled like a lace pattern. The little bed in a 
 recess, like the berth of a ship, was empty. 
 
 "Look," said the woman, "that is the old 
 Magister's armchair; I washed and dusted every- 
 thing; there is not a speck on it now. I can find you 
 everything but a bed; I use all my beds for the ap- 
 prentices. Here the Magister kept his books; you* 
 can put your books there now. Have you the 
 same bad habit as the blessed Magister of laying 
 all your books in sight on the tables, chairs and 
 
324 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 stools, and not letting any of them be moved with- 
 out a regular storm? Did you never see that 
 beautiful white Amaryllis that the blessed Magister 
 was so fond of ? It disappeared from the day of 
 his death, though such animals generally stick to a 
 house, not to the people in it. I would give a good 
 deal to see it back again; I should be sorry from my 
 heart if anything happened to it. Ay, and it was so 
 knowing, it could tell to a minute when the raw 
 meat was brought, and we were never bothered 
 with mxice." 
 
 Spinoza regretted he had nowhere seen the 
 cat. 
 
 If we have again given too much space to the 
 chatter of an old woman, we may bear with her 
 loquacity a little in consideration of the motherly 
 care which she took of our philosopher. 
 
 Spinoza, whose two brothers-in-law found them- 
 selves deceived in their expectations, was obliged 
 to take legal means for the division of his father's 
 inheritance. When he had obtained his legal rights 
 he voluntarily gave up his share, keeping only a 
 single bed with its necessary hangings, which he 
 had taken with his work-bench and his few books 
 and clothes to the house' of Klaas Ufmsand. Here 
 at last he was permitted to order his outer life in 
 perfect conformity with the requirements of his 
 spiritual nature. The serene equanimity derived 
 from conviction, which opposes tranquil delibera- 
 
STILL LIFE. 
 
 325 
 
 tion to the stormy excitement of the decisive 
 moments of existence, as well as to the annoyances 
 and the restless struggles of every-day life; that 
 self-dependence, won by cheerful renunciation of 
 the intoxications of empty, exhausting pleasures; 
 that exaltation and satisfaction in the kingdom of 
 intellect, a peace of mind won after hot conflict, a 
 clear penetration of the world, whose enigmas were 
 solved, and eternal laws discovered; these were the 
 benefits which he made ever more plainly and 
 firmly his own in solitude. 
 
 From early morning he sat working at his bench. 
 As he snipped a piece from his glass with the sharp 
 diamond, he broke an idea off from the great sys- 
 tem that lay complete though undeveloped in 
 himself. When he worked the leaden plate and gave 
 the glass its proper form the idea in him gained 
 firmer shape, and so on through all the stages; 
 ever more distinct the form, ever more transparent 
 the material. Many splinters must fall, many rough 
 places be smoothed, till at last the truth should be 
 reflected in the mirror. When he had earned his 
 bread by the day's handiwork, in the quiet night by 
 his single lamp he placed his finely polished ideas 
 before him, collected the dust which had fallen 
 from them, and strewed it thereon, that they be- 
 came opaque; then with a light hand wiped it off, 
 and proved that it did not necessarily belong there, 
 and that he had but hidden the light, not ex- 
 
326 SPINOZA. 
 
 tinguished it. So worked, so philosophized Bene- 
 dict de Spinoza. 
 
 Not long after his withdrawal from the busy 
 world he had to break off some hours a day from 
 his manual labor to lead a younger mind in the 
 paths of philosophy. Meyer one day brought 
 young Simon de Vries to him, who, since the short 
 view we had of him before, had become the lucky 
 heir of the rich results of his father's speculations 
 in tea, and now gave himself up to quite other 
 speculations. Spinoza took him through a course 
 on the principles of Descartes' philosophy. In the 
 same room where he had once learned to decline 
 mensa, in the same chair in which his master had 
 once sat to correct his exercises, he now sat to teach 
 the philosophy of Descartes, and build yet higher 
 on the same foundation, as the necessities of that 
 method required. Honorable Dodimus de Vries, 
 who had once been able to do quickly the most 
 complicated mental arithmetic, had not only left his 
 numerous and weighty ducats to his son Simon, but 
 also his arithmetical readiness. This youthful tal- 
 ent for mathematics gave Spinoza much pleasure. 
 
 For two or three days at a time, and often much 
 longer, he never left his room.; he never willingly 
 left the familiar solitude in which he felt so much 
 at ease, in which the hours and days like quiet 
 streams flowed refreshingly and animatingly past 
 him. 
 
 :^u......:... 
 
BTILL LIFE, 327 
 
 Good Gertrui was very uneasy about her new 
 lodger. 
 
 " I don't know," she said, " whether you mean to 
 accustom yourself to do without food, or whether 
 the ravens from Heaven come to feed you, like the 
 prophet in the wilderness; you cannot possibly 
 have enough with what you have from me. Yester- 
 day you had nothing all day long but milk soup, 
 some butter and a little draught of beer which 
 with the water and turf I bought comes to ^\ 
 stivers, and to-day you have been satisfied the 
 whole day with oat-meal porridge, raisins and 
 butter, which have cost exactly the same. I calcu- 
 lated that in a whole month you have only at the 
 most drunk two half pints of wine. That is neither 
 living nor dying." 
 
 Spinoza tried to make the good dame under- 
 stand that his earnings would not suffice for greater 
 expense, and that he was quite satisfied with his 
 manner of living. 
 
 " Yes," she said, " one ought only to stretch one's 
 self according to one's counterpane, that is upright 
 and honest; but if one can make the cover longer, 
 is it not stupid to lie doubled under it like a shut- 
 up clasp-knife ? The many rich and great gentle- 
 men who come in and out every day, I know v/ell 
 enough, would be well pleased to give you more 
 money. It would not be like taking a present; they 
 disturb you so often over your work that they ought 
 
328 SPINOZA. 
 
 to make it good again. The servant of rich Simon 
 de Vries has now been here three times to invite 
 you to his house, and instead of going there to eat 
 fresh pulpy crabs, that melt in your mouth like 
 butter, you stay at home to your thin milk-soup. 
 Yet for the rest you know all about everything; 
 one can come and talk to you about anything. I 
 can't think what has come to you that you pinch 
 yourself so." 
 
 The good dame would not be convinced by any 
 arguments. 
 
 " Learned folk have always some queer notion 
 or another in their heads," said she, as she de- 
 scended the stairs and told Oldenburg, whom she 
 met there, the whole dispute with variations. Ol- 
 denburg, too, was much displeased with his friend's 
 voluntary imprisonment in a cell. He was afraid 
 that such seclusion from active life, such silent 
 burial in the depths of his thoughts and feelings, 
 would create a boundary within which each dis- 
 turbing element would engender a sensitiveness of 
 feeling which would reject all opposition, because 
 it had withdrawn from it. He knew not that such 
 weaknesses of tender and reserved souls are far 
 removed from great and steadfast minds, who know 
 no partiality, for they bear the whole world in their 
 hearts, and cannot be surprised or hurt at the dis- 
 cords of the outer world, because they have pene- 
 trated them, and to themselves have reduced all to 
 
STILL LIFE. 
 
 329 
 
 harmony. Other reasons also made the anxious 
 friend think an alteration in Spinoza's way of life 
 desirable. Among these stood first the fear that 
 Spinoza's love for Olympia, which he had rightly 
 guessed, might be so deeply rooted in his mind by 
 solitude that it would become ineradicable. He 
 still believed that, by prudent measures, he could 
 enter into the life of an independent mind and 
 direct it. 
 
 " Our age," he once said to Spinoza, *' the age of 
 humanity, new born from the classics and the self- 
 revelations of reason, has its apostles, who travel 
 through all lands and declare their new ideas like 
 any others. When Christianity arose, and had not 
 yet made itself accepted anywhere, pious men came 
 forward and preached in all places, even at peril 
 of their lives; and in our age we have seen enthu- 
 siastic men wander from town to town, and from 
 land to land, making known the words revealed to 
 them in all places. Think of Giordano Bruno; he 
 has travelled through almost the whole civilized 
 world to support his views on all sides. Unfortu- 
 nately he made the incomprehensible mistake of 
 going back to Italy to die at the stake as a martyr 
 for philosophy. But this way of learning to know 
 the world and its motives and connecting forces 
 from personal inspection, and placing it before the 
 intelligence in living words, not trying to found 
 and rule it from a lonely garret, is the only right 
 
330 SPINOZA. 
 
 way for a true thinker. Our master, or, if you do 
 not like to call him that, our teacher, Descartes, 
 after a time of lonely seclusion, recognized that the 
 truth must be extracted from the world if it would 
 again pervade the world. He learned to know men 
 in peace and war; he was even a soldier himself, and 
 travelled much. And you must recognize this too 
 as a revelation of our age, that it has been granted 
 to our century first, in artistic recognition of silent 
 nature, to open the mind's eye to landscape. You 
 too must travel, and if you do not wish to teach 
 the world you must at least learn to know it truly. 
 You shall not want for money; de Vries and I will 
 willingly give you all you need. You must not 
 reject it, for it is not a present offered to a 
 friend; we pay this tribute to science and man- 
 kind. You do more than we; you dedicate your 
 life to it." 
 
 " If you please," answered Spinoza in a gentle 
 voice, " if you do not intend to annoy me, let this be 
 the last fime that you make me offers of money. I 
 explained to you and de Vries long ago that I 
 could not accept it. Moreover, as far as I am con- 
 cerned, I cannot endure this new sort of wander- 
 ing philosophy which you so strongly recom.mend. 
 I am no friend to disputation with this, that and 
 the other man, and seldom see any advantage ac- 
 crue from it; for what is opposed is usually not the 
 expression of pure thoughts, but such personalities 
 
and wilful misinterpretationis that it has more td-sdo 
 with Peter and Paul, and v^|iat they have jj^öcome 
 by habit and inclination, tharf^with pure intetlcfcti^* 
 
 "Just why you should learn tO^know Petef and 
 Paul more intimately, to conquer their prejudices, 
 and personal bias." 
 
 " I wish to explore and ascertain the laws of 
 human existence and intelligence. I have often ex- 
 plained to you already that I do not set myself to 
 discover the errors of others. If these are revealed 
 by the revelation of the natural law so much the 
 better. You, by your profession, must concern 
 yourself for others; to me it is given to search in 
 the book of history and the workings of my own 
 life." 
 
 " That you should do," answered Oldenburg, 
 "and to do so you should investigate the world in 
 the whole, as well as in detail. Let me take your 
 handiwork, these glasses, as a metaphor. Were our 
 eyes microscopically arranged, we should look at 
 only a single part, never at a whole; were our eyes 
 only for a distant prospect, we should never know 
 the peculiarities of things. Thus it is the preroga- 
 tive of human intellect to accommodate by art both 
 the microscopic and telescopic views of things to 
 its own assigned natural mediocrity; and in con- 
 clusion by imagination, by thought, to recognize 
 them in their conditions; but this the large and 
 small views must precede. It is thus with our 
 
332 SPINOZA. 
 
 knowledge of human life. So travel and live for 
 yourself." 
 
 "Leave me to my homely four walls," answered 
 the philosopher. " The world of appearances is well 
 enough investigated and described by others for us 
 to follow its laws by quiet observation. I am ever 
 myself in my cell here, and strive to collect around 
 me all the spirits of truth. Believe me, it is a 
 numerous and goodly company, and I am never 
 alone or desolate; and if I am alone with myself, 
 I can investigate more quietly and uninterruptedly 
 the mingled elements and connecting links of the 
 human mind. He who from the height of a bird's 
 flight can take in with his eye how one stream 
 flows into another, and at last all flow into the sea, 
 can see no more than is offered to the quiet glance 
 when it follows the inner cross currents of the mind. 
 Yes, he who can live quietly alone with his own 
 mind — with a mind that is controlled or influenced 
 by nothing foreign to itself — he lives again in Para- 
 dise, happy in himself and in the universe." 
 
 . Oldenburg's eyes had never yet sparkled as they 
 did now; there was a thrill of reverence and ecstasy 
 perceptible in his usually firm voice and in his 
 whole deportment as he rose and said: 
 
 " O friend! what can we say to you who have all 
 things in yourself? And yet perhaps a call from 
 without may yet be a motive to you. See, it is not 
 for naught that the legends of all people say that 
 
STILL LIFE. 
 
 333 
 
 gods became men, allowing themselves to be con- 
 fined by the limits and powers of human existence, 
 in order to raise themselves freely from it, and raise 
 others with them, even though it should be by a 
 death of torture. You too must offer yourself as a 
 sacrifice by following the call of the truth given to 
 you. You will not take me for the dying thief on 
 the cross, and I will only echo the words which the 
 world may say of your life and thoughts: if you 
 possess knowledge of the truth — they will say — 
 and if you are its open and unreserved confessor, 
 come forth from your quiet solitude, come forth 
 into active life, declare, and suffer for it." 
 
 With his hands folded on his breast Spinoza an- 
 swered: 
 
 " To die for a recognized truth is blessedness that 
 knows no pain. What is a long life to that ecstasy 
 which existence itself and the devotion of it to the 
 witness of truth gives could it but convince others? 
 But a martyr's death proves nothing to others. 
 Men have gone joyfully to death for the most op- 
 posite convictions. I myself once knew what is 
 called a believing Jew, who, in the midst of the 
 flames, when men believed him already dead, 
 chanted the Psalm ' Into Thy hands I commend 
 my spirit,' and breathed out his soul in song. 
 What could a life of every day returning duties, 
 refinements and pleasures prevail against the one 
 all-inclusive act of devotion? But if external pres- 
 
334 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 sure does not conquer the man standing firm for 
 his knowledge of faith, neither does his death, 
 which is after all only an external proof, convince 
 others. If I, as I hope, may one day so far have 
 cultivated myself as to be able to teach others, I 
 shall have no laws to give them, no rounded sen- 
 tences to inculcate; each one must find his laws in 
 himself and in the world. The recognition of the 
 laws innate in nature, that is the salvation of him- 
 self and of the world. The character, the conscious 
 development of its natural laws, the appropriate 
 direction of its actions, and free acceptance of the 
 thus necessitated fate, this is the prerogative of 
 humanity, which cannot be taught and cannot be 
 transferred, which can only be attained by individ- 
 ual work in self." 
 
 After these words the two friends stood by each 
 other in silent reflection, and on this elevation of 
 thought they again felt the pleasure of regarding 
 the world with one and the same view. Neither 
 knew or wished to know who was giver, who re- 
 ceiver; they were one soul and one heart, and yet 
 each saw himself reflected in the other. As Olden- 
 burg went away he felt deeply the awe-inspiring 
 power his friend's mind had over him. It seemed 
 audacious in him to wish to control here; he could 
 but give his hand, and lend outward support to the 
 inner independent necessities. He felt blessed in 
 the power for such masculine friendship, sprung 
 
STILL LIFE. 
 
 335 
 
 from the foundation of pure intellect, that had 
 made devotion to this another personal pleasure. 
 
 What^can love offer more, and should the thinker, 
 happy in himself, not be satisfied with friendship 
 alone? Spinoza felt more and more at home in the 
 peaceful serenity of his life, whose equable happi- 
 ness can be called nothing else than blessedness. 
 For the exercise of the intellect in solitude is the 
 highest felicity of life — near to the eternal sun, 
 above the tumult of the world, above the clouds 
 which float in the atmosphere of the earth. In 
 solitude life is explained; there no cry from with- 
 out is possible, nothing to break the stream of the 
 thinking existence. And what first appeared as 
 will fortifies itself into self-sustaining endurance. 
 Thoughts flow together like a chorus of saved 
 spirits and carry the physically imprisoned soul 
 with them. Set free and forgotten is the mortal 
 self, and life becomes thought. 
 
 What disturbs in the present and in uncongenial 
 contact wins a milder meaning, and awakens a 
 gentle conciliation in the mind that is inspired by 
 a love of truth and rectitude, and that no reproach 
 can drag down. It was like an awakening from 
 that unconscious life, which yet had moved in the 
 immaterial paths of thought to the inner develop- 
 ment of himself, and the consideration of himself, 
 and his relation to the outer world. 
 
 When Spinoza so abstracted himself from all per- 
 
336 SPINOZA. 
 
 sonal considerations in the pure exercise of thought 
 he was often surprised at the recollection that it 
 was some days since he had seen Olympia, even 
 since he had thought of her, and yet he loved her 
 with his whole heart. It was not stormy, demon- 
 strative love with its overwhelming passions; it was 
 the quietly growing inclination whose roots rest in 
 conviction, and the clear knowledge of the necessity 
 of the relationship. This love, however, had its 
 surprises and enigmatical self-torments as well as 
 any other which is torn by storms of passions. 
 His heart throbbed and swelled with love afresh 
 whenever he went to Olympia's house; and not 
 seldom he left it with an agitated mind, which only 
 recovered itself in his beloved solitude. Would he 
 really conquer his love for Olympia, or would he 
 merely go through a probation with it? He spoke 
 more than ever of his Judaism, and in many other 
 ways, indeed, he strove to place himself in an un- 
 desirable light; and yet he was pained again when 
 he appeared to have gained his end, and Olympia — 
 whether from coquetry or to exercise a right of 
 retaliation — accorded all manner of trifling favors 
 to the light-haired Kerkering, by which he felt in 
 the highest degree honored, and became yet more 
 settled in his conviction that Spinoza was only a 
 man of straw put there to tease him. Since that 
 eventful evening the two lovers had not conversed 
 alone, otherwise misunderstandings and mistakes 
 
STILL LIFE, 
 
 337 
 
 would easily have been explained; but even exposed 
 to the eyes of the uninitiated observers they en- 
 joyed the raptures of the inexpressible felicity of 
 love. Often as their lips said the most indifferent 
 things their eyes spoke all the feelings which they 
 fostered in secret, hidden for one another. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 CONFESSIONS. 
 
 THE Jews are sounding the alarm after you; 
 they look upon you as a deserter, and want to 
 bring you back to their standard," said Oldenburg 
 to Spinoza as he entered the room with Meyer. 
 
 *' Don't be afraid," said Meyer, " you have climbed 
 so high above them that they will be out of breath 
 before they catch you." 
 
 "How would it be," continued Oldenburg, "if, 
 while they are in pursuit, you enlisted under an- 
 other flag, and dressed yourself in another uni- 
 form ?" 
 
 " But you once lauded Turenne for not doing 
 so," answered Spinoza, " and I should not know 
 what uniform to adopt." 
 
 "You are right there," said Meyer; "if I had a 
 uniform to cut out for you I should use the whole 
 heavens for the purpose, and hang the sun and 
 moon on your breast for orders." They laughed, 
 and Oldenburg began again: 
 
 "What is the use of skirmishing? We must take 
 the thing by the throat. Meyer, from his hia- 
 tro-mathematical heights, always maintains that 
 the efforts of reason should be directed towards the 
 
CONFESSIONS. 
 
 339 
 
 rooting out of all dogmatic creeds, and especially 
 the authority of the Bible. Luther, he says, has 
 overturned traditional creeds, but has set us down 
 on the barren sand of mere verbal inspiration. He 
 even quotes you, and says you think nothing of the 
 prophets or sacred history." 
 
