Full Chapter A Rose Armed With Thorns Spinoza S Philosophy Under A Novel Lens Amihud Gilead PDF

A Rose Armed with Thorns Spinoza s
Philosophy Under a Novel Lens Amihud

Gilead
Visit to download the full and correct content document:
https://textbookfull.com/product/a-rose-armed-with-thorns-spinoza-s-philosophy-under
-a-novel-lens-amihud-gilead/
More products digital (pdf, epub, mobi) instant
download maybe you interests ...
Spinoza s Philosophy of Ratio Beth Lord (Ed.)
https://textbookfull.com/product/spinoza-s-philosophy-of-ratio-
beth-lord-ed/
Spinoza A Life Steven Nadler
https://textbookfull.com/product/spinoza-a-life-steven-nadler/
Spinoza A Life 2nd Edition Steven Nadler
https://textbookfull.com/product/spinoza-a-life-2nd-edition-
steven-nadler/
Suicide through a Peacebuilding Lens Katerina Standish
https://textbookfull.com/product/suicide-through-a-peacebuilding-
lens-katerina-standish/
National Security Through A Cockeyed Lens How Cognitive
Bias Impacts U S Foreign Policy Steve A. Yetiv
https://textbookfull.com/product/national-security-through-a-
cockeyed-lens-how-cognitive-bias-impacts-u-s-foreign-policy-
steve-a-yetiv/
Socialising with Diversity: Relational Diversity

through a Superdiversity Lens 1st Edition Fran Meissner
(Auth.)
https://textbookfull.com/product/socialising-with-diversity-
relational-diversity-through-a-superdiversity-lens-1st-edition-
fran-meissner-auth/
A Court of Thorns and Roses 1st Edition Maas
https://textbookfull.com/product/a-court-of-thorns-and-roses-1st-
edition-maas/
A Home for Noelle It s Complicated 1 A Forever Safe

Christmas Book 17 1st Edition Haven Rose [Rose
https://textbookfull.com/product/a-home-for-noelle-it-s-
complicated-1-a-forever-safe-christmas-book-17-1st-edition-haven-
rose-rose/
Mariposa s Song A Novel 1st Edition Peter Lasalle
https://textbookfull.com/product/mariposa-s-song-a-novel-1st-
edition-peter-lasalle/
International Archives of the History of Ideas 232
Archives internationales d'histoire des idées
Amihud Gilead
A Rose Armed
with Thorns:
Spinoza’s
Philosophy Under
a Novel Lens
A Rose Armed with Thorns: Spinoza’s Philosophy
Under a Novel Lens
INTERNATIONAL ARCHIVES OF THE HISTORY OF IDEAS
ARCHIVES INTERNATIONALES D'HISTOIRE DES IDÉES
232
A ROSE ARMED WITH THORNS: SPINOZA’S

PHILOSOPHY UNDER A NOVEL LENS
Amihud Gilead
Board of Directors:
Founding Editors:
Paul Dibon† and Richard H. Popkin†
Associate Editor:
J. C. Laursen, University of California, Riverside, CA, USA
Editor-in-Chief:
Guido Giglioni, University of Macerata, Italy, Italy
Editorial Board Members: Sarah Hutton, York; K. Vermeir, Paris;
J. R. Maia Neto, Belo Horizonte; M. J. B. Allen,
Los Angeles; J.-R. Armogathe, Paris; S. Clucas, London; P. Harrison, Oxford;
J. Henry, Edinburgh; M. Mulsow, Erfurt; G. Paganini, Vercelli;
J. Popkin, Lexington; J. Robertson, Cambridge; G. A. J. Rogers, Keele;
J. F. Sebastian, Bilbao; A. Thomson, Paris; Th. Verbeek, Utrecht
More information about this series at http://www.springer.com/series/5640

Amihud Gilead
A Rose Armed with Thorns:

Spinoza’s Philosophy Under
a Novel Lens
Amihud Gilead
Department of Philosophy
University of Haifa
Haifa, Israel
ISSN 0066-6610 ISSN 2215-0307 (electronic)

International Archives of the History of Ideas Archives internationales d'histoire des idées
ISBN 978-3-030-54809-4 ISBN 978-3-030-54810-0 (eBook)
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-54810-0
© Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020

This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the Publisher, whether
the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of
illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and
transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar
or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed.
The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication
does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant
protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use.
The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book
are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the
editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any
errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional
claims in published maps and institutional affiliations.
This Springer imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG
The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland
In memory of my late wife
Ruth Bandel-Gilead (1942–2018),
My greatest love and friendship
For 36 years of bliss and authenticity
In memory of my mentors
And teachers of Spinoza’s philosophy,
Nathan Rotenstreich (1914–1993)
And
Yosef Ben-Shlomo (1930–2007)
A Bibliographical Note and Something More
In this book, I cite from the English translation of Spinoza’s works in The Collected
Works of Spinoza, Volumes One and Two, edited and translated by Edwin Curley
(Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1985 and 2016 respectively). Referring to
the Ethics, I use the following abbreviations: 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5 respectively, to refer
to the Part, a—axiom, app–appendix, c—corollary, d—demonstration, def—defini-
tion, e—explication, l–lemma, pref—preface, p—proposition, po–postulate, s—
scholium, and G I ... IV:—the pagination in the relevant volume of Gebhardt’s
edition of Spinoza Opera (Heidelberg: Carl Winter, 1925). TdIE refers to Curley’s
translation of Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect (op. cit.), and the number
refers to the relevant section. I also cite from Spinoza’s The Theological-Political
Treatise (hereafter TPT) in Curley’s translation (Curley II: 43–354) and Political
Treatise (hereafter PT) also in Curley’s translation (Curley II: 503–604). As for
other philosophical works of the secondary literature, the reader is advised to con-
sult the list at the end of the book.
An earlier version of this book appeared in Hebrew under the title The Way of
Spinoza’s Philosophy Toward a Philosophical System (Jerusalem: Bialik Institute,
1986).1 This book was an explanation, elaboration, and deepening of my disserta-
tion on Spinoza’s philosophy (Gilead 1979). My supervisor and mentor was the late
Professor Nathan Rotenstreich, to whom I am profoundly indebted, for he was a
great inspiration and an example of an independent mind. He helped me immensely
to reach the depth of my thinking, into which I had to dig in order to present the
innovations I had about Spinoza’s philosophy. He guided me to try my best to think
and write what no one else had said and maintain my own dialogue with the great
philosophers of the past. Love has to do greatly with singularity, and my love for my
great mentor, for philosophy in general, and for Spinoza’s philosophy in particular
has shown me the way to reveal from within some various innovations in reading
and understanding this great philosophy from a singular viewpoint.
)‫ תשמ”ז‬,‫ מוסד ביאליק‬:‫ דרכה של תורת שפינוזה לשיטה פילוסופית (ירושלים‬1
vii
viii A Bibliographical Note and Something More
The reader may find some of the ideas that appear below somewhat similar to
some of those that appeared in the secondary literature after 1986.2 Notwithstanding,
I strictly observe the rule that whenever I find any idea, however minor, that appeared
before the publication of my Hebrew research, it must be explicitly mentioned in the
notes. Hebrew readers can easily detect the development of my independent or orig-
inal ideas about Spinoza’s philosophy already in my PhD dissertation of 1979 and
my book on Spinoza of 1986, both in Hebrew. I published some of these ideas later
in English philosophical journals or in chapters of books (Gilead 1983, 1985a,
1985b, 1993, and 1998). May I remind the readers that since I consider Spinoza’s
philosophy highly systematic3 (or, if you prefer, “holistic”), the proper or adequate
way to represent my ideas about it should be in an extensive book, not in articles or
chapters. A piecemeal presentation is not an adequate way in which any profound
research on Spinoza’s philosophy should proceed.
Let me finish with a note on the nature of my approach to Spinoza’s philosophy.
It is a sympathetic approach, without restraining the requested criticism especially
about the secondary literature. My view is that any interpreter should invest his or
her efforts to find a way in interpreting Spinoza in the utmost attempt to understand
his philosophy and to find a strong support as much as possible for it. Only if such
attempts inescapably fail, we must take a critical approach to this philosophy. After
many years of investigating Spinoza’s philosophy as a whole, I have found it clearly
established and meticulously systematic and coherent, relying upon strong argu-
ments. Such attempts demand much energy, time, and imagination of the reader but
it is certainly worth it. Moreover, to fully understand each proposition in this phi-
losophy, we should embed it in the complete whole of his writings. As I have found,
each detail of it gives support to the others in a coherent systematic way. Spinoza’s
philosophy makes a coherent, systematic network, and it should be interpreted not
linearly but as a coherent network.
Let me finish with a note about the terms I use in this book. Each kind of knowl-
edge, according to Spinoza, is a grade of knowledge. There are three of them: the
first grade of knowledge—imaginatio; the second grade of knowledge—ratio; and
2
For instance, Della Rocca’s interpretation (1996) of the unity of the Attributes and the psycho-
physical question. Readers may also be interested in Della Rocca’s recent book (2008).
3
Cf. Garrett 2018. Jonathan Israel writes on Spinoza’s systematic philosophy: “It is pri-
marily the unity, cohesion, and compelling power of his system, his ability to connect
major elements of previous ‘atheistic’ thought into an unbroken chain of reasoning, rather
than the novelty or force of any of his constituent concepts which explain his centrality in
the evolution of the whole Radical Enlightenment” (Israel 2001, p. 230). Notwithstanding,
I consider Spinoza’s philosophy even more systematic or coherent, as I consider each of
its details or constituents as innovative because its functioning and locus in this novel
system render it so. Like Midas who turned into gold anything that he touched, Spinoza
turns anything he considers or meditates on into a detail in the systematic or coherent
Spinozistic theory as a whole. In any event, I consider Spinoza one of the most original
philosophers who ever lived.
A Bibliographical Note and Something More ix
the third, supreme one—scientia intuitiva. Hence, I do not use “grade” in the col-
loquial sense of the term, which is quite different from the aforementioned grades
of knowledge. “Partial knowledge” is not biased, but one that is incomplete, dis-
crete, or isolated and requires an amendment. Only partial knowledge in the first
grade of knowledge is, most of the time, biased.
Preface
Abstract Many of the issues discussed in this book have to do with the problem of
the philosophical system that Spinoza had in mind. I will argue that Spinoza rejects
the foundational type of philosophical system and especially its closed or total ver-
sion; the deductive system pertains to this type. Instead, he follows a model of a
system of coherence, which is a network. I call this system Spinoza’s “desired sys-
tem.” His view of the desired system rejects self-evidence or immediate evidence,
ascribed to the foundational, basic propositions (namely, definitions, axioms, and
postulates). Furthermore, Spinoza’s philosophy absolutely opposes any piecemeal
philosophy which, in his view, should be considered as fragmentary and mistaken.
The desired system is an objective of his intellectual and emotional conatus, and
not an accomplished achievement. The Ethics lays down the principles, the general
scheme, and the way leading toward this system, which lies unattainable, beyond
the horizon. The Ethics is a grand attempt to open the way leading to this system.
In lieu of the abstracts of each of the Chapters 1–6, the list of the sub-sections
should adequately inform the reader about the nature of the issues with which the
book deals.
A well-known fact about Spinoza has to do with his seal—a rose armed with
thorns and the Latin warning “caute,” namely, “beware.” In Latin, sub rosa, literally,
“under the rose,” means “under a pledge of secrecy.” In Portuguese, Spinoza’s native
language, he was known as Bento de Espinoza (Baruch Spinoza in Hebrew and
Benedictus de Spinoza in Latin). “Espinoza” means “with sharp thorns.” If one
regards Spinoza’s great philosophy as a rose, then the thorns can be considered as
keeping it from misinterpretations or misunderstandings of various kinds.
Unfortunately, many of the books and papers on this philosophy are replete with
misunderstandings and misinterpretations. I hope that this book has succeeded in
avoiding them. Most of the footnotes are certainly polemic, but I have made strenu-
ous efforts to expose some of these misunderstandings and misinterpretations.
Many of the issues discussed here have to do with the problem of the philosophi-
cal system that Spinoza had in mind. I will argue that Spinoza rejects the founda-
tional type of philosophical system and especially its closed or total version; the
xi
xii Preface
deductive system pertains to this type. Instead, he follows a model of a system of

