The monistic philosophy of Spinoza has achieved many commentaries, though there is no uniform verdict as to the nature of his worldview. Excommunicated from Judaism, his early life is imperfectly known, though there is indication of affinities with radical Christian minorities. Yet his own outlook escaped all doctrinal associations. His daring political philosophy and distinctive metaphysics set him quite apart from his forerunner Descartes. Spinoza's major work Ethics includes a psychological theory and "rational mysticism" that has provoked much discussion and also a degree of repudiation by critics. The posthumous aftermath is rich in detail, the range of "Spinozist" influences being quite substantial in relation to the European Enlightenment.
1. Early Years
3. The Neo-Cartesian
4. Collegiants and Quakers
5. Anti-Orthodoxy, Neoplatonism, and Kabbalism
6. Three Lens-Grinders: Spinoza, Leeuwenhoek, and Huygens
7. Henry Oldenburg and the Royal Society
8. From the Emendation to Political Thought
9. Last Years
10. Leibniz and Spinoza
11. The Ethics
Further web sources
1. Early Years
Baruch Spinoza (1632-77) was born in Amsterdam. His parents were Portuguese Jews, his father Michael Espinoza being a merchant. Michael and his wife were marranos or crypto-Jews, having been amongst those Jews who were forcibly converted to Christianity in Portugal. They were arrested, and charged with the crime of preserving Jewish practices in secret. They confessed to the Inquisition, and were fined. Any repetition of this harassment could have entailed death at the stake. Not surprisingly, they fled from the Inquisition zone, arriving in the Netherlands, then the country with most religious freedom.
Attempts by the Calvinists to impose religious uniformity in the Netherlands were offset by mercantile developments. Merchants moved to Amsterdam from various countries, and the Dutch government was tolerant of religious differences because of the attendant prosperity. "The Jews were not encased in a ghetto but could live wherever they pleased" (R. H. Popkin, Spinoza, Oxford: Oneworld, 2004, p. 8). Many Jews became wealthy in the new environment. The members of the Jewish community in Amsterdam "were mainly marranos [Christianised Jews] who had very little training in Judaism" (ibid., p. 9). That community "basically created its own version of Jewish practices and beliefs, mingling freely with other religious groups" (ibid.).
The domestic language of Spinoza's family was Portuguese, though Spanish was also spoken, being the vehicle of literature. Prayers were said in Hebrew, the religious language. A familiarity with Dutch became common amongst Jews, assisting commerce and general communication with other communities. "Even when he was older, Spinoza, although perfectly fluent in Latin and knowledgeable in Hebrew, was always more comfortable in Portuguese than in any other language" (S. Nadler, Spinoza: A Life, Cambridge University Press, 1999, p. 47).
Spinoza attended theTalmudTorah school in Amsterdam, the curriculum being mainly in Spanish. Yet he did not train to be a rabbi, and left the school at an earlier grade, apparently because his father needed his assistance in the family business of trading in fruits, vegetables, and wine. He "probably abandoned his formal studies and joined his father's importing and exporting firm in late 1649 or soon thereafter; he may have stopped attending classes even earlier than that, just after finishing the elementary grades (around 1646 or so), and gone right to work when he was about fourteen" (Nadler, op. cit., p. 81).
Accounts of this episode vary in emphasis. "He had refused to continue his studies in the higher courses in Jewish theology given by his masters, although his father, a faithful and perhaps also conservative member of the community, recommended them forcefully" (W. N. A. Klever, "Spinoza's life and works," in The Cambridge Companion to Spinoza, 1996, p. 17).
One suggestion has been that his studies may have continued in "religious and literary study groups for adults" (Nadler, op. cit., p. 89). Certainly, he later demonstrated a close familiarity with scripture and major commentaries; he was also intimately acquainted with the Jewish philosophers. However, his familiarity with the Talmud was "superficial at best," and he rarely cited from that corpus in his writings (ibid., p. 93).
His father died in 1654, and the paternal estate he inherited was suffering heavy debts. Spinoza was in a predicament, and he attempted to absolve himself of responsibility for his father's debts by filing a petition according to Dutch law. He sought legal protection as a minor (under the age of 25), and hired a lawyer. This situation has been implicated in one of the theories attempting to explain why he was excommunicated from the Jewish congregation by the Amsterdam synagogue elders in 1656.
The basic problem about the excommunication is that the reasons for this development are unknown. Various explanations have been supplied, but nothing is definitive. Indeed, some aspects of Spinoza's intellectual development are also unclear, with tentative chartings similarly in evidence. Three early biographies of the subject (by Bayle, Lucas, and Colerus) all have disadvantages with regard to a comprehensive picture of events.
The excommunication document refers to "abominable heresies" of the subject, but without describing these. The indictment asserted, in evocative terms, that "by decree of the angels and by the command of the holy men, we excommunicate, expel, curse and damn Baruch de Espinoza, with the consent of God" (Nadler, op. cit., p. 120).
By that time, the heretic had already left the fold. The indications are that he preferred the society of liberal Christian groups, and other freethinkers, to the religious orthodoxies who fulminated at any divergence. In the Dutch-speaking world, even at the mercantile level, medieval damnations could be bypassed. Many local merchants "were members of dissenting Protestant sects, such as the Mennonites, and thus broader in their reading and much more open in their thinking than orthodox Calvinists" (ibid., p. 101). It is likely that in those directions, Spinoza first heard of new trends in philosophy and science, especially the output of Descartes.
There is a significant retrospective statement in Spinoza's Treatise On the Emendation of the Intellect. The opening paragraph of that work describes his early resolve to seek the "real good," something which could "continuously give me the greatest joy, to eternity.... I saw, of course, the advantages that honour and wealth bring, and that I would be forced to abstain from seeking them, if I wished to devote myself seriously to something new and different" (ibid., p. 102).
A related academic commentary states that Spinoza "began to experience what historically must be one of the prime motivations behind anyone's choice of a philosophical vocation: a deep sense of the vanitas of ordinary pursuits, particularly the materialistic pursuits of an Amsterdam merchant" (ibid., p. 101).
The choice of a philosophical vocation, in some instances at least (including that of Spinoza), also recognises the vanitas of an academic pursuit, which can be arrayed with career honours and stipends that do not necessarily denote admission to the greatest joy. Some academics have commendably recognised this aspect of Spinoza, resulting in the description of him as an autodidact, assimilating information at a tangent to commonly recognised channels of learning.
3. The Neo-Cartesian
At some uncertain date (whether before or after the excommunication), Spinoza opted to learn Latin from Franciscus van den Enden (1602-1674), sometimes described as a radical deist. This ex-Jesuit was a freethinker who believed in a democratic state without preachers. He was a proficient tutor in Latin while living in Amsterdam, though he moved to Paris in 1670 after a conflict with the Calvinist camp; tragically, he was hanged after being implicated in a plot against the French monarchy. The extent of Van den Enden's influence on Spinoza is uncertain, though the junior must have learned a great deal in Latin idioms from the tutor, who incorporated a zest for drama in the curriculum of his school. Spinoza subsequently employed many references to classical Latin writers.
Latin was a necessary acquisition in any study of the new philosophy associated with René Descartes (1596-1650). The source of Spinoza's acquaintance with Descartes has been debated. According to one assessor, commenting on the diary of the anatomist Olaus Borch, "it is very intriguing to find the famous [Johan] Hudde [a mathematician] already as a neo-Cartesian in Spinoza's companionship and those two among the radical Cartesians of the early 1660s; a third man in this stream of Cartesianising philosophers was Franciscus van den Enden, probably the mastermind of the circle" (Klever, art.cit., p. 24).
A number of Spinoza's Christian merchant friends are said to have been Cartesians. Spinoza's intensive investigation of Descartes "would really only take place in the late 1650s, when he regularly participated in the discussions of the Amsterdam Collegiant circles and may also have studied under Cartesian professors at the University of Leiden" (Nadler, op. cit., p. 113). Disagreements have occurred as to whether the Cartesian factor influenced the synagogue denunciation of 1656. "There is no evidence that Cartesianism was a problem within the Jewish community at the time of Spinoza's excommunication" (Popkin, Spinoza, p. 33).
The universities of Leiden and Utrecht were centres of resistance to Descartes during the 1640s. Yet by the early 1650s, a number of professors in those institutions were advocates of Cartesian thought. Dogmatic Calvinists viewed Descartes as spreading a dangerous philosophy that would destroy religion. There were recurrent attacks by orthodoxy, including the proclamation of 1656 by the States of Holland and West Friesland. "Enforcement of the bans was, at some universities, notoriously lax.... Cartesianism slowly infiltrated the university faculties" (Nadler, op. cit., p. 151). This situation of ingress is thought to have been facilitated by the rationalist sympathies of Johann de Witt, the political leader of the Dutch Republic until 1672.
In 1663, seven years after his excommunication, Spinoza published his René Descartes's Principles of Philosophy. This reveals the author as being no slavish follower of Descartes, but in some respects a critic, though one much influenced by aspects of the Cartesian approach and concerned to give a fair exposition. Spinoza evolved a major disagreement with the substance theory of Descartes, the former advocating a substance monism resistant to the Cartesian schema of God, Mind, and Matter.
The sub-title of Spinoza's book on Descartes declared a demonstration according to the geometric method. This feature has sometimes been attributed to the author's academic friend Dr. Lodewijk Meyer, who may have encouraged the tendency to "geometrise" (M. Gullan-Whur, Within Reason: A Life of Spinoza, 1998, p. 106, and suggesting that Meyer himself may have been influenced by the Cartesian professor Arnold Geulincz of Leiden). Meyer was another critic of theology, and wrote the preface to Spinoza's neo-Cartesian book. Yet some analysts believe that Spinoza was independently capable of the geometric resort without any cue from elsewhere.
The geometric method, employing propositions and demonstrations, is strongly associated with the Elementa geometrica of Euclid (circa 300 BC). Spinoza subsequently employed this method in his Ethics, a feature which makes for demanding reading. "One rarely finds attempts to develop a geometrically based philosophy; in antiquity there is just one example, that of the Neoplatonist Proclus (410-485), who wrote Elements of Theology and presented Neoplatonic theology in an axiomatic deductive system" (Popkin, op. cit., p. 51). Many readers deem the geometric format to be cumbersome, but this feature has not prevented Ethics from being one of the most famous and debated texts in Western philosophy.
One of the misunderstandings that can easily arise in the instance of Spinoza relates to scepticism. He was a critic of orthodox religion, but not of what may be called rationalist religion. He was a distinctive type of deist, and emphasised single "substance" or God and Nature. There was no dualism as in Descartes, and no programme of outwitting scepticism. "Spinoza says in many places in his writings that there is no need to consider any sceptical problems if one is aware of the idea of God; this becomes the evidence of itself and explains everything else" (ibid., p. 51).
There are many investigators who have experienced difficulty with Spinoza's concept of God, commencing with the Calvinist fundamentalists who mistakenly construed him to be an atheist. The pursuit of authentic context is relevant.
4. Collegiants and Quakers
Spinoza's extant correspondence does not commence until 1661, during his sojourn at Rijnsburg, and his preceding Amsterdam phase has consequently been subject to different interpretations. However, basic features are quite obvious. He was in close contact with diverse liberal Protestant Christians, a development originating with his encounters as a merchant prior to 1656. Collegiants figure strongly, that party sometimes being described as an anti-clerical grouping of Remonstrants. Some of his friends attended the Collegiant gatherings in Amsterdam, meaning the biweekly Sunday events that were known as "colleges." These egalitarian meetings were in reaction to official theology, with Mennonites and other radical sects also being opposed to authoritarian leadership and preaching. The Remonstrant movement is traced back to the Remonstrance of 1610, when a divergence from Calvinism occurred.
The village of Rijnsburg, near Leiden, had become one of the early Collegiant centres. The Amsterdam branch, created in the 1640s, was harassed by Calvinist preachers, and usually convened in private homes. "Liberal in their politics, tolerant in their religion, nondoctrinaire in their interpretation of Scripture, and generally anticlerical, the Collegiants would have held a great attraction for Spinoza" (Nadler, Spinoza: A Life, p. 141).
During his mercantile phase of vending tropical fruits, Spinoza gained a lifelong friend in Jarig Jellesz, "a Collegiant whose produce stand was next to the one Spinoza had along the harbour" (Popkin, Spinoza, p. 30). The outlook of these two men was convergent. Jellesz was a Mennonite grocer who frequently traded with Portuguese Jews; he subsequently renounced his business in reaction to the accumulation of wealth and goods. Remaining a celibate, Jellesz "withdrew from the turbulence of the world to practise in quietness the knowledge of the truth, looking for the true nature of God and to find wisdom" (Nadler, op. cit., p. 168, and citing from an early biographical note added to the Confession of Jellesz, a note which may have been composed by Rieuwertsz).
The Confession of Jellesz was published in 1684 by the Amsterdam printer and bookseller Jan Rieuwertsz. The latter also came from a Mennonite family. Rieuwertsz may have encountered Spinoza via the Collegiants. Certainly he shared an enthusiasm for the writings of Descartes, which he published in Dutch translation from 1657 onwards, and for a lengthy period. Rieuwertsz is strongly implicated as a member of a separate "intellectual circle" (to the Collegiants) who were committed to the Cartesian philosophy at Amsterdam, a circle which included Spinoza and also Jan Hendriksz Glazemaker, another Mennonite , and the Dutch translator of the Cartesian writings. Glazemaker also translated into Dutch the Latin books of Spinoza.
Yet another Mennonite associate of the heretical Jew was Pieter Balling, a Dutch merchant who was fluent in Spanish. Balling has been described as a disciple of Spinoza, and was certainly an attentive admirer. In 1662 he published anonymously (via the industrious Rieuwertsz) a work entitled The Light upon the Candlestick. Many readers assumed this to be a Quaker composition, though more accurately, it was a "Spinozistic treatise" in which Balling "claims that a natural, intuitive, 'inner' experience of the divine is possible for everyone; any individual can commune with God through his own rational faculties, regardless of his knowledge of Scripture or his confessional background" (Nadler, op. cit., p. 169).
The context of this distinctive treatise is revealing. Balling, as "a member of the Amsterdam philosophical group that was supporting Spinoza financially, was chosen to visit Spinoza to ask for his help in writing this philosophical pamphlet, because he was fluent in Spanish and could talk to Spinoza more easily" (Popkin, op. cit., p. 42). Spinoza's use of Dutch was apparently more rudimentary than his other linguistic expressions.
Spinozan rational mysticism has been strongly implicated in liaison with the Quakers, a Protestant sect which arose in the 1650s and spread to Amsterdam in the face of trials in England. Spinoza was introduced to the Quaker leader William Ames (ibid., p. 32). Deductions follow that "Spinoza would have become, for a brief time in 1657 and 1658, a kind of Jewish expert and consultant for the Quakers, translating for them and perhaps giving them advice on how best to approach the Jews of Amsterdam" (Nadler, op. cit., p. 161).
Whatever he might have thought of some sectarian claims, it has been deduced that Spinoza could have been responsive to Samuel Fisher, the Quaker conversant with Hebrew who argued that the written text of the Bible was far removed from any original communication or revelation. Spinoza's ideas on the subject of Biblical scripture were convergent with such criticism (Nadler, op. cit., pp. 162-3), one of his later works becoming a tour de force in the explication of such subjects. See also R. H. Popkin, "Spinoza and Bible Scholarship," in The Cambridge Companion to Spinoza, p. 393, who indicates that Spinoza became involved with the Quakers after his excommunication and joined with Fisher in translating the pamphlets of Margaret Fell into Hebrew, with a view to influencing the Jews of Amsterdam.