 " If he does he is wrong. I think the prophets, 
 with their visions and inner revelations, which we 
 may call direct divine gifts, may probably recog- 
 nize the truth as plainly as the clearest judgments 
 of reason. It is only because the former remains 
 on the lowest step of perception that it is more ex- 
 posed to error than pure reason. Theology and 
 philosophy are not opposed to one another; they 
 merely rest on different foundations. I am con- 
 vinced of the eternal and inextinguishable utility 
 of the so-called sacred histories for the common 
 people. He who believes in them and rules his life 
 in accordance has succeeded as heir to a great 
 accumulation of truths proved by experience, to 
 which the small body of men who cannot simply 
 believe in them can only attain by their own un- 
 assisted powers of thought. Both are fortunate, 
 the latter the most fortunate, because they them- 
 selves discover the collected laws of nature. The 
 Bible cannot pretend to such universal application, 
 and has never done so; it is a slowly accumulated 
 work which includes much extraneous matter; its 
 aims are not learning and thought, but faith and 
 
340 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 action; and that is why we ought first to compre- 
 hend how we can create anything as good, and 
 yet more definite, by our own innate intellectual 
 powers." 
 
 " Look there ! There is my * original sin ' again," 
 interrupted Meyer. " Firstly, they say, ' Human 
 nature is originally and thoroughly bad, and can- 
 not understand higher things.' Then they say that 
 'a- supernatural revelation is necessary to save them 
 from this situation.' They cut a leg off human na- 
 ture and triumphantly exclaim, * Look, it cannot 
 walk or stand alone, so we must make a false leg, 
 and look after its joints every Sunday, that man- 
 kind may run again with it for seven days.' " 
 
 " Meyer, you are always trying to enrich the 
 inheritance of original sin," said Oldenburg. Then, 
 turning to Spinoza he continued, " Tell me openly, 
 are you not convinced that Judaism is obsolete and 
 narrow ?" 
 
 " You ask a great deal; but I must first repeat, 
 that no creed offers us that true felicity which 
 springs only from knowledge of the innate neces- 
 sities of our natural laws. As things are now no 
 man, whoever he may be, whether Christian, Turk, 
 Jew, or heathen, is really recognized as such, but 
 only judged according to his manners and customs, 
 because he goes to this or that church, clings to 
 this or that expression, or swears by the words of 
 this or that master. The only decisive measure at 
 
COJVFESSfONS. 341 
 
 last of all is individual character. That is why the 
 professors of one and the same creed, ay, often the 
 professors of one and the same philosophical system, 
 incline to such different forms of individual and 
 social life. As for Judaism now, it recognizes a 
 godly life quite independent of the revelation of 
 the law. Noah, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob were all 
 esteemed godly, though they lived long before the 
 revelation on Sinai. Moses, by means of his sub- 
 lime and divine gifts, gave the law to the people as 
 a right, as a constitution. This is destroyed. The 
 primeval right to found divine laws on individual 
 recognition appears in Judaism too with universal 
 application." 
 
 " The Jews always appear to me as a remarkable 
 phenomenon of history," said Meyer. " The Jews 
 must exist as long as there is a dogmatic religion 
 in the world. The wonderful tenacity with which 
 they have endured the most fearful blows of fate 
 must prove that their mission is not yet fulfilled, 
 and that in the course of history they will once 
 more be a mighty lever." 
 
 " Such abnormal developments please you," said 
 Oldenburg, and Spinoza replied: 
 
 " Nothing is abnormal; everything has its defi- 
 nite cause, from which it must arise necessarily and 
 logically in its destined order. If the ordinances 
 of their religion did not rob them of their man- 
 liness, I should unhesitatingly affirm that the Jews, 
 
342 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 as is quite possible in the whirling wheel of human 
 affairs, would one day, when the opportunity oc- 
 curred, again obtain their kingdom, and God would 
 choose them anew. We have an example in the 
 Chinese, who have again won their kingdom. But 
 the mission of the Jews is fulfilled. There is nothing 
 wonderful in their preservation; it is only the 
 hatred of all nations that has preserved them, and 
 they have set themselves apart from all nations by 
 their customs. These customs may disappear like 
 all other laws of ceremonial, which have only a 
 local signification, and the hatred of the nations 
 may change to love." 
 
 " I should be proud to be a Jew," said Meyer. 
 *' He is born in such decided opposition to all 
 commonplace, and in himself represents exactly the 
 schism which now rends the heart of humanity. 
 The free Jew, who has cut loose from his own 
 already torn traditions is the only unbiassed 
 stranger in the world, armed with all the weapons 
 of the masculine intellect, and yet with the un- 
 clouded eyes of childhood, capable of examining 
 and surveying the world as given in history; a 
 privilege and a freedom none other can attain to 
 as easily. We others have too much share in the 
 ruling of the world, and too much partiality for 
 and familiarity with it. And already in the great 
 current of history it is seen that the renewing of 
 the whole world has not been done by the domi- 
 nate. \-- 
 
CONFESSIONS. 343 
 
 nant nations. Neither a Greek nor a Roman pro- 
 duced the new world-saving doctrine; it came from 
 the despised, oppressed people, who were shut out 
 from the world's current. In ancient times men 
 lived in perfect uniformity of faith; the religion 
 was the constitution, the constitution was the re- 
 ligion. It was so in Rome and Athens, in Egypt 
 and China, and most perfectly so in Palestine. 
 With the destruction of the Jewish state and the 
 entrance of Christianity originated religion as such, 
 for it was then first cut loose from the state. 
 There were henceforward two powers who took 
 men in charge, and robbed them of uniformity, 
 the State and the Church. Christianity has till 
 now, by the papal power, endeavored to reunite 
 the two; the power of the Pope is now broken, the 
 old division is again there. Christianity does not 
 assign the constitution." 
 
 "I think we have exchanged the roles," replied 
 Spinoza; "Christianity does not apply to nations 
 and States, but to humanity, to all mankind, to 
 make them internally free; it could never be an 
 external law. By means of our recognition of our 
 natural laws we can and must regulate State and 
 Church; in both we must leave room for the in- 
 vestigating minds who bring everything in ques- 
 tion, otherwise we again lay our freedom under the 
 bonds of external laws. The religious and political 
 additions made to Christianity from time to time 
 
344 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 have only been temporary. When Christ says, 
 ' Whosoever shall smite thee on the right cheek, 
 turn to him the other also ' (a rule of behavior that 
 is also given in the Lamentations of Jeremiah), it 
 can only refer to a time of oppression and lawless- 
 ness; otherwise it is according to reason and duty 
 to give him who giveth thee a blow two in return; 
 or to bring him who would sue thee at the law to 
 justice, that the rogues may not make a success- 
 ful game of their roguery." 
 
 "With such views as these," said Oldenburg, 
 " I should not long hesitate in acknowledging my- 
 self of the Christian religion; you need not do it 
 from conviction of the dogmas. Therefore if I were 
 you I should join the larger and more cultivated 
 majority, who have moreover the greatest power of 
 influencing the history of their time. It is not 
 vanity in a man to have an ugly excrescence removed 
 from his face; he only fulfils his duty to others and 
 himself by removing everything detrimental." 
 
 "And I," said Meyer, "would neither respect 
 nor value you from that day forward; you would 
 be a traitor to yourself. But I hear you are in love 
 with the saintly Olympia. What a universally 
 tolerant young lady that is ! First she had a 
 Catholic, and then a Protestant, for lovers; now 
 she has a Jew, and, I presume, in Kerkering a 
 Lutheran, as co-admirers; if she has done with you 
 both I will charter her a Turk." 
 
CONFESSIONS. 
 
 345 
 
 "Jest and mockery are your original sins," re- 
 plied Spinoza gravely; "but I request that you will 
 speak with respect of Olympia." 
 
 " Ah ! the learned Olympia !" laughed Meyer, 
 " she can conjugate anio perfectly m the preterit; 
 but I must be grave. First a painter, who lived 
 for two months in these rooms, was bewitched by 
 her. He was a very young man of great talent 
 and overflowing vivacity. I used to go very often 
 to the Van den Ende's house myself then, and con- 
 fess that I had not a little to do with Van den 
 Spyck's severing the connection. But if I had 
 known beforehand what would result I would have 
 had no hand in it, for Van den Spyck took to 
 drinking, and sank lower and lower till he could 
 stay here no longer, but now wanders unsteadily 
 about the world. Both Van den Spyck and Olym- 
 pia turned their anger on me, so I went no more 
 to my old colleague's house. Olympia's second 
 lover was her music-master; he swam perpetually 
 in clear melody, and was never to be seen without 
 a music-book under his arm, and wherever he went 
 or stayed his fingers moved as if he were playing 
 the organ. I believe he came into the world with 
 a sheet of music under his arm, and that his first 
 cry was in D major. Ah ! he revelled with Olym- 
 pia in the kingdom of tones. It was the bass 
 voice of her father that drove him out of Paradise. 
 Imagine the bathos ! The man should at least 
 
346 SPINOZA. 
 
 have made a finale with a pistol-shot. Cruel ! not a 
 week passed before the musical key opened another 
 lock, and he was engaged to the daughter of the 
 director of the concert hall. He succeeded to his 
 father-in-law's post, and now lives a comfortable 
 citizen 'andante' with his musical better half. I 
 shall see now what will become of you." 
 
 Spinoza walked moodily up and down the room, 
 with the same feelings as when Chisdai defiled 
 the fair image of Olympia with such bigoted zeal. 
 
 "I can't understand you," said Oldenburg; "in- 
 deed you delude yourself if you think you love 
 her. Your peace of mind and self-concentration in 
 thoughts that have no reference to love would be 
 impossible if the true fire of passion burned in your 
 veins." 
 
 "Do you know all the peculiarities of love in 
 different individuals, that you speak so decidedly 
 on the subject ?" asked Spinoza. 
 
 "I know love; and even if I were more pas- 
 sionate than many others, still I know its eternal 
 origin, which is and must be the same with every 
 one. My acquaintance with Olympia dates from my 
 own love-story. Maria was a friend of Olympia's. 
 No man ever loved more truly than I. I looked 
 with pity and scorn on ordinary men, who from day 
 to day could think of other things, follow a favorite 
 profession, study physic, prepare enactments, or 
 write commercial letters; and then, when the day's 
 
CONFESSIONS. 
 
 347 
 
 work was finished, or a Sunday stood in the calen- 
 dar, take a walk with the beloved one. These ex- 
 cellent, self-contained souls, how narrow and cold 
 they seemed to me, who thought no other thoughts, 
 and felt no other feeling but love alone. I had won 
 a new soul with an unalterable sameness, for the 
 one perpetual thought was of her and of her alone. 
 When I drew the sweet breath of Maria's presence, 
 or remained in my distant home, her soul was al- 
 ways with me. Wherever I was I thought. Soon she 
 will be here with thee; thou wilt call her thine own. 
 I often trembled at the infinite, overwhelming mag- 
 nitude of this happiness. It was too great; I could 
 not have borne it. I was shamefully deceived in my 
 love and in my better feelings. Love another ! I 
 cannot and dare not wish to. If it is denied me to 
 pour out my soul in that first fiery passion, I despise 
 any well-behaved citizen love. I am glad that I am 
 too old to be exposed to such another temptation. 
 I have found a sphere of usefulness, and peace is 
 in that." 
 
 " Marriage is a sacred and eternal law of nature," 
 replied Spinoza. " It is the fairest crown of human- 
 ity, if it is made from pure inclination recognized 
 by reason." 
 
 " I will not attack matrimony," answered Olden- 
 burg, " but the curse that rests on mankind the 
 more it develops is that it is always more and more 
 impossible to partake of the pleasure exactly when 
 
348 SPINOZA. 
 
 nature requires it. What are art, science and in- 
 dustry ? May they all be destroyed if mankind is 
 not to—" 
 
 " He can live according to nature," interrupted 
 Spinoza, "who has early learned to master his pas- 
 sions, and to act in accordance with the eternal laws 
 of reason. For this they should not appear as ex- 
 ternal and arbitrary, otherwise the power of the 
 passions will often win in the conflict. But if, by 
 our recognition of the law of reason, we have seen 
 the worthlessness of all power and all indulgence 
 of the passions, we shall lead such a life as our true 
 nature exacts." 
 
 "It is not given to every man," answered Olden-* 
 burg, " to turn his back on the world, or rather to 
 hover above it all in the heaven of his own con- 
 sciousness. There are wild and stormy spirits who, 
 by mere happy indifference, retain their enjoyment 
 in this world of weighty trifles, of necessary tyranny, 
 and can be kept from madness and despair." 
 
 In a mild tone Spinoza led the conversation to its 
 source again by saying: 
 
 " I do not turn my back on the world as you 
 think; I fully enjoy it in my own way." 
 
 " And you deceive yourself if you think you will 
 enjoy it more with Olympia." 
 
 " Oldenburg, you have too high-flown notions of 
 matrimony," remarked Meyer. " Believe me, I now 
 have a second wife, and live in great contentment. 
 
CONFESSIOiVS. 
 
 349 
 
 Men are neither so happy in marriage as fancy 
 hopes, nor so unhappy as it fears. I knew my 
 second wife but little before our marriage. We 
 learned to know each other and accommodate our- 
 selves to one another afterwards. What men dream 
 about harmony of minds is not practicable. My 
 wife, for example, is truly pious, and yet we live 
 united. Indeed, I should not like her not to be so. 
 That quiet faith gives women a special charm. I 
 have two fine, healthy boys, a well-ordered house- 
 hold, and may say that I live happily." 
 
 " You know I respect and honor Olympia," said 
 Oldenburg, " but I must advise you against a 
 union with her. I interfere in the affair most un- 
 willingty, and would give it up now, if I did not 
 know your enviable power of keeping yourself pure 
 and uninfluenced by all opposition. Let yourself 
 be dissuaded. It is not Olympia's first love affair. 
 The first dew of heaven is gone, her lips have al- 
 ready kissed others, her heart has already throbbed 
 for another, and — you must not be angry with me 
 for saying it — what you feel for her is not true 
 love; otherwise you could not possibly act with this 
 peaceful equanimity." 
 
 ** I must, however, repeat," replied Spinoza, "that 
 there is nothing truly desirable which reasonable 
 deliberation cannot comprehend as thoroughly and 
 more permanently than enthusiasm and unre- 
 strained passion." 
 
350 SPINOZA. 
 
 "Something else occurs to me," said Meyer. 
 " Would it be, to express it from a legal point of 
 view, permissible for Jews and Christians to inter- 
 marry ?" 
 
 " No Rabbi on earth could bring forward an 
 absolute prohibition. Christians are, from a Jewish 
 point of view, merely regarded as a Jewish sect. 
 That their numerical power in the course of events 
 has become greater makes no difference to the fact. 
 We have sects among the Jews, even individual 
 Talmudists, who consider faith in a Messiah as im- 
 material and not among the necessary laws of their 
 religion. A union between Jews and Christians 
 cannot be forbidden." 
 
 "As long as such intermarriages are unusual," 
 resumed Meyer, " the detestation connected with 
 the name of Jew will not be generally uprooted. I 
 could almost be in favor of this union. It would 
 seem so glorious to me to be the Jewish redeemer 
 in this case. But no, you must not only be a Jew, 
 you must remain a bachelor. It is only thus that 
 you fulfil your mission. Whoever takes upon him- 
 self family ties and social obligations, his straight- 
 forward, strictly logical orderings of life and thought 
 are split up and interrupted. Distraction and inter- 
 ruption enter of necessity, and I can already see in 
 my own profession what it is to let my thoughts be 
 turned hither and thither by the thousand changing 
 chances of life, The steady, uninterrupted stream 
 
CONFESSIONS. 35 1 
 
 between the thinking mind and the one thought 
 which you set before you is thus perpetually crossed 
 and interrupted; the natural heat flows away, cools, 
 and must perpetually be relighted. So congratu- 
 late yourself that you are born a Jew, and are a 
 bachelor by fate and free-will." 
 
 For the first time Spinoza was glad when his 
 two friends took leave. Of all the inclinations of 
 man love of woman is the most like faith. Its true 
 foundation is only in the individual personality, 
 whose precise view of the case, known to no other, 
 makes it sacrilege to interfere. Why should Spinoza 
 be possessed by a love which was in such opposi- 
 tion to the world, and therefore gave every one, and 
 especially his friends, a right to pry into it ? A less 
 steadfast and unworldly because less truth-loving 
 nature would have had his softer sentiments de- 
 stroyed by such encroachments, and have become 
 bitter against his friends, or self-distrustful. 
 Spinoza learned by his clear intelligence to acquire 
 here too that devotion which men usually ascribe 
 to the direct influence of sentiment. 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 MICROCOSMOS. 
 
 A HEART accustomed to suppress all stormy 
 ebullitions, to gain the even pulsation and 
 moderation of expression that is as far removed 
 from dull stupidity as from extremes of joy and 
 sorrow, in such a life we do not meet with dizzy 
 heights or dark depths that fill the sympathetic 
 spectator sometimes with painful horror at the 
 threatened ruin, and sometimes with quiet satisfac- 
 tion at the safety gained. 
 
 Our hero has not lost himself for love of a woman, 
 but his better life is endangered by it. He has no 
 one to fight with but with himself, with his natural 
 and acquired relations. Such noiseless combat, 
 however, excites the pulses of the internal powers 
 all the more that it is wanting in the tangible 
 opposition that rouses combativeness. No visible 
 kingdom will be revolutionized by the rise and fall 
 of our hero, but a kingdom of the mind, with wide- 
 spreading influence, is brought into jeopardy. In 
 the quiet, unadorned garret in the Kalverstraat, Am- 
 sterdam, the conflict will be decided. 
 
 Work and quiet contemplation alone are what 
 we shall observe. By earliest dawn we find our 
 
MICROCOSMOS. 353 
 
 philosopher awake at his bench. He has again, as 
 Frau Gertrui expresses it, *' taken the day in the 
 eye ;" he smiles at this remark, perhaps it means 
 something else to him. If the wheel and the pen- 
 cil are silent the room is as quiet as the grave, the 
 world is shut out. 
 
 What raises expectation in his face to-day, and 
 why does he look so often at the window corner ? 
 
 He does not live so much alone as we supposed. 
 He has a companion in a cell made by itself in a 
 corner of his room, for whose daily bread he has to 
 provide. Look, he has caught a fly; he takes his 
 microscope, and going to the window throws the 
 captured animal into the web. We too will look 
 through the microscope; perhaps we shall be able 
 thus to follow the observations of the philosopher. 
 
 Look how the lonely spider springs out of its 
 den. In spite of its eight eyes its sense of sight 
 must be imperfect, for it does not get out of the 
 way, however near an object is placed to it; but it 
 must have exceedingly fine sensation, for it feels 
 the slightest movement of the net. Or, perhaps, 
 the net still retains a living link with its spinner ? 
 Look how swiftly it throws itself on the struggling 
 prey, surrounds it with long hairy legs, squeezes it 
 and kisses it with the strong proboscis. " That is 
 right, guard yourself, bravely done, but the web ! 
 The next crash it is through. There ! the hind 
 feet folded on the back and prepared for flight. 
 
354 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 Alas ! the left wing is torn, it cannot get away, and 
 the devouring enemy is again approaching; now it 
 is seized and carried off to the den. It is all over; 
 it pulls the feet out, and spins its fine web fast all 
 round; it has broken the head from the trunk and 
 sucks the inside out. What comfortable enjoy- 
 ment ! How it refreshes itself ! Then it pauses, and 
 then sets to again to gnaw, as if it knew that it 
 was a higher providential power that sent the 
 cooked pigeon flying into its mouth. The spider 
 certainly thinks the whole race of flies was created 
 for its bepefit, and everything is good in so far as 
 it is of the nature of fiy, and fills the pouch of the 
 spider. Now it looks as if it prayed to me. Or 
 are the wind and the broom its idols, since it has 
 experienced that they can lay its house in ruins ? 
 There, it is finished; the bare skeleton is all that is 
 lying there ; it creeps back still further into its 
 corner; its work is ended, since it is satisfied." 
 