coherence, which is a network.1 His view of the desired (“wanted,” “aspired for,” or
“required”) system rejects self-evidence or immediate evidence, ascribed to the
foundational, basic propositions (namely, definitions, axioms, and postulates) and
which puts an obstacle in the way leading toward the desired system. Furthermore,
Spinoza’s philosophy absolutely opposes any piecemeal philosophy which, in his
view, should be considered as fragmentary and mistaken. I am not sure whether
most of Spinoza’s scholars and interpreters today have given enough thought to this
Spinozistic attitude, and while analyzing his systematic philosophy they do not
avoid using a piecemeal approach. Without attempting to see the whole picture from
the beginning, they proceed step by step with the expectation that, in the end, the
complete picture will be become clear; this is, unfortunately, not the case. The pic-
ture as a whole should be entirely clear to them before they present their interpreta-
tion or analysis to the readers. Such is the way I have taken in writing this book. It
is the way of metaphysics from which the divergence of philosophical areas fields
emerges.2 One cannot ascribe ethical philosophy, for instance, to Spinoza without
first recognizing the metaphysical framework, which embraces the entire systematic
building. Such metaphysical systematization is unfortunately still quite foreign to
those who nowadays call themselves philosophers.
As the readers will realize, Spinoza’s metaphysical system is a desired one, an
objective of his intellectual and emotional conatus, and not an accomplished
achievement. The Ethics lays down the principles, the general scheme, and the way
leading toward this system, which lies unattainable, beyond the horizon. The Ethics
is a grand attempt to open the way leading to this system.
Each of God’s Attributes is a perspective, a qualitative totality, a comprehensive
view that grasps, from a particular viewpoint, the whole of all real, particular or
1
An excellent and clear representation of the coherence model of truth and the difference between
it and the foundational one is by Rescher 1973, which does not refer to Spinoza’s philosophy.
2
Though Martin Lin (2019) realizes how basic, systematic, and vital is Spinoza’s metaphysics, he
limits his project concerning it thus: “the present book is certainly not comprehensive. There are
many aspects of Spinoza’s metaphysics that I make no attempt to treat: personal identity, the nature
of time, and the eternity of the mind, to name only a few. The conclusions that I reach here must,
therefore, be regarded as tentative ones that await further confirmation by showing that they can
cohere with the correct interpretation of those aspects of Spinoza’s thought as well. Indeed, given
the uncommon systematicity of Spinoza’s thought, nothing short of a complete interpretation of all
of Spinoza could serve as such confirmation. But that task is clearly too great for a single book or
even, perhaps, a single scholar” (op. cit., p. 3). I really admire Lin’s modesty in this true words.
Nevertheless, since Spinoza’s system is coherent, as I will show below in great detail, in such a
way that each of its details depends on the text as a whole and this whole depends, in turn, on each
detail, a devoted interpreter of Spinoza’s philosophy has to take into consideration all the aspects
of it, how much ever time and effort this may require. I cannot judge if such a project is possible
or not for a single author, but I have taken upon myself to achieve this most difficult task, and thus
I have devoted ten of my academic years to write the current Book in different versions. Indeed,
personal identity, the nature of time, and the eternity of the mind with many other issues and
aspects are discussed meticulously in the current Book. The reader has to judge whether it has been
a daring ambition on my part and whether my project is not a failure after all.
Preface xiii
singular, things. Spinoza does acknowledge philosophical systematization and defi-

nitely rejects any piecemeal philosophy, for any mistake or error, in his view, con-
sists of fragmentation,3 of a piece of reality that is considered as if it were independent
and isolated. The “entities of the imagination” (entia imaginationis)4 are simply
fragmenting factors, the exclusion of which is a necessary condition for construct-
ing the desired philosophical system. This system consists of epistemological and
ontic aspects, constituting the theoretical part of the system, whereas the part of its
praxis is a practical theory of freedom, happiness,5 and salvation (salus). Spinoza’s
systematic theory consists of a complete correspondence between the grades of
knowledge6 and our emotions as well as the motives for our actions.
The totality of the desired system reflects or represents the structure of reality as
a whole as it truly is, as it is in itself (in se est). In other words, knowledge is simply
the reflection or representation of reality as a whole, as it truly is. The desired sys-
tem of knowledge is thus simply the total reality as it is known or perceived. This
reality can be known, because all its details, including the mental ones, are links in
a total causal chain, each of whose links is necessarily connected with all the others.
Because of this, each detail in reality and reality as a whole is entirely intelligible.
This is what Infinite Intellect is all about, namely, the total intelligibility of Nature
as a whole including all of its details. It is essential to realize that each detail of the
system as a whole is not indistinct within it but, rather, the system guarantees the
reality, necessity, or eternity of each of its details, namely, modifications, each of
which is necessarily linked to the entire total causal chain, which is detectable by
Infinite Intellect.7 Spinoza has thus to refer to a principle of individuation that keeps
3
Cf. Lloyd, 1996, pp. 65–67.
4
For a different treatment of Spinoza’s entia imaginationis consult Garrett 2018, pp. 151–172.
Garrett calls them “ideas that are derived from the imagination” (op. cit., p. 151).
5
Spinoza’s theory of freedom and happiness interested Stuart Hampshire, from the very beginning
of his investigation into Spinoza’s philosophy. See, for instance, Hampshire 2005, p. 188.
6
In what follows, I use “knowledge” and “cognition” interchangeably or synonymously (but, in the
plural, obviously I use only “cognitions”). The difference between “knowledge” and “cognition”
becomes more distinct whenever the emotional properties of cognition(s) are mentioned.
7
Latin has no definite or indefinite articles. Each interpreter has to decide for himself or herself if
Infinite Intellect (intellectus infinitus) is definite or indefinite. My view of Spinoza’s philosophy as
an endeavor toward a total philosophical system is my reason to endorse “the Infinite Intellect”
rather than “an Infinite Intellect.” Second, since the infinite intellect is an infinite mode of the
Attribute of Thought, there is only one infinite intellect, which grasps anything that there is. It is a
total mode. Hence, I always mention and use “the infinite intellect.” So there is one Infinite
Intellect, which means that Reality as a whole is a coherent system in which all details-modes are
intelligible and interconnected into one total causal chain (namely, an Attribute), which is causa
sui. Therefore, one and the same Intellect can follow each of the causal links—modes—in each of
the Attributes, and the Intellect perceives all the Attributes as constituting one and the same abso-
lutely infinite Reality, namely, Substance. The Infinite Intellect does not belong to any person,
mind, or subject; it rather means “the absolutely total intelligibility of Reality as a systematic
whole.” About all of these points consider Section 6.21 below.
xiv Preface
the whole of reality intact while saving the reality of its modal8 differentiations. I
will show that this principle is what Spinoza entitles “adequate causality.”
Against the background of the above, it is not surprising that Spinoza is commit-
ted to a totally systematic view, side by side with pluralism and systematic open-
ness. The infinitely pluralistic Attributes and modes should be considered one of the
corner stones of Spinoza’s philosophy. He was a devoted individualist, and his phi-
losophy clearly reflects that. His philosophy is quite unlike most of the monistic
systems. Any monism that entirely excludes pluralist differentiations in reality or
one that reduces them to one reality is absolutely incompatible with Spinoza’s
monism, which is of a unique kind—“a monistic pluralism.”9
Yet, in one way—by rejecting any sort of dualism—Spinoza’s philosophy shares
something of importance with monistic views. He maintains that any dualistic view
cannot constitute a coherent system but only constructions that cannot join each
other to constitute one comprehensive view. Some of these constructions are mutu-
ally incompatible. Each duality leads to a problem, which any attempt at construct-
ing a system endeavors to overcome. Each dualistic stance thus results in a problem
that should not be ignored. Spinoza clearly realizes the problematic nature of
Cartesian philosophy merely because of its dualistic nature. Indeed, very early in his
philosophical writing, Spinoza refers to the unsolvable problems of duality with
which Cartesian philosophy confronts the reader.
Arguing that, I have in mind the appendix, “Metaphysical Thoughts” (“Cogitata
Metaphysica”), of Renati Des Cartes Principiorum Philosophiae, Pars I et II,10 the
earliest of Spinoza’s publications. In it, he explicitly refers to some problems in
Descartes’s philosophy, all of which are dualistic in nature and whose solution is
simply “beyond human capability” or “exceeding our grasp.” The problems are as
follows: the duality of the creating substance, namely, God, and His omnipresence
or ubiquity in any of the individual things to guarantee their continual creation at
any moment;11 the problem of the division of matter into real particles, which is the
duality of the continuous substance and its independent parts;12 and the duality of
human freedom or free will and the all-determining God.13 Each of these kinds of
duality results in an antinomy. One could not get rid of any of its antagonistic
stances, which, despite their contradicting each other, are still necessarily dependent
upon one another. Each stance involved in the antinomy is indispensable, for
Descartes considers each of them as “clear and distinct,” namely, as evident. Such
antagonist stances are the existence of free will and God’s total determination, the
extended substance and the particles of matter, the transcendent God, and God as
8
“Modal” in the sense of “consisting of modes.”
9
Which is not an oxymoron or paradox. It is the best title I could ascribe to Spinoza’s philosophy.
Such a title appeared first in Calkins 1929, pp. 277–306. Nevertheless, I use it quite differently.
10
English translation: Principles of Cartesian Philosophy with Metaphysical Thoughts, trans.
Samuel Shirley, Introduction and notes by Steven Barbone and Lee Rice (Indianapolis, 1998).
11
“Metaphysical Thoughts” Part II, Chapter 3, p. 115 (G I, p. 254).
12
Op. Cit., Part I, Chapter 3, p. 104 (G I, p. 244).
13
Op. Cit., pp. 103–104 (G I, pp. 243–244).
Preface xv
the immanent cause or continuous creator of all creatures. Despite each of these
antagonist stances, there is certainly a necessary dependence: the creatures neces-
sarily depend upon their creator, and the material particles upon the extended sub-
stance. A possible solution to all these problems can be found only in a
comprehensively coherent system, embracing different philosophical areas, primar-
ily theory or epistemology and ontology as well as praxis or ethics and politi-
cal theory.
In “Metaphysical Thoughts,” Spinoza refers to the problems that obstruct
Descartes’s attempt to construct a metaphysical system. Spinoza himself would
relate to these problems in his own philosophy, rephrasing and interpreting them
differently as his novel view commits him.14 He would then attempt to challenge
them in his own way. The fate of Descartes’s system depends upon the solution to
these problems of dualistic nature, and the destination of Spinoza’s philosophy is to
solve or eliminate them by constructing a philosophical system. He attempts to
remove the obstacles that obstruct us from a systematical understanding and expla-
nation of the world and of our place within it. All of these obstacles have to do with
kinds of duality. In what follows, I will oppose the views according to which Spinoza
cannot do without dualism of this or that sort.15
The achievement of a philosophical system according to Spinoza depends upon
solving the following monistic difficulties:
(1) The psychophysical problem, which consists of the duality of mind and body
side by side with the intimate and necessary connection between them. This
problem has also epistemological implications: the possibility of knowledge
depends on the connection between the mind and the extended objects that
it grasps.
(2) The duality of the multiple random facts, mutable and passing away with time,
which the intellect cannot follow or detect, and any rational lawfulness, which
is universal, necessary, fixed, and eternal, namely exempt from temporal condi-
tions. Only this lawfulness makes it possible for the intellect to orient itself in
factual reality. Such is the problem to which the Eleatic school relates.
14
Cf.: “It is in the relations between Spinoza’s philosophy and that of his immediate intellectual
predecessor, Rene Descartes …, that we see most clearly his distinctive capacity to transform
familiar ideas into something radically different” (Lloyd 1996).
15
First and foremost, Alan Donagan’s. See his “Spinoza’s Dualism,” in Kennington 1980,
pp. 89–102, especially p. 91. Jonathan Bennett ascribes “property dualism” to Spinoza (Bennett
1984, pp. 41–49, 63). Bennett distinguishes this dualism from the Cartesian substance dualism and
he argues that Spinoza’s monism is compatible with dualism (op. cit., p. 70). It appears that both
Donagan and Bennett ascribe dualism to the irreducibility of the Attributes, each of which is
indeed irreducible to the other. But this is not the main feature of dualism, especially whenever one
has Cartesian dualism in mind, which undoubtedly is incompatible with Spinoza’s metaphysics.
Even when Spinoza uses Cartesian terms, he endows them with quite a different meaning. I will
discuss this below in greater detail. For a good example of how a Cartesian interpretation of
Spinoza should fail, consult Daisie Radner, “Malebranche’s Refutation of Spinoza,” in Shahan and
Biro 1978, p. 125.
xvi Preface
(3) The duality of theory and praxis. Since the days of Plato and Aristotle this dual-
ity has challenged philosophy. A paradigm-case for it is the problem of akrasia
(“weakness of the will”) to which Spinoza refers at 4p17s: “I see and approve
the better, but follow the worse.”16 Others have considered this duality as the
one between “the is” and “the ought,” of “moral values” and “drives,” or “intel-
lect” and “will.” Like Plato but unlike Aristotle, Spinoza attempts to challenge
this duality in one comprehensive system, which has epistemological and ethi-
cal aspects. Spinoza, unlike Aristotle, does not divide philosophical consider-
ations into fields or domains. Instead, he integrates them all into one and the
same comprehensive philosophical system. It is rather the elimination of bound-
aries separating domains or fields that characterizes his view.
(4) The duality of humans and nature. It is the question of imperium in imperio
(“dominion within a dominion” [3pref]), which is a metamorphosis of the
Sophists’ and Plato’s problem of nomos and physis. Plato attempts to challenge
this problem by means of integration of cosmological, ethical, political, episte-
mological, and ontological considerations into one and the same comprehen-
sive system (as one can judge, for instance, from Gorgias 507d–508a).
So much for the kinds of duality that Spinoza had to challenge in order to con-
struct the desired system.
I will begin with the status of plurality according to Spinoza. This has to do with
the problem of the necessary differentiation within Substance. There are two kinds
of such differentiations: that of Attributes (which are the unconditioned total or
infinite differentiations) and that of modes (the plurality of finite differentiations).
Each of these differentiations should be considered a being, although not a substan-
tial one. In this context, we have to discuss the link between the principle of indi-
viduation and personal identity on the one hand and the necessary connections, the
causal connections, and integrating the plurality into one coherent system on the
other. Not any kind of connection is sufficient or adequate for constructing a system,
and the transient causal chain is a good example of such a kind of connection that,
according to Spinoza, does not constitute the desired system. Only the immanent
causal chain is sufficient to do this.
Distinguishing between the transient and the immanent causal chain will refer us
to the two conceptions of reality: the first is that of the imagination, according to
which all things exist at a place and in time, and as such they must be contingent;
the second is that of veridical knowledge, which perceives all things as they really
are—necessary and eternal. This discussion has actually to do with the problem of
grades of knowledge, each of which contributes something to construct the
desired system.
16
Which is a quote from Ovid, Metamorphoses VII, 20–21. Cf. 3p2s, Letter 58 (Curley II: 428),
and 4pref: “though he sees the better for himself, he is still forced to follow the worse. In this Part,
I have undertaken to demonstrate the cause of this, and what there is of good and evil in the affects”
(Curley I: 543).
Preface xvii
Each total (infinite) causal chain is an Attribute. The Attributes are parallel, bet-
ter united; they must correspond to one another. The desired system has two truth’s
conditions: that of coherence, which means that all the differentiations within an
Attribute are integrated into one whole; and that of correspondence. Coherence and
what Spinoza calls “adequacy” go hand-in-hand. As we will realize, both are entirely
incompatible with the alleged criterion of truth as immediate or self-evident, which
must be rejected because Spinoza wishes to constitute a system of coherence and
adequacy.
Discussing the correspondence or, better, the unity of the Attributes, I will look
into the distinction between the essences of entities and their properties, especially
between their cognitive essences and emotive properties. I will utilize this distinc-
tion to solve the problem of the unity of the two known Attributes—Thought and
Extension.
Having discussed all this, we will able to analyze the contribution of each grade
of knowledge—Imagination, Reason, and Intuitive Science—to constitute the
desired system. Each such contribution has theoretical aspects as well as practical
ones, for each grade of knowledge also conveys emotive properties.
Our discussion of the second grade of knowledge—Reason—will lead us to the
conclusion that a foundational philosophical system, such as the deductive system,
is impossible. In contrast, the discussion of the contribution of the third grade of
knowledge—Intuitive Science—will end with concluding how, according to
Spinoza, an open philosophical system is possible.
Haifa, Israel Amihud Gilead