5. Anti-Orthodoxy, Neoplatonism, and Kabbalism
Spinoza was in strong opposition to the orthodox doctrines concerning eternal reward or punishment in the afterlife. He viewed these concepts as a vehicle of manipulation by preachers. There have been scholarly disagreements about the development of his thought in this respect. Spinoza became notorious for denying that the human soul is immortal, in the sense of preserving a personal identity in the heaven or hell that were dogmatised. In his view, "hope and fear are merely the emotions that religious leaders manipulate in order to keep their flocks in a state of worshipful submission" (Nadler, op. cit., p. 131).
According to Inquisition reports, both Spinoza and the heretical Juan de Prado were asserting in 1658 that the soul was not immortal, that there was no God except in a philosophical sense, and also denying the divine origin of the Torah. Prado was a Spanish marrano Jew and physician who arrived in Amsterdam. having fled from the Inquisition, who had tortured one of his relatives to extract a confession concerning Prado's sympathy with Judaism. Spinoza and Prado were evidently acquaintances at this period (ibid, pp. 135-6, 142ff.).
The posited influence of Prado on Spinoza has been queried. "One may imagine that Spinoza opposed De Prado's rejection of the immortality of the soul on account of his early insight into the mind's eternity" (Klever, art. cit., p. 23, opposing the theory of I. S. Revah in Spinoza et le Dr. Juan de Prado, 1959). Spinoza and Prado shared a critical view of Biblical Judaism and the literalism of rabbis (Popkin, op. cit., pp. 29-30, 42-3).
The heretical view concerning the philosophical existence of God is far less objectionable to philosophers. Spinoza definitely did not deny God, though he did identify God with Nature in a pantheistic perspective that can admit of both rationalist and mystical complexities.
In addition to the strong neo-Cartesian and anti-orthodox orientation of Spinoza, there is also the question of a Neoplatonist, and even Kabbalistic, influence. Probably at an early date in his life, Spinoza was reading the Spanish version of Leone Ebreo's Dialogues on Love (1535). Ebreo, alias Judah Abravanel, was a sixteenth century Jewish Neoplatonist philosopher, and in his book can be found "many elements that would later appear in Spinoza's writings" (Nadler, op. cit., p. 138, and mentioning in a footnote the early theory that Ebreo's book inspired Spinoza to leave the synagogue). See further A. Hughes, "Judah Abrabanel" (2005), Stanford Encyclopaedia of Philosophy.
Abravanel (c.1465-c.1530) moved from Spain to Italy after the expulsion of Jews from the former country. Whatever the language in which "Ebreo" composed the Dialogues, these were published in Italian at Rome, and became popular and influential in the Renaissance mood of the time. Traces of Maimonides, Ibn Gabirol, and the Kabbalah have been detected in these Neoplatonist dialogues, which feature the speakers Philo and Sophia, who dwell on the theme of an intellectual love, and in relation to a union with God.
In the output of Spinoza, there are also associations of philosophical Kabbalism, which has been distinguished from the popular variants. Spinoza has been discerned as employing in his Ethics some material from the Puerta del Cielo, an influential exposition of Kabbalism by Abraham Cohen Herrera (d. 1635), who was familiar with the pantheism taught in the tradition of Isaac Luria. "There was a current kabbalistic school in Amsterdam and some of the views advanced had strong pantheistic tendencies" (Popkin, op. cit., p. 81).
Herrera composed his book in Spanish for the Jewish community of Amsterdam. He attempted to reconcile the Kabbalistic teachings of the Zohar, Moses Cordovero, and the Lurianic school, with several other traditions, including Neoplatonism (of the Florentine type) and Scholasticism. Such an unusual work of synthesis was of interest to philosophers like Spinoza and Leibniz. It has been argued that Herrera's treatment of emanation (the relation of the One and the sefirot) was a plausible inspiration for Spinoza's concept of divine attributes as found in his Ethics. See further K. Krabbenhoft, trans., Gate of Heaven (2002); Francesco Di Poppa,"Abraham Cohen Herrera: A Possible Source for Spinoza's Concept of the Attributes," American Catholic Philosophical Quarterly (2009) 83 (4): 491-507. See also Herrera.
Spinoza was not in sympathy with popular Kabbalism, and in one of his major works referred to Kabbalistic "triflers" who astonished him with their madness. "He was here referring to the contemporary attempts to read exotic meanings into Biblical texts via the arrangement of Hebrew letters; Spinoza probably did not regard himself in any way as a Kabbalist, and was definitely not in the 'letter mysticism' category" (Shepherd, Pointed Observations, 2005, p. 269). Spinoza described the contested tendencies in terms of "mere childishness."
"Because of these passages [in the Tractatus Theologico-Politicus], it has been assumed that he [Spinoza] had no interest or sympathy with these people" (Popkin, op. cit., p. 82). Professor Richard Popkin (1923-2005) observes that, when the Ethics was published (after Spinoza's death), "one of the first interpretations of what he was doing was that he was following out kabbalistic interpretations in Cartesian terms" (ibid.). The early critics Jacques Basnage and Johann Georg Wachter both compared Spinoza's approach with that of the Kabbalist Herrera. Circa 1700, Basnage asked a leading Amsterdam rabbi about the views of Spinoza. The rabbi responded with the accusation that Spinoza "plagiarised the views of the kabbalists and tried to make himself appear original by casting this in Cartesian terminology" (ibid.).
Wachter's German work Der Spinozismus im Judenthumb appeared in 1699. This theologian discovered at Amsterdam, via a convert to Judaism, the existence of a pantheistic Kabbalism that "was the same as a central portion of Spinoza's metaphysics" (ibid., p. 83). Professor Popkin comments that Spinoza, when appraised in terms of what he called in his Ethics the third kind of (intuitive) knowledge, "can be read as a rational kabbalist" (ibid.) shorn of the numerology and related imagery commonly associated with the tradition under discussion.
The conclusion of the same scholar is that Spinoza was willing to borrow from the philosophical Kabbalism of Herrera "without taking anything from what he regarded as the lunatic fringe of kabbalism" (ibid.). However, the early Kabbalistic interpretation of the critics was replaced by an increasing preference for the rationalist and anti-religious aspect of Spinoza as interpreted by eighteenth century radicals and "Spinozists."
Spinoza's rationalistic deism is thus an open-ended subject in terms of underlying influences and possible implications in his own mind. He is noted for a sense of elaborate caution about making his views known, and one should not expect that he expressed all his deepest ideas and attitudes in his written works.
A basic concern of Spinoza was to dissociate God from the anthropomorphic representations common in orthodox religion. He viewed the personalising concepts as ridiculous, and made emphases to the effect that "God is not a judge, nor is he subject to the emotions and passions (anger, jealousy, desire etc.) that theologians - seeking to take advantage of the hopes and fears of ordinary people - absurdly attribute to him" (Nadler, op. cit., pp. 216-17).
6. Three Lens-Grinders: Spinoza, Leeuwenhoek, and Huygens
Spinoza opted to become a lens-grinder, a vocation which has received differing assessments, some rather abbreviated. The popular work on Spinoza by Professor Stuart Hampshire makes a very fleeting reference to this activity, comprising only four words, "grinding and polishing lenses" (Hampshire, Spinoza: An introduction to his Philosophical Thought, 1951; 1988 reprint, p. 170). Such a vocation is so different to the academic career routines of later philosophers such as Kant and Hegel (and many others), that it is surely worth investigating here.
Spinoza ceased to be a merchant at the time of his excommunication. He subsequently gained financial support from some of his affluent Christian friends, but there is the question as to whether such considerations were adequate for his livelihood, even though he is noted for his frugality. One of his acquaintances was Simon de Vries (d. 1667), a Collegiant who was devoted to Spinoza and who offered to support him financially with an annual stipend. Two early sources report that Spinoza declined this prospect. According to Colerus, Spinoza gave the explanation that the intended gift would constitute a distraction to his studies and occupations.
At a later date, De Vries again pressed his support in relation to a will he was drafting. He wished to make Spinoza his sole heir, but the latter again declined. De Vries modified his offer, and stipulated an annuity of five hundred guilders from his estate. Spinoza would only agree to three hundred guilders, a sum which he apparently received after the death of De Vries in 1667 (Nadler, Spinoza: A Life, 1999, pp. 261-2).
Spinoza apparently resorted to the craft of lens-grinding in order to supplement his modest income. He was conceivably pursuing a form of economic independence from his friends. Some commentators have interpreted his artisan activity in terms of a gentlemanly pursuit of scientific interests, implying that economic factors were not primarily involved, or at least after the initial phase.
As a related detail here, in 1663, Spinoza undertook to tutor a young theology student from Leiden in the Cartesian philosophy (as distinct from his own philosophy). Johannes Caesarius (subsequently a preacher) transpired to be a difficult project at Rijnsburg, and "the task of tutoring such a person in a philosophy beyond which he himself had moved - a job that Spinoza may have undertaken for income - was clearly something of a burden" (Nadler, op. cit., p. 198).
If that task was undertaken for purposes of income (which seems very feasible), then the lens-grinding benchwork could have been liberating by comparison, even if that also was an activity prompted by livelihood factors.
The artisan activity commenced at an unknown date during Spinoza's early phase at Amsterdam, apparently during the late 1650s. He appears to have been quite skilled in lens-grinding by the time he moved to Rijnsburg in 1661. He lodged in the house of Herman Hooman, a chemist and doctor who was one of the local Collegiants in this village. The house of Spinoza's landlord was situated in a quiet street.
A complexity is that Spinoza did not merely produce lenses. "The German travellers Stolle and Hallmann, Pierre Bayle, Colerus, Jelles, Lucas, Christiaan Huygens, Theodor Kerckringh, and many others relate that Spinoza personally constructed microscopes and telescopes which were highly praised by the scientists of his day" (W. N. A. Klever, art. cit., The Cambridge Companion to Spinoza, 1996, p. 33). Spinoza's close interest in optics, and his appreciation of astronomy, must certainly have afforded the lens-grinding activity a special interest for him that was well above mere recourse to a mundane source of livelihood.
Although Spinoza did not accomplish original work in the physical sciences and mathematics, being a philosopher first and foremost, he did possess a substantial understanding of optical theory (like Descartes). He was "competent enough to engage in sophisticated discussion with correspondents over fine points in the mathematics of refraction" (Nadler, op. cit., p. 183).
The craft of a lens-grinder ideally required an apprenticeship, though Spinoza appears to have negotiated that factor, perhaps via his Mennonite friend Jan Hendriksz Glazemaker, who seems to have formerly worked as a professional "glassmaker," an ancestral vocation. At this period, an uncertain number of amateurs were attracted to the construction of lenses due to the enthusiasm created by the Optics of Descartes. They must have varied considerably in their talents.
Leibniz judged Spinoza to be an outstanding microscopist, though the German philosopher awarded the major honours to three other men, namely Jan Swammerdam, Marcello Malpighi, and Antony van Leeuwenhoek (1632-1723). The lastmentioned has emerged as the most remarkable of his contingent. Leeuwenhoek is reported to have constructed hundreds of single-lens microscopes, using a secret (and relatively simple) technique for making lenses, a technique which afforded a greater magnification than competitors could achieve. Leeuwenhoek expressed a low opinion of amateurs or gentlemanly hobbyists, crediting that only one in a thousand was properly suited to the vocation. Spinoza must have been the rare exception, to judge from some contemporary reports (Shepherd, Pointed Observations, 2005, p. 278); he was also earlier in time than many of the other amateurs.
A widespread public interest in microscopy was created by the book Micrographia (1665), published by the Royal Society of London and composed by Robert Hooke (1635-1703). The British scientist reported his observations with microscopes, and employed rather graphic copperplate engravings. Spinoza belonged to the "pre-popular" phase of microscopy, though Leeuwenhoek was a comparatively late starter.
The extent of Leeuwenhoek's skill was for long obscured by neglect and disbelief. According to Dr. Brian J. Ford, the Dutch artisan "remains one of the most imperfectly understood figures in the origins of experimental biology; the popular view is that Leeuwenhoek worked in a manner that was essentially crude and undisciplined, using untried methods of investigation that were lacking in refinement and objectivity. He has often been described as a 'dilettante.' His microscopes, furthermore, have been described as primitive and doubt has been expressed over his ability to have made many of the observations attributed to him. Recent research shows these views to be erroneous." (Ford, From Dilettante to Diligent Experimenter, 1992).
The fact emerges that Leeuwenhoek was a genius, both as a craftsman and an observer. The reservations about him evidently arose from a misplaced sense of priorities elevating professionalism and formal credentials. Indeed, in certain respects, the humble status of Leeuwenhoek is more attractive than the snobbish attitudes which have obscured his talents.
Leeuwenhoek was born at Delft in Holland, not far from The Hague. His forbears were tradesmen, his father being a basket-maker. He "had no fortune, received no higher education or university degrees, and knew no languages other than his native Dutch. This would have been enough to exclude him from the scientific community of his time completely. Yet with skill, dilligence, an endless curiosity, and an open mind free of the scientific dogma of his day, Leeuwenhoek succeeded in making some of the most important discoveries in the history of biology." Quotation from Antony van Leeuwenhoek.
Apprenticed in a linen-draper's shop, Leeuwenhoek spent most of his life in Delft. At some date before 1668, this Calvinist fabric merchant learned how to grind lenses and to make simple microscopes. Leeuwenhoek was apparently inspired in this direction by seeing a copy of Robert Hooke's popular Micrographia (1665). Only a few of Leeuwenhoek's microscopes have survived; these were not compound microscopes of the type used today, but much more simple devices using only one lens. These instruments were small, only three or four inches long.
Hooke and Swammerdam had made compound microscopes (using more than one lens), instruments which had actually first appeared circa 1600. Yet the compound variety were not able to give a magnification of more than about twenty or thirty times natural size. In contrast, the skill of Leeuwenhoek created single-lens microscopes that magnified over 200 times, with clearer images than any of his rivals could achieve. His expertise in glass processing could easily have been copied, and so he kept the (rather straightforward) process a secret.
Leeuwenhoek commenced a habit of carefully describing what he saw under the lens, and hired an illustrator to do the drawings. In 1673, he decided to contact the bastion of professionalism known as the Royal Society, being introduced to them by a famous Dutch medic. He commenced writing enthusiastic letters to that prestigious body about his discoveries. This epistolary industry continued for fifty years. His Dutch communications were translated into English or Latin, and achieved immortality in the Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society.
In 1676, the Royal Society became uneasy about Leeuwenhoek, who reported observations of single-celled organisms. The existence of such organisms was in grave doubt; they were not formerly known to exist. Professional acceptance turned to acute scepticism. The Dutch microscopist had to persevere with requests for confirmation. Not until 1680 were the new observations vindicated by the expert doubters. That same year, Leeuwenhoek was elected as a Fellow of the Royal Society. See further the research of the British microscopist Brian J. Ford. The Wikipedia article is relevant (accessed 08/07/2010).
Leeuwenhoek discovered bacteria, protists, sperm cells, blood cells, nematodes, rotifers, foraminifera, and rather more besides. "The list of his discoveries goes on and on," to quote a basic observation. We do not know how far Spinoza, at a slightly earlier date, was able to proceed with lens magnification or observations, though there was obviously a reason why the innovative Huygens deferred to his familiarity with lenses.
The association of Spinoza with the Dutch scientist Christiaan Huygens (1629-1695) has been subject to different interpretations. This association occurred after the Rijnsburg phase, when Spinoza moved to the village of Voorburg (near The Hague) in 1663. There he rented a room in the house of the painter Daniel Tydeman and his wife. His first encounter with Huygens apparently occurred in 1663, and the subsequent association is fraught with significances. Huygens was a wealthy patrician with substantial talents as an astronomer and mathematician. Sadly though, in some of his letters he referred to Spinoza as "the Jew of Voorburg" and "the Israelite," rather condescending expressions which tend to reflect the class and ethnic divide. Science does not always achieve due freedom from such limitations.