 The philosopher laid the microscope aside, took 
 up the Bible lying before him, opened at Chap. xxx. 
 of the Proverbs of Solomon and read: '' Two things 
 have I required of thee; deny me them not before I 
 die: Remove far from me vanity and lies; give me 
 neither poverty nor riches; feed me with food con- 
 venient for me ": . . .*' There be four things which 
 are little upon the earth, but they are exceeding 
 wise: The ants are a people not strong, yet they 
 prepare their meat in the summer; the conies are 
 
MICROCOSMOS. 
 
 355 
 
 but a feeble folk, yet make they their houses in the 
 rocks; the locusts have no king, yet go they forth 
 all of them by bands; the spider taketh hold with 
 her hands and is in kings* palaces." 
 
 The Bible explains in its own way nature and 
 her propensities, human history and its own wars 
 of extermination. Everywhere an endless succes- 
 sive war of destruction. Force rules in nature, in- 
 nocent of motive, and in the kingdom of nature 
 might and right are one, and men have fixed laws 
 to protect them from one another, and these laws 
 again only derive their influence from their legiti- 
 mate power; the divine privilege of man, however, 
 is to be a law unto himself in conscious comprehen- 
 sion of his own nature, which prescribes him peace 
 with himself and the world. In the name of these 
 given laws, divine and human, thousands condemn 
 and devour each other, and what should unite them 
 divides them. Will it ever be possible to establish 
 the power of the law on virtue and love ? 
 
 Let us congratulate ourselves that to-day we are 
 fortunate enough to find Spinoza undisturbed, for 
 yesterday he had to sustain a sharp conflict. Frau 
 Gertrui came to the door with a broom, just as he 
 was laughing aloud at the fight of a fat bluebottle 
 with the spider. 
 
 "Do the Jews too think the spiders bring luck ?" 
 she asked. "You are so orderly, just the opposite 
 in that of the blessed Magister, of which I am truly 
 
356 SPINOZA. 
 
 glad. I will not kill the spider— God forbid — only- 
 drive it away. I am quite ashamed when the good 
 gentlemen come to see you; what will they think? 
 It must be a fine housekeeper that never brushes 
 the spiders' webs away." 
 
 For a neat Dutchwoman, in her care for the 
 blank cleanliness of her house, you cannot easily 
 find a greater enemy than a spider. It was very 
 unwillingly that Frau Gertrui set any limits to her 
 zeal for scouring. It was no use the philosopher 
 explaining how very clean spiders were; and she 
 was not even pacified by Spinoza telling her he 
 would explain to all his visitors that it was he who 
 kept the webs there. She maintained, moreover, 
 that he could not be a true Dutchman if he could 
 live in a room with a spider's web. 
 
 Let us see, meanwhile, how he ends his day. 
 Till night he worked and then jotted down his 
 worked-out thoughts on paper. He had strained 
 both head and hands this day and felt the need of 
 speech. He took his lamp in his hand and went 
 down to his landlord. When he entered the room 
 Klaas and Gertrui were sitting at the table with 
 folded hands; their grandson, Albert Burgh, was 
 reading the evening prayers aloud. Spinoza sat 
 down in a corner till the prayers were finished, 
 then drew his chair to the table and conversed with 
 the rest. Klaas complained that the new fashions 
 ruined everything; the button-makers were gradu- 
 
MICROCOSMOS. 
 
 357 
 
 ally losing their livelihood because smaller and 
 fewer buttons were worn. Spinoza had consola- 
 tion for everything, and the people felt much com- 
 forted by his conversation. 
 
 "Tell me," asked Klaas, *'how it is — you are not 
 old in years and have not seen much of the world — 
 how is it you know so well and so quickly what is 
 in the hearts of common men ? Before we had 
 been a week here I felt as if we had eaten a bushel 
 of salt together." 
 
 Spinoza explained that the human heart is the 
 same in all circumstances, and that he who really 
 knows himself can judge of and understand aright 
 the movements of the hearts of other men in other 
 circumstances. 
 
 " When you speak like that," said Frau Gertrui, 
 "my mind feels as Sunday-like as if I were listen- 
 ing to a sermon; the blessed Domine Plancius used 
 to preach just like you in the Oudekerk. Did he 
 not, Klaas ? I have often said so. Our dear Herr 
 von Spinoza has such a Christian mind; he has 
 nothing of the Jew about him; he is not a bit like 
 the other Jews, and he is not a Jew." 
 
 " Geert, when your tongue is set going it chatters 
 on whether it is wise or stupid," said Klaas. " You 
 must not take it ill of her, sir; she does not mean ill." 
 
 "You know well enough how it is meant; I only 
 say you are not what the Jews are; so — so — well, 
 you know what I mean," 
 
358 SPINOZA. 
 
 "Oh, yes; and I am not vexed at all." 
 
 "Each one stick to his creed," said Klaas, "and 
 he who is brave and upright may be saved by any 
 faith; all men are God's children." 
 
 "But you are a child of the devil," said little 
 Albert, who had been listening quietly to Spinoza; 
 "you have crucified our Saviour, and will go to 
 hell." 
 
 Klaas stretched across the table and would have 
 boxed the boy's ears; Frau Gertrui and Spinoza 
 prevented him. 
 
 "Stupid child!" said the former; "this gentle- 
 man did not do it; others did it who have had their 
 reward long ago." 
 
 Spinoza took the struggling boy on his knee and 
 explained to him that it was no sin to be a Jew, 
 since Christ and his apostles were Jews. The 
 Jews had certainly not done right to slay Christ on 
 the cross, but things had gone ill enough with them, 
 and men cannot do penance forever for a fault. 
 
 " By your leave," said Klaas, " you have not quite 
 the right view of it. Our Saviour was obliged to 
 die on the cross because it was foreordained of God 
 the Father, and he could only become our Saviour 
 by so doing. * 
 
 " Even according to this Calvinistic view," re- 
 plied Spinoza, " the Jews were still more innocent. 
 You must never believe, dear Albert, that God 
 would damn a man forever." 
 
MICROCOSMOS. 
 
 359 
 
 On this last poiftt also he had to maintain a con- 
 troversy with Klaas, and especially on the passage 
 in the Bible, " The Son of Man goeth as it is written 
 of him; but woe unto that man by whom the Son 
 of Man is betrayed ! It had been good for that 
 man if he had not been born !" (Matt. xxvi. 24). 
 But the dispute ended quietly. 
 
 " Why have you not a great beard ?" asked Albert 
 shyly, stroking Spinoza's chin; "in your country 
 all men have long beards." 
 
 " In my country ? Where do you think I was 
 born ?" 
 
 " In Jerusalem, or do you come from Nazareth ? 
 Oh, tell me something about it; it must be so lovely 
 there." 
 
 " I do not come from Canaan, my dear boy. I 
 was born here in Amsterdam, as you were also." 
 
 "That is a lie; you are a Jew. Is he not, grand- 
 father ? The Jews all come from Canaan." 
 
 "Not for a long time now; they have been with 
 us for longer than we can remember; and when 
 the Saviour comes again and begins his thousand 
 years' reign he will take all the Jews back to Pales- 
 tine." 
 
 " Then I should like to be a Jew too. I want to 
 go with him." 
 
 "Be glad you are not one, boy," said Spinoza; 
 "we have long to wait for the millennium." 
 
 " What was your father called ?" 
 
360 SPINOZA, 
 
 "Benjamin." 
 
 " But he was not Jacob's youngest son. Jacob 
 was a nice man. I should have been ashamed to 
 have him for a grandfather; he deceived his brother 
 Esau and his father-in-law Laban, and his de- 
 scendants stole the Egyptians' gold and silver." 
 
 " Be so good as to give the boy a couple of sound 
 slaps for me," said Klaas. 
 
 "Not I," answered Spinoza. *' He is a little Bi- 
 ble hero. But don't forget, child, neither with 
 Egyptian gold nor with Christ's crucifixion have 
 the Jews anything more to do; and you must al- 
 ways remember that the apostles, too, were Jews." 
 
 " Geert, put the boy to bed, or else we shall 
 never get rid of him.'' For once a highly reasona- 
 ble speech of Klaas Ufmsand. Spinoza with diffi- 
 culty obtained a hand from little Albert, but dare 
 not kiss him for the world. For some time longer 
 Spinoza sat talking with Master Klaas till he 
 yawned more and more frequently and openly, 
 then they separated. 
 
 " You have come to a capital punishment," said 
 Spinoza one day at noon to Oldenburg, as he en- 
 tered. " In that box I have been starving a folio 
 edition of a garden spider for several days, and 
 there is another empty wretch. I too have a talent 
 for diplomacy, and mean to set a war of extermina- 
 tion going." 
 
 He half filled a bowl with water, unscrewed a 
 
MICROCOSMOS. 
 
 361 
 
 flat plate from the work-bench, placed it in the 
 vessel, and the two spiders on the leaden island. 
 Each of the spectators armed himself with a micro- 
 scope. 
 
 " Look," said Spinoza; " if there is a spirit wholly- 
 independent of the world hovering over it it is 
 thus that he would watch, as we are now doing, 
 over the little conflicts on the earth." 
 
 "We must give the two sides names," said Olden- 
 burg. " The garden spider shall be Alexander, the 
 other Darius. Look ! Alexander sends out his 
 scouts far and wide; Darius flies, but it is of no use, 
 the sea surrounds him. Both pause for a while, 
 but Alexander arises and presses forward. Look, 
 how he throws his arms round his adversary, but 
 he defends himself vigorously; now they rise to the 
 conflict. How they seize and squeeze each other, 
 how their probosces tear at one another ! If I 
 could only see their eyes properly. Bravo ! Alex- 
 ander is down, but his long arms press powerfjjlly 
 against the scaly breast of his adversary. Now he 
 has torn himself loose. Look how he rushes with 
 fresh courage to choke his enemy! His fall was only 
 ä Parthian flight; now is the time. Oh, it is all 
 over, they are letting each other go." 
 
 " Be quiet," said Spinoza. " That is only a truce, 
 and if it were sworn to by all the gods, they would 
 break it like men as soon as they had gathered 
 strength for a new fight. Am I not right in assert- 
 
362 SPINOZA, 
 
 ing that everything depends on the standpoint and 
 position of the pupil ? The buffalo mangling the 
 grim tiger with his horns till he lies crushed to 
 death before him is not greater than this spider in 
 fight. Nothing is in itself great, nothing in itself 
 small, only, because it appears so to us, we would 
 make it so. If men were not curbed by higher 
 reason, and allowed themselves to be governed only 
 by their ruling passions, they would destroy each 
 other like these animals." 
 
 '' Indeed this combat is as great as those of men. 
 When in war a thousand fiery messengers send out 
 death, when the ground trembles and the swords 
 flash, drenching themselves in the blood of men, 
 we feel so great in our scorn of death, so almighty 
 in the exercise of strength, we think we could stir 
 the world from its axis, and what is it ? A little 
 ant-hill's inhabitants fighting with grasshoppers — " 
 
 " The eternal peace has already come to its mortal 
 end," interrupted Spinoza. " Look how they whet 
 their weapons, now bravely at it again !" 
 
 The two friends watched the result of the com- 
 bat without further conversation. Oldenburg had 
 not given the parties their right names, for the gar- 
 den spider after a short resistance was devoured 
 by the other, head and hair and all. Darius was 
 borne in triumph on the leaden island to where he 
 had spun himself a royal tent. 
 
 " Ordinary life has many turns and twists of deep 
 
MICROCOSMOS. 363 
 
 signification," said Oldenburg. " Of two people 
 who pursue each other with inextinguishable hatred 
 we say they are enemies like spiders." 
 
 "Your lord and master, Descartes," said Spinoza, 
 " could have learned a great deal from these spi- 
 ders. He would probably have then not brought 
 forward a false proof of a true thing. He tries to 
 prove the existence of God from the fact that we, 
 who have an idea of him, exist. He takes two 
 axioms to prove this. Firstly, 'That which can 
 perform the greater and more difficult can also 
 perform the lesser and less difficult.* Secondly, 
 ' It is greater to create and preserve the substance 
 than the attributes and qualities of the substance.' 
 I do not know what he means by that. What does 
 he call easy, what difficult ? Nothing is absolutely 
 easy or difficult in itself, but can only be called so 
 with regard to its cause. We want no other ex- 
 ample but this spider; with very little trouble it 
 spins a web that men could not make without very 
 great difficulty. On the other hand men do many 
 things with ease that would perhaps be impossible 
 to angels. What can be called absolutely easy or 
 difficult ? It would in this way be easily imaginable 
 that men may exist without necessarily supposing 
 the existence of God. But the existence of God, as 
 we have said, follows necessarily and consequently 
 on the idea of him." 
 
 Spinoza held a lengthier discussion with Olden- 
 
364 SPINOZA. 
 
 burg on the subject. We have remained long 
 enough in the house of Klaas Ufmsand, and will 
 pause until we can again conduct Benedict to 
 Olympia. There our story is quite in another 
 key. 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 PECULIARITIES. 
 
 KERKERING had clasped Olympia's hand, and 
 prayed Cecilia in a jesting tone to be his 
 godmother if he became a Catholic. He did not 
 let loose her hand when Spinoza entered, in spite 
 of Olympia's efforts. Spinoza stared in astonish- 
 ment. Olympia blushed, she snuffed the candle, 
 and, during the short interval of darkness, quite 
 recovered herself, and gave Spinoza a lecture on his 
 prolonged absence. 
 
 "I cannot understand," she said, "how a man 
 of your age can immure himself so in a cell. Frau 
 Gertrui told me that you had not been down stairs 
 for the last ten days, and that you had, moreover, 
 used a pound and a half of oil in your nightly 
 studies. You might become a monk or a hermit 
 without any self-sacrifice. It is a pity you are not 
 a Catholic." 
 
 ''■ I regret it equally; to put off the old man is 
 easy enough, but to draw the old on anew is diffi- 
 cult." . 
 
 Olympia was silent. Kerkering looked puzzled; 
 he used all his powers of mind, but could not 
 rightly understand what lay behind these words. 
 
366 SPINOZA. 
 
 " It is provoking," Olympia began again, " that 
 we women must perpetually go in leading-strings, 
 and never dare manage to be free. I cannot help 
 wishing to see the room for one minute that makes 
 the whole world unnecessary to you. Take care; 
 I have settled it all with Gertrui. Next time you 
 are not at home I shall come and examine every- 
 thing. I must find the arcanum that can keep you 
 so much to itself. You must have something ex- 
 traordinary there; day by day polishing glass and 
 studying, studying and polishing glass. Always 
 alone, not even an organ or a lute near you; no 
 one could endure it. But I shall find out the secret 
 soon." 
 
 "This time it is my turn," answered Spinoza, 
 *' to deny you a sixth sense. If you seek through 
 everything you are certain to overlook a companion 
 whose heart glows for me, and whose warm breath 
 I inhale with pleasure. But alas ! this faithful 
 companion is evanescent and frail, like all things 
 earthly." 
 
 "Oh, you fanatical and godless smoker! But in 
 your place I would really leave off smoking. It is 
 only an artificial taste, an imaginary pleasure." 
 
 " After music nothing refreshes a weary spirit 
 like a pipe of the American weed. Like the waves 
 of sound in music here the waves of smoke float 
 around us and smooth over all that is ruffled in us. 
 When I easily and silently take a long puff at the 
 
PECULIARITIES. -iß'j 
 
 pipe, keep the ethereal draught a moment in my 
 mouth, and then let it stream out in a light breath, 
 it flatters and soothes my mouth and lips as a soft 
 melody does my ears. You know well enough the 
 ill effect of that damp cold grey on grey painted 
 weather. That, if I may so call it, prickly feeling 
 of discomfort, which then pervades our whole be- 
 ing, I can chase that away much better when I am 
 surrounded by a cloud of tobacco smoke. I make 
 myself independent of the influence of the weather, 
 and when I watch the fleeting play of the smoke 
 wreaths my mind gains in breadth and I feel my- 
 self so delightfully peaceful and enlightened." 
 
 "Glorious !" cried Olympia; " now, for once, I see 
 you as an enthusiast." 
 
 " I must become enthusiastic to make you un- 
 derstand the worth of anything that you cannot try 
 for yourself." 
 
 "What a pity it is you never knew my Uncle 
 Boniface." 
 
 " Let the dead rest in peace," said Cecilia, who 
 sat reading in the window. " What do you want 
 with our blessed uncle ?" 
 
 " It does not matter disturbing his rest a little in 
 the other world; he had too much rest in this life 
 and was always ill in consequence." 
 
 Cecilia did not answer, but during the ensuing 
 conversation she retired unnoticed into the next 
 room. 
 
368 SPINOZA. 
 
 "Was your uncle, too, a priest of tobacco's vestal 
 fire?" asked Spinoza. 
 
 "I remember quite well now a sermon he 
 preached five years ago in the church of St. John. 
 He was a zealous opponent of tobacco in both 
 forms. ' They have noses, and smell not,' he cried 
 with the psalmist from the pulpit; 'they have 
 mouths, and taste not' " 
 
 "'And speak not,' saith David," corrected Spi- 
 noza; but Olympia continued undisturbed: 
 
 "They offer their bodies to Moloch and Baal. 
 Each one from early morning smokes his calf's, 
 ox's, or sheep's tongue, and the vapor rises from 
 his mouth like the reek of a sacrifice. That is why 
 their tongues are dry when they should pray an 
 'Ave Maria.' They hourly chew the leaves of this 
 plant of sin, as if it were heavenly manna that 
 tasted like coriander in honeycomb; and in a 
 while they tickle their noses with the stinking weed 
 that Beelzebub sowed so that they can no longer 
 smell the delightful odor of church incense. Woe ! 
 woe unto this Babylon, this Sodom and Gomorrah ! 
 But one day they will find their true reward, and 
 will smoke merrily in hell, where there is wailing 
 and gnashing of teeth; and those who have tickled 
 their noses will be salted with the leviathan and the 
 other monsters in the depths of the lower world. 
 The Lord preserve you from such chastisement. 
 Amen !" 
 
 # 
 
PECULIARITIES. 369 
 
 " Bravo !" cried Spinoza. "Pathos suits you ex- 
 cellently; you are a living concordance to the 
 Bible." 
 
 "Many thanks," said Olympia roguishly; "do 
 you agree with me that the priests are so zealous 
 against tobacco because they are afraid of Ancyra ?" 
 
 " Not quite, for I think that they will for long 
 and long enough preach the same thing from the 
 pulpit, while the domines themselves, between each 
 of their saving phrases, will take a pinch of snuff 
 from the gilt box on the reading desk of their pul- 
 pit. My Peter Blyning always says, when he takes 
 a pinch fasting in the morning, that it is his spirit- 
 ual breakfast." 
 
 "It occurs to me now," said Olympia: "do you 
 know the horrible treatise of the wise King Solo- 
 mon ?" 
 
 "I know all the writings of Solomon, but I hope 
 you do not call the * Preacher,* or the * Song of 
 Songs,' horrible, and wish to banish it from the 
 canon like the old Fathers of the Church !" 
 