Acknowledgments
I fell in love with Spinoza’s philosophy as early as the first year of my graduate stud-
ies at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, the city where I was born. My late teach-
ers and mentors there were Professors Nathan Rotenstreich and Yosef Ben-Shlomo.
Both were exciting teachers. But what was no less important for me was their way
of teaching and guiding—not to follow them but to find my own way, quite different
from theirs, in studying and understanding the systems of the great philosophers of
the past. I owe these great mentors very much indeed. I tried my best until my retire-
ment to attract my students to philosophy in the way in which my teachers had
attracted me: to teach them with great love and enthusiasm.
My dear friend and colleague, Saul Smilansky, did his best to persuade me to
translate into English and update my Hebrew book on Spinoza, which was an elabo-
ration on and expansion of my PhD dissertation that was devoted to a novel inter-
pretation and elaboration of Spinoza’s philosophy. I owe much to Saul for his most
devoted friendship and encouragement.
Each of my books, both in English and in Hebrew, could not have come to frui-
tion without the encouragement, support, and love from my late wife, Ruthie, who
blessed me with 36 years of most happy marriage. For me, Ruthie has been the
sublime example of Spinoza’s intellectual love of God, as each human being is a
singular finite mode of God and, as such, he or she is perceived in the supreme grade
of knowledge.
I am especially proud of the publication of the current work in Springer Nature’s
International Archives of the History of Ideas, their prestigious series in which the
best book I have ever read about Spinoza’s philosophy, Salvation from Despair by
E. E. Harris, was published together with some other fine books on Spinoza’s phi-
losophy. I thank the editors of this series for their help in publishing my current
book on Spinoza. I am also indebted to an anonymous reviewer from Springer for
his or her encouragement and good advices. I thank Svetlana Kleiner for her efforts
and devotion in accepting this book for publication.
xix
xx Acknowledgments
Michael Della Rocca has been most kind and generous in carefully reading the
manuscript as a whole and in commenting most enlighteningly on it. I used these
excellent comments to clarify some points in the text. Michael’s encouragement of
my way of understanding Spinoza means a lot to me.
Marion Lupu has worked most devotedly in the stylistic editorship of this book.
I would like to thank them all.
Contents
1 Substance as the Systematic Unity of the Necessary Plurality�� 1

1.1 The Differentiation in Substance—Spinoza’s Philosophy
Is At Odds with the Eleatic Philosophy�� 1
1.2 Distinctions of the Intellect and the Status of the Attributes�� 11
References�� 20
2 The Status of Individual Things in Spinoza’s Substance �� 23
2.1 Introducing the Problem �� 23
2.2 Do Individual Things Really Exist in Substance
or Are they Nullified in it?�� 27
2.3 The Essence of the Individual thing�� 34
2.4 The Principium Individuationis and Personal Identity �� 39
2.5 Individual Things as Temporal and as Eternal—The Transient
and the Immanent Causal Chain �� 47
References�� 58
3 The Truth Conditions and the Problem of the Attributes�� 61
3.1 The Truth Conditions�� 61
3.1.1 Adequacy, Correspondence, and Error �� 61
3.2 The Interdependence of the Truth Conditions
and the Problem of the Attributes �� 76
3.2.1 The Truth Condition of Adequacy
and Its Link with Unity �� 76
3.3 The Problem of the Unity of the Attributes
and the Possibility of Solving It�� 90
3.3.1 The Problem of the Unity of the Attributes
and the Possibility of Its Emendation �� 90
References�� 107
xxi
xxii Contents
4 The First Kind of Knowledge: Imaginatio �� 109

4.1 The First Kind of Knowledge Consists of Inadequate,
Illegitimate Generalizations�� 109
4.2 The Common Order of Nature and the Status of Individual
Things—The Pretension of Constructing a System�� 113
4.3 The Figments of Imaginations: Time, the Confined
Occupation of the Mind, and Death as Fragmenting Factors �� 118
4.4 The Emotive Properties of the First Kind of Knowledge
and the Mentis Fluctuatio �� 138
4.5 The Knowledge of the Data and the Possibility
of Its Emendation�� 148
4.6 The Dependence of Human Beings on the Common
Order of Nature; the Multitude and the Wise as Citizens
of the Same State�� 152
5 The Second Grade of Knowledge (Ratio) and Its Limitations�� 161
5.1 Rational Knowledge as a Common, Universal, and Adequate
Knowledge; the Common Notions, Knowing
the Common Properties, and Deduction �� 161
5.2 The Impossibility of Constructing a Philosophical System
by a Deduction from the Common Notions�� 172
5.2.1 Why Is a Metaphysical System, Which
Is Foundational-Deductive, Impossible
According to Spinoza’s Philosophy?�� 172
5.2.2 Are the Order and Connection of Things
Mathematical-Deductive? �� 180
5.2.3 What Is the Meaning of “Ethics Demonstrated
in the Geometrical Order”?�� 188
5.3 The Influence of Reason on Passions and Akrasia—The
Duality of Theory and Praxis�� 194
5.4 The Place of Human Beings in Nature—The Problem
of the Duality of the Human Reason and the Reason
of Nature; Democracy as the Rational State �� 200
5.5 The A Priori (“Synthetic”) Procedure as a Method�� 207
6 The Supreme Grade of Knowledge�� 219
6.1 The Supreme Grade of Knowledge, Scientia Intuitiva:
The Adequate and Certain Conception of the Essences
of Individual Things as Modes of the Infinite System�� 219
6.2 The A Posteriori (“Analytic”) Procedure and the Emendation
of the Experiential Data by the Supreme Grade of Knowledge�� 226
6.2.1 The Infinite Intellect and the A Posteriori Procedure
of the Supreme Grade of Knowledge�� 234
Contents xxiii
6.3 The Relationship Between the Supreme Grade

of Knowledge (Including the Intellectual Love
of God as its Property) and the Other Kinds of Cognitions
(Including their Emotive Properties)�� 241
6.4 Human Happiness and the Desired System�� 248
6.4.1 An Objection Concerning Human Happiness �� 256
6.4.2 Human Freedom, Human Identity,
and Human Happiness�� 257
6.4.3 Freedom of Choice and Human Self-Determination�� 264
6.4.4 Human Eternity, Salvation, Happiness,
and the Knowledge of Human Singularity
in the Desired System�� 273
6.5 The Contribution of the Supreme Grade of Knowledge
to Canceling the Duality of Theory and Praxis and that
of Human Reason and Nature’s Reason �� 284
References �� 287
7 The Desired System as a Goal Lying Beyond the Horizon�� 289
Name Index�� 311
Subject Index�� 315

Chapter 1
Substance as the Systematic Unity
of the Necessary Plurality
1.1 he Differentiation in Substance—Spinoza’s Philosophy

T
Is At Odds with the Eleatic Philosophy
Spinoza was not under the influence of Parmenides, but the Eleatic difficulties con-
cerning the plurality of the mutable individual things must concern Spinoza deeply.
For he, too, attempted to construct a monistic system.
According to Parmenides, any differentiation in Being is just impossible. Spinoza
cannot accept such a view since he writes that:
it is of the nature of a Substance that each of its Attributes is conceived through itself, since
all the Attributes it has have always been in it together, and one could not be produced by
another, but each expresses the reality, or [that is] being of Substance.
So it is far from absurd to attribute many Attributes to one Substance. Indeed, nothing in
Nature is clearer than that each being must be conceived under some Attribute, and the more
reality, or being it has, the more it has Attributes which express necessity, or [i.e.,] eternity,
and infinity. And consequently there is also nothing clearer than that a being absolutely
infinite must be defined … as a being that consists of infinite Attributes, each of which
expresses a certain eternal and infinite essence (1p10s).
Spinoza emphasizes the necessity of the plurality of Attributes also in Letter 9 (G