"If Huygens purchased any lenses from Spinoza, it has been said that 'he did so from curiosity, to compare their construction and power with his own.' Huygens... had personally ground the lens for the telescope which he had used in discovering the rings of Saturn.... Spinoza did not use a lathe, but instead polished lenses with hand instruments, a method which he claimed to be superior. However, one commentary has elevated the lathe invented by Huygens, a measure which snubs the amateur recourse to hand tools, on the grounds that these tools were more convenient for someone living in a confined space. Spinoza asserted that the hand tools could do a better job than the lathe....
"Spinoza can be viewed as having a valid angle here, especially as horologists can appreciate his attitude. The primitive bow and turns method used by old clockmakers and watchmakers was a handworking art which gave greater accuracy than the lathe. Some craftsmen have achieved on small workbenches in tiny rooms what some academic spectators might consider amazing. Such craftsmen often did not, and do not, work to academic specifications, knowing full well that that the acid test of skill can often rest in a free hand." (Shepherd, Pointed Observations, 2005, p. 279, and contesting the version of M. Gullan-Whur, Within Reason: A Life of Spinoza, 1998, p. 171, who contradicts the statement of Spinoza that "experience has taught me that in polishing spherical plates a free hand yields safer and better results than any machine".)
Huygens was the most celebrated scientist in the Netherlands, and has been assessed as a major figure in the Scientific Revolution. He was very much an empiricist in his attitudes. He could be resistant to rationalist claims, including those of Descartes. "Huygens was impressed by Spinoza's achievements with lenses but had his doubts about Spinoza as a scientific theoretician" (Popkin, Spinoza, 2004, p. 56).
These two appear to have met on fairly numerous occasions during the period 1663-66. "Often, when Spinoza came into The Hague, he would call on Huygens, who in turn would be sure to visit Spinoza during his frequent trips to the [Huygen] family's estate just outside Voorburg" (Nadler, op. cit., p. 221).
An element of distance has nevertheless been deduced. We may be sure that both astronomy and optics were on the agenda for discussion. "Spinoza certainly joined Huygens during one of his nightly observations of Jupiter by means of his thirty-foot telescope. Spinoza was quite sure of his own position in optics and was not afraid to criticise Huygens" (Klever, art. cit., p. 34).
Born in The Hague, Huygens came from a patrician family, his father serving as a secretary and administrator to the aristocracy of Orange. His mother came from one of the most wealthy families in Amsterdam. His father was a personal acquaintance of Descartes, who was a visitor on occasion to the former's home. The young Huygens studied law and mathematics at the University of Leiden, but seems to have been discontented with the confined academic approach to learning and experience. In 1650 he returned to The Hague, where he remained until 1666, gaining an allowance from his wealthy father which permitted him to study as he pleased, and to work at home. Huygens subsequently purchased a law degree, though he apparently never used the credential. He was far more enthusiastic about mathematics and astronomy, publishing books in these subjects. He became accomplished in grinding and polishing lenses, being self-taught in this new field, though he did collaborate with his oldest brother.
Huygens was able construct a powerful telescope, and using one of his own lenses, in 1655 he discovered the first of Saturn's moons, named Titan. His lenses achieved a greater magnification than anything known before. He demonstrated a genius for constructing telescopes, culminating in the tubeless model. Meanwhile, he discovered the true shape of the rings of Saturn, formerly described in misleading terms ever since Galileo had first set eyes on the phenomenon several decades before. Yet like Galileo, Huygens experienced antagonism from those who could not believe the truth of new discoveries.
Huygens described his conclusions in Systema Saturnium (1659), which was attacked by authorities like Honoré Fabri (1607-1688), a Jesuit astronomer in Rome. Fabri mocked the new data as being fantastic fiction. The problem was caused by inferior telescopes. In 1665 Huygens learned that Fabri had accepted his "Saturn ring" theory, due to the spread of better instruments. Yet the adversary still refused to credit that the Copernican rationale had been confirmed.
Accurate timekeeping was needed in astronomy, and this factor caused Huygens to develop the first pendulum clock (though he did not make any clock himself). "Huygens claimed that he made the first model of a pendulum clock on Christmas Day, 1656, and in the June of the following year a patent was granted to Salomon Coster, of The Hague, for making such clocks" (P. G. Dawson et al, Early English Clocks, Woodbridge: Antique Collectors' Club, 1982, p. 74).This invention facilitated a widespread appearance of the longcase (or "grandfather") clock. Later, Huygens published the Horologium Oscillatorium, in which amongst other technical matters, he described pendulum motion via his intricate knowledge of mathematics. He also invented the cycloidal pendulum and designed several clocks in an attempt to determine longitude at sea (a problem not solved until the eighteenth century, via the contribution of John Harrison).
In 1661 Huygens visited London, and was impressed by the newly forming Royal Society, to which he was elected in 1663. The English scientists grasped that his telescopes were superior to their own. In 1666 he moved to Paris from The Hague, having accepted an invitation to join the very new Académie Royale des Sciences (the French Academy of Sciences). Huygens took a leading position in this project, drawing upon his knowledge of how the Royal Society operated in England. He subsequently made further astronomical observations at the new Paris Observatory (completed in 1672). His abovementioned book Horologium was dedicated to Louis IV, the patron of the Académie Royale, and who paid him and other members quite generously.
In 1672, Huygens met the German philosopher Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz in Paris, and the latter was careful to learn from him. In 1689, Huygens again visited England and the Royal Society, a sphere in which he encountered Isaac Newton (1643-1727). These two scientists are reported to have travelled together from Cambridge to London on a stagecoach journey, though no details of the conversation survive. It is known that Huygens reacted critically to certain theories of Newton, especially concerning universal gravitation. This response has been attributed to the lingering influence of Descartes. After his death, Huygens was eclipsed by the monolithic fame of Newton, which some commentators have lamented. In this respect, there is a convergence with the fate of Spinoza for a duration of time. "We should therefore be grateful that both Spinoza and Huygens survived the interim period of relative oblivion." See Al-Farabi to Spinoza (2010), last paragraph.
It is relevant to observe that Huygens was not an academic authority during the period of his early activities in astronomy. He was an educated person, but had no university or official role, instead working at home in isolation. He gained recognition through his empirical discoveries. Similarly, such unusual entities as John Harrison (1693-1776) and Michael Faraday (1791-1867) gained strong recognition in a scientific context, despite the self-taught background discernible.
"Harrison was looked down upon as a mere rural 'mechanic' by the prestigious Astronomer Royal [the Reverend Nevil Maskelyne], whose nautical tables were eclipsed by a self-taught and uneducated amateur" (Shepherd, Pointed Observations, 2005, p. 280). Harrison was an English clockmaker who invented the marine chronometer, which far surpassed the efforts of Huygens at nautical timekeeping. Faraday received very little formal education, and was "mathematically illiterate"; yet he became an influential scientist with a reputed genius for experimentation in subjects like electricity.
The largely obscure interaction between Huygens and Spinoza occurred in a situation where the Scientific Revolution juxtaposed with unofficial natural and metaphysical philosophy. Spinoza had no academic degrees, and the main link between himself and the Dutch scientist was their converging artisan talent in producing lenses.
See further Christiaan Huygens. Also helpful is Huygens Systema Saturnium, and likewise the Citizendium version.
7. Henry Oldenburg and the Royal Society
The correspondence of Spinoza is noted for interchanges with Henry Oldenburg (c. 1619-1677), who was secretary to the Royal Society from 1662, the same year this important scientific organisation commenced. Oldenburg was a German, born in Bremen, where his father taught philosophy. He himself became a theologian, afterwards travelling to England in 1653 as a diplomat (for Bremen) with an assignment to see Oliver Cromwell.
Oldenburg subsequently sojourned at Oxford, becoming acquainted with a wide circle of thinkers in "natural philosophy," encompassing the new attitudes to science. He gained a patron in the chemist Sir Robert Boyle (1627-1691). "Without the ties he forged between himself and the Boyle family his life would certainly have been obscure and unremarkable" (M. B. Hall, Henry Oldenburg: Shaping the Royal Society, Cambridge 2002, p. XII). In that era, socially elevated patrons could be a determining factor.
In 1660, Oldenburg joined the select group at Gresham College in London, a circle that formed the core of the Royal Society. His role as secretary to this body is noted for an industry with the pen and a tactful attitude of cooperation with his correspondents. Over three thousand letters to and from Oldenburg have survived, in whole or part, and these have been published in thirteen volumes. He also founded and edited the oldest scientific journal in the world, namely the Philosophical Transactions. The title tends to indicate the extent to which philosophy was at that time identified with science, though the growth of the latter subsequently entailed a bifurcation.
In 1661, Oldenburg visited the Netherlands, intending to visit Christiaan Huygens, whom he wished to inform about developments in England. En route to The Hague, he heard about Spinoza, and decided to call on the latter at Rijnsburg. The meeting was successful, and the visitor was obviously quite impressed by Spinoza, who lived in simple rooms rather different to more grand settings of contemporary celebrities in the world of science and learning.The topics of conversation included Descartes and Francis Bacon. Oldenburg probably grasped that there were differences of view in such directions, and these were later reflected in some of the ensuing correspondence.
It is well known that Spinoza moved at a tangent to Descartes, being influenced by the latter's general perspective but disagreeing on several basic particulars. He was very much a neo-Cartesian. With regard to Bacon, different commentarial views have been expressed, and there is the question of whether Spinoza was semi-Baconian, non-Baconian, or anti-Baconian.
A factor of complication was the output of Sir Robert Boyle, a close colleague (and patron) of Oldenburg in the Royal Society. Boyle was a gifted English scientist, though primarily a chemist. Boyle was a committed mechanist, reflecting the mood of the Scientific Revolution, and opposed to the "occult" nuances of the Scholastic establishment, who were now in jeopardy. The benign Oldenburg evidently assumed, or hoped, that his two friends Boyle and Spinoza would work in concert to further the new science. It is evident from the available records that Spinoza resisted aspects of the English empirical tradition.
Spinoza did share Boyle's enthusiasm for the "mechanical philosophy," but in a rather different way. "He wondered why, if the confirmation of the general principles of mechanism was Boyle's goal, he [Boyle] went to so much experimental trouble" (Nadler, Spinoza: A Life, p. 193). When Oldenburg sent Spinoza a copy of Boyle's book Certain Physiological Essays (1661), the rationalist philosopher responded with detailed criticisms. His angle has been interpreted by some commentators to basically mean that the principles of the mechanistic philosophy could not be revealed by experiment but only by the intellect.
The anti-empirical interpretation is stressed in such statements as:
"Spinoza thought failure to research from a starting-point of mathematical reasoning invalidated most of the scientific conclusions of his contemporaries. He strongly opposed the inductive method of generalising from observed instances to so-called 'laws of nature'.... for Spinoza, certainties about the universe did not lie in empirical generalisations, but were deductions, based on the pure power of the intellect....yet he acknowledged that experiment displayed instances of the ways in which the laws of Nature worked, and he made practical tests of his own" (M. Gullan-Whur, Within Reason: A Life of Spinoza, London: Pimlico 2000, pp. 112-13).
Spinoza's first letter to Oldenburg (dated 1661) asserts that Bacon and Descartes did not know the true nature of the mind, and that they had strayed far from knowledge of the first cause and origin of all things; they had never grasped the true cause of error. These statements were in response to Oldenburg's explicit queries, and attended by the comment of Spinoza that it was not his habit to expose the errors of other philosophers.
"The criticisms of Bacon in Spinoza's first letter to Oldenburg do not imply that he repudiated the whole of Bacon's philosophy, any more than the criticisms of Descartes in the same letter imply that Spinoza's philosophy is free of Cartesian ideas. Indeed the first-order fact-gathering business of natural philosophy was viewed by Spinoza in a Baconian way" (A. Gabbey, "Spinoza's natural science and methodology," The Cambridge Companion to Spinoza, 1996, p. 170).
Although Spinoza was not by any means a categorical inductionist, generally being defined as a deductive rationalist, his criticism of superstition could be devastating. In that respect, some empiricists of the Royal Society are not exempt from suspicion, as in the case of Samuel Pepys, who favoured charms. Even Boyle "held that there could be no more convincing proof of the falsity of atheism than the confirmation of a supernatural event; such testimony from this celebrated prober of nature's secrets had the effect of exciting new interest in witchcraft and sorcery" (Gullan-Whur, op. cit., p. 112).
Spinoza frequently referred in his writings to Christ, and in a positive manner. His estimation of Jesus was genuine, though not made in any orthodox context; he was independent from both Christianity and Judaism. Oldenburg still thought like a theologian, and eventually doubted Spinoza's compatibility with Christian doctrine. In 1675, the former pressed the latter to protect his position by a support for the conventional belief in Christ as "Redeemer of the world, sole Mediator for mankind, and of his Incarnation and Atonement" (Nadler, op. cit., p. 291).
Spinoza replied in a reasoned manner, stressing salvation in terms of the "Eternal Wisdom of God" as distinct from a necessity "to know Christ according to the flesh." He also opposed miracles, which he said made religion into superstition. Spinoza repudiated the theological accusation that he was attempting to prove the equivalence of God and Nature (meaning that God was mere matter), and asserted that he believed "all things are in God and move in God," thereby agreeing with the apostle Paul, and "perhaps with all the ancient philosophers, though the phraseology may differ."
In a further letter from London, Oldenburg continued his objections to Spinoza's equation of miracles with ignorance, and further pressing other matters of Christian doctrine, including Christ's resurrection from the dead. Spinoza again replied in detail, including his conclusion that "the resurrection of Christ from the dead was in reality spiritual." Oldenburg was not satisfied, and sent another letter (dated January 1676) querying the allegorical interpretation of scripture. Spinoza maintained his independent stance, and stated "I accept literally the passion, death, and burial of Christ, but his resurrection I understand allegorically."
This same correspondence attests Oldenburg's puzzlement at Spinoza's supposed "fatalism." The deterministic universe of the latter was construed by the Christian as being indifferent to issues of virtue and morality, and also theological reward and punishment. Spinoza responded by saying that his worldview did not in any way absolve people from morality or responsibility for their actions. His way of looking at such ethical questions was very different to the orthodoxy of Oldenburg, who believed that God delivered sinners to dire punishment that could even be eternal.
8. From the Emendation to Political Thought
At the time he was visited by Oldenburg in 1661, Spinoza seems to have been working on two treatises. One of these remained unfinished, namely the Latin Tractatus de intellectus emendatione (Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect, here abbreviated to Emendation). The Emendation may have been the earliest of the two treatises, and perhaps even dating to 1658-9. Neither of these works were published during Spinoza's lifetime. They represent early samples of his own philosophy, as distinct from his presentation of Descartes which achieved publication in 1663 (see section 3 above).
The Emendation was concerned with philosophical method and pursuit of "the good," meaning the highest purpose for a human being. The philosophical life is here an ideal, and necessitates a revaluation of common experience. The treatise opens with some autobiographical reflections, expressing a mood of discontent with the general state of the intellect (or understanding). Spinoza says he had learned that "all the customary trappings of social life are vain and futile." He laments the situation in which the highest good is perceived in terms of wealth, fame, and sensual pleasure. That situation diverts the mind from understanding a more advanced form of good.
All actions and thoughts must be devoted to the purpose of gaining the highest good. There has to be a due method for purifying (or emending) the understanding, which should grasp the laws of Nature, of which humans are part. Spinoza stipulates that the sciences should be directed to the central objective of attaining the highest human perfection. In this context he mentions medicine and mechanics (i.e., physics and related sciences), though making the point that the understanding must first be emended, to avoid error and confusion. His concept of science was intimately related to his stress on psychological improvement. The implication is, that without such improvement, science could hinder the study of Nature (a big word in Spinozan vocabulary).
Spinoza includes in Emendation a code of life, comprising three points. Firstly, to speak in a manner intelligible to the prevailing society and to comply with appropriate general customs. Secondly, to indulge in pleasures only to the extent that these are conducive to the preservation of health. Thirdly, to obtain only enough money (or other commodities) that are necessary to sustain life and health.