 " Oh, no ! I mean something quite different. My 
 Solomon, indeed, the Presbyterians now leave to 
 roast and steam in hell for punishment of his pro- 
 phetic zeal; what grimaces he will make! I will 
 be with you again, gentlemen, in a minute." She 
 took a light from the table and went out, singing as 
 she went. 
 
 " What a wonderful, enigmatical girl !" said 
 
370 SPINOZA. 
 
 Kerkering, as he sat near Spinoza in the darkness. 
 "She is as learned as if she had ten professors in 
 her pocket. When I hear her talk like that I feel 
 as if — as if — I don't know what; I would rather be 
 quite still, and only wish that she would go on 
 talking forever. I cannot keep up with her; you 
 are the man for her." 
 
 " Are you of that opinion too ?" responded Spi- 
 noza, and a light broke in on the darkness to Ker- 
 kering. 
 
 " ' The people that walked in darkness saw a 
 great light ! ' How does pathos suit me, Herr von 
 Spinoza?" said Olympia, entering with a large book 
 under her arm. " Please excuse me. I did not see 
 that Cecilia had gone away, or I would not have 
 left you in darkness." 
 
 " A double light appears with you," said Kerker- 
 ing, perhaps referring to Spinoza's late disclosure. 
 Olympia thanked him and opened the book. 
 
 " I think I have found something in which I can 
 still be your teacher. Know then, that King James 
 I. of England was called Solomon the Wise, and 
 here is his horrible canonical treatise, ''De Peccato 
 Mortali Fumandi Nicotiafiam' Are you ready for 
 death, Herr von Spinoza?" 
 
 She then read a passage from the book. 
 
 "If the pious king had only known," said Olym- 
 pia, " that now a man would rule over England, 
 named Oliver Cromwell, who carries his BiJDle in his 
 
 .ilÄfc 
 
PECULIARITIES. 37I 
 
 sword-hilt, and yet commits the deadly sin of smok- 
 ing cigars all day long ! I am delighted, however, 
 to have found your weak point at last." 
 
 "You knew that long ago," replied Spinoza, 
 and Kerkering nodded, and bit his lips in mental 
 assent. 
 
 "You are very unjust to music," said Olympia, 
 " when you compare it with your hobby. Your 
 Descartes knew that music gave us many problems 
 to solve; his book * Compendium Musices' fascinated 
 me very much. But the creation of music and its 
 effects cannot be calculated and demonstrated in 
 numbers. And yet music has some resemblance to 
 mathematics, in that men created numbers, which 
 did not exist in the world, but were imagined. And 
 men created music, to which there was no parallel 
 in the known world." 
 
 "The sounds we hear ?" 
 
 " They have nothing to do with it. That men 
 created and imagined a whole kingdom of inex- 
 haustible sensations by tones makes music a mira- 
 cle of the human mind as much as mathematics." 
 
 " Music moves in a course, uncircumscribed by 
 fixed definitions," remarked Spinoza. 
 
 " How cold that sounds ! When I shut my eyes 
 and listen to good music I best comprehend my- 
 self, and men and circumstances that were before 
 confused become clear to me. "Imagine in harmony 
 the spectacle of an endless succession of imprisoned 
 
372 SPINOZA. 
 
 and struggling souls, of whom some complain, sigh 
 and bewail, while others carol, cheer, languish and 
 storm; soon they are united, and in infinite variety 
 express the same thought, then are mute. Again 
 one awakes, rises and dies gently and happily. A 
 band again join and rage and roar, the others 
 hasten past, the dead are aroused, till at last peace 
 settles on all." 
 
 " Your explanation is so imaginative," said 
 Spinoza, "that it convinces me more than ever that 
 music is the art of the emotions, and, indeed, moves 
 in the sensations like elements without a definite 
 object. Anger, pain, and joy, hate and love are 
 evinced as elementary sensations without a tangible 
 object. I will not reject such absorptions, but I 
 find it enough to do to understand the sensations 
 which are tangible, and thereby if possible to con- 
 trol them." 
 
 " And I tell you," maintained Olympia, " your 
 whole philosophy is a philosophy of music. Oh, if 
 I could only express what I mean properly. You 
 once explained to me that the peace of society de- 
 pended on each one resigning, for reciprocity's sake, 
 something of the natural rights in accordance with 
 which man may do all that he is able, that self-pre- 
 servation may become the protection of all. Now 
 that is the law of musical harmony. One note 
 struck alone would be quite different and sharply 
 defined; but if it passes into harmony it must re- 
 
 % 
 
 t 
 
 •w 
 
PECULIARITIES. 373 
 
 sign somewhat of its nature that the notes may flow 
 into harmony with one another, one after another 
 rising and falling." 
 
 Spinoza looked at Olympia with sparkling eyes. 
 How she treasured his words, and sought to bring 
 them within her own mental sphere. He had no 
 time to follow out his thought, that this view might 
 be applied to their personal connection. For after 
 a pause Olympia continued with this strange di- 
 gression: 
 
 "I cannot help being annoyed, that while such 
 extraordinary progress has been made in your art 
 that the stars can be brought quite close to our 
 sense of sight, why have not instruments been made 
 to strengthen our hearing ? How glorious it would 
 be if we could hear the music of the spheres that 
 Dante describes so divinely." 
 
 " If we accepted it as a fact that the stars move 
 with rhythmical sound, it would do but little for 
 our intelligence to hear them." 
 
 "Intelligence then is the measure of everything? 
 Is not enjoyment desirable in itself ? You must 
 confess that no regular movement exists without 
 rhythmical sound, from which I have drawn a very 
 odd conclusion, which I will tell you, if you will 
 promise not to laugh at me." 
 
 " I promise that, for I am curious to hear what 
 conclusion seems so odd to you." 
 
 " Half a year ago my father told me that an 
 
374 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 English physician, named William Harvey, had dis- 
 covered the circulation of the blood and its laws. 
 I am convinced that as the movement of the heart 
 makes a sound that we can hear, the movement of 
 the blood in our veins must make a sound too, but 
 one which we can very seldom hear. In times 
 when we are perfectly healthy we are in perfect 
 harmony, in times of sickness we are discordant. 
 I told my father that the ringing we have in our 
 ears must surely be a note that has broken loose 
 from the general harmony. My father considers 
 rather that it was an acoustic illusion when we 
 thought we heard such sounds, but I cannot accept 
 that view. You see there is really a great truth 
 contained in the common saying that we can hear 
 the grass grow. All through nature there is regu- 
 lar movement of moisture, and wherever there is 
 movement there is sound and tone. Among the 
 stars, in the depths of the earth, and on the surface, 
 there is an eternal murmur and swell and clash. 
 Music is the soul of the universe, is our soul. All 
 is in million-voiced harmony, and the articulation 
 given to man is its divinest revelation." 
 
 Olympia's expression of countenance grew 
 brighter and brighter, and Spinoza said: 
 
 " You see I do not laugh at you. I am glad you 
 evaded so well your father's view of it, which yet 
 you so nearly agreed with. I will not allow myself 
 to judge so hastily of your theory." 
 
PECULIARITIES. \ ^ "^ P" >ifyi- ^-f 
 
 " Why must men's partialities be so dufcrent'^ha^ W^^ , 
 they can hardly understand one another ?" a$k^d'7" ^ ■ «^ 
 Olympia, and Spinoza replied: ^^ ^^.. 
 
 "So that we should only try to convince each 
 other on merely intellectual subjects; where this 
 ends persecution for heresy begins. You are cer- 
 tainly right in your own appreciation of music, and 
 in your love of it; but music is an example of how 
 in matters of faith, of imagination in a word, where 
 no fixed definition is afforded by intellectual proof, 
 fanaticism and persecution so readily prevail. Men 
 always become passionate where they are conscious 
 of incapacity, and force an outward observance of 
 what is only an internal law, an internal duty. Do 
 not be led into taking me for a heretic to music, 
 and banishing me from your sanctuary." 
 
 Kerkering quickly took advantage of this turn of 
 the conversation to ask Olympia to go to the organ; 
 Spinoza also expressed the same desire, and it was 
 soothing and refreshing to their overwrought minds 
 to listen to the tones that Olympia drew, now 
 swelling, now softly sinking, from the instrument. 
 
 It was late in the evening when Spinoza and 
 Kerkering left. The peculiarities of character in 
 the two lovers were plainly expressed in the fact 
 that Olympia, fascinated by the flow of musical 
 sound, gave herself up unrestrainedly to her feel- 
 ings, and there felt the freedom of unrestrained 
 existence; while the philosopher's task and Spi- 
 
3/6 SPINOZA. 
 
 noza's natura], ruling inclination was, unmisled by 
 the stormy power of the sensations, not to let these 
 deadening forces influence him, but to recognize 
 their perpetual laws, and meanwhile to preserve 
 amid all disturbances that equanimity which alone 
 meant freedom to him. 
 
 A trifling physical peculiarity, but one which 
 evinced a deeper tendency of disposition, might be 
 recognized in the fact that Olympia's eyelids often 
 blinked, while Spinoza's look was as open an^d — - 
 steady as a child's. 
 
 It has not been yet investigated what relation 
 such physical features have to the whole vitality 
 and movement of the mind. May we found this 
 observation on the case of Spinoza and Olympia: 
 that, while the one, musical by nature, was animated 
 momentarily by harmonious sound, the other had a 
 steadily speculative or, as Oldenburg termed it, a 
 plastic nature ? 
 
 These diversities in their natures formed their 
 complement and a continually growing fascination. 
 
 Whether in constant association these differences 
 would always be as easily accommodated or not; 
 or whether it was the duty of one whose mission 
 was independent and all-embracing thought, to live 
 apart from every narrowing association in the region 
 of pure intellect ? These questions were for the time 
 suppressed, for Spinoza had to show in other ways 
 how far he already controlled his emotions. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 MISSIONARIES. 
 
 THE holy Jewish Church could not with indif- 
 ferent eyes see one who belonged to her by 
 birth and ritual wilfully break loose from her. She 
 knew well enough that, if individuals were per- 
 mitted to separate and live according to their own 
 inclinations, the original Jewish tabernacle would 
 in the future stand deserted, and no one would 
 be found to take it on his shoulders and bear it 
 from land to land, fixing its pillars in all kingdoms 
 of the earth. Where men are allowed to be merely 
 men, the gigantic edifice of the Church is tottering. 
 The lords of the Christian Church, as well as of the 
 Jewish, who call themselves servants, recognize this. 
 The Jews had no state. What would be left to 
 them if they had no Church, no synagogue ? 
 
 The synagogue keeper, Elaser Merimon, whom 
 we have before seen in company with the Cabbalist, 
 had already been to Spinoza three times, and com- 
 manded him in the name of the Beth-Din * to return 
 to the congregation, and in meat and drink, as well 
 as in attendance at the synagogue, to live after the 
 
 * Ecclesiastical Court 
 
378 SPINOZA. 
 
 precepts of the Jewish religion. He had refused to 
 obey these commands, and the lesser excommuni- 
 cation was passed, which banished him for three 
 months from the Jewish Church. Though he had 
 already condemned himself to this penalty, he 
 entered a protest against the sentence, because his 
 manner of life was not radically in opposition to 
 Judaism, and he pledged himself to prove the il- 
 legality of the ceremony. His protest, how:ever, 
 was in vain, and he thought no more about it, for he 
 recognized only one ban — that which could banish 
 him from the presence of Olympia. His two broth- 
 ers-in-law then came, and reminded him that he 
 must return to the bosom of the Church. He put 
 them off with a quiet smile; but they became more 
 and more violent, abused and cursed him, and 
 threatened to tear him in pieces if he did not 
 avert the shame of his manner of life from his 
 relations. 
 
 Spinoza's Spanish blood boiled, but even then 
 he suppressed all explosion of wrath. The threats 
 and blustering seemed to him only immaterial op- 
 position which he could have pictured to himself. 
 With measured speech and kinsmanlike behavior, 
 in so far as was consistent with independence, he 
 drew the limits; he taught their violence that ex- 
 ternal behavior could not bind, and external force 
 not convince. His words must have contained con- 
 vincing proofs, for the two looked at each other in 
 
MISSJONARIES. 
 
 379 
 
 mute astonishment and left him. A few days after- 
 wards, however, on the Sabbath, Spinoza was sur- 
 prised by another visitor, a woman, carrying a baby 
 hardly a year old in her arms, and leading a little 
 girl by the hand. Spinoza advanced kindly towards 
 her. 
 
 '* I am glad you have come to me, dear Miriam," 
 he said; " but how you have aged! Are you ill, or 
 in trouble ?" 
 
 " I am quite well, God be praised !" answered 
 Miriam, sighing, " and could not complain otherwise. 
 Yes, dear brother, ' marrying is marring;' two bad 
 confinements, thirteen weeks in bed, and the house- 
 hold going to ruin all the time; no rest at night 
 with the children, and trouble and care the whole 
 year round — you would not laugh at me now for 
 looking too often in the mirror; often I never look 
 in it from one Sabbath to another." 
 
 " I am very sorry that I have seen so little of you, 
 or been able to help, you so little; but leave the 
 cares behind now," said Spinoza, " they will soon 
 be "less. You can hardly think what an infinite 
 pleasure it is to have you with me again. Relations 
 are naturally the best friends. Do you remember 
 old Chaje's proverb ? * Bind me hand and foot, 
 and throw me among my people, that will always 
 be true.' " 
 
 •' Ay ! you will be thrown nicely among your 
 people. O God ! from the way you go on, we 
 
38o SPINOZA, 
 
 cannot see you without blushing. Do you know 
 what is happening to-day ? To-day you are sum- 
 moned the second time in the synagogue; perhaps 
 at this very moment in which we are speaking. A 
 week ago I was in the synagogue; my heart is so 
 heavy, it seems as if a hundredweight lay on it. 
 When we had all risen,* Rabbi Isaak Aboab (who 
 gives himself great airs since he returned from 
 Brazil) went to the altar; all were still, and looked 
 to see what he would do next. He called on your 
 name; and commanded you to return, if you would 
 not have heaven's lightnings smite you, or the 
 earth swallow you up. Dear brother, I thought my 
 heart would be torn out. I turned icy cold, and 
 then flames seemed to be before my eyes; I thought 
 I should fall down, and grasped the railing; I 
 fainted time after time; I don't know how I found 
 strength to go home; Esther de Leon, who stood 
 near me, went home with me. You know she is a 
 malicious, mocking thing; but she ought to be 
 silent, for she was once Acosta's betrothed, and you 
 are not as bad as he yet, thank God!" 
 
 " No, and will never be." 
 
 " But it is bad enough now," began Miriam again; 
 *' to-day is the second time, and in a week you will 
 be summoned for the third time, and then — I shall 
 never survive the shame of it. My husband will 
 
 * For the Thora to be replaced. 
 
MISSIOMARIES. 38 1 
 
 order me to forget that you ever were my brother 
 — and how can I do that ? It seems you could, for 
 if you can forget your religion, why should you not 
 forget your sister." 
 
 Miriam with these words looked at her brother's 
 agitated face; she seemed sorry to have given him 
 so much pain, and continued weeping: 
 
 "Day and night you are always in my mind; I 
 forget my duties as mother and wife, and it is all 
 your fault; it is the thought of your disregard of 
 duty that makes me do it. I cannot think what 
 makes you so obstinate, but I know this: if my son 
 should one day cause such trouble to his sisters, 
 I would rather he should die before he learned to 
 speak." 
 
 " You must not say so, dear sister; I hope all will 
 come right yet. Does not your husband know you 
 have come to me ?" 
 
 " He must not know a word of it. Only think, 
 he wanted me to go to the synagogue this morning, 
 but, God forgive me ! I would rather go to the 
 gallows; the women would look at me, and whisper 
 and giggle together. I said I should be obliged to 
 stay with the children, and came to you; Rebecca 
 stayed at home too, but she has not dared to come 
 with me; her husband is too stern. I cannot see, 
 though, why you will not return. You know, I do 
 not care about trifles, and do not condemn you like 
 the others; but the life you lead now, you could 
 
382 SPINOZA. 
 
 lead just as well if you lived like other Jews. If 
 you don't want to go three times to the synagogue, 
 you can go once, and that cannot be much trouble 
 to you. You see, you would still have to live, if, 
 God forbid it ! you were shut up in a House of 
 Correction; would it not be much worse ? No 
 Sabbath, no holiday, what would you live for? I 
 entreat you to come back; let other people trouble 
 themselves about what belongs to religion, and 
 what not. I believe you are right in many things, 
 and I will listen to you in secret, if you must con- 
 fide in some one; but what is the use of letting all 
 the world know ? I know well enough you men 
 will not put up with things that we women must 
 bear and endure; but yow — you are quite different: 
 from childhood you always gave up to others will- 
 ingly. Be what you used to be again; believe me, 
 you cannot be otherwise, it will break your heart 
 to try any other rule. Control yourself now rather, 
 and come back. O God ! if you were with us again, 
 we should be as happy and as much respected as 
 we ever were. I will read your wishes in your eyes, 
 I will lay my hands under your feet; with lifted 
 hands I entreat you to come back to us." 
 
 Spinoza with difficulty mastered his agitation 
 sufficiently to explain to his sister that he was fully 
 determined to defend himself against the Rabbis, 
 that they might not succeed in degrading either 
 himself or his family; he would not merely break 
 
MlSSlOMAktES. 3^3 
 
 their power in his own case, but in that of others 
 also in which they would have put free thought 
 under a ban. 
 
 " I believe it, I believe it !" cried Miriam enthu- 
 siastically; "you only want what is right; you are 
 better than all the rest of the world. But believe 
 me too, I have learned to know mankind since this 
 misfortune has come through you. You wish to 
 offer yourself as sacrifice for others ? You are too 
 good, you are the crown of mankind; the others are 
 not worthy that a hair of your head should be in- 
 jured for them." 
 
 Spinoza was deeply moved as he looked at his 
 sister, who loved him so well that for his love's 
 sake she rejected all others. Miriam might have 
 known the movement of his heart, for, with a wail 
 of grief, she threw herself on his neck and cried, 
 
 "You cannot and you must not for the world's 
 sake offer up yourself and us too. Or is it true that 
 you wish to wed a Christian ?" 
 
 Spinoza was in a painful dilemma. To lie was 
 as foreign to his nature as night to day; and yet 
 he hesitated how to explain to his sister that his 
 intellect had led him over the boundaries of church 
 dogmas, whither love was his only guide. 
 
 An unexpected circumstance freed him from 
 the necessity of further explanation. The two 
 children, seeing their mother crying on their 
 uncle's neck, began to cry and scream also, so 
 
384 SPINOZA. 
 
 that Miriam forgot her question in pacifying her 
 children. 
 
 " Benjamin," she said to the boy, who was first 
 pacified, " Benjamin, entreat your uncle not to leave 
 us. Ah ! the child has our late father's name, who 
 would weep and wail too if he saw you; he cannot 
 rest quietly in his grave if he hears what has be- 
 come of you." Spinoza took the boy in his arms, 
 and embraced and kissed him. 
 
 " As little as this child condemns me, as little 
 would my father condemn me in eternity," he said. 
 Little Sarah, too, played with her uncle's hand, and 
 asked him, on her mother's bidding, to go with 
 them. Spinoza repeated his assurance that he 
 could defend himself; and Miriam with a heavy 
 heart took her children away with her. 
 
 He had to sustain another conflict on account of 
 his decision that day. Towards evening Rodrigo 
 Casseres came to him. 
 