IV: 45) and in the Short Treatise on God, Man, and His Well Being (Part I, Ch. 2,
Sections 17 and 27). There is no logical impediment to differentiate and to perceive
many Attributes in one and the same Substance; moreover, such is necessarily the
case. The logic of Spinoza’s special way of thinking necessarily relates to “God, or
a Substance consisting of infinite Attributes” (1p11). For it is impossible, according
to Spinoza, not to assume the existence of an infinite number of Attributes in the
absolutely infinite Being, in the reality as a whole which, as most contentful and
ample, necessarily comprises everything in existence. A kind of knowledge that
perceives this reality as exempt from differentiations, must be general and abstract,
that is, confused and fictitious; whereas the more we conceive reality
© Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 1

A. Gilead, A Rose Armed with Thorns: Spinoza’s Philosophy Under a Novel
Lens, International Archives of the History of Ideas Archives internationales
d’histoire des idées 232, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-54810-0_1
2 1 Substance as the Systematic Unity of the Necessary Plurality
“particularly … , the more clearly it is understood” (TdIE 55).1 It is rather our

knowledge of individual things and the possibility to differentiate as many distinc-
tions as possible in order to avoid blurring the differences (a blurring which gener-
ates fictitious and illegitimate generalizations), that enables an intelligible and true
conception of reality. Indeed, Spinoza deliberately conjugates Intellect and the dif-
ferentiation in Being: it is the Intellect that conceives God’s Attributes (according to
the definition of Attribute—1def4), whether the Intellect in question is finite or infi-
nite (1p30). The Intellect affirms a plurality of Attributes in Substance as well as an
infinite plurality of modes: “From the necessity of the divine Nature there must
follow infinitely many things in infinitely many modes (i.e., everything which can
fall under the2 Infinite Intellect)” (1p16). This has to do with the infinite abundance
of the laws of Nature, which are sufficiently ample “for producing all things which
can be conceived by the Infinite Intellect” (the end of 1App). To Spinoza it is obvi-
ous that the conceptions or perceptions of an Intellect, whether of Attributes or of
modes, are not subjective differentiations but they must be objectively valid, for
“what is contained objectively3 in the Intellect must necessarily be in Nature [that
is, objectively or “extra intellectum”]” (1p30d). To this extent, there is no difference
whatsoever between a finite, human Intellect and God’s Infinite Intellect. The per-
ceptions by both kinds of Intellect have a real standing—“extra intellectum,” that is,
in the reality outside the mind, as these perceptions are necessarily true and cannot
be fictional or illusory. Any perception of an Intellect must be true, to the extent that
the Spinozistic text is concerned. Moreover, both kinds of Intellect are modes
(1p31), taking part in natura naturata (that is, Nature as an effect or as affected),
and these modes are particularizations of the infinite Thought (the Attribute of
Thought); they are cognitions of particulars (individuals). The Infinite Intellect con-
ceives all the particulars or individual things as they are singularly (or clearly and
distinctly) perceived in the universal frame of Nature as a whole, for each of them
is a mode or a change, mutation, variation, fashion, way,4 or state of reality as a
whole. What holds true for the conception of the Attributes (that is, “whatsoever can
1
For a fine original commentary on the TdIE consult De Dijn (1996).
2
I disagree with Curley over the interpretation of Spinoza’s term of Infinite Intellect. As I argued
above, I interpret this term as definitive—the Infinite Intellect.
3
That is, as a mental object existing “in the mind or intellect.” This Scholastic term is different
from the current terms, according to which “subjective” replace the Scholastic “objective.”
Nevertheless, “object” as a psychoanalytic term is somewhat closer to the Scholastic term. These
two latter terms focus on the representative aspect of the object. In what follows, I use “objective”
in the current sense.
4
Della Rocca prefers “way” to the other senses (except for “states”) of “mode.” But this sense
appears to obscure the difference between modes and Attributes. Attributes are the universal
“ways” in which Substance exists and is conceived, whereas modes are the particular “ways” in
which Substance exists and is conceived. Still, this is not precise enough, for Attributes are not
general or abstract concepts; instead, they are particular or concrete ones, especially as conceived
in the third grade of knowledge, Scientia intuitiva. I thus prefer “variations” as a precise enough
sense of Spinoza’s modes, for all modes are variations of one and the same Substance-Theme. The
best synonym for “mode” is “difference” or “distinction.” “Change” is also acceptable.
1.1 The Differentiation in Substance—Spinoza’s Philosophy Is At Odds with… 3
be perceived by [an] Infinite Intellect as constituting an essence of substance per-

tains to one Substance only” [2p7s]), holds as well for the conception of the modes
under one and the same Attribute: both finite and Infinite Intellect split reality nei-
ther into independent, discrete individuals nor into independent systems. Rather the
contrary is the case: any intellect, as a true conception, perceives either systems or
individuals-particulars as differentiations of one, coherent reality which is an abso-
lutely comprehensive system.5
Indeed, for Spinoza the divisibility of Substance is simply unacceptable. That is,
to split Substance into independent, discrete parts is impossible under his philoso-
phy. Contrary to those who conceive matter or material Substance as a divisible and
measurable quantity, Spinoza considers matter quite differently. They assume that
the parts of Substance (or the absolutely total Reality-Nature) are merely finite sub-
stances, whereas he argues that finite substances are absolutely impossible. Hence
he rejects the possibility of the divisibility of Substance into parts which are sub-
stantially or really different; instead, he suggests a modal difference.6 Such a pos-
sibility involves the existence of a vacuum in Nature. Nevertheless, Spinoza’s
philosophy explicitly requires differentiations in Substance. Differentiations in
Substance are necessary, as long as the “parts” of Substance are inter-coordinated,
excluding a vacuum of any sort, and are modal only (1p15s; and consult p12 on). A
differentiation of discrete, independent parts would split, even shatter, Nature and
prevent the knowledge of Nature as a continuous, unbroken Being, all of whose
particulars are but modifications of one and the same Reality. In contrast, a differen-
tiation into discrete parts is not compatible with Spinoza’s attempt to construct a
cognitive system of Nature, a system in which there is a cohesive relationship
between “parts” and the whole, between the modes of reality and Reality as a whole,
that is, Substance. Hence, Spinoza must criticize the atomists (from their very
beginning until the seventeenth century) as well as the Cartesian theory of discrete
self-evidence. The latter has some transformations or implications; one of them is
Humean empiricism. Hume understands well that the existence of clear and distinct
perceptions prevents any necessary connections between them. This entails an
entirely broken reality, which has nothing of the necessary connections, selves, and
substances. Descartes attempts to construct a system, and I believe that his theory of
discrete evidence and its implications are the first reason for the failure of his
attempt. Moreover, Spinoza’s criticism at 1p15s was also against the attempt to
conceive Nature under mathematical patterns, for this requires a measurable quantity
5
Against this background, I cannot accept the following clause: “How many things are there in the
world? Spinoza’s answer: One” (Della Rocca 2008, p. 33). This is simply not true, for though there
is only one absolutely independent being, namely Substance, there are infinitely many real modes,
which are dependent beings but modally real. Moreover, this statement appears to contradict the
following one: “Of course, for Spinoza, not only does God’s Infinite Intellect exist, but also finite
minds, including human minds, exist” (op. cit., p. 104). Indeed, modes are “ways” in which
Substance exists (following ibid., p. 33.), but these modes are real things. As I see it, contrary to
Della Rocca, Spinoza’s monism is not merely the oneness of Substance, but is a pluralistic monism
or a monistic pluralism.
6
Compare E. E. Harris, “Finite and Infinite in Spinoza System,” in Hessing (1977), p. 199.
which is divisible into discrete parts. Such mathematics does not contribute to the
construction of a cognitive system of Nature, and even, under some circumstances,
it prevents the possibility of such a system. And Spinoza must first show that real
and necessary particulars are not discrete and independent (that is, they are not finite
substances: an independent part of Substance is simply a finite substance, and this
is a manifest contradiction [1p13s]). Instead, all “parts” together join into one,
coherent Reality, i.e., one Substance. Otherwise, Spinoza would have only a piece-
meal knowledge of reality.
Thus, although Infinite Intellect makes distinctions, which are valid as far as
Reality is concerned, it does not separate them; rather the contrary is the case: the
Intellect attaches them by means of necessary bonds (which is what clarity and
distinctness are all about, as will be explained in Sect. 3.11 below). It is a necessary
condition for conceiving Reality by an intellect or for Reality’s intelligibility that it
is particularized abundantly. Were Reality not so, it could not be conceived by an
intellect (whether finite or infinite). An undifferentiated whole, such as Parmenides’s
pan estin omoion (Fragment 8, line 22), or the being which is well-rounded (op. cit.,
line 43), or the being which is “equal to itself on every side,” lies “uniformly within
its limits” (ibid., line 49). Such a being, according to Spinoza, is unintelligible, for
it has neither concreteness nor particularity,7 like a night in which all cows are black.
Such is a transcendental, abstract, and illegitimate concept, a defective product of
Imagination (the first grade of knowledge), a product that does not reflect Reality
(see 2p40s1). As it is axiomatic in Spinoza’s philosophy that Reality is replete with
differentiations and particulars; as much as our conception of it is false and frag-
mented, Reality is less particularized and individuated. As the first grade of knowl-
edge, Imagination consists entirely of illegitimate, blurring generalizations,
distorting the perception of Reality, which is full of particulars.
On the other hand, Spinoza would agree with Parmenides that Substance (Being
as a whole) is neither generated nor destructible (Fragment 8, line 3) but uncreated
and imperishable, infinite or perfectly whole (op. cit., line 4), one, and continuous
(op. cit., line 6). All these are God-Substance’s properties according to Spinoza. But
when Parmenides states that being is indivisible (op. cit., line 22), his statement is
incompatible with Spinoza’s view, although this view is phrased almost in the same
words: “the absolutely infinite Substance is indivisible” (1p13). For Parmenides
assumes that being is the undifferentiated whole (pan estin omoion—op. cit., line
22), whereas Spinoza, although not accepting that Substance is divided realiter,
explicitly acknowledges that it is divided modaliter.8 When Spinoza claims that the
7
Cf. Hallett (1930), pp. 92, 144–5, 154–7, 158, 194, 320, and 323–5. Cf. Harris (1973), pp. 64 ff.
Nevertheless Hallett and Harris do not involve this issue with the question of the intelligibility of
Substance and obviously not with the question of the nature of the desired system according to
Spinoza. Yet, elsewhere in his book, Harris (1973, pp. 256–7) discusses the connection between
Spinoza’s philosophy and “a speculative system” that is not a procrustean bed.
8
On the problem of the differentiation of being and of Spinoza challenging Parmenides, consult
William J. Edgar, “Continuity and the Individuation of Modes in Spinoza’s Physics,” in Wilbur
(1976), pp. 85–105. According to Edgar, Spinoza follows Parmenides in assuming that the being is
mode of Movement and Rest is the immediate infinite mode of the Attribute of
Extension (Letter 64, G IV: 278), or when he differentiates between natura naturans
and natura naturata, he, as a matter of fact, disagrees with Parmenides in principle.
Spinoza attempts to refute Zeno’s paradoxes to the effect that we clearly and dis-
tinctly perceive changes in Extension, all of which have to do with movement. Thus,
unlike the Eleatics, we cannot say that changes and movements, as witnessed by our
senses, are incompatible with reason: as long as such changes and movements are
clearly and distinctly perceived, they must be perfectly intelligible.9 In his mature
philosophy Spinoza continues to maintain this stance: the immediate infinite mode
of the Attribute of Extension is Movement and Rest, while under the Attribute of
Thought the correspondent mode is the Infinite Intellect (Letter 64, G IV: 278).
Thus, the mode of Movement and Rest is perfectly compatible with intelligible
conception which is clear and distinct.
In sum, despite some affinities,10 Spinoza disagrees in principle with Parmenides.11
Parmenides’s poem is dualistic: its first part denies any plurality, change, and move-
ment, whereas its second part deals with physical problems and with the opinions of
an indivisible plenum, though Spinoza states that movement in this plenum is still possible. And
since the individual things are individuated by means of movement, there is a differentiation in this
being (op. cit., pp. 87, 92). I do not think that movement can adequately serve as a principle of
individuation worth its name, for two different bodies can move equally, as their ratio of movement
and rest may be equal.
9
Compare Spinoza’s Descartes’ Principles of Philosophy, Part II, Proposition 6, Note, G I:
191–196.
10
In addition to the properties of Substance, one can find the echo of the Parmenidean exclusive
disjunction, “being or nothing,” at 1p11d3 (the a posteriori demonstration of the existence of
God): “either nothing exists or an absolutely infinite Being also exists” (Curley I: 418). Nevertheless,
Spinoza ascribes quite a different meaning to this disjunction, as he immediately adds: “we exist,
either in ourselves, or in something else, which necessarily exists” (ibid.). The debt of Spinoza to
Parmenides is greater than that of Plato to Parmenides: both Spinoza and Parmenides commit what
Kantians name “ontologism,” namely, a type of thinking according to which conceptual analysis
is, under particular conditions, sufficient to render or consider thought as existence (to turn con-
cepts into existing entities is termed “reification” or “hypostasis”). The Cartesian cogito and the
ontological proof of the existence of God pertain to ontologism. Such are Spinoza’s proofs of the
existence of God.
11
Contrary to Gebhardt (1905), pp. 114–5. Gebhardt suggests that Spinoza absorbs Eleatic phi-
losophy within his metaphysics and leaves the empirical world, which we experience, to physics.
While Spinoza’s metaphysics denies movement, his physics accepts it. Thus, Gebhardt ascribes the
duality that well characterizes Parmenides’s poem, consisting of two excluding parts, to Spinoza’s
philosophy. I do not agree with this interpretation at all. At most, one can compare the second part
of Parmenides’s poem with Spinoza’s Imagination, the first grade of knowledge, which has to do
with abstractions (see 1p15s). Nevertheless, quite opposed to the second part of Parmenides’s
poem, which is not compatible with its first part, Spinoza’s first grade of knowledge is well inte-
grated into the whole of his philosophy as well as the other grades of knowledge. Contrary to
Parmenides, Spinoza is thus not involved with an aporetic dualism. Parmenides is incapable of
deducing the second part of the poem from its first part. Hence, he is incapable of explaining away
the wrong beliefs of immortals. Parmenides is thus involved with an unsolvable contradiction
between human everyday experience and his metaphysical view. Spinoza rejects the Eleatic dual-
ism absolutely. We are entitled to conclude, then, that Spinoza does not accept a duality of empiri-
mortals. We can compare these opinions with the abstractions of Imagination that
Spinoza discusses at 1p15s. But, in definite contrast to the second part of
Parmenides’s poem, Spinoza’s theory of Imagination fits perfectly with his philoso-
phy as a whole without being engaged in unsolvable difficulties, which may endan-
ger the entire attempt to construct a system. This is quite different from Parmenides’s
philosophy: the existence of the opinions of mortals is absurd and a miserable fact
in his philosophy, which, in turn, cannot explain this fact adequately, if at all. Such
incapability is a symptom of a real defect in Parmenides’s philosophy. It puts an
aporetic duality between the world of everyday experience and reality as it is philo-
sophically conceived. Spinoza strongly rejects such a duality and, thus, when he
begins to refute Zeno’s paradoxes,12 he states that he will not do so like Diogenes the
Cynic and will not refer to empirical facts but, instead, will employ theoretical argu-
ments. From this we should infer that according to Spinoza no duality exists between
empirical facts and theory. Along these lines, Spinoza disagrees with the whole
Eleatic school. It seems that his monism is closer to that of Xenophanes.13 As
Aristotle puts it (Metaphysics I, Ch. 5, 896b24–5), Xenophanes, referring to the
“whole of the heaven” argued that “the one is God.”14
All this is not compatible with the Hegelian interpretations of Spinoza.15
According to such interpretations, Spinoza assumes again and again that no nega-
tion in Substance is possible. Indeed, Spinoza states that (1) “if something is only
infinite only in its own kind, we can deny infinite attributes of it; but if something is
absolutely infinite, whatsoever expresses essence and involves no negation pertains
to its essence” (1def6e); (2) “being finite is really, in part, a negation, and being
infinite is an absolute affirmation of some nature” (1p8s1); (3) “God is an absolutely
infinite being, of whom no attribute which expresses an essence of substance can be
denied (by def6)” (1p14d); (4) “the shape is nothing but determination, and a deter-
mination is a negation” (Letter 50 G IV: 240, Curley II: 407). The Hegelian inter-
preters of Spinoza explain his view as follows: it is impossible for any differentiation
to exist in Substance, for any differentiation is negation, while no negation in
cal facts and theory. As an example of an “Eleatic” interpretation of Spinoza’s philosophy, Hallett
mentions Joachim (1964). See Hallett (1957), p. 89, note 3.
12
See Descartes’s Principles of Philosophy, Part II, Proposition 6, Note.
13
As it is characterized in Aristotle’s Metaphysics I, 5, 896b24–25. Consult Spinoza’s Letter 56,
Curley II: 421–2, which is similar to Xenophanes’s criticism of God’s anthropomorphism). A
volume of Aristotle’s writings existed in Spinoza’s personal library. See item 12 on the list that
appears in Freudental 1899.
14
Guthrie 1971, pp. 381 ff., concludes that Xenophanes identified God and the world and, hence,
he should be considered “pantheist,” which is not the way that others considered Xenophanes. In
Letter 56 (Curley II: 421–2), Spinoza criticizes God’s anthropomorphism. His criticism reminds
me very much of that by Xenophanes.
15
To begin with Hegel himself in Part I of The Science of Logic, mentioning “the Eleatic being or
the Spinozistic Substance” (Hegel 1971, p. 151). Many of Spinoza’s Hegelian interpreters follow
this view. See Erdmann 1933; Robert N. Beck, “Some Idealistic Themes in the Ethics,” in
Kennington (1980), pp. 73–87.
Substance is possible, insofar as Substance consists of the absolute affirmation of