Themes emerge concerning the deterministic order of Nature, and the necessity of ideas in the mind adequately reflecting the processes in Nature. However, the desired perfection will only occur when knowledge of Nature is linked to a knowledge of the absolutely perfect Being, from which all things originate. The perfect being is not here described in terms of "God," though the later work Ethics does stipulate God as the cause of all things, and as the first cause.
The second of the two early works is the Short Treatise on God, Man and His Well-Being. Spinoza is thought to have commenced this book while he was still at Amsterdam, and possibly at the instigation of his friends in that city.The Short Treatise was apparently composed in Latin, perhaps as early as 1660. His private audience are thought to have requested a Dutch version (Latin was the language of scholars). The work was not published; two Dutch manuscripts were discovered in the nineteenth century, and the supposition has been that a translation must have occurred, as Spinoza himself is known to have been averse to writing in Dutch, being more fluent in Latin.
The Short Treatise is "a difficult and complex work" (Nadler, Spinoza: A Life, p. 190), and has an almost esoteric repute in view of the cautionary remarks at the end, addressed to his friends. "I would ask you urgently to be very careful about communicating these things to others" (ibid., p. 186).
There are some statements in the Short Treatise that sound mystical, including those associated with the Neoplatonism of Judah Abravanel (see section 5 above). The intellectual love of God leads to a union with God. "The most perfect man is the one who unites with the most perfect being, God, and thus enjoys him" (ibid., p. 188). However, Spinoza's God was not the God of the Calvinist Church, not being a source of reward or punishment, and nor having the characteristics commonly ascribed to God by theologians.
The God of Spinoza bypasses religious ministrations, rituals, and dogmas concerning predestination, salvation, and immortality. Man has his wellbeing in understanding and following the laws of Nature (which includes human societies). True beliefs are acquired through the use of reason and intuition, and not through indoctrination.The idea is that rational (and intuitive) knowledge are not subject to error, and can eliminate harmful passions and emotions.
It is possible to construe that Spinoza was deploying an "intellectual" mysticism, assisted by a Neo-Cartesian vocabulary, seeking to unite the "mechanistic philosophy" of the new sciences with his single substance version of God and Nature.
Some basic themes of his early period were extended in the more explicit work in Latin entitled Tractatus Theologico-Politicus, now widely known as Theological-Political Treatise (TPT). This was composed in the late 1660s and published in 1670, comprising a memorable defence of freedom of speech in the face of religious intolerance. The book was apparently published in Amsterdam by Spinoza's friend Jan Rieuwertsz (or a close acquaintance on account to the latter), the author being anonymous. A protective strategy was employed, the title page declaring that the TPT was published at Hamburg in Germany; a false publishing name was resorted to, probably because the printing outlet of Rieuwertsz was under surveillance by Calvinist watchdogs and heresy-hunters. This tactic did not prevent heated denunciations from the orthodox sector.
The background of the TPT is pressing. Spinoza's acquaintance Adriaan Koerbagh met a tragic fate in 1669, and this is thought to have spurred Spinoza to apply the finishing touches to the TPT and to proceed with publication. The magistrates had sided with the Calvinist Church, lending the episode a strong association of collusion between the secular and sectarian authorities. Koerbagh was a radical thinker, a lawyer and medic of Amsterdam who published in Dutch a work expressing bold dissident views, and then followed up with a sequel that was squashed. Some themes in his writings reflected Spinoza's views, though other elements were also present. He was arrested in Leiden, and transported in chains to the dungeons of the town hall in Amsterdam.
The unfortunate Koerbagh (1632-1669) was sentenced to ten years in prison after being interrogated by magistrates, who were encouraged by the Calvinist religious authorities. A salient participant in the interrogation was bailiff Cornelis Witsen, the chief officer of justice and an inflexible fundamentalist. Witsen watched Koerbagh being tortured, and then urged that the victim should be imprisoned for thirty years after having a hole bored in his tongue with a red-hot iron and his right thumb hacked off.
This savage advice was fortunately moderated, but Koerbagh was nevertheless sent to a severe prison in Amsterdam, usually reserved for violent offenders condemned to hard labour. He soon became ill and was removed to a workhouse "where women and children, drunkards and debtors, were left to rot." He died a year later in a sad state of mind induced by his privations, and which was interpreted by a pastor in terms of repentance; the pastor had been sent by the Calvinist authorities to save his soul from the "lakes of Satan" (M. Gullan-Whur, Within Reason: A Life of Spinoza, 1998, pp. 218-19; cf. Nadler, op. cit., pp. 266ff.).
Witsen had the reputation of being "a prominent member of Amsterdam's city council and a ferocious hounder of religious dissidents" (Gullan-Whur, op. cit., p. 145). This was the ultra-conservative mentality against which Spinoza cleary pitted himself in the TPT, albeit in scholarly Latin. The publication of dissident views in the Dutch vernacular was regarded as a crime by Calvinist (Reformed) churchmen. "Reformed Church minute-books are filled with interrogations, demands for retractions, condemnations, impositions of fines and, occasionally, horrible physical punishments" (ibid., p. 134).
In the TPT, Spinoza advocated a democratic and pluralist society free of superstition. Popular religion is here viewed as the tool of a clergy who manipulated emotions in the support of rituals and inadequate concepts such as salvation. Spinoza warned of dangers in the situation of a civil authority assisting religious leaders by punishing any departure from theological orthodoxy. He advocated an intensive critical study of the Bible for the purpose of determining the elusive true religion. Spinoza emphasised the difference between faith and philosophy. The latter subject was in accord with true religion (at least in the Spinozan version). The freedom of philosophical thought would not therefore impair true religion. He contrasted that desirable freedom with the frequent situation of social disturbances and wars arising from sectarian disputes.
In the TPT, Spinoza is dismissive of both the Jewish and Christian sacerdotal concepts supporting ceremonialism and dogma. He disparages the ancient Hebrew concept of national favour with God, i.e., the chosen people. "The six hundred and thirteen precepts of the Torah have nothing to do with blessedness or virtue" (Nadler, op. cit., p. 274). Spinoza urges that the ceremonial laws were valid only for a limited period in time, and were not binding under all circumstances. He disposed of Christian miracle beliefs by the argument that miracles require a distinction between God and Nature. God does not interfere with the laws of Nature, is the message here, as God has decreed those deterministic laws.
"Spinoza's views on Scripture constitute, without question, the most radical theses of the Treatise [TPT] and explain why he was attacked with such vitriol by his contemporaries" (ibid., p. 275). He denied that Moses composed the books of the Torah, citing the references to Moses in the third person. His explanation was that these and other Biblical books were composed many generations after the events described. Spinoza urged that much of the Old Testament text was a corrupt compilation. He was here influenced by statements of the twelfth century commentator Ibn Ezra, and also the more recent Christian views of Isaac La Peyrere and the Quaker leader Samuel Fisher, plus conclusions of the English philosopher Thomas Hobbes. Spinoza made improvements to that trend, advocating due historical context for any biblical book, and the use of requisite linguistic skills. i.e., a knowledge of Hebrew.
The author of the Theological-Political Treatise also asserted that a familiarity with scripture was not necessary to gain blessedness, which requires a way of life informed by philosophical reason. A deduction was that scripture basically conveyed the injunction "to know and love God, and to love one's neighbour as onself." This moral injunction was relevant, and the rest was superfluous. Above all, Spinoza insisted upon freedom of speech in a political state that should maintain religion only in the sense of charity and justice.
"The Theological-Political Treatise is one of the most eloquent arguments for a secular, democratic state in the history of political thought" (ibid., p. 285).
9. Last Years
Spinoza moved from Voorburg to The Hague in late 1669 or early 1670. The Theological-Political Treatise (TPT) was now in press, and he was in bad health. He is reported to have had many friends in The Hague, and he might well have deemed this a factor of safety. At first he rented some upper floor rooms in a house owned by a widow; the biographer Johan Colerus lodged in the same rooms twenty years later, and with the same landlady. She told him that Spinoza "generally kept to himself, often having his meals in his rooms; he sometimes did not come out for several days" (Nadler, Spinoza: A Life, p. 288).
Yet the rent was too high for his modest means. In May 1671, he moved to a nearby house owned by an amiable young Lutheran artist, who had a wife and three children. Spinoza rented a large single room on the first floor of Hendrik van der Spyck's dwelling on the Paviljoensgracht. This was to be his last abode. His room was furnished very plainly, and his possessions mainly comprised his lens-grinding tools and about a hundred and fifty books.
Spinoza was a moderate beer-drinker and smoked a tobacco pipe, these being very common habits of his milieu (water was often considered unsafe to drink). If he was receiving the De Vries annual pension, which amounted to 300 guilders, he had to pay 80 guilders per year for rent alone. He paid a barber, but did not purchase a wig or fine clothing, and was averse to the elaborate social etiquette of the wealthy classes, some of whom visited him.
The Van der Spyck family later passed on a very favourable report of their lodger to Colerus, who was a local Lutheran preacher. Spinoza spent much time in his room, attending to his work with lenses and his writing. He was benign towards the family, who were easygoing and tolerant, and with whom he would often talk, venturing downstairs for that purpose. He took an interest in the children, and was very polite towards the Lutheran faith of his landlord, refraining from any criticism. As Spinoza had a special regard for Christ, in a virtually mystical context, it was not difficult for him to talk with Christians, as he had earlier demonstrated, though he evidently remained a philosopher committed to both reason and intuition.
While Spinoza was living his simple life at The Hague, a formidable tide of hostility was vented in his direction by the Calvinist theologians and their allies. The Theological-Political Treatise (TPT) had been published anonymously (see section 8), but the identity of the author soon became known. The fundamentalist watchdogs missed nothing. Spinoza had optimistically imagined that the TPT would annul the accusation of atheism in his direction. Instead, theologians targeted him as an enemy, some even describing him as a representative of Satan. These opponents created the belief that he was trying to spread atheism and libertinism.
Professors in the Dutch universities were not exempt from participating in the castigation, including Cartesian exponents who preferred to go with the orthodox current rather than support an independent non-academic factor. Professor Regnier Mansveld of Utrecht asserted that the TPT "ought to be buried forever in an eternal oblivion" (Nadler, op. cit., p. 295). Mansveldt taught philosophy; he died in 1671 but left a written attack that was later published in his Adversus anonymum Theologo-politicum (1674). Not surprisingly perhaps, in his harrassed position, Spinoza commented that this attack was "not worth reading through, and far less answering" (Gullan-Whur, op. cit., p. 252). However, a copy of the Mansveldt book was later found in his personal library.
The TPT achieved a wide circulation in the Netherlands, though Calvinist synods were active in denunciation. A nationwide ban was imposed in 1674 by the Court of Holland, who prohibited the printing and selling of the heretical book. Spinoza himself prevented the publication by Rieuwertsz of a Dutch translation, fearing that this could be lethal. That translation did not appear until 1693, long after his death.
The despised heretic resented the accusation of atheism. One of those who contributed to that stigma was Dr. Lambert van Velthuysen (1622-1685), who had studied theology under the anti-Cartesian professor Gisbertus Voetius and qualified in medicine at Utrecht. Velthuysen expressed on paper a damning verdict about the TPT, though he denied knowing the identity of the author (ibid., pp. 232-3). Spinoza protested that the critic should be ashamed of making such a charge, and accused Van Velthuysen of having "perversely misinterpreted my meaning." The victim added that his mode of life ran contrary to the accusation, as "atheists are usually inordinately fond of honours and riches, which I have always despised, as is known to all who are acquainted with me" (Nadler, op. cit., p. 246).
The afflicting situation caused Spinoza to decide against publishing Ethics. He stoically completed the work during his years at The Hague, eventually to grasp that it could never be read while he lived. The reason being that the vengeful critics would not have accepted it, instead preferring misinterpretations.
Meanwhile, the political situation was grim. In 1672 the French army of Louis XIV invaded the Netherlands and occupied Utrecht. Dutch indignation tended to place the blame for this encroachment upon Johann de Witt, the leader of the Dutch Republic who had been prominent since the 1650s. De Witt could not stop such military force and had depended upon his diplomatic strategies to keep trouble at bay. Radical thinkers were dependent upon the liberal milieu created by the Dutch Republic, which changed colour for the worst when the Orangist figurehead William III became the monarchical stadtholder (ruler) and De Witt resigned from his office. Spinoza was a helpless non-participant in the tragic event, dating to the summer of 1672, when De Witt and his brother were savagely murdered by a mob at The Hague. The corpses were cut to pieces. De Witt's brother Cornelis had been arrested for allegedly plotting against the life of the new ruler, a charge which as been deemed a contrivance.
The mob did not comprise disaffected peasants, but local urban militants who included middle class burghers; they were indoctrinated with political slogans of the Orangist imperialists. According to Spinoza's own account (reported by Leibniz), his landlord had to prevent him from going out during the ensuing night and placing a placard of complaint near the site of the murders, conveying a message to the belligerent Orangist mob. The intended placard read: Ultimi barbarorum (You are the worst of barbarians).
An event occurred in 1673 which has been variously discussed. Spinoza made an expedition behind enemy lines to Utrecht, which had been captured by the Prince de Condé, the French military leader. The country was in chaos, the dykes having been opened in an effort to stop the invaders, flooding much of the land between The Hague and Utrecht. The early biographers supply different versions of the event.
Spinoza was evidently welcome at the French military camp, along with some academics; Condé apparently wished to converse with Dutch intellectuals. This aristocrat was not merely a general, but also a patron of literature, and was no stranger to Descartes. Only one of the biographers states that Spinoza met the Prince; according to Pierre Bayle, they conversed several times, and the Prince attempted to persuade the philosopher to return with him to France and join his court. Spinoza declined, saying that the Prince would not be able to protect him from the bigotry of the French religious establishment, who hated him because of the Theological-Political Treatise.
There has also been disagreement about the details of another episode in 1673, when Spinoza declined the offer to take up a professorship at the university of Heidelberg in Germany. The philosopher then stated that he did not want to be restricted as to what he could teach. The commentator Pierre Bayle (1647-1706) provides a version indicating that "Spinoza only wrote his remarkable rejection of a position at the great university after they had withdrawn the offer" (Popkin, Spinoza, 2004, p. 113).
Bayle did not get everything right, and amongst the errors in his Dictionnaire was that of describing Spinoza as an atheist, one who had "died completely convinced of his atheism" (Nadler, op. cit., p. 246). It is certain that the invitatory letter from Heidelberg enjoined that he was not to disturb the publicly established religion; Spinoza objected to this clause on grounds of his preferred freedom to philosophise. As events transpired, the French army of Louis XIV invaded Heidelberg the following year, closing down the university and banishing all the professors (ibid., pp. 311ff.).
In these last years, Spinoza received more visitors, and is thought to have written more letters. Liberal radicals, both French and Dutch, appear to have been the backbone of this interest. A new contact was the young German nobleman Walther von Tschirnhaus (1651-1708), a Count with a strong disposition to science, and who himself became regarded as a savant. He met Spinoza in 1674 after being in correspondence. The meeting may have occurred in Amsterdam, which Spinoza is known to have visited.
Tschirnhaus acquired a manuscript copy of the unpublished Ethics, perhaps from the author, though he was under the injunction to keep the contents to himself. He was subsequently in contact with the philosopher Leibniz (see section 10), who closely questioned him about the Ethics. In later years, Tschirnhaus would not admit in public that he had been influenced by Spinoza, though in private he defended the latter. His Medicina mentis (1686) has been described in terms of a synthesis of Cartesian and Leibnizian elements, and as including borrowings from Spinoza's Emendation treatise.
The Ethics was in composition until 1675, with only a select few of Spinoza's acquaintances being allowed to see the manuscript., and always under a proviso of secrecy. In July 1675 he visited Amsterdam and consigned his manuscript to the printer Rieuwertsz. Soon after however, he stopped the printing, because of a rumour in circulation amongst hostile theologians who reported him to magistrates. These critics had heard about the printing, and denounced Ethics (without seeing it) as a book denying God (Nadler, op. cit., pp. 333ff.; cf. Popkin, op.cit., pp. 102-3).