 " You have no father now," he said, " I must 
 take his place. Do you remember the time you 
 saw me first ? You too will have a cur's burial 
 like that renegade. Do you remember the evening 
 when I told you of your uncle Geronimo's dreadful 
 death ? You too will die like that; only more God- 
 forsaken, more torn by the devil, for you have 
 trodden down the creed of your fathers of your 
 own free-will. Your father, I and all of us, for 
 what have we staked our lives day after day ? For 
 
 W 
 
 Jl^ 
 
MISSIONARIES. 385 
 
 the holy faith of our fathers. Why have we left 
 our beautiful native land and wandered into far 
 countries ? That we might openly serve our faith 
 in peace; and you reject it of your own free-will. 
 I warn you while there is yet time; you are young 
 now, but when you approach your end, your 
 treachery will follow you when you wake, and 
 murder your sleep." 
 
 Spinoza had regard to the man's age, and quietly 
 represented to him his firm decision and his in- 
 nocence. 
 
 For a week he was free from attempts at con- 
 version, and during this time he worked out a plan 
 of defence; and while employing for this purpose 
 the authority of the Sacred Scriptures, he formed 
 new conclusions and became more firm and decided 
 in those he had long ago formed. What had been 
 suppressed in the development of silent thought, 
 whether by innate shyness or under cover of stated 
 facts, now shot up with renewed strength in the 
 hot conflict of defence. Spinoza, too, now felt 
 that warlike spirit, that concentrated power, which 
 strengthens ordinary forces and makes them rise 
 above themselves. 
 
 For the next exhortation which was addressed 
 to him he did not require this power. 
 
 On the Sabbath, as he sat at table enjoying his 
 simple mid-day meal, he heard some one heavily 
 mounting the stairs; the door opened, and old Chaje 
 
386 SPINOZA. 
 
 entered the room. Spinoza drew a chair to the 
 table for her, and asked: 
 
 " Have they sent you out too, to bring back the 
 lost sheep to the flock ?" 
 
 " No, as true as I wish God may let me see joy 
 in him again, I came here of my own wish. I 
 thought my old legs would break before I got up 
 the stairs. I did not believe any of them. I wanted 
 to hear with my own ears if it were true that he 
 would reject our holy religion; he was once a 
 brave, pious Jewish child." 
 
 Spinoza remarked in silence the influence that 
 the report spread about him must have had, for 
 old Chaje in her zeal almost forgot his presence, 
 and appeared to talk to herself about him. 
 
 " Who knows that ?" asked Spinoza. 
 
 " Who knows it ? A fine secret ! The children 
 in the street talk about it. O Lord, how often 
 have I carried him in my arms ! Who would have 
 thought then that he could become such a one as 
 this? What is true, is true; the sister of Black 
 Gudul, who was servant at Rabbi Aboab's, said 
 long ago Baruch was a hypocrite; where he will be 
 the Rabbi, the congregation will get baptized. I 
 always thought, if I should close my eyes after liv- 
 ing over a hundred years, — I have neither kith nor 
 kin in the world, more's the pity, — I would leave 
 Baruch my little bit of fortune that I have saved up, 
 and that he would have said prayers for my soul; 
 
MISSIONARIES. 387 
 
 that I, too, might have a silver chair in Gan-Eden.* 
 Ah ! my wishes and hopes have melted away." 
 
 Chaje wept bitterly. Spinoza tried to console 
 her. 
 
 " He leads me too into sin by making me weep 
 on the Sabbath; it has knocked another nail in my 
 coffin," she wailed. " I would like to know what he 
 can be thinking of. Has the Jewish religion been 
 right for so many thousand years that it should be 
 thrown aside now like a broken pot ? He must be 
 possessed, I do believe; why should he have abused 
 the Jews and the Jewish religion ? ' Cut off your 
 nose and spite your face,* the proverb says. He 
 will try and please me and be good and pious 
 again, won't he ? He will surely thank me on his 
 deathbed, when he follows me. It was only youth- 
 ful folly, and that is soon forgotten. The grass 
 need only grow over it a year, and then he might 
 choose among the daughters of the richest men in 
 Amsterdam." 
 
 Spinoza was nearly powerless against old Chaje's 
 talk; on her no explanation had any effect; she 
 would not go away until he had promised to be 
 pious and good again. At last he had to give her 
 plainly to understand that she must take her de- 
 parture. Olympia prophesied aright when she said 
 pilgrimages would one day be made to Spinoza, but 
 
 * Paradise. 
 
388 SPINOZA. 
 
 the pilgrimage was first made to Maledictus. The 
 day after Spinoza had got rid of old Chaje, the 
 physician Solomon de Silva came to him. He be- 
 gan with professional inquiries, and told Spinoza 
 that his present way of life was undermining his 
 health; but he-4::eplied that two of his friends were 
 physicians, that he observed diet, and was always 
 fairly well. Silva then drove his probe deeper. 
 
 " I confess," he said, " that Judaism contains 
 many abuses and abnormal developments which 
 ought to be got rid of; when I was your age it 
 used to weigh on my mind too. The impetuosity 
 of youth always wants hastily to cut away what 
 displeases it, but that will not do; men must first 
 win respect and confidence, and not shock people; 
 then later on something may be permitted to you, 
 and you can carry out your plans by degrees." 
 
 " The Talmud teaches that you should keep no 
 false measures in your house," answered Spinoza. 
 '' Does that not refer here ?" 
 
 "In any case," persisted the physician, "time 
 and opportunity are to be considered; these every- 
 day conditions have at least their natural rights 
 as much as abstract logical thoughts. The first 
 rule is, that whoever wishes to influence any asso- 
 ciation and work seasonable and reasonable re- 
 forms, must never place himself outside that as- 
 sociation. Therefore I counsel you to return; 
 remember there are other people who have seen 
 
MISSIONARIES. 38g 
 
 the light of reason, but who do not care to over- 
 throw the old observances all at once. Much has 
 happened latterly for the suggestion of which any 
 one would have been stoned fifty years ago; and it 
 is ever so with progress. You see, our whole Low- 
 country home is a type of our religion. Dams are 
 built, canals dug, to bind and restrain the wild 
 power of the elements; on these dams life again 
 appears, and the canals become connecting roads 
 which hold men together. The power of centuries 
 lies in these wise precautions. Common men even 
 will keep this land sacred, because they know that 
 the labor of races passed away has wrung it from 
 the sea. If any one should come and find a better, 
 must he pierce the dams, destroy the work of his 
 forefathers, and for a short time annihilate fruitful 
 fields, and populous villages and towns, now built 
 on dry land ? It is thus with our religion. Do not 
 tear down the dams. Do not ! If you return, 
 there are many clear heads with whom, perhaps 
 indeed at their head, you can help to reform 
 Judaism." 
 
 " Who told you I wanted to do so ? Perhaps 
 Judaism is nothing more to me than its offshoot, 
 Christianity — a development of mind followed by 
 others. In the first place, I want nothing but to 
 retain my independent life, and in that the power 
 of no Rabbi shall hinder me." 
 
 "Have you forgotten," asked Silva, "what you 
 
390 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 told me when we came to this room for the first 
 time with your late father ? The time may come 
 when you will feel deserted by all who belong to 
 you by bonds of kindred and religion; you will 
 stretch out your hands to them, and grasp naught 
 but empty air. I know too wxU how far your free 
 thought has carried you; I do not believe you will 
 turn Christian.' Trust my experience, if you reach 
 the highest point of free-thought, and have shaken 
 off all prejudice or doctrinal peculiarity, you are, 
 and will always remain, a Jew to them; they will 
 always look upon you as a foreigner. They have 
 imbibed hatred and aversion to the Jews with their 
 mothers' milk; you waste your love on them. 
 What good they may discover in you, they will set 
 down as exceptional; if you strive for wealth and 
 honor, they will say it is Jewish avarice and ambi- 
 tion; if you hold both cheap, they will say he has 
 acquired a little Christian modesty and scorn of 
 worldly wealth. They will think you charming 
 and inimitable if you mock at Jewish folly; but if 
 you attack one of their own prejudices, even if they 
 themselves had long ago made a jest of it, you 
 must not do it, and if you do it, you are a pert, 
 obtrusive Jew. It is the same in this as in other 
 things in life: we confess our faults, and blame 
 ourselves for them; but if another does it, we are 
 annoyed. Sooner will the heavens kiss the earth, 
 or fire and water unite, than a Jew and a Christian 
 
MISSIONARIES. 
 
 391 
 
 embrace in true, tender, all-forgetting love and 
 union. Ay, and if you are baptized, the first defect 
 they discover in you, it is the old Jewish Adam ap- 
 pearing. So return to your own people, who love 
 you truly, and on whose neck rests the same yoke; 
 they will receive you with brotherly love, and for- 
 get your backsliding." 
 
 ** No," said Spinoza, " you have committed a sore 
 sin against God and human nature by your words; 
 it would be too horrible if they were true, but they 
 are not. It is indeed possible for man to belong 
 to man; love and comprehension are more durable 
 than hatred and prejudice. Is the human mind 
 originally Jewish or Christian ? Well ! I shall see 
 in time whether you speak the truth." 
 
 " Do not; why should you be ruined ? * Whoever 
 would purify himself, men will come to his help; 
 but he who would defile himself, men let him 
 alone,* says the Talmud. I will make you a good 
 proposition. The congregation offer you a place 
 in the Beth-Din; you can follow your studies un- 
 disturbed, for you have little to do there." 
 
 "I will never accept office." 
 
 " The congregation will guarantee you a salary 
 of a thousand gulden, on condition that you will 
 promise on your honor never to write a word 
 against Judaism." 
 
 " The proverb says, ' If the people wish to 
 silence a man, they must stop his mouth with 
 
392 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 broth/ replied Spinoza. "It is a practical and 
 politic method, but not applicable to my case. My 
 dear doctor, I do not want you to be angry with 
 me, but .what are such proposals to me ?" 
 
 " I only told, you of them to fulfil my commission; 
 I personally have something else to say to you. 
 Youth will not see that there is really no such 
 thing as absolute truth, that such a thing cannot 
 exist in the world, because it would be tyrannically 
 absolute. He who knows the fate of man, and has 
 lived a long life of his own, knows that historical 
 truth alone is worth anything. You are too modest 
 and humble to be a scoffer; you see, even God 
 allows the many-sidedness of truth; grant — " 
 
 " And my intelligence of Him obliges me to fol- 
 low that perception." 
 
 " Hold firmly to that, and at the same time hold 
 to the conditions of history. Whether you come to 
 my conviction that no philosophy can reveal the 
 secrets of the world further than the Jewish revela- 
 tion, or whether you are of another opinion, and 
 accept the Messianic time as one in which your ab- 
 solute intellectual truth reigns ; look back: if it 
 were for nothing but the memory of the innumera- 
 ble multitude who were murdered for our faith, 
 this alone must keep us fast within its sacred walls. 
 A religion which despises the joys of life, and 
 teaches love of a fearful death for its sake, must it 
 not contain the first spring of truth ? Who would 
 
MISSIONARIES. 
 
 393 
 
 dam it up with a rash hand because in course of 
 time it runs muddily ? The blood of your brothers 
 and sisters murdered in the past cries to Heaven 
 for vengeance on you, for you defile their honorable 
 graves by writing on their tombstones that they 
 died for illusion and error." 
 
 "I do not do so; it is calumny to say so of me: 
 the Jewish laws are great and holy to me; in them 
 the Godhead for those times most clearly revealed 
 himself; blessed are they who know and live ac- 
 cording to them; but has the Divinity since those 
 times ceased to live in the minds of men ? Are all 
 later born races doomed to stop where the former 
 stood, and fetter themselves with old forms? The 
 form fades, the spirit remains eternal, renewed in 
 youth, and increasing ever in strength." 
 
 "A powerful mind is in you," began Silva again, 
 controlling himself; " your moderation assures me 
 that you will be a great man. Weak natures are 
 violent and wrathful in controversy, but never the 
 strong. Do not throw a stone in the well you have 
 drunk from. Your resolution to freely sacrifice all 
 for the truth, you have inherited from the Jews. 
 Be thankful. Show your power by self-control, be 
 faithful to yourself and your own, and be not led 
 away to apostasy." 
 
 "There is no apostasy but from ourselves." 
 
 " We shall all honor you, I above the rest, if you 
 control yourself," 
 
394 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 ^' And I shall be disgraced in my own eyes." 
 
 Confusion and dejection were seen in Silva's 
 face; everything, even just appreciation of his 
 virtue, was in vain with Spinoza. The physician 
 rose and cried: 
 
 " Alas ! you are lost. I can only pray to God to 
 let in the light of day on you, that the ignis fatuus 
 which leads you into marsh and slough may 
 vanish." 
 
 Tears stood in Silva's eyes as he spoke; he 
 turned and went away. Spinoza was deeply moved 
 by the conversation; he was much pained to have 
 so grieved the reverend old man, and not to be 
 able to obey him; but how otherwise could he or 
 durst he act ? 
 
 It was much easier for Spinoza to dismiss the 
 last tempter. In the afternoon Chisdai came, and 
 as soon as he had entered the door he threw him- 
 self on the floor and sat as if mourning. 
 
 "What is that for?" said Spinoza. 
 
 " Alas !" cried Chisdai, muttering to the floor, 
 without raising his head, " has the unclean spirit in 
 thee made thee forget everything ? Do you no 
 longer know the story of Rabbi Eliezer ben Hyr- 
 kanos ?" 
 
 "Very well; he wanted to prove his view of the 
 permissible use of a baker's oven by miracles, and 
 was excommunicated for it. No one would take 
 him the news till Rabbi Akiba did as you are doing 
 
MISSIONARIES, 
 
 395 
 
 here. Am I not still a good Talmudist ? But get 
 up; I can neither tell a tree to place itself elsewhere, 
 nor water that it should flow backwards, nor the 
 walls either that they should bend inward; they 
 none of them obey me." 
 
 "So !" cried Chisdai, springing up, and shaking 
 his fist fiercely, " so you mock at the Talmud too ? 
 You see I came here in peace; I would have warned 
 you to fear God, and showed you that I did not 
 oppose you in jealousy or any other base passion; 
 but words are lost on you. Go thy ways ! The 
 carrion crows beside the stream will peck out thine 
 eyes, and the young eagles devour them." 
 
 " You can pervert the Bible, like a good Tal- 
 mudist as you are; the Scriptures only lay that 
 curse on one who mocks at and scorns his father 
 and mother." 
 
 "That you have done seventy times seven, you 
 reprobate. But your punishment will not tarry; 
 you will yet be stoned to death, and men will cast 
 stones in heaps on thy carcass, for a warning to all 
 coming generations. Take heed to thyself; if I get 
 thee into my hands Twill tear thee as men tear fish, 
 until thy breath can no longer poison the air." 
 
 "Talmud again," laughed Spinoza; "but re- 
 member the Talmud also says, * It is good that the 
 ass hath no horns.' " 
 
 Chisdai foamed at the mouth with rage, but 
 hearing some one on the stairs he went out. 
 
396 ^Pij\rozA, 
 
 " What sort of a featherless biped is it that has 
 just left you ?" said Meyer, entering; "he looks like 
 an incarnate original sin." 
 
 Spinoza laughed heartily at the description. 
 
 " You have ridden your hobby horse to the right 
 post this time," said he; ''but this original sin 
 wanted to lead me back into the Jewish paradise." 
 
 Meyer exhorted him to oppose the Jewish Papacy 
 with all his usual power and firmness, and as he 
 soon took his leave, Spinoza too went out. 
 
 For the first time he felt not at home alone 
 within his own four walls; he found it impossible 
 to concentrate his mind as formerly on the investi- 
 gation of any particular line of thought; he needed 
 a friendly cheerful heart with whom he could un- 
 bend, and forget the storm of the day. Where 
 should he seek it if not with Olympia ? He went 
 there, and found her in confidential conversation 
 with Kerkering. He thought both looked strangely 
 surprised when he entered; he guessed rightly that 
 he had been the subject of their conversation. 
 
 Olympia, as usual, easily mastered her agitation. 
 
 " You appeared to me in a dream last night, Herr 
 von Spinoza," she said in the course of conversa- 
 tion; " you must guess in what form." 
 
 "You believe in neither angels nor devils; per- 
 haps you saw me in the form of a monk ?" 
 
 " No, guess again." 
 
 "An Emperor?" 
 
MISSIONARIES. 397 
 
 "No." 
 
 "A Rabbi? A Pope?" 
 
 ** No, you are not guessing now, I know. I saw 
 you as Masaniello, with a fishing net on your back; 
 your red embroidered cap with the long tassel 
 suited your coal-black hair, and your sleeves were 
 rolled up above your elbows. I saw you carried 
 through the streets that way, by a crowd of Jews, 
 to the new Town Hall; there you climbed up to 
 the golden ship on the tower and cried: ' Fellow- 
 citizens, you who, as Erasmus of Rotterdam says, 
 live like crows on the tops of trees ! I see your 
 fork-like chimneys and your double-faced gables, 
 I see the canals and dams that intersect your land, 
 and your life that flows on as much contracted, and 
 without free tide, in the preordained way. I tell 
 you, this will all be changed. I erase the " You 
 should " from your book of life, and in my doctrine 
 write it, " You must, for you can." You think fish 
 are mute ? It is not true. I have caught a legion 
 from the depth of the sea, who all speak wisdom.' 
 Then you took your net from your back, it was 
 empty; you turned it round, and an infinite number 
 of fish fell out; they glittered beautifully in the sun, 
 their fins became wings, and they fluttered away 
 screaming. You, however, remained there, and 
 uttered a Philippic against the legend that, on the 
 day on which the envoys of the Seven United Pro- 
 vinces should go through the seven doors of the 
 
398 SPINOZA. 
 
 finished Town Hall the good-fortune of each pro- 
 vince would desert it and never return. And then 
 you explained how your philosophy corresponded 
 with the water communication of our land; how 
 they could break and control storms and tides; how 
 men could drain flooded land from the stream of 
 sensations, and make it dry and fertile; everything 
 was perfectly clear, I understood it quite well in my 
 dream. Now I am, unfortunately, as unphilosophi- 
 cal again as the grauw — the crowd — who roared 
 and shrieked, ' He is a wizard, he is a son of the 
 Devil! ' and pulled down the Town Hall. I awoke. 
 If you only possessed some of Daniel's art !" 
 
 Spinoza asked if she had spoken to Frau Ger- 
 trui lately; Olympia protested she had not seen her 
 for several weeks. It was really a strange coin- 
 cidence, for Spinoza had two days ago begun the 
 odd freak of drawing his own portrait as Masaniello. 
 He told Olympia nothing of this, because he knew 
 that she was much given, in spite of her free-think- 
 ing opinions, to building up wonderful theories of 
 premonition. To-day, too, he did not feel at ease 
 with her. Was it the presence of Kerkering, or was 
 it because he had come there with a full heart, 
 and saw too late that he should find no sympathy 
 here in his painful conflict ? An undefined uncer- 
 tainty and doubt pervaded his connection with 
 Olympia. He saw that Kerkering became more and 
 more familiar with her, and she did not, as formerly. 
 
MISSIONARIES. 
 
 399 
 
 keep him jestingly at a distance. He even thought 
 he perceived a secret understanding between them. 
 When he left, Olympia said: 
 
 " Your sister Rebecca came to me to-day. I was 
 to persuade you to submit to the Rabbis." 
 