the absolutely infinite being. They believe that any attempt in “fixing” Substance
and in making differentiations or discriminations in it means negating and creating
a vacuum or void in it, which can entirely break its continuity into independent
parts, and, finally, contradict the assumption that Substance exists. In this way the
Hegelian interpreters of Spinoza attempt to render him Parmenidian or Eleatic, as if
the assumption that Substance is the absolutely infinite being, in which nothing can
be negated, commits Spinoza, as it were, to an Eleatic stance. It is a roundabout way
of suggesting that Spinoza’s philosophy is either superfluous or that it is simply an
explication or an addendum of the Eleatic monism. And if it is the latter option, this
theory must deny anything experiential and phenomenal or consider it a mere
deception.
How can we interpret the above passages without relying on any Eleatic stance
and without undermining the basic principles of Spinoza’s philosophy? To begin
with, we must understand that a relationship of negation exists between the Attributes
themselves, yet this negation does not entail any defect, imperfection, or deficiency
whatsoever. The negation under discussion denies nothing of the perfection or the
infinitude of any of the Attributes. Hence, Spinoza writes that “although Extension
in itself negates Thought, this does not render it imperfect in whatsoever way”
(Letter 36, G IV: 184). Passage (1) above conveys the same idea. After all, no
Attribute is absolutely infinite, but only infinite in its own kind. Substance is the
only absolutely infinite being, that is, Reality as a whole in its entirely exhaustive
conception. Yet, any Attribute, though not absolutely infinite, lacks nothing, and
nothing can condition it from without. Still, Attributes negate one another: Thought
negates Extension, and Extension negates Thought. The determination of the
Attributes is a mutual negation: Thought demands for itself the right and the capa-
bility to conceive and explain Reality as a whole comprehensively and uncondition-
ally; and it cannot conceive Extension but as conceived by and in Thought, as a
conception of Thought as a whole. Extension, however, can relate to Thought only
as an extended manifestation, i.e., embodiment, of Thought. Yet, Extension is the
absolutely infinite Substance insofar as (quatenus) Substance is extended, and
Extension cannot be denied of Substance, for it expresses its essence, and to deny or
negate the essence necessarily leads to denying or negating Substance itself (accord-
ing to 2def2), which must be just absurd. Yet the essence of Substance, as an
extended thing and as a determination of Substance, actually negates the essence of
Substance as a thinking thing, and vice versa. Nevertheless, Substance’s essence,
insofar as it is of the absolutely infinite being, affirms any of these infinite manifes-
tations of reality in its totality. One of these is the manifestation of God-Substance’s
essence insofar as God is a thinking thing. This essence affirms Extension as God’s
Attribute and all the other Attributes as well. Substance is all the Attributes in their
unity and identity. We must attribute or ascribe to Substance all the real negations,
whose negating nature is cancelled when they are unified in Substance. Thus, any
infinite (total) and unconditioned negation in its kind is an Attribute, and it reveals
its identity also in the content which it negates (this content is the other Attribute or
all other Attributes). It claims for itself a status of a total and unconditioned
explanation for anything existing, but cannot claim for itself a status of an abso-
lutely exhaustive explanation, which has to do with the conception of Substance
alone. In this conception, the Attribute of Thought is identified in all other Attributes,
which are but another total exposition of its own content. In brief, it is the discover-
ing of the identity of the Attribute with all the others, which are simply another
manifestation or distinction of its own content. The revealing of the identity of an
Attribute with all the others is simply the confirmation that all the Attributes are
simply different total determinations of the same being itself. Substance’s identity
must be affirmed in any of its negations—in its infinite and unconditioned negations
(that is, in the Attributes), in its conditioned infinite negations (that is, in infinite
modes), and, finally, in its finite negations (which are finite modes of infinite modes).
To confirm or affirm so is one of the most important tasks of Spinoza’s philosophy,
if it attempts to become a system.
It should be clear now that the total (infinite) extent of the Attribute of Thought
depends on its identification in all other Attributes, at least in Extension. Otherwise
no such extent can be ascribed to Thought; otherwise the possibility emerges that
there are things that are not conceivable, considered, and differentiated under
Thought. The absolute confirmation of the infinitude of Substance means gathering
all its negations (whether infinite or finite) in it as the only absolutely infinite Being.
Only under this condition can Substance be realized as the being which is richest in
content, as there cannot be a being which is richer or more contentful. All things, in
all of their possible forms, exist in Substance.
Even a thought that does not conceive any negation in Substance as an additional
affirmation, actually exists in Substance and reveals its supplementary positive con-
tent. Such a way of thinking perceives Substance simply as an abstract being: as an
empty totality that includes “everything” but in a way contains nothing and that
nothing can be said about it, neither discovered, nor ascribable, nothing except an
empty “identity,” which is entirely devoid of content—everything is everything. In
contrast, an identity resting upon the assumption that any negation of the absolutely
infinite being must ascribe to it more content, and, thus, it is a legitimate identity,
namely, one with content. The content of this identity comprises all modes, all indi-
vidual things, but not in a way in which “we are accustomed to refer all individuals
in Nature to one genus, which is called the most general, i.e., to the notion of being,
which pertains absolutely to all individuals in Nature” (4pre, G II: 207). Referring
thus is to an abstract “totality,” a product of abstraction which is severely criticized
at 2p40s. In contrast, a being abundant with content is a real and concrete being, all
of whose particulars are components of a coherent system.
In light of the above, the transition Spinoza makes from 1p14d (see [3] above) to
1p15 (“Whatsoever is, is in God, and nothing can be or be conceived without God”),
and from 1p15 to 1p16 (“From the necessity of the divine nature there must follow
infinitely many things in infinitely many modes”), becomes quite intelligible. I will
explain below why, according to Spinoza’s philosophy itself, it is impossible to
deduce any of the relevant particulars from the definitions of God, Substance, and
Attribute. Thus, the transition under discussion is not deductive. In addition, it was
impossible to deduce anything from God-Substance, if all we knew about it was that
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
THE PENNY-WEDDING.
By Alex. Campbell.
If any of our readers have ever seen a Scottish penny-wedding,