During these last years, Spinoza was engaged in composing two other books, both of which were unfinished at his death. The Compendium of Hebrew Grammar may have been intended for private use amongst his friends, confirming his theme that Hebrew should be studied as a natural language rather than as a supernatural Biblical language of God. There were several manuscript copies of this work circulating amongst his acquaintances at Amsterdam, and "it may be that Spinoza was perfectly satisfied with this kind of distribution, never intending it to be published formally" (Nadler, op. cit., p. 325). The grammar has been described as "a highly idiosyncratic work" (ibid.).
The Political Treatise was his last work, and has been interpreted as a realistic revision of some earlier themes in the TPT, and based on his perception, after the political crisis of 1672, that the multitude were unable to live according to the standards of reason. However, his discussion of monarchical constitutions ended with a disappointing exclusion of women (along with servants and children) from political voting and offices. Such ideas were commonplace in his time, and the attendant arguments are not convincing. One critic has observed that:
"Spinoza's exclusions verged on liberality in comparison with those of other seventeenth century political writers, including Jan van den Hove. The stricture on women was, however, standard and is endorsed in Saint-Evremond's memoirs" (Gullan-Whur, Within Reason: A Life of Spinoza, 1998, p. 295).
The cause of Spinoza's death is often stated as consumption. This problem is likely to have been aggravated by his exposure over many years to inhaling glass dust, a drawback created by his domestic lens-grinding activity. According to Colerus, the landlord's family were unaware that he was so close to expiry, giving the impression that he was not in any obvious trouble. Van der Spyck arranged for his burial, and numerous sympathisers attended the funeral. Six coaches of visitors followed the coffin, though their identities escaped recording.
The philosopher's manuscripts were sent to Amsterdam, and published by Rieuwertsz that same year in a Latin edition known as Opera Posthuma. In this manner the Ethics at last appeared, along with the three unfinished manuscripts known as Emendation of the Intellect, Political Treatise, and Hebrew Grammar. A selected version of Spinoza's correspondence was included. A Dutch edition also appeared, entitled De Nagelate Schriften, assisted by Jellesz and Glazemaker.
There were some strong reactions to Opera Posthuma, which was soon subject to official prohibition because of the allegedly atheistic and blasphemous content. Rieuwertsz was in low profile, but did not escape the hostile attention of the Dutch Bishop Neercassel in a letter (dated 1677) to the Roman Catholic Cardinal Barberini: "This bookseller usually publishes whatever exotic and impious [notion] is thought out here by impudent and conceited minds" (Klever, "Spinoza's life and works," The Cambridge Companion to Spinoza, p. 60 note 71).
The diverse reactions to the output of Spinoza have recently included the reflection:
"His work may fairly be said to signpost the most promising escape-route not only from the sorts of problem that he encountered with Descartes but also, more impressively, from some of the most intractable dilemmas handed down by those later thinkers - Kant preeminent among them" (Christopher Norris, Profile: Spinoza, 2010).
10. Leibniz and Spinoza
In November 1676, the German philosopher Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz (1646-1716) visited Spinoza at The Hague. They conversed "several times and at great length" (M. R. Antognazza, Leibniz: An Intellectual Biography, 2008, p. 177). The topics reportedly under discussion included Spinoza's unpublished Ethics, concerning which Leibniz had formulated a number of questions. At a less metaphysical angle, the conversations included the Cartesian theory of motion and the political problems of the Dutch Republic. Unfortunately, there is no record of these conversations. A Leibniz scholar has remarked, "it seems likely that these discussions were among the most rewarding in the whole history of philosophy" (N. Jolley, Leibniz, New York, 2005, p. 18).
This episode comprised the only meeting between these two distinctive thinkers, though a correspondence had commenced in 1671, which has been largely lost. Leibniz had opted for the role of a diplomat, quite different to both Descartes and Spinoza. Iin the service of the Elector of Mainz, Leibniz lived for some years in Paris, attempting to persuade Loius XIV to detour his military programme outside Europe.
The milieu of Leibniz was very different to that of Spinoza, whose simple accomodation could not match the resplendent surroundings known to his visitor. In the polymathic sense, Leibniz was no doubt superior to Spinoza; the former's multi-faceted career and intellectual genius are a separate study. However, the differences in their outlook and conceptualism have prompted some opinions that Spinoza demonstrated a more radical political orientation, plus a more incisive metaphysics.
Spinoza was evidently uncertain about the political role of Leibniz. He was cautious about letting Leibniz have access to his unpublished Ethics, despite the recommendation of his friend Count von Tschirnhaus, who had been entrusted with a copy of the manuscript. Spinoza was not persuaded, and advised a longer acquaintance with Leibniz. This reluctance appears to be justified by the Christianising references of Leibniz to the Spinoza corpus that are now well known. Briefly, Leibniz agreed with some some themes of Spinoza, though deeming others to be absurd. "He [Spinoza] has a strange metaphysics, full of paradoxes" (Nadler, Spinoza: A Life, p. 341). Leibniz recognised the personal worth of Spinoza in such statements as: "One can acknowledge that Epicurus and Spinoza, for instance, led exemplary lives" (ibid., p. 303, and citing Leibniz, New Essays on Human Understanding).
Although Leibniz apparently did not see the Ethics prior to Spinoza's death, it is evident that he was told a number of things about the manuscript by Tschirnhaus, who seems to have been quite voluble in that direction and who may have included topics not contained in the Ethics. A note written by Leibniz circa 1675 has aroused speculations. A brief excerpt follows:
"Sir Tschirnaus told me many things about the handwritten book of Spinoza.... he [Spinoza] thinks that we will forget most things when we die and retain only those things that we know with the kind of knowledge he calls intuitive, of which only a few are conscious.... he believes a sort of Pythagorical transmigration, namely that minds go from body to body." (Quotation from W. N. A. Klever, "Spinoza's life and works" in The Cambridge Companion to Spinoza, pp. 46-7; also cited in my Baruch Spinoza, short entry.)
This memo has created doubts as to whether Leibniz was reporting accurately about the transmigration theme. However, a prominent Spinoza scholar has commented:
"Tschirnhaus credits Spinoza - and this is completely new in comparison with other sources - with a kind of Pythagoreanism, implying that souls in a certain sense transmigrate from one form of matter to another. This idea is not entirely alien to the [Spinozan] theory of the mind's eternity, based on the adequate ideas of the 'fixed and eternal things' of extension. It is likely that the comparison with Pythagoras's transmigration theory originates from Spinoza himself, who probably had recognised the similarity in his reading of Ovid's Metamorphoses (Book XV), one of his classical sources" (Klever, art. cit., p. 47).
11. The Ethics
Spinoza's magnum opus has received varied comments indicating the complexies involved, including the description as "a work that only the most dedicated of readers can make their way through" (Blake D. Dutton, "Benedict De Spinoza," Internet Encyclopaedia of Philosophy). Another commentator has made a more pointed assessment in terms of "perhaps the most enigmatic book of philosophy that has ever been written" (R. Scruton, "Spinoza," in R. Monk and F. Raphael, eds., The Great Philosophers, London 2000, p. 170). Yet these observations should not deter a citizen attempt to decipher the distinctive citizen text under discussion (and it definitely is a citizen work, composed by a largely self-taught author, as academics have remarked).
The format of Ethics is modelled on a classical geometry textbook, namely the Elementa Geometrica of Euclid. Spinoza uses definitions, axioms, propositions, and demonstrations. His intention to establish certain knowledge was here applied to metaphysics, physics, psychology, and ethics.
"Starting from a few definitions and axioms, propositions are derived by means of deduction and this continues until the entire philosophical system, from its metaphysical foundations up to an elaborate theory of human bondage and liberation, has been unfolded" (P. Steenbakkers, "The Geometrical Order in the Ethics," The Cambridge Companion to Spinoza's Ethics, 2009, p. 42).
Spinoza was not the first to apply the geometrical format to philosophy. The greatly esteemed certainty of mathematics had been one resort of Descartes, when Mersenne had advised him "to rearrange the conclusion of the Meditations in the Euclidean fashion" (ibid., p. 47). Spinoza employed the geometrical format in two of his early works (including an appendix to his Short Treatise).
"Spinoza could build upon a long tradition, and his application of the geometrical order to the composition of the Ethics, though certainly a remarkable tour de force, was not an innovation. The result, however, is unrivalled" (ibid., p. 54).
Many readers have been deterred by the format of Ethics, though the contents remain a focus for attention and debate. On the one hand, Spinoza was opposed to the preachers of orthodox religion, and on the other, he was in friction with lifestyles dominated by the passions and acquisition of material goods. Spinoza advocated instead the life of reason, which in his version has subtleties often ignored.
Part One of Ethics is devoted to the subject of God. The author argues for an immanent God, as distinct from the Creator extolled by Judaism and Christianity. The evocative Latin phrase Deus sive Natura (God or Nature) refers to the single and self-created substance; the universe unfolds in accordance with natural and eternal laws. This deterministic universe is the rationale for a Spinozan worldview contradicting the need for a church and priesthood. Due reason can penetrate to the truths of God and the universe; preachers threatening heaven or hell are an irrational distraction.
Spinoza presents a famous series of propositions. Proposition 11 "is probably the purest form of the ontological argument for the existence of God that has been offered in the history of philosophy" (R. H. Popkin, Spinoza, 2004, p. 86). That proposition states: "God, or a substance consisting of infinite attributes, each of which expresses eternal and infinite essence, necessarily exists" (E. Curley trans. 1.P11). The ontological argument is associated with the eleventh century theologian Anselm of Canterbury. That "proof" was given philosophical accents by Descartes, Spinoza, and Leibniz.
In the scholium to Proposition 15, Spinoza clarifies his attack on anthropomorphism. "There are those who feign a God, like man, consisting of a body and a mind,, and subject to passions" (Curley trans.). In the Appendix to Part I, he dispenses with the geometrical format and further states his views. For example, "men think themselves free, because they are conscious of their volitions and their appetite, and do not think, even in their dreams, of the causes by which they are disposed to wanting and willing" (Curley trans.). In Spinozan terms, freedom was an illusion, the causes or laws of Nature being unknown to the non-contemplative majorities.
In this respect, Spinoza was opposed to Judaeo-Christian teleology, here meaning the theological attempt to explain the world in terms of a divine power aiding or punishing human events. That form of rationale encounters the problem of evil, i.e., how can the almighty God allow the existence of evil events? Spinoza detours this problem by viewing the attendant beliefs as superstitions ignorant of the neutral causation process at work in the universe. Good and bad events are nothing to do with God willing such things to happen.
Similarities between Spinoza and the Stoics have been discussed. There are both convergences and differences, especially in relation to teleology.
"It is evident that Stoicism aspired to craft a system every bit as rigorous as Spinoza's. Moreover, the rationale for this aspiration seems the same as we find in Spinoza: philosophy ought to be systematic, because that which it seeks to understand - nature and all it contains - are seamlessly linked by an unbroken and unbreakable series of causal links" (J. Miller, "Spinoza and the Stoics on Substance Monism," in The Cambridge Companion to Spinoza's Ethics, 2009, p. 111).
Part Two elucidates the nature and origin of the mind, and includes such themes as "men are deceived in that they think themselves free" (Curley trans., 2P35Schol.) Spinoza is saying that freewill is a myth in view of the causes of action unknown to superficial consciousness. The unfamiliar nature of his reasoning led theologians to believe he was an atheist and sceptic. The truth was otherwise:
"Spinoza's epistemological dogmatism is probably the furthest removed from scepticism of any of the new philosophies of the seventeenth century. It is a genuine anti-sceptical theory trying to eradicate the possibility or meaningfulness of doubting or suspending judgment" (Popkin, Spinoza, Routledge 2004, p. 95).
He was moving into such unfamiliar ideational terrain that he specified three kinds of knowledge (a) opinion or imagination (b) reason (c) intuitive knowledge. Despite his reputation as an exemplar of reason, Spinoza clearly recognised further reaches of the mind. Many commentaries have failed to come to grips with this factor, probably because intuition is not a part of academic training. The philosophical onus is to view him in a broader context than the confines imposed by formal logic, which is not quite the same as Spinozan reason. "Our mind, insofar as it perceives things truly, is part of the infinite intellect of God" (Curley trans., 2P43Schol.). That is merely a conundrum for sceptical empiricists and also a multitude of theologians.
A substantial portion of Ethics is basically concerned with the factor of becoming free from the passions governing the emotional life of humans and clouding the ability of liberating reason. This project involves a constant struggle with the senses, superstitions, and imagination. Perceptive ideation has to replace false and undiscriminating ideation. The philosophical task is here very different to the empiricist concerns and mathematical pursuits of some more recent thinkers.
Part Three offers an analysis of "affects" or emotions in relation to causal circumstances. The advantages and disadvantages of this catalogue of passions have been essayed. A recent version states:
"So many of our passions are, like anger, clearly psychophysical that something like Spinoza's identification of physical and mental states, a position often seen in other contexts as a liability of the Ethics, seems practically required of a good account of the passions" (M. LeBuffe, "The Anatomy of the Passions," in The Cambridge Companion to Spinoza's Ethics, 2009, p. 188).
Part Four is entitled Of Human Bondage, and the preface clarifies: "Man's lack of power to moderate and restrain the affects I call bondage" (Curley trans.). The good life is conceived as the correction of this deficiency.
"A person who achieves this form of existence [the good life] becomes what Spinoza calls a free man, who lives 'according to the dictate of reason alone' (4pref). Although this ideal consists in the possession of reason or understanding, it is also characterised by the absence of something that Spinoza regards as an imperfection, namely the dominance of affects or passions, whether negative ones such as envy and hatred or their positive counterparts such as love and joy" (S. James, "Freedom, Slavery, and the Passions," in The Cambridge Companion to Spinoza's Ethics, p. 223).
The basic theme here has been traced back to Plato, i.e., the freedom of reason versus the slavery of passion. This prospect has not always been met with agreement. One of the relatively mild objections came from Aristotle.
"Against this view, Aristotle had protested that some passions, such as fear of shame or righteous anger, are not in the least enslaving but are integral to a good life. The key to virtue is to be able to discriminate between morally appropriate and inappropriate passions, and to act as the former dictate. Aristotle's influential claim was accepted by many of Spinoza's contemporaries, and he himself recognises its force.... Nevertheless, he is adamant that an Aristotelian conception of virtue falls short" (ibid., p. 224).
The determinism of Spinoza is frequently associated with a Stoic worldview. Yet he allows for innovation. One commentary interprets: "Everything is the way it is and cannot be changed but, on learning this, a human being can have a different attitude toward the state of affairs" (Popkin, op. cit., p. 97). Cf. the attributed Stoic "belief in rigorous determinism and the truth of 'the psychological experience of freedom in thought and action' " (F.H. Sandbach, The Stoics, second edn 1989, p. 103, and referring to a supposed inconsistency of Chrysippus).
Part Five is entitled On Human Freedom. The title refers to the freedom of mind, or blessedness, and insight into causal processes.The Preface is concerned to contradict the theory of Descartes about the connection of the mind (or soul) with the pineal gland. Spinoza deems that theory to be an occult hypothesis reminiscent of the Scholastics whom Descartes frequently criticised.
The Cartesian physiology is here replaced by what has been described as a "rational mysticism." Spinoza reintroduces his theme of intuitive knowledge, which he says is "much more powerful" than rational knowledge (Curley trans., 5P36Schol.). This intuitive factor leads to the "intellectual love of God" (amor Dei intellectualis). That key experience alone bestows blessedness and immortality. The intellectual love is depicted as the highest human achievement. The inspiration for this Spinozan concept was clearly the Jewish philosopher Judah Abravanel, the Renaissance Neoplatonist (and Kabbalist). See section 5 above. "He who knows things by this kind of [intuitive] knowledge passes to the greatest human perfection, and consequently is affected with the greatest joy" (5P27).