 Spinoza bowed in silence. How could she relate 
 her dream and carry on such jests, instead of im- 
 parting this circumstance? Must it not have made 
 her heart full that his sister should come entreat- 
 ingly to her.? "You should not expect others to 
 know an emotion which you suppress in yourself," 
 he said to himself. 
 
 Miriam, who had lived with him in sisterly love 
 from childhood, came to him, and only inquired 
 shyly about his love; while Rebecca, the domineer- 
 ing, who had always been estranged from him, went 
 straight to Olympia. What must she have ap- 
 peared to her ? Perhaps she had made his beloved 
 one's heart doubtful, and given her a dislike to his 
 family. 
 
 Spinoza felt his cheeks burn. He was on the 
 point of cutting loose from all bonds of family and 
 all chains of habit, but could never endure these to 
 be despised. 
 
 Love and truth should have stood by him in the 
 conflict now opening on him. Did truth alone re- 
 main to him ? 
 
'-/ 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE EXCOMMUNICATION. 
 
 AN innumerable crowd lined the streets, praying 
 with folded hands to the Lord that he would 
 protect the undertaking of their liberator. In front 
 rode the Imperial herald with the eagle, and the 
 soldier of God's Word followed, accompanied by 
 travellers the same way in shining steel and gor- 
 geous accoutrements. And when he entered the 
 assembly, his admirers climbed on the roofs, and 
 filled the streets and windows, for each one esteemed 
 himself highly favored who caught sight of him. 
 And when he had boldly and manfully fought the 
 battle, he was borne home in triumph, and a voice 
 was heard to cry, " Blessed are the hands that bear 
 him." Thus, in the year 15 21, Martin Luther went 
 to Worms, the bold champion of the freedom of the 
 Divine Word. 
 
 It is hard to sustain a conflict with power and 
 custom at any time; it is painful to support it 
 publicly; but the thousand upturned sympathetic 
 faces are like a glory round the head of the- cham- 
 pion, and raise his strength to be the strength of 
 thousands. And if he finds himself overcome, he 
 has felt the blessings of innumerable hearts in whom 
 
THE EXCOMMUNICATION. 40 1 
 
 his ideas will live. How very different it is to gird 
 for a conflict without victory in mute obscurity ! 
 
 In the year 1657 Benedict Spinoza went alone to 
 the House of Jacob Synagogue in Amsterdam, ac- 
 companied by no one, greeted by no one. The peo- 
 ple who knew him avoided this man, who was the 
 firmest champion of the freedom of religious 
 thought. He had no old written law to conquer for 
 the world anew; he appeared as if he would deprive 
 it of its strongest fortress, since he would have 
 naught but the good old right of free thought. 
 
 In the synagogue the ten Judges sat in their 
 seats, the president being Rabbi Isaak Aboab. 
 Near him sat Rabbi Saul Morteira. Spinoza stood 
 four paces distant from him. Rabbi Isaak Aboab 
 rose and said: 
 
 "With the help of God we are here assembled 
 to declare judgment and law on thee, Baruch ben 
 Benjamin Spinoza. Swear to us in the name of 
 the Almighty God that thou wilt neither deny nor 
 conceal anything from us, and that thou wilt submit 
 to the sentence which the Lord shall make known 
 by our mouths." 
 
 " Deceit I know not, and lies are far from me," 
 answered Spinoza; " I will submit to your judgment, 
 if you judge me according to the Divine Word, 
 and not according to the inclinations of your own 
 hearts and the interpretations of the Rabbis." 
 
 A murmur rose in the assembly, but it could be 
 
402 SPINOZA, 
 
 heard that the almost universal opinion was that 
 the accused, by thus demurring to recognize their 
 authority unconditionally, ought to be laid under 
 the greater excommunication without further trial. 
 Rabbi Saul Morteira called for silence. 
 
 *' Let us see," he said, " how far the corruption 
 of his heart goes. Say, renegade, hast thou not 
 sinned against God in the enjoyment of forbidden 
 meat and drink, and by laboring on the Sabbath ? 
 Hast thou not deserted the assembly of the faith- 
 ful, and defamed the sacred name of God and His 
 laws ? And it is written, ' He who profaneth the 
 name of God in secret shall be punished openly.' " 
 
 A pause ensued. Spinoza looked down, then 
 looking up he replied in a calm voice: 
 
 " I cannot do miracles and signs, or call upon 
 nature to stand by and witness for me. In me alone 
 must be shown the power which proves the pres- 
 ence of God in every human heart. That I stand 
 here before you, accused by you who believe an- 
 other manner of life well pleasing to God, that I 
 do not tremble and accuse myself of aught, accept 
 as a sign of my love to God, which I consider my 
 highest good. I defend myself only on the accusa- 
 tion of Sabbath-breaking, because this may appear 
 an offence against the sacred law of God in nature. 
 It is well and advantageous to oppressed men that 
 they should hav& one day in seven for rest. And it 
 is wise, for the privilege of humanity consists in 
 
 Ä. 
 
THE EXCÖMMUMICA TION. 403 
 
 free regulation of its powers; but who gives you the 
 right to punish a man for a sin which he commits 
 against himself ?" 
 
 Those assembled all rose from their seats and 
 cried out that they wowld no longer listen to such 
 blasphemy; but Rabbi Isaak Aboab said: 
 
 " Let him speak. From every word he speaks a 
 demon rises that will cling round his soul in his 
 extremity; and when he dies the death of a sinner, 
 they will hang on to him, and drag him down to 
 the pit of hell. It is our duty to hear his whole 
 guilt. Step forward and speak, witnesses." 
 
 Chisdai and Ephraim advanced; the one proudly 
 looking up, the other looking down ashamed. 
 
 "He has blasphemed God and the prophets in 
 our hearing, denied the angels, and mocked at the 
 miracles; and that he has done all this I swear be- 
 fore the face of the eternal God." 
 
 " I swear, too, that Chisdai has spoken the truth," 
 said Ephraim in a low voice. 
 
 " What answer do you make ?" asked Morteira; 
 and Spinoza replied: 
 
 " I have not blasphemed the prophets. Indeed I 
 honor them better than those who wreathe their 
 heads with the false glory of infallibility; who rob 
 them of the divine majesty of human greatness, 
 and degrade them to idols. Go forth and see, did 
 the sun stand still in Gibeon ? I have denied the 
 angels ? Has not Rabbi Joseph Albo already said 
 
404 SPINOZA, 
 
 openly, that belief in the existence of angels was 
 immaterial and unnecessary ? I have mocked at 
 the miracles ? What do you accuse me of ? Open 
 at the passage where Balaam's ass speaks, and look 
 what Ebn Esra says there. I have blasphemed 
 God ? I pity thee that thou knowest not that no 
 human intellect which follows its innate laws can 
 escape him." 
 
 •' Have you not said," interrupted Chisdai — " woe 
 is me that I must speak it after you ! — have you not 
 said that in the Holy Scriptures many imperfect 
 and false ideas of the nature of God are to be 
 found ?" 
 
 " I think I honor God more than you by that. 
 Is not God called 'great' in the Bible, and is there 
 a 'greatness' without limited extension in space? 
 It is true the Bible can only be explained by itself. 
 It carries the ground of its truths in itself. It will 
 not be measured by the laws of intellect; but neither 
 will it overrule them. The reason God has given 
 us, therefore, is no less divine, and can and must 
 create its ideal of God for itself, and find in itself 
 what is necessary to the leading of a godly life. 
 The Bible itself recognizes this sacred right of our 
 Reason, in recognizing a godly war of life in the 
 men who lived before the revelation on Sinai, 
 while it detracts from the truth in the law-giving of 
 Moses as a merely temporal revelation, by saying: 
 * It is not in heaven, that thou shouldest say, Who 
 
THE EXCOMMUNICATION. 405 
 
 shall go for us to heaven, and bring it unto us, that 
 we may hear it, and do it ? But the word is very- 
 nigh unto thee, in thy mouth, and in thy heart, 
 that thou mayest do it.' In our reason, on the 
 height of pure religious thought, there is our Sinai. 
 I will faithfully and openly explain to you my 
 views of higher things; if you refute me by reason, 
 "I will submit to you." 
 
 " You have appealed to the Holy Scriptures," 
 cried Morteira. '' Woe ! that thy tongue was not 
 burned to ashes, that thou venturedst to take its 
 holy words thereon; what would you have with 
 your Baal, Reason ?" 
 
 " Destroy him if you can," replied Spinoza. 
 
 Rabbi Isaak Aboab had till now quietly listened 
 to the discussion; now he rose and cried: 
 
 "The measure is full; you are all agreed with 
 me that this epicurean has deserved the extremest 
 chastisement of Gehinom." 
 
 All present answered with an audible "Amen," 
 and Aboab continued: 
 
 " Now I ask of thee, Baruch ben Benjamin Spi- 
 noza, wilt thou recant thy blasphemous words, and 
 submit thee to the penance that is due on that 
 account, or wilt thou that the highest curse of ex- 
 communication be passed on thee ?" 
 
 " Refute me by Reason and I will recant ! You 
 will not hear me. I would answer you from the 
 Scriptures. If you cannot hear me in this obscure 
 
406 SPINOZA. 
 
 synagogue, and will not try the Truth on its just 
 grounds, I will speak my thoughts to the whole 
 world, where no ban reaches. I have only come to 
 your tribunal to show you that I oppose no asso- 
 ciation that thinks it possesses the truth in its 
 creed; but freedom of thought has its own inviol- 
 able domains. If you, as you have here accepted 
 me, now reject me — a new day will break — " 
 
 " False prophet, be silent !" thundered Rabbi 
 Aboab. ^' I ask for the second time, I ask for the 
 third time, will you recant ?" 
 
 The stillness of the grave reigned for a second 
 in the hall; then Spinoza looked up, and answered 
 in a firm voice: 
 
 "I cannot, but neither can you do otherwise; I 
 curse you not." 
 
 Rabbi Isaak Aboab tore his mantle, and Rabbi 
 Saul Morteira took the Schofar that lay covered be- 
 fore him, and blew it three times, so that it echoed 
 on all sides of the dome; the sacred ark was 
 opened, all present arose, and Rabbi Isaak Aboab 
 read from a parchment: 
 
 *' In the Name of the Lord of lords 
 Art thou, Baruch, son of Benjamin, 
 Laid under the greater ban. 
 Be thou under the ban of both laws. 
 Heavenly and earthly: 
 Be banned by the saints above. 
 Be banned by the Seraphim, 
 Be banned by the Ophanim. 
 
THE EXCOMMUNICATION. 
 
 Shut out from all communities. 
 
 From the great and from the small. 
 
 On thee be great and heavy plagues. 
 
 Painful and horrible sickness; 
 
 Thy house be a dragon's den, 
 
 And thy star vanish from above. 
 
 Be thou the pest and horror of men, 
 
 And thy carcass the food of snakes. 
 
 Be thou a sport unto thine enemies, 
 
 And the goods that thou mayest possess 
 
 Be the portion of strangers. 
 
 Before the doors of thine enemies 
 
 May thy children wail, 
 
 And because of thy life's tortures 
 
 Be thy children's children struck with horror. 
 
 Be accursed by all spirits 
 
 Michael and Gabriel, 
 
 Raphael and Mescharthel. 
 
 Be accursed of the Great God. 
 
 By the seventy Spirits' names, 
 
 Subjects to the Great King, 
 
 By the great seal Zartok, 
 
 Go to Hell like Korah's band, 
 
 And with trembling and quivering 
 
 Thy soul go out of thee. 
 
 God's terrors slay thee. 
 
 Overthrown like Achitophel 
 
 In the snares of thy plots. 
 
 Gehazi's leprosy be thine, 
 
 And from thy fall mayst thou never arise; 
 
 Where Israel's graves lie 
 
 Be thy grave never dug. 
 
 Given away to the stranger 
 
 40; 
 
408 SPINOZA. 
 
 Be thy wife ; in thine hour of death 
 
 May others defile her. — 
 
 This ban, and this curse 
 
 On Baruch, son of Benjamin. 
 
 But on all Israel 
 
 And on me rest the peace of God 
 
 And his blessing eternally." 
 
 On this the Rabbi took the Thora from the 
 sacred ark, unrolled it and read (Deut. xxix. 19, 
 etc.): "And it come to pass, when he heareth the 
 words of this curse, that he bless himself in his 
 heart, saying, I shall have peace, though I walk in 
 the imagination of mine heart, to add drunkenness 
 to thirst: the Lord will not spare him. But then 
 the anger of the Lord and his jealousy shall smoke 
 against that man, and all the curses that are writ- 
 ten in this book shall lie upon him, and the Lord 
 shall blot out his name from under heaven." The 
 Thora was returned to the sacred ark, the Schofar 
 was again blown, and all those present said, turn- 
 ing towards Spinoza, 
 
 *' Cursed be thy coming in, and cursed be thy 
 going out." 
 
 All spat towards him, and recoiled four paces, as 
 with unbroken firmness he left the synagogue. 
 
 Would this exit from the accustomed sanctuary 
 be entrance to another, or would he never more 
 enter a temple of stone, and outwardly prove that 
 a free man is the temple of God ? 
 
THE EXCOMMUNICATION. 409 
 
 Before the synagogue he met Oldenburg, Meyer, 
 and de Vries, who waited for him; they had heard 
 of the proceedings, and waited here to protect him 
 from the violence of the Rabbis. The friends had 
 never yet seen Spinoza's countenance so animated 
 as now. They went silently away with him; Olden- 
 burg grasped his hand and pressed it. 
 
 As Spinoza passed his father's house he heard 
 the lamentations of his sisters; he knew they now 
 bewailed him more bitterly than if he were dead. 
 
 Now that he had not renounced it of his own 
 free will, now that it was torn from him, he felt 
 doubly what it is to be cut off in youth from all that 
 is dear and familiar in it; cutting all threads of 
 memory, and so dismembering life, that it has no 
 longer a connection with the past. 
 
 The saddest consciousness in the casting off of 
 any tender relation of life lies in this, that on both 
 sides a piece of life is extinguished and destroyed, 
 whose involuntary reawakening often fills us with 
 supernatural horror, and makes us hasten our flignt 
 to oblivion. 
 
 " So they sat down with him .... and none 
 spake a word unto him, for they saw that his grief 
 was very great." 
 
 So it says in Job. Here, tpo, the three friends 
 sat and said nothing, for they saw that his grief 
 was very great. Oldenburg quietly laid his hand 
 on Spinoza's shoulder, as if he could support him 
 
4IO 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 thus and lend him some of his own strength. He 
 felt what must agitate the heart of his friend, for, 
 though long absent from the congregation of the 
 synagogue, he must feel this rough rupture like a 
 fatal fall come at last. Even if expected and known 
 of for long beforehand, when death is at last brought 
 decisively face to face the pain is quite new — quite 
 different. 
 
 No sound was heard. Once only Oldenburg 
 softly and with warning movement spoke a few 
 words to Meyer when the latter had whispered 
 something in his ear, for Meyer was inclined to 
 treat the whole affair as hardly worth speaking of, 
 or to make a jest of it. 
 
 Spinoza sat sunk in his own thoughts, his brow 
 and eyes covered with his hands. The friends 
 looked at him in silence, waiting the first word that 
 he would say. At last he looked up, and as if an- 
 swering an appeal he said: 
 
 " No, no ! they shall not oblige me to oppose 
 them in bitterness, hatred and injustice. This 
 curse, too, is love. They would leave none to go 
 wrong; they would frighten and chastise him who 
 would renounce t^eir association. And this horri- 
 ble, elaborate curse ! If praise has its allotted 
 forms cursing must, have them also. They cannot 
 convert my thoughts. If I act in opposition to them 
 it is I no longer who live and act. No, I will live out 
 my own life; the world shall not be my master !" 
 
THE EXCOMMUNICATION. 411 
 
 " The world ?" Meyer could contain himself no 
 longer. " What have a set of rabbis in an obscure 
 synagogue to do with the world ? They send you 
 into exile; into a world that is much more beautiful 
 and greater than the one from which they banish 
 you." 
 
 "You maybe right; but remember I received 
 there my deepest awakenings of pleasure and pain. 
 There was a time when honor and dishonor there 
 were to me the honor and dishonor of the whole 
 world. That is past." 
 
 "Now, my friend !" cried Oldenburg, "you will 
 go out into the real world, into the wide, great 
 world, and you will go with me. I must leave 
 Amsterdam in a few days." 
 
 "You, and just now ?" 
 
 " I. am sent by my native town on an embassy to 
 London. Come with me." 
 
 "What should I do there with you ?" 
 
 " A great scientific society is to be founded in 
 London. I am appointed a member, and you shall 
 work with me." 
 
 In bright, attractive colors Oldenburg drew a 
 picture of the great world. Honor, renown, pleasure 
 and enjoyment sparkled in unknown splendor, and 
 Spinoza's countenance became suddenly brighter 
 and happier. He saw himself in the midst of the 
 great striving crowd, and amidst it all played a scene 
 of domestic happiness in which Olympia ruled. 
 
412 SPINOZA. 
 
 Meyer and de Vries added their persuasions. 
 Their words were hardly necessary, for what he 
 now heard outwardly Spinoza said to himself in- 
 wardly. He tremblingly seized Oldenburg's hand, 
 but arrested himself hastily and said: 
 
 " Excuse me; I must now be alone for a time." 
 
 He was left alone and the conflict raged within 
 him. 
 
 " But why did the friends say nothing of 
 Olympia .'' Was I mistaken in thinking I perceived 
 a certain shyness, a certain strangeness in them ? 
 To her — to her; under her eyes the new life must 
 begin." 
 
CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 WOOING BY PROXY. 
 
 AT the time when Spinoza was leaving the syna- 
 gogue the sacristan was unbolting a side-door 
 of the Catholic Church of St. John. Two festively 
 clad men came out, the one with a pale, agitated 
 face, the other laughing and gay. It was Van den 
 Ende and Kerkering. 
 
 "I am shivering," said the latter. "I feel as if 
 my usual clothing was torn off and I was freez- 
 ing. When I was on my knees there abjuring 
 the familiar, if half forgotten faith, and accepting 
 yours, my heart contracted as if icy cold, and I 
 could hardly bring out the required words. Ifis a 
 good thing that in the final carrying out of a reso- 
 lution we have no alternative left." 
 
 "This nonsensical sensation," replied Van den 
 Ende, " is nothing but the cold church and your 
 unaccustomed position, which checks your circula- 
 tion. Come, my son; the wine which they refuse 
 you there and keep for themselves is much better 
 at other taverns. Look at the whole thing, as you 
 have so well described it, in the light of a change 
 of clothes; as the fashion is, you have equipped 
 yourself for a wedding, nothing more." 
 
414 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 Nevertheless Kerkering threw troubled glances 
 round; he thought every one must be looking at 
 him to see what had happened. It was not till 
 they turned round the church of St. Olave's to Van 
 den Ende's house that the color returned to his 
 cheeks. In the physician's study, where he drank 
 to the new convert in '' the mother's milk of alma 
 inater nature," as he called it, Kerkering was 
 warmed by the fiery wine, and joined in the jest on 
 the childish sensations which he had experienced. 
 
 Van den Ende sent to desire an interview with 
 Olympia, but she sent word that she was ill in bed. 
 He hastened to her, leaving Kerkering alone. 
 
 "My child," said the father to his daughter, "I 
 am going on a difficult, perhaps dangerous jour- 
 ney. It is a comfort to me that I leave you in good 
 care." 
 