they will agree with us, we daresay, that it is a very merry affair, and
that its mirth and hilarity is not a whit the worse for its being, as it
generally is, very homely and unsophisticated. The penny-wedding is
not quite so splendid an affair as a ball at Almack’s; but, from all we
have heard and read of these aristocratic exhibitions, we for our own
parts would have little hesitation about our preference, and what is
more, we are quite willing to accept the imputation of having a
horrid bad taste.
It is very well known to those who know anything at all of penny-
weddings, that, when a farmer’s servant is about to be married—such
an occurrence being the usual, or, at least, the most frequent
occasion of these festivities—all the neighbouring farmers, with their
servants, and sometimes their sons and daughters, are invited to the
ceremony; and to those who know this, it is also known that the
farmers so invited are in the habit of contributing each something to
the general stock of good things provided for the entertainment of
the wedding guests—some sending one thing and some another, till
materials are accumulated for a feast, which, both for quantity and
quality, would extort praise from Dr Kitchener himself, than whom
no man ever knew better what good living was. To all this a little
money is added by the parties present, to enable the young couple to
plenish their little domicile.
Having given this brief sketch of what is called a penny-wedding,
we proceed to say that such a merry doing as this took place, as it had
done a thousand times before, in a certain parish (we dare not be
more particular) in the south of Scotland, about five-and-twenty
years ago. The parties—we name them, although it is of no
consequence to our story—were Andrew Jardine and Margaret Laird,
both servants to a respectable farmer in that part of the country of
the name of Harrison, and both very deserving and well-doing
persons.
On the wedding-day being fixed, Andrew went himself to engage
the services of blind Willie Hodge, the parish fiddler, as he might
with all propriety be called, for the happy occasion; and Willie very
readily agreed to attend gratuitously, adding, that he would bring his
best fiddle along with him, together with an ample supply of fiddle-
strings and rosin.
“An’ a wee bit box o’ elbow grease, Willie,” said Andrew, slily; “for
ye’ll hae gude aught hours o’t, at the very least.”
“I’ll be sure to bring that too, Andrew,” replied Willie, laughing;
“but it’s no aught hours that’ll ding me, I warrant. I hae played
saxteen without stoppin, except to rosit.”
“And to weet your whistle,” slipped in Andrew.
“Pho, that wasna worth coontin. It was just a mouthfu’ and at it
again,” said Willie. “I just tak, Andrew,” he went on, “precisely the
time o’ a demisemiquaver to a tumbler o’ cauld liquor, such as porter
or ale; and twa minims or four crochets to a tumbler o’ het drink,
such as toddy; for the first, ye see, I can tak aff at jig time, but the
other can only get through wi’ at the rate o’ ‘Roslin Castle,’ or the
‘Dead March in Saul,’ especially when its brought to me scadding het,
whilk sude never be done to a fiddler.”
Now, as to this very nice chromatic measurement by Willie, of the
time consumed in his potations, while in the exercise of his calling,
we have nothing to say. It may be perfectly correct for aught we
know; but when Willie said that he played at one sitting, and with
only the stoppages he mentioned, for sixteen hours, we rather think
he was drawing fully a longer bow than that he usually played with.
At all events, this we know, that Willie was a very indifferent, if not
positively a very bad fiddler; but he was a good-humoured creature,
harmless and inoffensive, and, moreover, the only one of his calling
in the parish, so that he was fully as much indebted to the necessities
of his customers for the employment he obtained, as to their love or
charity.
The happy day which was to see the humble destinies of Andrew
Jardine and Margaret Laird united having arrived, Willie attired
himself in his best, popped his best fiddle—which was, after all, but a
very sober article, having no more tone than a salt-box—into a green
bag, slipped the instrument thus secured beneath the back of his
coat, and proceeded towards the scene of his impending labours.
This was a large barn, which had been carefully swept and levelled
for the “light fantastic toes” of some score of ploughmen and
dairymaids, not formed exactly after the Chinese fashion. At the
further end of the barn stood a sort of platform, erected on a couple
of empty herring-barrels; and on this again a chair was placed. This
distinguished situation, we need hardly say, was designed for Willie,
who from that elevated position was to pour down his heel-inspiring
strains amongst the revellers below. When Willie, however, came
first upon the ground, the marriage party had not yet arrived. They
were still at the manse, which was hard by, but were every minute
expected. In these circumstances, and it being a fine summer
afternoon, Willie seated himself on a stone at the door, drew forth
his fiddle, and struck up with great vigour and animation, to the
infinite delight of some half-dozen of the wedding guests, who, not
having gone with the others to the manse, were now, like himself,
waiting their arrival. These immediately commenced footing it to
Willie’s music on the green before the door, and thus presented a
very appropriate prelude to the coming festivities of the evening.
While Willie was thus engaged, an itinerant brother in trade, on
the look-out for employment, and who had heard of the wedding,
suddenly appeared, and stealing up quietly beside him, modestly
undid the mouth of his fiddle-bag, laid the neck of the instrument
bare, and drew his thumb carelessly across the strings, to intimate to
him that a rival was near his throne. On hearing the sound of the
instrument, Willie stopped short.
“I doubt, frien, ye hae come to the wrang market,” he said,
guessing at once the object of the stranger. “An’ ye hae been travellin
too, I daresay?” he continued, good-naturedly, and not at all
offended with the intruder, for whom and all of his kind he
entertained a fellow feeling.
“Ay,” replied the new Orpheus, who was a tall, good-looking man
of about eight-and-twenty years of age, but very poorly attired, “I hae
been travellin, as ye say, neebor, an’ hae came twa or three miles out
o’ my way to see if I could pick up a shilling or twa at this weddin.”
“I am sorry now, man, for that,” said Willie, sympathisingly. “I
doot ye’ll be disappointed, for I hae been engaged for’t this fortnight
past. But I’ll tell ye what: if ye’re onything guid o’ the fiddle, ye may
remain, jist to relieve me now an’ then, an’ I’ll mind ye when a’s
ower; an’ at ony rate ye’ll aye pick up a mouthfu’ o’ guid meat and
drink—an’ that ye ken’s no to be fand at every dyke-side.”
“A bargain be’t,” said the stranger, “an’ much obliged to you, frien.
I maun just tak pat-luck and be thankfu. But isna your waddin folks
lang o’ comin?” he added.
“They’ll be here belyve,” replied Willie, and added, “Ye’ll no be
blin, frien?”
“Ou, no,” said the stranger; “thank goodness I hae my sight; but I
am otherwise in such a bad state o’ health, that I canna work, and am
obliged to tak the fiddle for a subsistence.”
While this conversation was going on, the wedding folks were seen
dropping out of the manse in twos and threes, and making straight
for the scene of the evening’s festivities, where they all very soon
after assembled. Ample justice having been done to all the good
things that were now set before the merry party, and Willie and his
colleague having had their share, and being thus put in excellent trim
for entering on their labours, the place was cleared of all
encumbrances, and a fair and open field left for the dancers. At this
stage of the proceedings, Willie was led by his colleague to his
station, and helped up to the elevated chair which had been provided
for him, when the latter handed him his instrument, while he himself
took up his position, fiddle in hand, on his principal’s left, but
standing on the ground, as there was no room for him on the
platform.
Everything being now ready, and the expectant couples ranged in
their respective places on the floor, Willie was called upon to begin,
an order which he instantly obeyed by opening in great style.
On the conclusion of the first reel, in the musical department of
which the strange fiddler had not interfered, the latter whispered to
his coadjutor, that if he liked he would relieve him for the next.
“Weel,” replied the latter, “if ye think ye can gae through wi’t
onything decently, ye may try your hand.”
“I’ll no promise much,” said the stranger, now for the first time
drawing his fiddle out of its bag; “but, for the credit o’ the craft, I’ll
do the best I can.”
Having said this, Willie’s colleague drew his bow across the strings
of his fiddle, with a preparatory flourish, when instantly every face in
the apartment was turned towards him with an expression of delight
and surprise. The tones of the fiddle were so immeasurably superior
to those of poor Willie’s salt-box, that the dullest and most
indiscriminating ear amongst the revellers readily distinguished the
amazing difference. But infinitely greater still was their surprise and
delight when the stranger began to play. Nothing could exceed the
energy, accuracy, and beauty of his performances. He was, in short,
evidently a perfect master of the instrument, and this was instantly
perceived and acknowledged by all, including Willie himself, who
declared, with great candour and goodwill, that he had never heard a
better fiddler in his life.
The result of this discovery was, that the former was not allowed to
lift a bow during the remainder of the night, the whole burden of its
labours being deposited on the shoulders, or perhaps we should
rather say the finger-ends, of the stranger, who fiddled away with an
apparently invincible elbow.
For several hours the dance went on without interruption, and
without any apparent abatement whatever of vigour on the part of
the performers; but, at the end of this period, some symptoms of
exhaustion began to manifest themselves, which were at length fully
declared by a temporary cessation of both the mirth and music.
It was at this interval in the revelries that the unknown fiddler,
who had been, by the unanimous voice of the party, installed in
Willie’s elevated chair, while the latter was reduced to his place on
the floor, stretching himself over the platform, and tapping Willie on
the hat with his bow, to draw his attention, inquired of him, in a
whisper, if he knew who the lively little girl was that had been one of
the partners in the last reel that had been danced.
“Is she a bit red-cheeked, dark-ee’d, and dark-haired lassie, about
nineteen or twenty?” inquired Willie, in his turn.
“The same,” replied the fiddler.
“Ou, that’s Jeanie Harrison,” said Willie, “a kind-hearted, nice bit
lassie. No a better nor a bonnier in a’ the parish. She’s a dochter o’
Mr Harrison o’ Todshaws, the young couple’s maister, an’ a very
respectable man. He’s here himsel, too, amang the lave.”
“Just so,” replied his colleague. And he began to rosin his bow, and
to screw his pegs anew, to prepare for the second storm of
merriment, which he saw gathering, and threatening to burst upon
him with increased fury. Amongst the first on the floor was Jeanie
Harrison.
“Is there naebody’ll tak me out for a reel?” exclaimed the lively girl;
and without waiting for an answer, “Weel, then, I’ll hae the fiddler.”
And she ran towards the platform on which the unknown performer
was seated. But he did not wait her coming. He had heard her name
her choice, laid down his fiddle, and sprang to the floor with the
agility of a harlequin, exclaiming, “Thank ye, my bonny lassie, thank
ye for the honour. I’m your man at a moment’s notice, either for feet
or fiddle.”
It is not quite certain that Jeanie was in perfect earnest when she
made choice of the musician for a partner, but it was now too late to
retract, for the joke had taken with the company, and, with one voice,
or rather shout, they insisted on her keeping faithful to her
engagement, and dancing a reel with the fiddler; and on this no one
insisted more stoutly than the fiddler himself. Finding that she could
do no better, the good-natured girl put the best face on the frolic she
could, and prepared to do her partner every justice in the dance.
Willie having now taken bow in hand, his colleague gave him the
word of command, and away the dancers went like meteors; and here
again the surprise of the party was greatly excited by the
performances of our friend the fiddler, who danced as well as he
played. To say merely that he far surpassed all in the room would
not, perhaps, be saying much; for there were none of them very great
adepts in the art. But, in truth, he danced with singular grace and
lightness, and much did those who witnessed it marvel at the display.
Neither was his bow to his partner, nor his manner of conducting her
to her seat on the conclusion of the reel, less remarkable. It was
distinguished by an air of refined gallantry certainly not often to be
met with in those in his humble station in life. He might have been a
master of ceremonies; and where the beggarly-looking fiddler had
picked up these accomplishments every one found it difficult to
conjecture.
On the termination of the dance, the fiddler—as we shall call him,
par excellence, and to distinguish him from Willie—resumed his seat
and his fiddle, and began to drive away with even more than his
former spirit; but it was observed by more than one that his eye was
now almost constantly fixed, for the remainder of the evening, as,
indeed, it had been very frequently before, on his late partner, Jeanie
Harrison. This circumstance, however, did not prevent him giving
every satisfaction to those who danced to his music, nor did it in the
least impair the spirit of his performances; for he was evidently too
much practised in the use of the instrument, which he managed with
such consummate skill, to be put out, either by the contemplation of
any chance object which might present itself, or by the vagaries of his
imagination.
Leaving our musician in the discharge of his duty, we shall step
over to where Jeanie Harrison is seated, to learn what she thinks of
her partner, and what the Misses Murray, the daughters of a
neighbouring farmer, between whom she sat, think of him, and of
Jeanie having danced with a fiddler.
Premising that the Misses Murray, not being by any means
beauties themselves, entertained a very reasonable and justifiable
dislike and jealousy of all their own sex to whom nature had been
more bountiful in this particular; and finding, moreover, that, from
their excessively bad tempers (this, however, of course, not admitted
by the ladies themselves), they could neither practise nor share in the
amenities which usually mark the intercourse of the sexes, they had
set up for connoisseurs in the articles of propriety and decorum, of
which they professed to be profound judges—premising this, then,
we proceed to quote the conversation that passed between the three
ladies—that is, the Misses Murray and Miss Harrison; the latter
taking her seat between them after dancing with the fiddler.
“My certy!” exclaimed the elder, with a very dignified toss of the
head, “ye warna nice, Jeanie, to dance wi’ a fiddler. I wad hae been
very ill aff, indeed, for a partner before I wad hae taen up wi’ such a
ragamuffin.”
“An’ to go an’ ask him too!” said the younger, with an imitative
toss. “I wadna ask the best man in the land to dance wi’ me, let alane
a fiddler! If they dinna choose to come o’ their ain accord, they may
stay.”
“Tuts, lassies, it was a’ a piece o’ fun,” said the good-humoured
girl. “I’m sure everybody saw that but yersels. Besides, the man’s well
aneugh—na, a gude deal mair than that, if he was only a wee better
clad. There’s no a better-lookin man in the room; and I wish, lassies,”
she added, “ye may get as guid dancers in your partners—that’s a’.”
“Umph! a bonny like taste ye hae, Jeanie, an’ a very strange notion
o’ propriety!” exclaimed the elder, with another toss of the head.
“To dance wi’ a fiddler!” simpered out the younger—who, by the
way, was no chicken either, being but a trifle on the right side of
thirty.
“Ay, to be sure, dance wi’ a fiddler or a piper either. I’ll dance wi’
baith o’ them—an’ what for no?” replied Jeanie. “There’s neither sin
nor shame in’t; and I’ll dance wi’ him again, if he’ll only but ask me.”
“An’ faith he’ll do that wi’ a’ the pleasure in the warld, my bonny
lassie,” quoth the intrepid fiddler, leaping down once more from his
high place; for, there having been a cessation of both music and
dancing while the conversation above recorded was going on, he had
heard every word of it. “Wi’ a’ the pleasure in the warld,” he said,
advancing towards Jeanie Harrison, and making one of his best bows
of invitation; and again a shout of approbation from the company
urged Jeanie to accept it, which she readily did, at once to gratify her