Some statements in Part Five have acted as irritants to the purely rationalist assessments. For instance, "the human mind cannot be absolutely destroyed with the body, but something of it remains which is eternal" (Curley trans., 5P23). The intellectual love of God is also stated to be eternal (5P33). Further, "the wiser and more knowing one is, the greater is the part of one's mind that is eternal" (D. Garrett, "Spinoza on the Essence of the Human Body," The Cambridge Companion to Spinoza's Ethics, p. 284).
Such themes form the culmination of Ethics, a climax "which has often proven opaque to even its most attentive and penetrating readers" (ibid.). In an earlier portion (Part Two), Spinoza appears to relate the mind closely to the body (i.e., psychophysical parallelism or identity theory). Yet the culmination makes an evident division, and this has caused puzzlement, and sometimes the accusation of inconsistency. One academic commentator even described this final section of Part Five (Proposition 23 onwards) as "rubbish," and made the criticism:
"Perhaps he [Spinoza] was after all terrified of extinction, and convinced himself - through a scatter of perverse arguments and hunger for the conclusion - that he had earned immortality. Or perhaps suspicion of mysticism is right.... Whatever mystical experiences Spinoza had, he ought to have written them off as experientia vaga" (J. Bennett, A Study of Spinoza's Ethics, Cambridge University Press, 1984, p. 374).
A citizen comment on this aspersion has been that "the academic fear of mysticism is surpassed in irrationality only by the New Age promotion of the pseudomystical" (Shepherd, Pointed Observations, 2005, p. 297). However, and more to the basic point, Part Five demonstrates that Spinoza can be interpreted in a very different way to the connotations of materialism that are often applied to single substance monism. Because Spinoza differed strongly from Descartes in terms of "substance" theory, is no proof that he was a materialist. The "rational mysticism" of Part Five is still not agreed upon in the official sector of commentary.
Another academic contribution has implied Spinoza's assumption of intellectual perfection in relation to his low esteem of wealth, honour, and pleasure. This reflection is part of an argument that "the techniques for moderating the passions offered by Spinoza in Part 5 of the Ethics are not impressive." There follows the statement that he is "doomed to failure because the basic claim that he seeks to justify is false; Spinoza believes that acquiring knowledge will reorder our desires." A supporting statement is as follows:
"Many people who have attained a high degree of intellectual perfection and a large amount of knowledge of nature and our place in it still covet wealth, honor [American spelling], and pleasure and experience no diminution in their love of these things as a result of their increased intellectual perfection.... There is evidence that Spinoza himself placed little value on wealth, honor, and pleasure. Perhaps he mistakenly assumed that it was his intellectual perfection that made him so" (M. Lin, "The Power of Reason in Spinoza," in The Cambridge Companion to Spinoza's Ethics, p. 282).
The same analyst also makes the point that Spinoza's Part Five was intended as having a universal application, a factor which is here viewed as being in excess of the "more restricted, but much more plausible" relevance of acquired knowledge producing a localised transforming effect in some cases (ibid., p. 283).
The latter part of the argument does have some validity; Spinoza can indeed be viewed as rather generous in his universal "optimism" about acquiring knowledge. Indeed, his explanations need not be regarded as comprehensive. Yet there appears to be an element of confusion overall in the criticism. Ethics was written by a non-affluent citizen (and artisan) committed to ideals that might rarely occur to those in capitalist societies who nurture the pride of professional class and wealth (including academic credentials). Spinoza's known private audience included a renunciate like Jarig Jellesz.The sheer difference between that audience and the contemporary field of "intellectual perfection" is food for thought. The version of knowledge in that seventeenth century circle was not the current variety.
Current "intellectual perfection" has advantages totally unknown to Spinoza. Consider, for instance, the situation of those academics who are celebrated under such authority logos as Cambridge University Press, which has become "Americanised" via the printing and distribution facilities associated with Avenue of the Americas, New York. The CUP distribution network extends from New York to Dubai and Tokyo. The economic assets are fairly pronounced. Contemporary intellectual perfection would probably not know what it was like for Spinoza and his intrepid printer Rieuwertsz to survive in the literary climate of their day. Even Rieuwertsz was sometimes at risk with the theological establishment, and had to resort to fictitious publishing data.
As a citizen without any claim to intellectual perfection, I will end here with a comment from one of the major translators of Spinoza. The philosopher's use of Latin, manifest in Ethics and other works, is assessed in terms of the author having "succeeded in forging for himself a powerful linguistic instrument, wonderfully lucid, devoid of all rhetoric, and with a peculiar charm of its own" (S. Shirley, translator's preface to Spinoza: Complete Works, 2002, p. viii).
The relevance of posthumous events is quite substantial in the case of Spinoza. There are such pressing reflections as:
"More than other philosophies, Spinoza's has been held up like a mirror to the great currents of thought, a mirror in which their distorted images can be seen.... at every period, the recovery of the exact situation of Spinozism from under the accumulation of abuses and misunderstandings is an effective intellectual instrument for analysing the disposition of forces within the domain of ideas" (P. F. Moreau, "Spinoza's reception and influence," trans. R. Ariew, in The Cambridge Companion to Spinoza, 1996, p. 408).
Despite the underground and subsequent "Enlightenment" reception of the subject, one erudite interpretation affirms that "strictly speaking, there were no Spinozists (except as convenient phantoms for apologists); there were only thinkers who make use of Spinoza" (ibid., p. 413). This situation continued into the era of Schopenhauer and Marx, the latter having been the subject of some ingenious interpretations. See, e. g., Eugene Holland, Spinoza and Marx. At the end of the nineteenth century, German and Dutch scholars began to grapple with the due historical and textual context required, leading to further discoveries in the French and English-speaking domains of Spinoza scholarship.
A recent presentation of aftermath events comes from Professor Michael Della Rocca, whose discussion is unusual for the contrasts revolving around his theme of Spinoza's version of the principle of sufficient reason (i.e., the principle that each truth or existent thing has a due explanation). That principle (PSR) is seen as being far more represented in Spinoza than in numerous other modern philosophers, including even Leibniz, whose formulation of the principle was more explicit.
Three rival names emerge prominently in Della Rocca's analysis. These are Hume, Hegel, and Nietzsche. "Hume denied the PSR and that is why he was confident in rejecting monism and in embracing scepticism" (Della Rocca, Spinoza, 2008, p. 281). David Hume (1711-1776) interpreted Spinoza's monism as a "hideous hypothesis," and it is not difficult to agree that "in many ways, Hume's system is the flip-side of Spinoza's" (ibid.). For instance, Hume is associated with the view that reason is the slave of the passions, a theme appearing in his A Treatise of Human Nature. There is no ethical dynamism in the sceptical concepts of Hume. Moral judgments were here derived from sentiment rather than reason.
"For most of the eighteenth century, Spinoza was publicly treated as a philosopher to be scorned" (ibid., p. 311). To his credit, G. W. F. Hegel (1770-1831) went against this trend, though in a different way to the Romantics. Hegel accepted monism and to some extent assimilated Spinoza as a "starting point," though his basic exposition moved at a strong tangent. Hegel emphasised a dialectical process in history (the vehicle of Geist or "Spirit"), which meant that the German Enlightenment was the pinnacle of human and cultural evolution to date. This rather ethnocentric tendency contrasts strongly with Spinoza's disavowal of any "teleological" value scheme in terms of a chosen race or an elect society. Spinoza repudiated the traditional Jewish concept of an elect religious tradition in his radical version of Bible criticism.
The third divergence is perhaps the strongest, and the most significant in contemporary terms. Friedrich W. Nietzsche (1844-1900) was averse to reason and believed that there was no objective truth. His followers, both direct and indirect, are legion.
"For Nietzsche, Spinoza's use of reason is a classic expression of ressentiment, the animus that the weak feel toward the strong. For Nietzsche (sometimes), Spinoza uses reason as a cudgel to frustrate or even eliminate the expression of our affects, of our will to power" (M. Della Rocca, Spinoza, Routledge 2008, p. 294).
The Nietzschean will to power is a glorification of self-will and indulgent "Dionysian" emotion. It may even be that the royalist mob who savaged to death the helpless republican Johann de Witt in 1672 (section 9 above) were a vehicle of the instinctive will to power. Certainly, the rejection by Nietzsche of Spinoza's "commitment to absolute truth" (ibid., p. 301) did nothing to avert the former's collapse into insanity, whatever the disputed cause of that predicament.
The twentieth century development of a scholarly frame of assessment was fortunately more objective than the Nietzschean power complex. The diverse treatments of Wolfson, Gueroult, Popkin, Nadler, Steenbakkers, and other analysts, include the well known antipathy of Professor Jonathan Bennett for Part Five of Ethics (see section 11 above). This rationalist reservation (published in 1984) is no proof that Spinoza was wrong to emphasize mystical themes in addition to the metaphysical and ethical varieties more commonly assimilable.
A rather more sustained criticism of the subject, and in terms of both biography and exposition, appeared 14 years later in an erudite book declaring "a doctorate in the philosophy of Spinoza from University College London." Despite some undeniable scholarship in evidence, the treatment is frequently disparaging, indicated by such accusations as: "In my view Spinoza was an intellectually supercilious man" (M. Gullan-Whur, Within Reason: A Life of Spinoza, 1998, p. xiii). The female author stigmatises the subject as being prone to arrogance, error, misogyny, and even (though guardedly) homosexual inclinations (ibid., pp. 141-3). These insinuations include the assumption that Spinoza was "a miserable exception to this common animal appetite" (ibid., p. 143), meaning sexuality.
It ought to be fairly well known that married people often fail to understand celibate types. One should not deduce from this limitation any suggestion, for instance, that all Christian and Buddhist monks were secret voluptuaries or homosexuals, confused by their miseries of abstinence.
The related genre of contemporary writings, criticising or demeaning antique entities, might be described as questionable, featuring a belief that contemporary acumen has penetrated all complexities in the fashionable spirit of iconoclasm. More specifically, the contested work under discussion has been regarded by some as a sophisticated "feminist" attack, a form of retaliation for the well known (and unfortunately deficient) references to women on the last page of Spinoza's unfinished Political Treatise. "No philosopher has managed to get him out of the hole he dug for himself" (ibid., p. 295). It is not necessary to regard Spinoza as a perfect theoretician or infallible rationalist, and shortcomings do not annul an entire output.
There are such strongly accented assertions of Dr. Margaret Gullan-Whur as: "Spinoza's metaphysical scheme is outdated, false, and unworthy of further consideration" (ibid., p. 313). Such emphatic pronouncements are disconcerting. One could respond by reflecting that the despised scheme has not yet actually been fully plumbed, despite attempts to cordon further consideration.
There is, however, an open confession at the commencement of the book in question. "Spinoza would detest this book" (ibid., p. xiv). There are indeed a number of passages that read like a pointed critique, with the rather insidious impression conveyed of an attempt to undermine the subject's reputation. Much of the background material is helpful, but the psycho-portrayal of the main subject has been considered by critics to savour of novelistic imagination rather than proven fact. Nevertheless, some gestures of concession are also visible. "Many such deductions [of Spinoza] are shockingly relevant to current affairs and contemporary personal situations" (ibid., p. 314). See further Spinoza Author.
A citizen work, specifically declaring the absence of academic credentials (chapter 41, p. 351), included three chapters on Spinoza that took issue with Dr. Gullan-Whur (Shepherd, Pointed Observations, 2005, pp. 265-302), and which also provided an independent analysis.
With regard to "the hole he [Spinoza] dug for himself" in the Political Treatise, that matter is treated rather differently in some of the academic commentaries. For instance:
"His [Spinoza's] conception of democracy includes any system of popular governance in which the governing members acquire the right to participate by virtue of one's civil status rather than by election. This conception of democracy is broad enough to include even variants of timocracy. Spinoza's own model democracy excludes all those who are not sui iuris - e.g., women, servants (servos), and foreigners - as well those who do not lead a 'decent life.' But despite the elitist and exclusionary aspects of Spinoza's democracy, it still may be seen as somewhat progressive by the standards of his time" (Justin Steinberg, "Spinoza's Political Philosophy," 2008, Stanford Encyclopaedia of Philosophy).
Spinoza apparently thought that women were too weak to assert themselves against male domination. Another commentary, which specifies this factor, also states further:
"His [Spinoza's] argument also implies, indeed requires, that if woman can somehow free herself from masculine domination and rival man in power and assertiveness, then there would no longer be any reason for refusing her equal access to the political process" (J. I. Israel, Radical Enlightenment: Philosophy and the Making of Modernity 1650-1750, Oxford University Press, 2001, p. 86).
A century after the death of the monistic deist, the German Enlightenment rescued him from infamy as an alleged atheist. A recent presentation has argued that Spinoza played a far more central role in the development of Enlightenment ideation than was formerly supposed (J. I. Israel, op. cit.). Spinoza here emerges as the virtual founder of modernity. This theme is accompanied by an emphasis upon Spinoza as a materialist philosopher, which does not meet with universal agreement. A reviewer noted several points:
"Almost overnight [in the 1780s] he [Spinoza] went from being condemned as the worst of atheists and blasphemers to being universally admired by all the leading intellectuals of the day, who found in Spinoza's work a revolutionary spirit that matched their own mounting sense of rebellion against the orthodoxies of Church and State.... Israel rejects the notion that British Deism was an essentially insular phenomenon and regards the British Deists such as John Toland (1670-1722) as deriving their ideas primarily from Spinoza.... Israel is also able to identify the much more covert influence of Spinoza on the Enlightenment in France and the French Revolution. Although the Encyclopédie condemned Spinoza's philosophy as a 'monstrous system,' its editor Diderot was exploring the very same materialist ideas.... Spinoza was seldom cited as an inspiration by the leaders of the French Revolution." (Ann Talbot, Spinoza Reconsidered, 2003, reviewing Jonathan Israel, Radical Enlightenment).
The contribution of Professor Jonathan Israel has focused upon the "underground" currents that preceded the German Enlightenment of the late eighteenth century. Extensive analysis is applied to the antecedents in France and other countries. Israel stresses that Spinoza substantially dominates over John Locke (1632-1704) in the French Encyclopédie edited by Diderot and D'Alembert, although the same work repudiates the philosophy of Spinoza as an alien system to the French materialist conceptualism. The phenomenon of "Spinozism" is described by Israel in terms of "Early Enlightenment European thought," having become known as Spinosisme in France and Spinozisterey in Germany. This is dubbed the "radical Enlightenment," contrasting with the moderate Enlightenment associated with Locke and Isaac Newton in England. The radical wing is described as having a prominence in European intellectual debates that "is generally far greater than anyone could suppose from the existing secondary literature" (Israel, op. cit., pp. 12-13).
Both the "moderate" and "radical" factions were in opposition to the theological establishment. A strong tension is also deduced between the moderates and radicals, a situation indicated by the role of Voltaire (1694-1778), the prolific Parisian litterateur who was influenced by English rationalist or "moderate" philosophy. The new interpretation of Professor Israel presents Spinoza as the instigator of the emerging values of individual liberty, democracy, and rationalism, and as being the foil to Hobbes, Locke, and Voltaire. Further, the French Revolution of 1789 is here argued as being a consequence of the underground Spinozism which had formerly been developing for decades.
"The radical thinker Condorcet, looking back on the Enlightenment's achievements from the standpoint of 1793, deemed it certain not just that 'philosophy' caused the French Revolution but that only philosophy can cause a true 'revolution' - which is also the position underlying the present study" (R. I. Israel, Enlightenment Contested: Philosophy, Modernity, and the Emancipation of Man 1670-1752, Oxford University Press, 2006, p. 13).
The portrayal is clearly antagonistic to the influence of Locke and Hume, and in quite a significant way, pointing to the conservative stance at work in contemporary academic philosophy.