 " May I not know where and why ? Why have 
 I lost your confidence ?" inquired Olympia. 
 
 " That you may not pine or be anxious unneces- 
 sarily. When it is over you will be the first to re- 
 joice. I must play my part on a large stage. I do 
 not know whether it will be to laugh or weep. In 
 any case it is worth the trouble to prepare with hat 
 and wig. You should remember that Lucian and 
 Democritus fit themselves with courage, as well 
 as their more dismal gods. But you shall know 
 everything later. Now let me talk to you as a 
 father, as a friend. Look, I come to you in gala- 
 
WOOING BY PROXY. 415 
 
 dress. Say now with the Stoic to physical ill, ' I 
 am stronger than thou.* Deck thyself likewise. 
 Take this." 
 
 Olympia listened in astonishment to her father's 
 voice, doubly gay in her silence, and looked wonder- 
 ingly at the offered pearls. ^ 
 
 " What is that for ?" she asked. 
 
 "This bridal gift of his mother's our friend sends 
 you as a compliment, and says he has shed more 
 tears for you than there are pearls in the depths of 
 the sea." 
 
 " Did he weep ? I never thought he would have 
 done that. It was surely because he had to abjure 
 his father's faith and accept ours." 
 
 " He did do it, my child. There was still enough 
 stiff-necked Protestantism in him to protest against 
 it, but it is a proof of his love. In Kerkering you 
 restore my Cornelius to me." 
 
 "Alas !" cried Olympia, and covered her face in 
 the pillows. After much persuasion from her father 
 she looked up sobbing. " We are all unhappy. My 
 love belongs — you know, father; why need I say it? 
 I love Spinoza, and am beloved by him with all the 
 divine greatness of his mind, as never maiden was 
 loved before." 
 
 Van den Ende struck his forehead with his 
 clenched fist. He paced the room thoughtfully 
 for a long time, then again seated himself beside his 
 daughter's bed. 
 
4t6 SPINOZA. 
 
 " Dear Olympia," he said, " be open with me. 
 Have you already confessed your love ?" 
 
 ''Yes." 
 
 " And do you expect my consent ?" 
 
 " Certainly, for your free-thinking mind can ad- 
 mit of no prejudices." 
 
 " I will not. Let us look at the thing openly. 
 What do you mean to live on ? You know what I 
 have is not really my own." 
 
 " Spinoza could have a chair of mathematics or 
 philosophy at any university." 
 
 " That is not certain; he is rejected by the Jews 
 as an infidel, and the priests of all confessions join 
 hands when it is worth while to put down the com- 
 mon enemy. He can polish glass, and you earn 
 something with organ playing or other instruc- 
 tion. It might be sufficient to ward off death by 
 starvation, and if you have even pure water for 
 broth you can steep your philosophy in it, and it 
 will be nutritious food, but your children unfor- 
 tunately will not be satisfied therewith. Your love 
 is nothing but a false syllogism." 
 
 "Father, you are too hard." 
 
 " I am not. On your spiritual heights, where you 
 let yourself be fluttered round by nothing but genii 
 who have neither bone nor marrow, any one such as 
 I am must appear a barbarian. You have solved 
 the eternal problem of human fate and the exist- 
 ence of the world ; what does it matter to you if 
 
WOOING BY PROXY. 
 
 4^7 
 
 your fate and the nourishment of your existence 
 give you a new problem to solve day by day ? Your 
 souls love each other, and the dear souls, ah ! they 
 are such dear adaptable creatures that no privation 
 is too hard for them." 
 
 " Is that the want of prejudice with which you 
 would talk to me ? Do the sacrifices which I so 
 joyfully undertake merit such mockery ?" 
 
 "You are right," replied the father, "you may 
 marry him ; I will not oppose it. The human will 
 is his kingdom ; it is also my motto. But think of 
 one thing: how will you bear it when your friends 
 and acquaintances turn up their noses and titter 
 when they see you cross the street with him? ' Look, 
 there she goes,' they will say; 'she would have 
 stayed a spinster if the poor Jew, whose kin even 
 rejected him, had not taken pity on her ! ' I cannot 
 say they are wrong if they think, * If he really loved 
 her he would have denied his old creed willingly, 
 and not have waited till he was turned out ;' for 
 that is and always will be an insult in the eyes of 
 the world. And they will gossip further and say : 
 * How proud she was once, and how she looked 
 down on us ; she is lucky now, she does not want a 
 wardrobe ; the cast-off dress she had ten years ago 
 is now her whole stock. We pity her v/ith all our 
 hearts.* I know such things could not and would 
 not shake your resolution ; I only tell it you that 
 you may know it beforehand. I will not compare 
 
4l8 SPINOZA. 
 
 Spinoza in any way with Kerkering ; his mind is 
 great, and one minute in which your souls ring in 
 celestial harmony together weighs against years of 
 self-denial, weighs against all enjoyment of earthly 
 pleasures. You love and honor him, you admire the 
 majestic nature of his intellect. I do not believe that 
 he will misuse this power over you ; such things 
 seldom happen. What is he compared to Kerker- 
 ing ? He has sealed his love by going over to your 
 church ; he has left a powerful and honorable as- 
 sociation ; he has not made you a partaker in the 
 painful preliminaries, nor laid any responsibility 
 on you that you might receive the fruit of his work 
 without personal trouble, and it is thus that he will 
 always act. You will be bound by no gratitude 
 for his acts ; he makes no pretension but that he 
 loves you. He adores you, all your words are ora- 
 cles to him, the lightest wish of your heart is a 
 command to him which he fulfils with joy ; but 
 you are right, you would not have a husband whom 
 you could rule ; the wife's fairest ornament is obe- 
 dience, obedience even to tyrannical oppression. 
 What can Kerkering offer you ? Nothing but a 
 good, faithful heart that beats only for you. He 
 can give you a life amid brilliant society, honor and 
 pleasure. You will be an object of envy to all your 
 friends. But what is all this to the enjoyment of 
 perfect intellectual harmony ? Truly, it is eternal, 
 and your eternity will outlast a year, maybe two ; 
 is not that enough ?" 
 
WOOING BY PROXY. 419 
 
 Van den Ende was silent. Olympia no longer 
 wept and sobbed ; she dreamily played with the 
 pearls that lay before her. 
 
 " Can I get up ?" she inquired at last. 
 
 " Certainly," said the father, and smiled content- 
 edly to himself as he left the room. 
 
 Olympia rose and dressed. 
 
 " I made out my love to be stronger than it is, 
 to my father," she said to herself. " Was it not in 
 the beginning mere wounded self-love and desire 
 to see no man unconquered that threw me into his 
 arms? No, I loved him formerly, and I love him 
 yet." She took the pearls, clasped them round her 
 neck, and looked at herself well pleased in the 
 mirror. " ' I should not have found another hus- 
 band,' they will say; what does that matter to 
 me ? My own consciousness tells me these pearls, 
 and with them a life of brilliant enjoyment, was in 
 my hand, and I despised it all. But am I right to 
 do it? He is a born hermit, knowledge is his god- 
 dess. I only free him, I give him back himself, if 
 I deny him my hand. No, this glitter dazzles my 
 eyes. And yet, may not his strong mind behave 
 differently when, safe in possession of me, he has 
 no longer to woo for my favor ? He knows I feel 
 small beside him. How often has he tutored me, 
 and will he not do it in another sense then ? No, 
 he is kind and good, but I am too weak, and Ker- 
 kering's submissive adoration has fascinated me," 
 
420 SPINOZA, 
 
 She laid the pearls down, and paced the chamber 
 thoughtfully. Again she stood before the mirror 
 and gazed into it dreamily and absently. She saw 
 herself, pining, ragged, muddy and laughed at, go 
 through the streets; she only banished this mad- 
 dening vision with a forced song. When her 
 father heard her so gay he entered the room. 
 
 " Kerkering," said he, "is waiting outside; he 
 will not move from the spot until he receives the 
 decisive 'Yes' or * No.' I believe I know your 
 thoughts. I will not try to influence your decision, 
 but I may be able to help you. Come with me." 
 
 Olympia clung to her father as if in childlike 
 obedience and humility, and intimated that she 
 complied with his wishes; in this compliance lay 
 a half-unconscious obstinacy, thinly covered by an 
 appearance of humility. Her father took her hand, 
 and led her into the other room to Kerkering, say- 
 ing: 
 
 "Here I bring your bride, my son.'* 
 
 Kerkering took a diamond ring from his finger, 
 and placed it on Olympia's. 
 
 " Mine forever !" he said, and impressed a warm 
 kiss on her lips. In the same hour that Spi- 
 noza struggled with the temptations of a life of 
 honor and pleasure Olympia also had fought with 
 temptation and succumbed. 
 
 Kerkering and his bride sat that evening in 
 confidential discourse, Van den Ende rubbed his 
 
WOOING BY PROXY. 421 
 
 hands and smiled as he paced the room. Olympia 
 felt more and more at ease in Kerkering's com- 
 pany; indeed she found him so amiable that she 
 blamed herself for not having given him her heart 
 long before. Kerkering told her that he had 
 bought a well-broken-in riding horse for her, and 
 that again, as years before, she should sit proudly 
 in her saddle, and ride through the streets with 
 him. He spread a brilliant life of pleasure in 
 entrancing colors before her eyes. Olympia's cheeks 
 flushed rosy red, her heart beat loudly. Kerkering 
 held her in his embrace. At an unusual hour and 
 with unusual gravity Spinoza entered. Olympia 
 tore herself from Kerkering's arms; for a second 
 she pressed her hands to her eyes, then stood up 
 and advanced to Spinoza. 
 
 *' I know you do not like scenes any more than 
 I," she said with a trembling voice. " I have no 
 concealments from my father and Kerkering; we 
 did love each other. Remember that sacred hour 
 when you conjured me to forget what we were and 
 wished to be. Now that time is come. Herr Ker- 
 kering is my betrothed." 
 
 She was obliged to support herself by her organ. 
 Spinoza stood as if spellbound before her, gazing 
 at her. 
 
 "I entreat you," began Olympia again, "do not 
 withdraw your friendship from me." 
 
 "I hope Herr Kerkering may afford you the 
 
422 SPINOZA. 
 
 happiness that I myself in happier hours hoped to 
 be able to offer you/' answered Spinoza in a hoarse 
 voice. He stayed for some time, spoke on in- 
 different subjects, and with an amount of humor 
 which they had not perceived in him before. 
 Though deception was so foreign to his nature, he 
 was here entangled in a double network of it. 
 He hoped by his equanimity to make Olympia's 
 part easier to her, and made it more difficult; he 
 thought it owing to his self-respect to remain 
 longer that he might take leave quietly; but truly 
 it was because it was so painful to him to tear him- 
 self away forever from the charming surroundings 
 in which the best joys of love had bloomed for him. 
 
 Oldenburg came too, and for the first time kissed 
 Spinoza when he heard what had taken place. 
 
 Kerkering was in overflowing spirits, and jest- 
 ingly said that he was only born that day, and 
 Olympia must sing him a cradle-song. Oldenburg 
 asked for the song of the " Maid under the lime 
 trees." Olympia objected, but Kerkering too in- 
 sisted on that particular one; he desired it as the 
 first and only compliance of his new life, and 
 pressed on all sides, Olympia unwillingly sat down 
 to the organ, and sang: 
 
 " A maiden should right early rise 
 To seek where her beloved one lies. 
 Beneath the lime trees she sought him, 
 But found not her love where she thought him. 
 
WOOING BY PROXY. 
 
 423 
 
 *' A knight came riding that way to see. 
 
 * What do you here alone ? ' said he. 
 
 * Count you the greenest branches, 
 Or the golden, yellow roses ? ' 
 
 ' I count the greenest branche; 
 And I pluck the golden roses 
 By my lover I am forsaken, 
 No tidings my ears awaken,' 
 
 *' ' Art thou by a lover forsaken J 
 No tidings your ears awaken ? 
 In Zealand's vales he doth rest 
 Where other fair dames have caressed him.* 
 
 •* ' In Zealand's fields he doth rest him, 
 Where other fair dames have caressed him. 
 I pray that Heaven his guard may be 
 Among those ladies fair and free.' 
 
 *' What took he then from his arms so bold? 
 A chain it was of red, red gold. 
 • Fair child, this chain will I give you, 
 Forget you the love who did leave you.' 
 
 " * And were the chain but once so long 
 That it hung from Heaven to earth along, 
 Much rather I would it should fail me, 
 Than love for another avail me. ' 
 
 " But the blood of the knight was fiery too. 
 'Fair child,' he cried, ' take heed what you do. 
 You are my true and rightful wife. 
 No other shall be my own for life.' " 
 
424 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 The last notes had not died away when Spinoza 
 took his hat and departed. Olympia rose and 
 closed the keyboard of the organ so that the pipes 
 rattled together. With overflowing heart, thus in 
 need of the sympathy of others, Spinoza had come 
 to Olympia. There are times when those to whom 
 temples of stone are closed must worship in the 
 temple of a faithful human heart. 
 
 The fate of Spinoza had thus directed him to seek 
 happiness in himself alone. 
 
 He might well have consoled himself in that 
 there was now no necessity for him to bow the 
 mind trained to truth alone to any form accepted 
 by others, and be taught by daily labor and daily 
 care to silence and conceal his convictions. He 
 might well have comforted himself in that a love 
 was annihilated with which he had so often strug- 
 gled painfully; but it is ever an enigma of love 
 that it longs for lost pain, lost desire. Bitterness 
 and depression sought to seize on him, but in self- 
 controlled wisdom he learned to impart to his mind 
 ever more steadfastly that peace of mind which is 
 freedom of mind, in that it submits to the necessity 
 of events, and follows their laws as if the heart 
 itself had no concern in them. That abandonment 
 to a grief whose painful effects can be conquered 
 by reason is partial suicide. He who would be free, 
 that is, would live according to the laws of reason, 
 must never cease to be; and he permits this, his 
 
wool NC BY PROXY. 425 
 
 living eternal self-existence, to be interrupted, if 
 he allows himself to be overwhelmed by his sensa- 
 tions. Only a life according to reason is the true, 
 eternal life. ^ 
 
 It was a hard conflict, a breaking loose from all 
 special pleasures and all flattering demands, which 
 should at last lead him to the summit of pure in- 
 tellect, and enable him to express this sentence, 
 almost incomprehensible to us, which apparently 
 despises the world, and yet glorifies it: 
 
 " I would investigate the acts and efforts of men 
 as though they were lines, planes or bodies." 
 
 His friends observed Spinoza's victorious self- 
 control with surprise and admiration. By free 
 thought he had conquered life with all its casual- 
 ties, and now in quiet peace of mind he might first 
 call it really his own. 
 
 No glory surrounded his head, but it illuminated 
 his whole being. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 SCARS AND PURIFICATION. 
 
 THE Jewish Church wished to follow up its 
 excommunication with civic consequences, and 
 petitioned the magistrates to banish the " Blas- 
 phemer'* from the city. The affair was laid before 
 the synod of the reformed ministry for decision, 
 and the quiet thinker often found himself distract- 
 ed from his investigations by citations and writs. 
 With profound reflections on the regulation of the 
 commonwealth, and the consumption of human 
 material required by it, he often wandered through 
 the long passages of the law courts, or sat waiting 
 in the ante-rooms. The martyrdom of the modern 
 world is composed of a long array of thousands of 
 trifling annoyances, and our philosopher had yet 
 more to experience. 
 
 His friends pressed him to leave his native land 
 of his own free will; he, however, maintained that 
 for justice' sake he must submit himself to the 
 judgment of the laws appealed to. It was Olden- 
 burg's last act of friendship, when sent to England 
 as the envoy of the Lower Saxon Union, to free his 
 friend from these annoyances. He repeatedly en- 
 treated Spinoza to follow him, but Spinoza wished 
 
 i,^^ 
 
SCAJiS AND PURIFICATIOJ^. 427 
 
 to remain in his quiet seclusion in his native land. 
 But he now prepared to leave Amsterdam, for, 
 though he was free from all anger, he could not 
 always suppress the sudden emotion which often 
 agitated him so painfully at seeing himself sur- 
 rounded by dislike and avoidance in his native 
 place. It was more painful to him innocently to 
 raise this feeling in others than to bear its conse- 
 quences himself. 
 
 The peculiarities of the friends showed them- 
 selves in these discussions in a characteristic man- 
 ner. Meyer found extreme pleasure in lashing the 
 transgressions, the narrowness, the stupidity of 
 men with his sharp satire. Oldenburg declined 
 this means, because any violent opposition, all 
 hand to hand conflict with the common herd, ap- 
 peared to him unlovely and unclean ; and thus 
 Spinoza and Oldenburg often agreed. What the 
 other totally avoided from a certain feeling for 
 harmony Spinoza reasoned out for himself on a 
 foundation of knowledge. 
 
 " The investigation of the incongruities and fail- 
 ings of mankind," he said, "can only serve to teach 
 us not to be carried away by controversy, but 
 rather to quietly work out our own laws of action, 
 and conquer the violence of our tempers in the 
 shortest possible time. It is an illusion if men think 
 to make themselves free and happy by finding out 
 the deficiencies and deformities of others and va- 
 
428 SPINOZA, 
 
 riously remarking thereon. The recognition of 
 virtue and its causes alone makes us satisfied and 
 happy; in that alone can our hearts rejoice. The 
 ambitious man speaks most willingly of the false 
 reputations and base means of others; the ava- 
 ricious spendthrift, of the misuse of money and 
 the vices of the rich. He who loves truth does not 
 dwell long on lies and obduracy; he combats them 
 to the best of his ability, rejoices in his own ac- 
 quired knowledge, and admits that those in error 
 also act according to the necessities of their nature." 
 
 " Happiness always lies on the other shore," 
 added Oldenburg, " but on the other shore of con- 
 quered hate, in the serene peace of knowledge." 
 
 Meyer was nevertheless not so easily converted, 
 and with the self-congratulation of having prophe- 
 sied aright he asked: 
 
 " In Olympia you have probably seen the want of 
 character and merely receptive capacity of woman's 
 nature, and will give this variety of humankind 
 its suitable place in your system." 
 
 "I know," replied Spinoza, "that he who is 
 crossed in love thinks of nothing but the untrust- 
 worthiness, the falsity and all the other oft-repeated 
 defects of women; and all this he as quickly con- 
 signs to oblivion- when he is again taken into favor 
 by the beloved one. But whoever tries to regulate 
 his sensations and desires only by his love of free- 
 dom will endeavor to acquaint himself with their 
 
 
SCARS AND PURIFICATION. 429 
 
 virtues and the causes thereof as thoroughly as 
 possible, and to fill his mind with the joy which 
 only springs from true knowledge. Whoever ob- 
 serves this diligently — for it is not difficult — and 
 then practises it, will best regulate his actions ac- 
 cording to the law of reason." 
 
 Thus the friends raised and animated each other 
 in their penetration of the nature of intellect and 
 investigation of its laws of action, and Spinoza had 
 in his own life proof sufficient of the theory, which 
 he maintained with irrefutable reasoning, that the 
 passions alone disturb the universal well-being and 
 the internal harmony of the individual; but reason 
 reconciles them. 
 