friends and to provoke the Misses Murray.
Having accordingly taken her place on the floor, and other couples
having been mustered for the set, Jeanie’s partner again called on
Willie to strike up; again the dancers started, and again the fiddler
astonished and delighted the company with the grace and elegance of
his performances. On this occasion, however, the unknown
musician’s predilection for his fair partner exhibited a more
unequivocal character; and he even ventured to inquire if he might
call at her father’s, to amuse the family for an hour or so with his
fiddle.
“Nae objection in the warld,” replied Jeanie. “Come as aften as ye
like; and the aftener the better, if ye only bring yer fiddle wi’ ye, for
we’re a’ fond o’ music.”
“A bargain be’t,” said the gallant fiddler; and, at the conclusion of
the reel, he again resumed his place on the platform and his fiddle.
“Time and the hour,” says Shakspeare, “will wear through the
roughest day;” and so they will, also, through the merriest night, as
the joyous party of whom we are speaking now soon found.
Exhaustion and lassitude, though long defied, finally triumphed;
and even the very candles seemed wearied of giving light; and, under
the influence of these mirth-destroying feelings, the party at length
broke up, and all departed, excepting the two fiddlers.
These worthies now adjourned to a public-house, which was close
by, and set very gravely about settling what was to them the serious
business of the evening. Willie had received thirty-one shillings as
payment in full for their united labours; and, in consideration of the
large and unexpected portion of them which had fallen to the
stranger’s share, he generously determined, notwithstanding that he
was the principal party, as having been the first engaged, to give him
precisely the one-half of the money, or fifteen shillings and sixpence.
“Very fair,” said the stranger, on this being announced to him by
his brother in trade—“very fair; but what would ye think of our
drinking the odd sixpences?”
“Wi’ a’ my heart,” replied Willie, “wi’ a’ my heart. A very guid
notion.”
And a jug of toddy, to the value of one shilling, was accordingly
ordered and produced, over which the two got as thick as ben-
leather.
“Ye’re a guid fiddler—I’ll say that o’ ye,” quoth Willie, after tossing
down the first glass of the warm, exhilarating beverage. “I would
never wish to hear a better.”
“I have had some practice,” said the other modestly, and at the
same time following his companion’s example with his glass.
“Nae doot, nae doot, sae’s seen on your playin,” replied the latter.
“How do you fend wi’ yer fiddle? Do ye mak onything o’ a guid leevin
o’t?”
“No that ill ava,” said the stranger. “I play for the auld leddy at the
castle—Castle Gowan, ye ken; indeed, I’m sometimes ca’d the leddy’s
fiddler, and she’s uncommon guid to me. I neither want bite nor
sowp when I gang there.”
“That’s sae far weel,” replied Willie. “She’s a guid judge o’ music
that Leddy Gowan, as I hear them say; and I’m tauld her son, Sir
John, plays a capital bow.”
“No amiss, I believe,” said the stranger; “but the leddy, as ye say, is
an excellent judge o’ music, although whiles, I think, rather ower
fond o’t, for she maks me play for hours thegither, when I wad far
rather be wi’ Tam Yule, her butler, a sonsy, guid-natured chiel, that’s
no sweer o’ the cap. But, speaking o’ that, I’ll tell ye what, frien,” he
continued, “if ye’ll come up to Castle Gowan ony day, I’ll be blithe to
see you, for I’m there at least ance every day, and I’ll warrant ye—for
ye see I can use every liberty there—in a guid het dinner, an’ a jug o’
hetter toddy to wash it ower wi’.”
“A bargain be’t,” quoth Willie; “will the morn do?”
“Perfectly,” said the stranger; “the sooner the better.”
This settled, Willie proceeded to a subject which had been for
some time near his heart, but which he felt some delicacy in
broaching. This feeling, however, having gradually given way before
the influence of the toddy, and of his friend’s frank and jovial
manner, he at length ventured, though cautiously, to step on the ice.
“That’s an uncommon guid instrument o’ yours, frien,” he said.
“Very good,” replied his companion, briefly.
“But ye’ll hae mair than that ane, nae doot?” rejoined the other.
“I hae ither twa.”
“In that case,” said Willie, “maybe ye wad hae nae objection to
pairt wi’ that ane, an’ the price offered ye wur a’ the mair temptin. I’ll
gie ye the fifteen shillins I hae won the nicht, an’ my fiddle, for’t.”
“Thank ye, frien, thank ye for your offer,” replied the stranger; “but
I daurna accept o’t, though I war willin. The fiddle was gien to me by
Leddy Gowan, and I daurna pairt wi’t. She wad miss’t, and then there
would be the deevil to pay.”
“Oh, an’ that’s the case,” said Willie, “I’ll sae nae mair aboot it; but
it’s a first-rate fiddle—sae guid a ane, that it micht amaist play the
lane o’t.”
It being now very late, or rather early, and the toddy jug emptied,
the blind fiddler and his friend parted, on the understanding,
however, that the former would visit the latter at the castle (whither
he was now going, he said, to seek a night’s quarters) on the
following day.
True to his appointment, Willie appeared next day at Gowan
House, or Castle Gowan, as it was more generally called, and
inquired for “the fiddler.” His inquiry was met with great civility and
politeness by the footman who opened the door. He was told “the
fiddler” was there, and desired to walk in. Obeying the invitation,
Willie, conducted by the footman, entered a spacious apartment,
where he was soon afterwards entertained with a sumptuous dinner,
in which his friend the fiddler joined him.
“My word, neighbour,” said Willie, after having made a hearty
meal of the good things that were set before him, and having drank
in proportion, “but ye’re in noble quarters here. This is truly fiddlin
to some purpose, an’ treatin the art as it ought to be treated in the
persons o’ its professors. But what,” he added, “if Sir John should
come in upon us? He wadna like maybe a’ thegither to see a stranger
wi’ ye?”
“Deil a bodle I care for Sir John, Willie! He’s but a wild harum-
scarum throughither chap at the best, an’ no muckle to be heeded.”
“Ay, he’s fond o’ a frolic, they tell me,” quoth Willie; “an’ there’s a
heap o’ gie queer anes laid to his charge, whether they be true or no;
but his heart’s in the richt place, I’m thinkin, for a’ that. I’ve heard o’
mony guid turns he has dune.”
“Ou, he’s no a bad chiel, on the whole, I daresay,” replied Willie’s
companion. “His bark’s waur than his bite—an’ that’s mair than can
be said o’ a rat-trap, at ony rate.”
It was about this period, and then for the first time, that certain
strange and vague suspicions suddenly entered Willie’s mind
regarding his entertainer. He had remarked that the latter gave his
orders with an air of authority which he thought scarcely becoming
in one who occupied the humble situation of “the lady’s fiddler;” but,
singular as this appeared to him, the alacrity and silence with which
these orders were obeyed, was to poor Willie still more
unaccountable. He said nothing, however; but much did he marvel at
the singular good fortune of his brother-in-trade. He had never
known a fiddler so quartered before; and, lost in admiration of his
friend’s felicity, he was about again to express his ideas on the
subject, when a servant in splendid livery entered the room, and
bowing respectfully, said, “The carriage waits you, Sir John.”
“I will be with you presently, Thomas,” replied who? inquires the
reader.
Why, Willie’s companion!
What! is he then Sir John Gowan—he, the fiddler at the penny-
wedding, Sir John Gowan of Castle Gowan, the most extensive
proprietor and the wealthiest man in the county?
The same and no other, good reader, we assure thee.
A great lover of frolic, as he himself said, was Sir John; and this
was one of the pranks in which he delighted. He was an enthusiastic
fiddler; and, as has been already shown, performed with singular
skill on that most difficult, but most delightful, of all musical
instruments.
We will not attempt to describe poor Willie’s amazement and
confusion when this singular fact became known to him; for they are
indescribable, and therefore better left to the reader’s imagination.
On recovering a little from his surprise, however, he endeavoured to
express his astonishment in such broken sentences as these—“Wha
in earth wad hae ever dreamed o’t? Rosit an’ fiddle-strings!—this
beats a’. Faith, a’n I’ve been fairly taen in—clean dune for. A knight o’
the shire to play at a penny-waddin wi’ blin Willie Hodge the fiddler!
The like was ne’er heard tell o’.”
As it is unnecessary, and would certainly be tedious, to protract the
scene at this particular point in our story, we cut it short by saying,
that Sir John presented Willie with the fiddle he had so much
coveted, and which he had vainly endeavoured to purchase; that he
then told down to him the half of the proceeds of the previous night’s
labours which he had pocketed, added a handsome douceur from his
own purse, and finally dismissed him with a pressing and cordial
invitation to visit the castle as often as it suited his inclination and
convenience.
Having arrived at this landing-place in our tale, we pause to
explain one or two things, which is necessary for the full elucidation
of the sequel. With regard to Sir John Gowan himself, there is little
to add to what has been already said of him; for, brief though these
notices of him are, they contain nearly all that the reader need care
to know about him. He was addicted to such pranks as that just
recorded; but this, if it was a defect in his character, was the only
one. For the rest, he was an excellent young man—kind, generous,
and affable; of the strictest honour, and the most upright principles.
He was, moreover, an exceedingly handsome man, and highly
accomplished. At this period, he was unmarried, and lived with his
mother, Lady Gowan, to whom he was most affectionately attached.
Sir John had, at one time, mingled a good deal with the fashionable
society of the metropolis; but soon became disgusted with the
heartlessness of those who composed it, and with the frivolity of their
pursuits; and in this frame of mind he came to the resolution of
retiring to his estate, and of giving himself up entirely to the quiet
enjoyments of a country life, and the pleasing duties which his
position as a large landed proprietor entailed upon him.
Simple in all his tastes and habits, Sir John had been unable to
discover, in any of the manufactured beauties to whom he had been,
from time to time, introduced while he resided in London, one to
whom he could think of intrusting his happiness. The wife he desired
was one fresh from the hand of nature, not one remodelled by the
square and rule of art; and such a one he thought he had found
during his adventure of the previous night.
Bringing this digression, which we may liken to an interlude, to a
close, we again draw up the curtain, and open the second act of our
little drama with an exhibition of the residence of Mr Harrison at
Todshaws.
The house or farm-steading of this worthy person was of the very
best description of such establishments. The building itself was
substantial, nay, even handsome, while the excellent garden which
was attached to it, and all the other accessories and appurtenances
with which it was surrounded, indicated wealth and comfort. Its
situation was on the summit of a gentle eminence that sloped down
in front to a noisy little rivulet, that careered along through a narrow
rugged glen overhanging with hazel, till it came nearly opposite the
house, where it wound through an open plat of green sward, and
shortly after again plunged into another little romantic ravine similar
to the one it had left.
The approach to Mr Harrison’s house lay along this little rivulet,
and was commanded, for a considerable distance, by the view from
the former—a circumstance which enabled Jeanie Harrison to
descry, one fine summer afternoon, two or three days after the
occurrence of the events just related, the approach of the fiddler with
whom she had danced at the wedding. On making this discovery,
Jeanie ran to announce the joyful intelligence to all the other
members of the family, and the prospect of a merry dancing
afternoon opened on the delighted eyes of its younger branches.
When the fiddler—with whose identity the reader is now as well
acquainted as we are—had reached the bottom of the ascent that led
to the house, Jeanie, with excessive joy beaming in her bright and
expressive eye, and her cheek glowing with the roseate hues of
health, rushed down to meet him, and to welcome him to Todshaws.
“Thank ye, my bonny lassie—thank ye,” replied the disguised
baronet, expressing himself in character, and speaking the language
of his assumed station. “Are ye ready for anither dance?”
“Oh, a score o’ them—a thousand o’ them,” said the lively girl.
“But will your faither, think ye, hae nae objections to my comin?”
inquired the fiddler.
“Nane in the warld. My faither is nane o’ your sour carles that wad
deny ither folk the pleasures they canna enjoy themsels. He likes to
see a’body happy around him—every ane his ain way.”
“An’ your mother?”
“Jist the same. Ye’ll find her waur to fiddle doun than ony o’ us.
She’ll dance as lang’s a string hauds o’t.”
“Then, I may be quite at my ease,” rejoined Sir John.
“Quite so,” replied Jeanie—and she slipped half-a-crown into his
hand—“and there’s your arles; but ye’ll be minded better ere ye leave
us.”
“My word, no an ill beginnin,” quoth the musician, looking with
well-affected delight at the coin, and afterwards putting it carefully
into his pocket. “But ye could hae gien me a far mair acceptable arles
than half-a-crown,” he added, “and no been a penny the poorer
either.”
“What’s that?” said Jeanie, laughing and blushing at the same
time, and more than half guessing, from the looks of the pawky
fiddler, what was meant.
“Why, my bonny leddie,” he replied, “jist a kiss o’ that pretty little
mou o’ yours.”
“Oh, ye gowk!” exclaimed Jeanie, with a roguish glance at her
humble gallant; for, disguised as he was, he was not able to conceal a
very handsome person, nor the very agreeable expression of a set of
remarkably fine features—qualities which did not escape the
vigilance of the female eye that was now scanning their possessor.
Nor would we say that these qualities were viewed with total
indifference, or without producing their effect, even although they
did belong to a fiddler.
“Oh, ye gowk!” said Jeanie; “wha ever heard o’ a fiddler preferring
a kiss to half-a-crown?”
“But I do, though,” replied the disguised knight; “and I’ll gie ye
yours back again for’t.”
“The mair fule you,” exclaimed Jeanie, rushing away towards the
house, and leaving the fiddler to make out the remainder of the way
by himself.
On reaching the house, the musician was ushered into the kitchen,
where a plentiful repast was instantly set before him, by the kind and
considerate hospitality of Jeanie, who, not contented with her guest’s
making a hearty meal at table, insisted on his pocketing certain
pieces of cheese, cold meat, &c., which were left. These the fiddler
steadily refused; but Jeanie would take no denial, and with her own
hands crammed them into his capacious pockets, which, after the
operation, stuck out like a well-filled pair of saddle-bags. But there
was no need for any one who might be curious to know what they
contained, to look into them for that purpose. Certain projecting
bones of mutton and beef, which it was found impossible to get
altogether out of sight, sufficiently indicated their contents. Of this
particular circumstance, however—we mean the projection of the
bones from the pockets—we must observe, the owner of the said
pockets was not aware, otherwise, we daresay, he would have been a
little more positive in rejecting the provender which Jeanie’s
warmheartedness and benevolence had forced upon him.
Be this as it may, however, so soon as the musician had finished
his repast, he took fiddle in hand, and opened the evening with a
slow pathetic Scottish air, which he played so exquisitely that
Jeanie’s eye filled with a tear, as she listened in raptures to the sweet
but melancholy turns of the affecting tune.
Twice the musician played over the touching strain, delighted to
perceive the effects of the music on the lovely girl who stood before
him, and rightly conceiving it to be an unequivocal proof of a
susceptible heart and of a generous nature.
A third time he began the beautiful air; but he now accompanied it
with a song, and in this accomplishment he was no less perfect than
in the others which have been already attributed to him. His voice
was at once manly and melodious, and he conducted it with a skill
that did it every justice. Having played two or three bars of the tune,
his rich and well-regulated voice chimed in with the following words:
—
Oh, I hae lived wi’ high-bred dames,
Each state of life to prove,
But never till this hour hae met
The girl that I could love.
It’s no in fashion’s gilded ha’s