"Part of the difficulty, in contemporary Britain and America, is that philosophy's proper zone of activity has come to be so narrowly defined by the intellectual heirs of Locke and Hume that philosophy is generally conceived to be a marginal, technical discipline which neither does, nor should, affect anything very much, let alone define the whole of the reality in which we live" (ibid., p. 13).
Thus, contemporary philosophy is here viewed as being the polar opposite to the "radical enlightenment" so strongly associated with Spinozism, and as lacking a discussion of "the human and cosmic condition in its entirety" (ibid.). In addition to the radicalism of early Spinozism, the outlooks of Marx and Nietzsche are also mentioned by way of supplement. The revolutionary aspect of philosophy is stated to be "a remote and deeply puzzling idea" (ibid.) for most readers.
A citizen observer does not find the idea to be either remote or puzzling. However, problems arise in accepting the rather diverse components of the "revolutionary" paradigm. For instance, Nietzsche does not fit well with Spinoza, having entertained some bizarre theories that cannot be found in the Ethics or even the Theological-Political Treatise. The mere revolutionary spirit can too easily go mad. A restraint of the instincts is a primary requirement, whether inside or outside the academic caste system.
One problem clearly in evidence is that the radicals were frequently not representative of Spinoza himself, whatever the conglomerate label of "Spinozism" might deceptively suggest. Diverse academics, aristocrats, and extremists inhabited the underground. Many of them are thought to have read Spinoza only indirectly. "Admittedly, what was called 'Spinozism' was often far sketchier and cruder than Spinoza himself" (ibid., p. 47). The attempt to minimise the differences is perhaps not entirely successful in view of such considerations as:
"[Spinozism was] often derived not from a direct reading of Spinoza's Ethics or other works, but from reports in influential intermediaries such as Bayle or Boulainvilliers, from the clandestine manuscripts, or else other underground sources including subversive conversation, and published refutations, sources which frequently distorted or oversimplified Spinoza's positions and arguments" (ibid., p. 48).
There is another discrepancy in evidence. For instance, what has been termed a key text of French Spinozism is the Traité des trois imposteurs (Treatise on the Three Imposters). This is revealed to have "pasted in large chunks of Hobbes," and furthermore, "in most cases, such clandestine propagation encouraged adoption of a tone and style very different from, and mostly more militant than, that of Spinoza himself" (ibid., p. 49). The extension to Marx may therefore have increased, even while the link with Spinoza grew more tenuous.
The Traité des trois imposteurs has been called "one of the most radical anti-religious clandestine works that circulated in the eighteenth century" (R. H. Popkin, foreword to S. Berti et al, eds., Heterodoxy, Spinozism, and Free Thought, 1996, p. viii). This sceptical view of religion also became known as L'Esprit de M. Spinoza (The Spirit of Spinoza), which is very misleading in that the materials derive only in part from Spinoza, with strong borrowings from a range of other sources such as Thomas Hobbes (1588-1679), Gabriel Naudé (1600-53), and Francoise de La Mothe Le Vayer (1588-1672). The intrusive spirit of Hobbes was very different to that of Spinoza, both in terms of political theory and metaphysics. The philosophy of Hobbes has been described in terms of complete materialism, though some commentators imply that Hobbes was an eccentric theist rather than an atheist (see Stewart Duncan, Thomas Hobbes, 2009).
The Traité was first published at The Hague in 1719, and met with official suppression; however, this text circulated widely in manuscript (see F. Charles-Daubert, Traité des Trois Imposteurs, 1999). The obscure transcribers have been treated to much recent investigation. The Irish freethinker and satirist John Toland (1670-1722) has prominently appeared in the scholarly reconstructions of trends and influences involved. Moses, Jesus, and Muhammad are the "three imposters" (trois imposteurs) proposed by a naturalistic/secularist interpretation of religion haphazardly attributed to the spirit of Spinoza. The latter had a high regard for Christ, but this was overlooked by the later wave of radical agitators. Spinoza did not attack Muhammad, though he did criticise traditions of the Jewish prophet Moses in his version of Biblical exegesis.
"The work (Traité des trois imposteurs) contains excerpts from Spinoza including his sharp attack on religious thinking in the appendix to Book one of the Ethics. It also contains material from Thomas Hobbes, La Mothe Le Vayer, and other avant-garde thinkers. L'esprit (i.e., the Traité) is basically a pastiche of texts with no original material." (R. H. Popkin, Spinoza, 2004, p. 121).
The librarian Naudé and the sceptic La Mothe Le Vayer were early figures associated with the libertinage érudit, a circle of freethinking French scholars amongst whom some have doubtfully counted Marin Mersenne, the correspondent of Descartes and an opponent of sceptics. (Mersenne was a Minim, meaning a reformed Franciscan, though sometimes mistakenly described as a Jesuit). The word libertin (freethinker) was variously employed (and eventually gained the conventional meaning of a dissolute libertine by the late eighteenth century). The sceptical tradition of Montaigne was one of the components in the early freethinker spectrum denoted (see Ian Maclean, Libertins). A variation of libertinage (freethinking), represented by the Traité document, conflated Spinoza with rather more collective trends.
Some quandaries apply to La Mothe Le Vayer, who has been described in terms of an anti-intellectual tendency, i.e., he "carried the Montaignian position to an absurd extreme; he denied any and all value to intellectual activities and left only blind faith." The same version poses the question as to whether the French radical was a Christian sceptic or a secret atheist.
Concerning the actual transcribers of the Traite des trois imposteurs, scholars have made some revealing discoveries:
"A specific coterie of French Protestant refugees and their friends in The Hague and Amsterdam - comprising Prosper Marchand, the political agent Jean Rousset de Missy, the publisher Charles Levier, the engraver Bernard Picart, the English freethinkers John Toland and Anthony Collins, the minor Dutch diplomat Jan Vroesen, the German born publishers Fritsch and Bohm - have been identified as the locus for the transcribing, altering and disseminating of the Traité" (Margaret C. Jacob, "The Nature of Early Eighteenth Century Religious Radicalism," 2009, Republics of Letters).
Professor Jacob argues for French and English contributions to the Enlightenment that are quite separate from Spinozism, and including the Newtonian factor. Indeed, the Marchand circle are here linked to accompanying developments of research into religion on an international scale. Thus, the Traité can give a deceptive impression of events as a whole in the ranks of radical thinkers. The scientific study of religion was inaugurated by Bernard Picart (1673-1733) and Jean Frederic Bernard (1683-1744), who both lived at Amsterdam and who each amassed a large collection of books, including Spinoza and many other authors.They produced an extensive multi-volume work entitled Cérémonies et coutumes religieuses. In English, the full title is The Religious Ceremonies and Customs of all the Peoples of the World (1723-43). Bernard was the publisher and main author. The self-publisher here tactfully remained anonymous, and his volumes were often attributed to the talented engraver Picart.
The Bernard (and Picart) project in comparative religion has been viewed as a milestone towards full religious toleration, and also "helped invent the discipline of anthropology" (Jacob, art. cit.). This distinctive work was placed on the Papal Index of Forbidden Books in 1738. At that period, the orthodox Christian attack on non-Christian religions (e.g., Buddhism) generally depicted these as "idolatrous, atheistic, superstitious, and composed of legends and myths" (ibid.). Moving in a different direction, "in the final analysis Bernard argues for the impossibility of atheism" (ibid.). His purpose was "to get at the 'natural religion' that lay hidden beneath the corruptions introduced by organised religions of all sorts" (ibid.).
The achievement of Bernard is now seen in the context of placing all religions on equal terms. His very unusual book "attempted to accurately depict even Catholic customs, and it gave more favourable and extended attention to Islam than anyone had before" (quote from UCLA). His volumes covered the New World, Asia, and Africa. He and Picart drew upon clandestine literature, the English deists, and Spinoza. The composer of Ethics did not possess the kind of extensive library acquired by the French successors, though he is a closely associated inspirer. Learning in the history of religion was then very formative. See further L. Hunt, M. C. Jacob, and W. Mijnhardt, The Book That Changed Europe: Picart and Bernard's Religious Ceremonies of the World (2010).
At the same period that the Marchand circle published the Traité, a distinctive biography of Spinoza appeared in 1719. This is closely attributed to Jean Maximilien Lucas, a French Protestant refugee living in Holland. (See A. Wolf, trans., The Oldest Biography of Spinoza, 1927). Some analysts emphasise that this work is not known to have existed before 1711, though others say it is much earlier in origin, and stress that the author had met the subject. In La Vie de Spinoza, Lucas achieved a partisan biography that has gained differing assessments. Lucas portrays Spinoza as a saintly man, which has been regarded by critics as a tendency to hagiography. Yet a prominent Spinoza scholar has written:
"In it [the Lucas biography] one finds a fairly reliable report of Spinoza's life, which in my opinion is much underestimated by scholars because they do not like the tone of admiration, even adoration, which runs through the pages. I think that Lucas, though not always precise in his details, is very close to Spinoza's intellectual level" (W. N. A. Klever, "Spinoza's life and works," The Cambridge Companion to Spinoza, 1996, p. 18).
Another early biography of Spinoza was composed by the much more resistant writer Johann Kohler (Colerus), a German Lutheran minister at The Hague who is noted for having lived (at a later period) in the same rooms where the subject spent his last years. The Colerus biography was published in French in 1705, and gained translation into other languages (see F. Pollock, trans., Spinoza; his life and philosophy, 1889). Colerus chose the title of On the True Resurrection of Jesus Christ from the Dead, defended against Spinoza and his followers; Together with a precise biography of the same famous philosopher. The religious orientation is clearly indicated, and the precision of the account may be questioned, despite some undeniable merits, including an acquaintance with the subject's last landlord.
The Colerus version became regarded as authoritative; in contast, the Lucas version gained only a very limited circulation. Not until the early twentieth century was the priority of Lucas recognised by the new Spinoza scholarship, when the complete text was made available.
The originating Dutch milieu of the Spinoza partisans was strongly supplemented by a French Protestant contingent associated with the libertin tendency of freethinking. This ideological composite was assimilated in France and Germany, though with adaptations that require due analysis. A relevant comment on the earlier period has been:
"Dissenters of countless eccentric persuasions, many of them French, would later and usually erroneously be called 'Spinozists,' but by the time Spinoza moved to The Hague he knew that a leap in clear-headedness was required from any libertin, libertine or liberal Cartesian before he could acknowledge them as like-minded" (M. Gullan-Whur, Within Reason: A Life of Spinoza, p. 234).
The rather elaborate precautions which Spinoza is known to have taken in circulating the manuscript of Ethics applied even to Leibniz; there would seem reason to conclude that Spinoza regarded many of his freethinking contacts as a potential problem in that they could not sufficiently appreciate his own lifestyle and philosophy.
The Jonathan Israel paradigm of "radical enlightenment" identifies as "Spinozists" such entities as Julien Offray de La Mettrie (1709-51), one of the more prominent names "who was certainly a 'Spinozist,' as he openly declared, in his ontology and materialism - albeit he simultaneously rejected Spinozist positions in his moral, social, and political thought" (Israel, Enlightenment Contested, p. 49).
The eighteenth century French philosophes were often materialists. These men really were atheists, consonant with a problematic cue provided by the early biographer Pierre Bayle (1647-1706), a French Protestant polymath who admired Spinoza's lifestyle even though he failed to comprehend the philosopher's teaching. In the 1690s, Bayle influentially conceived of Spinoza as a virtuous atheist.
Bayle lived as a refugee in Holland, having fled (along with many others) from the grim persecution of Huguenots in Catholic France (where in 1685, Louis XIV callously revoked the Edict of Nantes, causing over 200,000 Protestants to flee elsewhere). Bayle has been described as a philosophe expressing a plea for religious toleration. His magnum opus goes well beyond religion, however. His extensive and encyclopaedic Historical and Critical Dictionary (Dictionnaire historique et critique, 1697) included a lengthy entry on Spinoza that became widely read. Though Bayle was sympathetic to Spinoza, his account of the latter's exposition has been considered a caricature.
The Dictionnaire has been described as the most popular work of that genre during the eighteenth century. The contents are diverse, including science and superstitions, sceptical doubts, anecdotes, moral reflections, and extensive footnotes. See R. H. Popkin, trans., Historical and Critical Dictionary: Selections (1991).The sceptical penchant of Bayle influenced David Hume, Denis Diderot (1713-84), and many others; the Dictionnaire was outstanding at that time. See further T. M. Lennon and M. Hickson, "Pierre Bayle" (2008), Stanford Encyclopaedia of Philosophy. Another commentator has stated:
"According to Bayle, Spinoza's writings are full of logical contradictions and obscurities, and his treatment of miracles is mere word-play.... the biographical part of Bayle's entry [on Spinoza] is full of errors.... Denis Diderot erringly relied on Bayle's scholarship in preparing his own entry on Spinoza for the Encyclopedie." (Tod E. Jones, Benedict de Spinoza, 2004, p. 35.)
Voltaire criticised Bayle as a sceptic, and caustically remarked in 1772 that Spinoza's Ethics was a "famous book so little read" (Israel, Enlightenment Contested, p. 48). Voltaire tended to regard Bayle and Spinoza as rather isolated and ineffective writers, in contrast to his own more socially conspicuous role. "Voltaire was willing to agree that Bayle's life, like Spinoza's, was singularly virtuous," (ibid., p. 90) though he wished to regard them as secondary and isolated philosophers whose careers contemplated reality from the enclosed confines of the private study room. Voltaire admired "much more the worldly cut and thrust of an active life like his own" (ibid.).
It is clearly not advisable to underestimate the more cloistered sector of the philosophical population. Though Voltaire overtook Bayle in the league of prominence, he has reputedly been outstripped by the increasing fame of Spinoza.
Armed only with his pen and lens grinding tools, the "renegade Jew" is seen (in one academic version) to have brought down the mighty (and very oppressive) French monarchy via the diversely proliferating counter of Spinozism, a development which also terminated the persecuting tendencies of the French clerics. The resurrection of dictatorship in Napoleon Bonaparte was unwisely commemorated by Nietzsche in his "will to power" syndrome, also associated with the rise of Nazism. In contrast, Marx might have been sober at learning the details of "Spinozism" now available to the scholastic survey, a phenomenon of international responses and incongruities that reputedly led to the "liberty, equality, fraternity" ethos, and yet more.
The political climate in Britain was lenient by comparison with the situation in France. The English clergy were basically amiable, and Hume had friends amongst them. In contrast, "the monarchy, nobility and clergy [of France] ruled with an iron hand, keeping the majority of the people in a state of poverty and virtual slavery." Quotation from Caspar Hewett, The Life of Voltaire (2006).
On the debit side, a form of hedonism emerged in the eighteenth century French sector of dissidents; in no way does this tendency resemble the lifestyle or writings of Spinoza. Some of the "Spinozistic" philosophes became addicted to eroticism, commemorated in some extant literature; they created a relativistic worldview which preferred to believe that there is no difference between physical pleasure and spiritual salvation (cf. Israel, Radical Enlightenment, 2001, p. 96). Hedonism led to the sadistic eroticism of the Marquis de Sade (1740-1814), a psychological cancer which in his case notoriously gained both literary and real life expression; this social drawback was much later glorified by Michel Foucault.
There is something to be said for the warning of Professor Margaret Jacob that:
"Students may be even further confused by the frequently negative connotation put on the Enlightenment by the postmodernists who reacted against it late in the twentieth century" (M. C. Jacob, The Enlightenment: A Brief History with Documents, 2001, p. vii).
In the eighteenth century French sector, naturalism became for some radicals an excuse for perverse self-will. The true Spinozan ideal of frugal living and restrained pleasure was lost upon too many of the "enlightened," who were generally affluent members of society. The frequently unread Ethics did not realistically belong in such erratic circles, and the misunderstandings continue today. The vaunted "postmodernism" has not served to clarify all that actually happened in the modern era.