 This pleasant, lively intercourse was interrupted 
 by Oldenburg's departure for England. Spinoza, 
 Meyer and de Vries accompanied him to Schreyers- 
 toren (the weeping gate), which takes its name from 
 j:he tears of the deserted for the departure of their 
 friends. With a heavy heart Spinoza tore himself 
 from his friend's arms, and watched him sadly as 
 the waves bore him away. Meyer and de Vries yet 
 remained to him; but the one was too young to be 
 wholly his friend, their age and experience were 
 too unequal; the other was married. A hundred 
 relations and circumstances make it impossible for 
 a husband and father to devote himself to a friend 
 with the same undivided attention. In Oldenburg 
 he had lost his most faithful friend. 
 
430 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 As he returned alone over the Amstel bridge 
 he met a funeral procession. Among the mourners 
 he recognized his former master and fellow-work- 
 men. One of them beckoned him to go with them; 
 he joined the train and learned that they were 
 bearing Peter Blyning to the grave. On the 
 last harvest-home he had been at a dance with his 
 comrades. His companions in jest sent all the 
 girls to him, one after the other, to ask him to dance. 
 He could hardly contain himself for rage and morti- 
 fication; he poured wine and gin into a glass one 
 after the other and drank them off. Then weeping 
 bitterly he took his crutches and went out. Sud- 
 denly a terrific shriek was heard and hey all 
 hastened out. Peter having fallen down the steps 
 and fractured his skull, lay there in his last agony. 
 
 Spinoza followed the procession much moved. 
 On the way he encountered Chisdai. When he 
 came near him he saw Chisdai spit towards hin? 
 three times and say the Hebrew words, *' But thou 
 shalt utterly detest it, and thou shalt utterly abhor 
 it, for it is a cursed thing" (Deut. vii. 26). Spinoza 
 took no notice, and, sunk in his own thoughts, ac- 
 companied the corpse of the unhappy man to its 
 last resting-place. 
 
 That evening he received another agitating visit. 
 Closely wrapped in his mantle de Silva came to 
 him, and in a stern voice began without other greet- 
 ing: 
 
SCARS AND PURIFICATION. 431 
 
 " It is not as the Jew that I come to you. He 
 knows you no more. The physician stands before 
 you; his calling is to help all, 10 advise without 
 question whomsoever it may be. I counsel you, 
 leave your native town; danger menaces you. Your 
 heart is sick as long as you are here. No man can 
 bear to wander among his own people, thrust forth 
 from them like a corpse by those with whom he 
 once lived in fellowship. I know you do not mean 
 to insult those who take your continued stay as an 
 insult. And one thing more. Ephraim Cardoso 
 has joined another party of emigrants for Brazil. 
 Chisdai wished to join them, but they refused him. 
 No one will associate with him, he is avoided like 
 one plague-stricken. No one will forgive him for 
 being your accuser." 
 
 "But I forgive him." 
 
 " That does not help him, nor does it help you. 
 I am afraid he broods over a dreadful deed, for he 
 seldom leaves home in the daytime, but sneaks 
 out at night. Let me warn you; I do it in kind- 
 ness to you. Ay, I will recall my words, and say I 
 come to you as a Jew. You have not scoffed at 
 our religion before the Sanhedrim, you have spoken 
 as beseemed a thinker. I myself will have naught 
 to do with thought that is not founded on faith; 
 but a Jew appeals to you; be just to us, as to others. 
 You are more pious than you let yourself appear, 
 than your reason permits you to confess." 
 
432 SPINOZA. 
 
 " Is faith then the only form of piety ?" 
 
 *'I know, I know," continued Silva hastily. "I 
 am not come to dispute with you. You may attrib- 
 ute it to pride that I still ascribe piety to you. 
 But when you left the synagogue forever you 
 must have seen beside a seat of prayer, where once 
 your father stood, a child, and that child prayed 
 fervently, and that child was yourself. Forget it 
 not. And you may know and keep it in remem- 
 brance that a Jew, with sorrow in his heart, sees 
 you set forth on your lonely way. Farewell !" 
 
 Spinoza stretched out his hand to de Silva, but 
 the latter only grasped that of the heretic with a 
 mantle-covered hand, and went quickly away. 
 
 This new circumstance deeply agitated Spinoza. 
 It was news from a life that he had lost. He could 
 not be forgotten yet. 
 
 Soon, however, news of a death roused sincere 
 sorrow in Spinoza's heart. It was the news that 
 his teacher. Van den Ende, was executed in Paris. 
 The always good-natured physician, who prized 
 laughter as the highest good, had in action shown 
 a devotion to his fatherland that no one would 
 have expected from him. In order to prevent Louis 
 XIV. from levying war on the United Provinces 
 by a popular rising at home, he, with the Due de 
 Rohan and others, had plotted an insurrection in 
 Normandy. He paid for it with a death on the 
 gallows. 
 
 jii 
 
SCAA'S AND PURIFICATION. 
 
 433 
 
 All the inhabitants of Amsterdam, indeed of the 
 United Netherlands, gave a tender, and in some 
 cases, remorseful thought to the departed. Many 
 indeed maintained that the doctor wished to enjoy 
 his greatest good wholesale; he wanted to laugh in 
 chorus with all Europe at Louis XIV. driven hither 
 and thither over the world's stage. But the under- 
 taking of Van den Ende, and his self-sacrificing 
 death, were too grave and impressive not to cut 
 short such an explanation. 
 
 Spinoza tried to explain to himself this astonish- 
 ing turn in his teacher's life. That a lightly living 
 nature might also be a lightly dying one is easily 
 admissible; and even this neck-risking setting of 
 his formerly squandered life on a single cast might 
 be traceable to Van den Ende's character and 
 theories. Still something remained inexplicable. 
 Spinoza had mentally to excuse himself to his 
 teacher; he had not expected so much from him. 
 
 He felt obliged to offer Olympia his condolences. 
 In the expression of his grief and recognition of 
 the bold deed must lie his reparation. 
 
 He examined himself severely, and felt he could 
 say that only pure participation in the grief of his 
 former love moved him to it; and in the even- 
 ing he took the once familiar way to Van den 
 Ende's dwelling. The house was silent and de- 
 serted, and he learned from a neighbor that Olym- 
 pia had accompanied her husband to Hamburg. 
 
434 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 As he passed the church of St. Olave's on his re- 
 turn, there, where he had once passed the night on 
 the steps, and gazed at Olympia's window, some one 
 rushed at him, seized him by the arm, and stabbing 
 him in the breast with a dagger, ran swiftly away, 
 saying, " The ass hath horns." Spinoza had luckily 
 escaped the stroke. Only his mantle was pierced. 
 He thought he recognized the assassin. It was 
 Chisdai. 
 
 When the first involuntary shock and its imme- 
 diate effects on his mind had passed, Spinoza only 
 reflected that fanaticism is nothing but a return 
 to a primeval law of nature, which is apparently 
 founded on laws of mind and on the sacredness 
 of law. The confused, hot-headed zeal which 
 makes the internal law an external watchword has 
 in all times cursed, crucified, burnt at the stake, and 
 stabbed its enemies. It is worth while to reveal 
 their innate laws to mankind, and lead them to love, 
 and joy, and felicity. . . . 
 
 He kept the torn mantle as a reminder to do it. 
 
 Can we take this as a metaphor, that hatred and 
 want of judgment only pierce the clothes of the 
 wise, but cannot reach their inner self ? 
 
 Spinoza did not hear that on the morning after 
 the attempted crime a body was dragged from the 
 Amstel. It was Chisdai's. He was buried un- 
 mourned, as a suicide, like Uriel Acosta, whose 
 grave he had insulted. 
 
SCARS AND PURIFICATION. 
 
 435 
 
 No news of the Jewish congregation reached Spi- 
 noza, and now he was prostrated by sickness. 
 
 Thy free thought hath raised thee aloft into the 
 infinite; above isolated appearance thou dost hover 
 in the knowledge of universal laws, then suddenly 
 thou art overthrown in an obscure chamber, dead 
 to the world, the mind shattered, extinguished the 
 streaming light from the law of the universe. No 
 dagger stroke of the hand of man had reached 
 Spinoza's heart, and yet he felt inexpressible pain 
 in his breast, and blood flowed from his mouth. 
 
 Was it the result of so many agitating events 
 following one after the other, and that infirmity 
 which had already attacked him in early youth, and 
 recurred on the occasion of his preaching in the 
 synagogue ? 
 
 Spinoza lay in sore sickness. 
 
 Now it was that Ludwig Meyer showed himself 
 the faithful, helpful friend through day and night. 
 And with his own gay humor he told his friend in 
 quiet hours: 
 
 "Now you are what you ought to be; indeed, 
 more. You are a banished Jew and a bachelor. A 
 bachelor can return again to that innocence of 
 Paradise before woman was created. He stands 
 alone and free. My original sin — you may laugh 
 away — you will help me by it. Is it not of deep 
 significance that as soon as a second being speaks 
 to Adam he is no longer alone ? He no longer acts 
 
436 SPINOZA. 
 
 merely for himself. He must accommodate his 
 actions to another's. Indeed, in the end he follows 
 another's will. That is the fall; he did not act for 
 himself, but for another. But the bachelor is like 
 Adam in Paradise. You must remain the Adam of 
 the mind." 
 
 Spinoza smiled at his friend, and explained that 
 man is not really free in solitude, but only in so- 
 ciety. Ludwig Meyer often stood as if in prayer 
 beside the bed of the philosopher, who in painless 
 moments looked upon his illness as a circumstance 
 foreign to his real being. Only once he spoke of 
 the trials he had gone through, and extended an 
 idea he had expressed before: 
 
 " The heaviest burden that men can lay upon 
 us is not that they persecute us with their own 
 hatred, ingratitude and scorn; no, it is by planting 
 hatred and scorn in our souls. That is what does 
 not let us breathe freely nor see clearly. It is 
 vanity and self-destruction to hate a man. We 
 must only try to make the wrong action unavailing, 
 and thus again obtain the love of God, in which 
 the world is so peaceful and happy, and which fills 
 us at all times with joy." 
 
 He rose ever higher towards that serene height 
 of contemplation, so that he might say of himself: 
 
 "I have ever carefully striven with myself neither 
 to despise, nor to blame, nor to detest human ac- 
 tions, but to understand them. And likewise the 
 
SCARS AND purification: 437 
 
 human sensations of love, hatred, envy, avarice and 
 pity, and the other motive powers of the soul to 
 regard them not as faults but as qualities of human 
 nature, which belong to it as much as air, heat, 
 cold, storm, thunder and the like are in the nature 
 of the atmosphere, and which, if they are uncon- 
 genial, are yet necessary, and have their ascertained 
 causes through which we try to apprehend their 
 nature, and in whose contemplation the mind is as 
 much entertained as in apprehending the things 
 that are agreeable to the imagination." 
 
 Meyer could not abstain from plainly telling this 
 investigator of truth his serious situation. For a 
 short time, as if he already felt the sleep of 
 death, Spinoza closed his eyes, while Meyer ex- 
 plained to him that his symptoms were unmistak- 
 ably those of consumption, and only careful and 
 regular supervision of his life could lengthen his 
 years. Silence reigned for a time, and Meyer 
 watched the unmoved countenance of his friend, 
 who still kept his eyes closed. Then the sick man 
 arose, his eyes shone brightly, no sound of pain, no 
 complaint parted his lips. With the peace of per- 
 fected wisdom he decided on the rule of life which 
 he would henceforward follow. And he stood erect 
 while he declared that now, in reflection and self- 
 knowledge alone should his life be ordered, in self- 
 control should his existence be maintained, and in 
 peace of mind it should be fulfilled. 
 
438 SPINOZA. 
 
 He kept his word. 
 
 When full of years to contemplate death, to leave 
 the world of sight and sensation, this is hard, and 
 yet we may comfort ourselves in that we have run 
 through our allotted space. But in the bloom of 
 years, before the midday of life, to feel the seed 
 of death within us, to fight it day by day, to watch 
 each evidence of life, to miss the habitual quiet 
 conviction that life will go on of itself, with careful 
 forethought to keep the duty of existence at all 
 times before our eyes, and thus to rejoice gayly 
 and innocently in the sunn}' day, to work vigor- 
 ously, aroused by no appeal from without, to find 
 in his own thoughts the sacredness of life and its, 
 joys — that man alone is capable of this to whom 
 freedom and necessity, mortality and eternity, are 
 one, who in wisdom has mounted the highest 
 peak of existence. For wisdom is recognized har- 
 mony with nature's laws, the fulfilment of duty, 
 which, in recognition of and obedience to these, 
 becomes inclination. 
 
 Such wisdom was Spinoza's. 
 
 The world, with its thousand contradictions and 
 inconsistencies in individual manifestations, was in 
 his mind dissolved into harmony. He had thrown 
 off all selfishness, all measurement of things in their 
 influence on individuals; his own life and its trials 
 were lost in the whole. And in enjoyment of the 
 knowledge of divine truth he lived the life eternal. 
 
SCARS AND PURIFICATION. 439 
 
 "He was the" free man who can dare to say: 
 "I forbear from evil, or strive to forbear from 
 it, because it is in direct opposition to my special 
 nature, and would divide me from the love and 
 knowledge of God, which is the highest good." 
 
 In everlasting, unalterable harmony, as the legend 
 says of the gods, and as nature around is unchange- 
 able, lived Benedict Spinoza. What he had attained 
 to by knowledge became to him blissful habit. And 
 as he had once planned life in his thoughts, his 
 thoughts now gave him life. 
 
EPILOGUE. 
 
 ONE night he saw a great vision. A man stood 
 before him who was wonderful and strange to 
 see. His head was covered with a broad hat whose 
 color was as yellow as the grain beneath the sickle, 
 and the hair of his head was white and flowed to his 
 shoulders; on his brow was a sign of blood; his eyes 
 lay hidden in their sockets overgrown with strag- 
 gling hair. Two furrows reached from them to 
 the corners of his mouth; in them his tears had 
 once streamed, but now they were empty, for the 
 spring was dried up. His white lips were over- 
 grown with hair that reached to his girdle. A 
 hair shirt flapped round his meagre body, and his 
 feet were naked and cut. At his right side hung a 
 pouch, and there also his robe was covered with a 
 patch of the color of his hat. On his heart he car- 
 ried a small roll in an iron case, fastened to a cord 
 which hung round his neck and made a deep fur- 
 row in his flesh. In his right hand he held a staff 
 which reached high above his head. 
 
 And the man bent over him, kissed him on the 
 brow, and said: 
 
 " Knowest thou me well, O thou my son, in 
 whom I am well pleased ! Already more than six 
 
EPILOGUE. 441 
 
 hundred times lias the sun fulfilled its course since 
 the day when woe flowed over my head. I stood 
 in my doorway and held my child in my arms. 
 There they brought Jesus, son of Joseph and Mary 
 of Nazareth, who called himself our Messiah. I 
 hated him, for we loved the earth and he showed 
 us the Heavens. We wished for a sword, and he 
 taught us to love the foreign yoke. He was not 
 our Messiah. When he would have rested on the 
 threshold of my house, I spurned him with my foot 
 and thrust him away. But he said, ' Come with me; 
 thy foot which hath spurned me shall find no rest 
 until the day when I return and found my kingdom 
 upon earth.' The child fell from my arms. I fol- 
 lowed him. I saw him die the death on the cross. 
 I saw my house, I saw my children no more. They 
 were scattered like chaff before the wind, or were 
 devoured by the sword. Unstable and unsettled 
 as Cain I wandered through forest and field, over 
 stream and mountain. The flowers closed their 
 petals before my eyes, the grass withered if my feet 
 approached it, the birds became mute in the air, 
 and the hungry lion, roaring as he came near, re- 
 coiled in fright when he saw me. But the wild 
 animals were merciful and kind compared with 
 those whom I regarded as of my race. T wandered 
 through town and country. They drowned me with 
 wormwood and choked me with gall, they poured 
 poison in my wounds and made my bed on thorns, 
 
442 
 
 SPINOZA, 
 
 and when I would have laid down my head to rest 
 they made the ground tremble beneath me, and 
 when I uplifted my complainings they stopped my 
 mouth with fiery embers. In every place to which 
 I directed my footsteps they seized me by the hair, 
 collected wood in a pile, and thrust me into the 
 flames; but Jehovah, the God of Israel, whose eter- 
 nal Law I bore in my heart, sent his angel. And 
 though the flames stretched out their devouring 
 tongues towards me, he saved me; and though 
 they shed my blood in streams, he raised me and 
 animated me anew; and though they enveloped me 
 in thick darkness, yet his light was kindled and 
 shone clearly around me; and though they buried 
 me in mouldering graves, his breath blew on me 
 and breathed new life into me. Often I asked him, 
 * When will it end, O Lord ? When wilt thou have 
 mercy on me ? When wilt thou hold me in kindness 
 again before thy countenance ? When wilt thou 
 pour balm into my wounds ? When soften my tor- 
 ments ? When wilt thou let me find rest ? When 
 wilt thou turn hatred into love, that I may cease to 
 be an abomination, and the mark of scorn unto atl 
 nations? Why must I endure eternal- dying with- 
 out death, an eternal death without life ? See, race 
 after race have I seen fade and pass away like the 
 grass of the field; kingdoms have I seen arise and 
 crumble to dust before the breath of thy mouth. 
 Everything rots and is brought forth anew; only I 
 
EPILOGUE. 443 
 
 alone hang like the drops to a pail that tremble in 
 the wind but do not fall. Where the bonds of ice 
 hold the earth everlastingly chained, there I stood; 
 and Arabia's hot sands burned the soles of my feet; 
 and nowhere, nowhere a land where I might sow or 
 reap, or where I might find a grave. Jerusalem 
 the Glorious lies in ruins. When wilt thou rebuil! 
 her ? When lead us back again ? Look down ! I 
 say in the morning, Would that it Vv'ere eve; and in 
 the evening. Would that it were morn. Look down! 
 Trouble is my companion, shame and sorrow are 
 my playfellows. I have won love from them. Give 
 me tears, tears give me, that I may weep my misery. 
 Wilt thou not take then thy hand from off me. Let 
 mine enemies pierce the core of my soul, let me die, 
 let me die. See, I have covered myself with hatred; 
 let me take revenge on mine enemies, and ten times 
 told over their heads^what they have done unto me. 
 Speak to the thunder that it may shatter them; 
 command thy lightning that it may devour the 
 marrow of their bones; or give me a sword, a sword 
 give me, that I may bathe myself in their blood. 
 Or will the time come when Love and Faith 
 shall meet, Justice and Peace kiss one another. 
 Truth spring from the earth, Justice look down 
 from Heaven ? * 
 
 "See, my son, such were my complainings, such 
 was my despair, such my hope ! Thou art come to 
 be a Saviour to mankind, me too thou wilt save. 
 
444 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 Those who are of thy race have rejected thee, they 
 have attempted thy life; those who are not of thy 
 race have betrayed thee, they have embittered thy 
 sweetest feeling. Thou knowest no anger, thou re- 
 wardest them with the truth." 
 
 The vision bent again over the sleeper and kissed 
 him. It was a kiss of the dying Ahasuerus, who 
 bore on himself the doom of that Israel which slew 
 Jesus Christ on the Cross. 
 
 Spinoza went to Rhynsberg, and from there to 
 Voorburg and the Hague, and wrote the " Theo- 
 logico-Political Tractate" and the '' Ethics." There, 
 alone and deserted, he ended his days. The five 
 books of the " Ethics" came out after his death. 
 
 He died on February 21st, 1677, in his forty- 
 fourth year. 
 
 No thinker, arisen since Spinoza, has lived so 
 much in the eternal as he did. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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