In an overall conceptual context, there are two basic trends discernible in the contemporary exegesis of Spinoza. These differences relate to the naturalism, pantheism, and "rational mysticism" that are strongly associated with the subject. Some academic commentators have referred to Spinoza as a materialist. For instance:
"His [Spinoza's] thought is best understood as a comprehensive and consistent system of naturalism, materialism, and empiricism" (Israel, Enlightenment Contested, OUP 2006, p. 46).
One of the major contemporary biographers has disavowed the pantheism and expressed the view that "Spinoza is an atheist." The intellectual love of God is here restricted to a purely naturalistic interpretation. "To love God is nothing but to understand nature." See Professor Steven Nadler, Spinoza the Atheist (2006).
The contrasting view is not necessarily equivalent to the Romantic conception associated with Goethe, Coleridge, Wordsworth, and others. "Goethe was a poet, and was ready to depict a rather simplified pantheism which leaned heavily upon his reception of Ethics Part 5. The validity of the Romantic angle has been much debated and frequently derided as being unscholarly. Goethe is notorious for having 'Christianised' Spinoza and for having distorted the ideological background of the subject" (Shepherd, Pointed Observations, pp. 299-300).
The German Enlightenment was attended by the "pantheist controversy" of the 1780s, instigated by Friedrich H. Jacobi (1743-1819). This German philosopher expressed a form of theological argument, and maintained that Spinoza was an atheist with a doctrine of pure materialism. Jacobi was in reaction to the Spinozist attitude of G. E. Lessing (1729-81), the German dramatist who allegedly favoured Spinoza. Yet the major opponent of Jacobi was Moses Mendelssohn (1729-86), a German Jewish philosopher. Jacobi published the Briefe uber die Lehre Spinozas (1785), also known as the Letters to Mendelssohn, which disclosed correspondence between himself and Mendelssohn on the subject of Spinoza (in 1789, an enlarged second edition of the Letters appeared). The complexities of this episode have been much discussed. See G. di Giovanni, Friedrich Heinrich Jacobi (2010) and D. Dahlstrom, Moses Mendelssohn (2006).
Jacobi was viewed by Mendelssohn and others as a pietist enemy of reason. Jacobi advocated faith (glaube), discounting pantheism. His attack brought Spinoza into the forefront of academic philosophical discussion. Despite the ongoing accusation of atheism, the German supporters of Spinoza discernibly viewed the Ethics as an alternative to atheism, materialism, and vaguely expressed versions of deism. Jacobi accused the philosophers of nihilism, himself adopting an attitude assimilable to Protestant theology. Ironically, he recognised as important the emphasis of Spinoza on intuitive knowledge, though he (Jacobi) believed that "faith" encompassed the factor of intuition. The critics of Jacobi interpreted his standpoint in terms of religious enthusiasm and obscurantism.
Immanuel Kant (1724-1804) became drawn into this debate in 1786 (the year of Mendelssohn's death), having been requested to defend Mendelssohn (his friend and supporter), though he effectively criticised both of the protagonists, believing that "Mendelssohn ultimately did not trust enough in reason," and that "Jacobi denied reason altogether and opted for faith" (M. Kuehn, Kant: A Biography, Cambridge University Press, 2001, p. 308).
One recent interpretation observes that Mendelssohn relied on commonsense in his defensive criticism of Spinoza. Kant also wanted a middle path between Spinoza and Jacobi, "but he saw Mendelssohn's reliance on common sense as no less an abandonment of reason as Jacobi's irrationalism" (M. Della Rocca, Spinoza, 2008, p. 287). Kant's "rational belief" partly amounted to "a belief in reason itself," and he implied that both Jacobi and Mendelssohn were inclining to zealotry (Kuehn, op. cit., p. 307). There remained a substantial gap between Spinoza and Kant.
These academic disputes were decorous by comparison with the more radical deliberations of Karl Marx (1818-83). The Marxist version of Spinoza tended very much to a materialist complexion. "While there is a strong element of determinism in Spinoza, the materialism is a mirage" (Shepherd, Pointed Observations, p. 301). Engels referred to Spinoza as "the splendid representative of dialectics," and in 1920s Communist Russia "the different philosophical camps (mechanists and dialecticians) each constructed an image of Spinozism and its place in the history of thought that brought comfort to their own positions" (P. F. Moreau, "Spinoza's reception and influence," cited above, p. 426).
The French commentator Martial Gueroult (1891-1976) suggested the term panentheism as a substitute for pantheism in the description of Spinoza's worldview. A more recent verdict against the atheistic interpretation observes that "many have made the mistake of placing Spinoza in the same camp as [Bertrand] Russell, identifying them both as atheists and enemies of religion" (Tod E. Jones, Benedict de Spinoza, 2004, p. 3).
The remarks of Bertrand Russell (1872-1970) are well known. "Intellectually, some others have surpassed him [Spinoza], but ethically he is supreme.... his attempt was magnificent, and rouses admiration even in those who do not think it successful" (Russell, History of Western Philosophy, 1946, London: Routledge 2000, pp. 552-3). Russell was one of the doubting admirers, attested by his further reflection:
"The whole of this [Spinozan monistic] metaphysic is impossible to accept; it is incompatible with modern logic and with scientific method. Facts have to be discovered by observation, not by reasoning" (ibid., p. 560).
Over three centuries after Spinoza, empirical science has still not discovered all the facts required to convince questioners that every important matter has been resolved. While some commentators are content to wait through the generations for doubtful answers (often rather conveniently judged to be non-existent), some philosophers who employed both reason and intuition may have been substantially in advance of the sceptics.
One of the well known academic summaries contains a pointed statement that is still relevant:
"For Spinoza philosophy was not merely one useful or necessary intellectual discipline among others, or somehow ancillary to the special sciences; it was the only complete and essential form of knowledge, in relation to which all other inquiries are partial and subordinate. Like Plato and most other great metaphysicians, he thought of philosophy as the pursuit of wisdom and of the knowledge of the right way of life; only insofar as we understand true philosophy can we know how we ought to live, and know also what kind of scientific and other knowledge is useful and attainable." (S. Hampshire, Spinoza: An Introduction to his Philosophical Thought, Penguin 1988 edn, p. 24).
Of course, in the current modernity, that statement is negated by other attitudes, which dictate that people live as they find most opportune or pleasurable in the capitalist milieux, that "contemplative" philosophy has been ousted by empirical science, or that everything has a more or less relativistic value - meaning that science is also irrelevant in deconstruction, and that the purpose of life amounts to nothing in the general psychological malaise. The revolution in thinking required to offset the prevalent confusion comprises a feat in a completely different mode to the eradication of despotic monarchy and the avoidance of religious dogma.
Kevin R. D. Shepherd
Further Web Sources
Some interesting items can be found at Studia Spinozana and EpistemeLinks. Likewise at Philosophy of Benedict Spinoza. Translations of the TTP and Ethics by Jonathan Bennett are located at Early Modern Philosophy. Access to some translations is also facilitated by questia.com. The detailed Stanford Encyclopaedia features include Steven Nadler, Baruch Spinoza, and Michael Lebuffe, Spinoza's Psychological Theory. An unusual article is Catherine Wilson, Knowledge and Immortality in Spinoza and Mulla Sadra, representing a rare excursion into the field of comparisons and correspondences with Islamic philosophy. Other references to the Islamic sector are included in Kelley L. Ross, Baruch Spinoza (1999). For Jewish dimensions of the subject, see Yirmiyahu Yovel, Spinoza, the First Secular Jew?
Antognazza, Maria Rosa, Leibniz: An Intellectual Biography (Cambridge University Press, 2009).
Bennett, Jonathan, A Study of Spinoza's Ethics (Cambridge University Press, 1984).
Berti, Silvia, Francoise Charles-Daubert and Richard H. Popkin, eds., Heterodoxy, Spinozism, and Free Thought in Early Eighteenth Century Europe: Studies on the Traité des trois imposteurs (Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic, 1996).
Charles-Daubert, Francoise, Le Traité des Trois Imposteurs et L'Esprit de Spinoza: La Philosophie Clandestine entre 1678 et 1768 (Oxford: Voltaire Foundation, 1999).
Curley, Edwin M., Spinoza's Metaphysics: An Essay in Interpretation (Harvard University Press, 1969).
Curley, Edwin M., trans., The Collected Works of Spinoza (Princeton University Press, 1985).
Curley, Edwin M., Behind the Geometrical Method: A Reading of Spinoza's Ethics (Princeton University Press, 1988).
Curley, Edwin M., A Spinoza Reader (Princeton University Press, 1994).
Curley, Edwin M., trans., Ethics, with an intro. by Stuart Hampshire (London: Penguin, 1996).
Damasio, Antonio R., Looking for Spinoza (London: Heinemann, 2003).
Della Rocca, Michael, Representation and the Mind-Body Problem in Spinoza (Oxford University Press, 1996).
Della Rocca, Michael, Spinoza (London: Routledge, 2008).
Gabbey, Alan, "Spinoza's natural science and methodology" (142-191) in D. Garrett, ed., The Cambridge Companion to Spinoza (1996).
Garrett, Don, ed., The Cambridge Companion to Spinoza (Cambridge University Press, 1996).
Garrett, Don, "Spinoza on the Essence of the Human Body and the Part of the Mind That Is Eternal" (284-302) in O. Koistinen, ed., The Cambridge Companion to Spinoza's Ethics (2009).
Goldstein, Rebecca, Betraying Spinoza: The Renegade Jew Who Gave Us Modernity (New York: Schocken, 2009).
Gueroult, Martial, Spinoza (2 vols, Paris: Aubier, 1968-74).
Gullan-Whur, Margaret, Within Reason: A Life of Spinoza (1998, London: Pimlico, 2000).
Hall, Marie Boas, Henry Oldenburg: Shaping the Royal Society (Cambridge University Press, 2002).
Hampshire, Stuart, Spinoza: An Introduction to his Philosophical Thought (1951; rev. edn, Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1988).
Hunt, Lynn, Bernard Picart and the First Global Vision of Religion (Los Angeles: Getty Research Institute, 2009).
Hunt, Lynn, Margaret C. Jacob and Wijnand Mijnhardt, The Book That Changed Europe: Picart and Bernard's Religious Ceremonies of the World (Belknap Harvard University Press, 2010).
Israel, Jonathan I., Radical Enlightenment: Philosophy and the Making of Modernity 1650-1750 (Oxford University Press, 2001).
Israel, Jonathan I., Enlightenment Contested: Philosophy, Modernity, and the Emancipation of Man 1670-1752 (Oxford University Press, 2006).
Israel, Jonathan I., ed., Spinoza:Theological-Political Treatise, trans. J. Israel and M. Silverthorne (Cambridge University Press, 2007).
Israel, Jonathan I., A Revolution of the Mind: Radical Enlightenment and the Intellectual Origins of Modern Democracy (Princeton University Press, 2010).
Jacob, Margaret C., The Radical Enlightenment: Pantheists, Freemasons and Republicans (London: George Allen and Unwin, 1981).
Jacob, Margaret C., The Enlightenment: A Brief History with Documents (Boston: Bedford/St. Martins, 2001).
James, Susan, "Freedom, Slavery, and the Passions" (223-241) in O. Koistinen, ed., The Cambridge Companion to Spinoza's Ethics (2009).
Jolley, Nicholas, Leibniz (London: Routledge, 2005).
Klever, W. N. A., "Spinoza's life and works" (13-60) in D. Garrett, ed., The Cambridge Companion to Spinoza (1996).
Koistinen, Olli, and John Biro, eds., Spinoza: Metaphysical Themes (Oxford University Press, 2002).
Koistinen, Olli, ed., The Cambridge Companion to Spinoza's Ethics (Cambridge University Press, 2009).
Krabbenhoft, Kenneth, trans., Abraham Cohen de Herrera: Gate of Heaven (Leiden: Brill, 2002).
Kuehn, Manfred, Kant: A Biography (Cambridge University Press, 2001).
LeBuffe, Michael, "The Anatomy of the Passions" (188-222) in Koistinen, ed., The Cambridge Companion to Spinoza's Ethics (2009).
Lin, Martin, "The Power of Reason in Spinoza" (258-283) in Koistinen, ed., The Cambridge Companion to Spinoza's Ethics (2009).
Meinsma, K. O., Spinoza et son cercle, trans., (Paris: J. Vrin, 1983).
Miller, Jon, "Spinoza and the Stoics on Substance Monism" (99-117) in Koistinen, ed., The Cambridge Companion to Spinoza's Ethics (2009).
Moreau, Pierre-Francois, "Spinoza's reception and influence" (408-433), trans. Roger Ariew, in D. Garrett, ed., The Cambridge Companion to Spinoza (1996).
Nadler, Steven, Spinoza: A Life (Cambridge University Press, 1999).
Nadler, Steven, Spinoza's Heresy: Immortality and the Jewish Mind (Cambridge University Press, 2002).
Nadler, Steven, Spinoza's Ethics: An Introduction (Cambridge University Press, 2006).
Norris, Christopher, Spinoza and the Origins of Modern Critical Theory (Oxford: Blackwell, 1991).
Pollock, Frederick, trans., Spinoza: His Life and Philosophy (London: Kegan Paul, 1889).
Popkin, Richard H., trans., Pierre Bayle, Historical and Critical Dictionary: Selections (Indianapolis: Hackett, 1991).
Popkin, Richard H., "Spinoza and Bible Scholarship" (383-407) in D. Garrett, ed., The Cambridge Companion to Spinoza (1996).
Popkin, Richard H., The History of Scepticism: from Savanarola to Bayle (rev.edn, Oxford University Press, 2003).
Popkin, Richard H., Spinoza (Oxford: Oneworld, 2004).
Revah, Israel S., Spinoza et le Dr. Juan de Prado (The Hague: Mouton, 1959).
Sandbach, F. H. , The Stoics (second edn, Bristol Classical Press, 1989).
Scruton, Roger, Spinoza: A Very Short Introduction (1986; Oxford University Press, 2002).
Scruton, Roger, "Spinoza" (135-174) in Ray Monk and Frederic Raphael, eds., The Great Philosophers (London: Weidenfeld and Nicholson, 2000).
Shahan, Robert, and J. I. Biro, eds., Spinoza: New Perspectives (University of Oklahoma Press, 1978).
Shepherd, Kevin R. D. , Pointed Observations: Critical reflections of a citizen philosopher on contemporary pseudomysticism, alternative therapy, David Hume, Spinoza, and other subjects (Dorchester: Citizen Initiative, 2005).
Shirley, Samuel, trans., Theological-Political Treatise, intro. by Seymour Feldman (Indianapolis: Hackett, 1998, second edn 2001).
Shirley, Samuel, trans., Spinoza:The Letters (Indianapolis: Hackett, 1995).
Shirley, Samuel, trans., Spinoza: Complete Works (Indianapolis: Hackett, 2002).
Steenbakkers, Piet, Spinoza's Ethica from Manuscript to Print (Assen: Van Gorcum, 1994).
Steenbakkers, Piet, "The Geometrical Order in the Ethics" (42-55) in O. Koistinen, ed., The Cambridge Companion to Spinoza's Ethics (2009).
Wernham, A. G., ed. and trans., Spinoza: The Political Works (Oxford University Press, 1958).
Wienpahl, Paul, "Spinoza and Mysticism" (211-24) in J. Wetlesen, ed., Spinoza's Philosophy of Man: Proceedings of the Scandinavian Spinoza Symposium 1977 (Oslo: Universitetsforlaget, 1978).
Wolf, Abraham, trans., Spinoza's Short Treatise on God, Man and his Well-Being (London: Adam and Charles Black, 1910).
Wolf, Abraham, trans., The Oldest Biography of Spinoza (London: George Allen and Unwin, 1927).
Wolfson, Harry Austen, The Philosophy of Spinoza (2 vols, Harvard University Press, 1934).
Yoder, Joella G., Unrolling Time: Christiaan Huygens and the mathematization of Nature (Cambridge University Press, 1988).
Yovel, Yirmiyahu, Spinoza and Other Heretics (2 vols, Princeton University Press, 1989).
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