That she is to be seen;
Beneath her father’s humble roof
Abides my bonny Jean.
Oh, wad she deign ae thought to wair,

Ae kindly thought on me,
Wi’ pearls I wad deck her hair,
Though low be my degree.
Wi’ pearls I wad deck her hair,

Wi’ gowd her wrists sae sma’;
An’ had I lands and houses, she’d
Be leddy ower them a’.
The sun abune’s no what he seems,

Nor is the night’s fair queen;
Then wha kens wha the minstrel is
That’s wooin bonny Jean?
Jeanie could not help feeling a little strange as the minstrel

proceeded with a song which seemed to have so close a reference to
herself.
She, of course, did not consider this circumstance otherwise than
as merely accidental; but she could not help, nevertheless, being
somewhat embarrassed by it; and this was made sufficiently evident
by the blush that mantled on her cheek, and by the confusion of her
manner under the fixed gaze of the singer, while repeating the verses
just quoted.
When he had concluded, “Well, good folks all,” he said, “what
think ye of my song?” And without waiting for an answer, about
which he seemed very indifferent, he added, “and how do you like it,
Jeanie?” directing the question exclusively to the party he named.
“Very weel,” replied Jeanie, again blushing, but still more deeply
than before; “the song is pretty, an’ the air delightfu’; but some o’ the
verses are riddles to me. I dinna thoroughly understand them.”
“Don’t you?” replied Sir John, laughing; “then I’ll explain them to
you by-and-by; but, in the meantime, I must screw my pegs anew,
and work for my dinner, for I see the good folk about me here are all
impatience to begin.” A fact this which was instantly acknowledged
by a dozen voices; and straightway the whole party proceeded, in
compliance with a suggestion of Mr Harrison, to the green in front of
the house, where Sir John took up his position on the top of an
inverted wheelbarrow, and immediately commenced his labours.
For several hours the dance went on with uninterrupted glee, old
Mr Harrison and his wife appearing to enjoy the sport as much as the
youngest of the party, and both being delighted with the masterly
playing of the musician. But although, as on a former occasion, Sir
John did not suffer anything to interfere with, or interrupt the charge
of the duties expected of him, there was but a very small portion of
his mind or thoughts engrossed by the employment in which he was
engaged. All, or nearly all, were directed to the contemplation of the
object on which his affections had now become irrevocably fixed.
Neither was his visit to Todshaws, on this occasion, by any means
dictated solely by the frivolous object of affording its inmates
entertainment by his musical talents. His purpose was a much more
serious one. It was to ascertain, as far as such an opportunity would
afford him the means, the dispositions and temper of his fair
enslaver. Of these, his natural shrewdness had enabled him to make
a pretty correct estimate on the night of the wedding; but he was
desirous of seeing her in other circumstances, and he thought none
more suitable for his purpose than those of a domestic nature.
It was, then, to see her in this position that he had now come; and
the result of his observations was highly gratifying to him.
He found in Miss Harrison all that he, at any rate, desired in
woman. He found her guileless, cheerful, gentle, kind-hearted, and
good-tempered, beloved by all around her, and returning the
affection bestowed on her with a sincere and ardent love.
Such were the discoveries which the disguised baronet made on
this occasion; and never did hidden treasure half so much gladden
the heart of the fortunate finder, as these did that of him who made
them. It is true that Sir John could not be sure, nor was he, that his
addresses would be received by Miss Harrison, even after he should
have made himself known; but he could not help entertaining a
pretty strong confidence in his own powers of persuasion, nor being,
consequently, tolerably sanguine of success. All this, however, was to
be the work of another day. In the meantime, the dancers having had
their hearts’ content of capering on the green sward, the fiddle was
put up, and the fiddler once more invited into the house, where he
was entertained with the same hospitality as before, and another
half-crown slipped into his hand. This he also put carefully into his
pocket; and having partaken lightly of what was set before him, rose
up to depart, alleging that he had a good way to go, and was desirous
of availing himself of the little daylight that still remained. He was
pressed to remain all night, but this he declined; promising,
however, in reply to the urgent entreaties with which he was assailed
on all sides to stay, that he would very soon repeat his visit. Miss
Harrison he took by the hand, and said, “I promised to explain to you
the poetical riddle which I read, or rather attempted to sing, this
evening. It is now too late to do this, for the explanation is a long
one; but I will be here again, without fail, in a day or two, when I
shall solve all, and, I trust, to your satisfaction. Till then, do not
forget your poor fiddler.”
“No, I winna forget ye,” said Jeanie. “It wadna be easy to forget ane
that has contributed so much to our happiness. Neither would it be
more than gratefu’ to do so, I think.”
“And you are too kind a creature to be ungrateful to any one,
however humble may be their attempts to win your favour; of that I
feel assured.” Having said this, and perceiving that he was
unobserved, he quickly raised the fair hand he held to his lips, kissed
it, and hurried out of the door.
What Jane Harrison thought of this piece of gallantry from a
fiddler, we really do not know, and therefore will say nothing about
it. Whatever her thoughts were, she kept them to herself. Neither did
she mention to any one the circumstance which gave rise to them.
Nor did she say, but for what reason we are ignorant, how much she
had been pleased with the general manners of the humble musician,
with the melodious tones of his voice, and the fine expression of his
dark hazel eye. Oh, love, love! thou art a leveller, indeed, else how
should it happen that the pretty daughter of a wealthy and
respectable yeoman should think for a moment, with certain
indescribable feelings, of a poor itinerant fiddler? Mark, good reader,
however, we do not say that Miss Harrison was absolutely in love
with the musician. By no means. That would certainly be saying too
much. But it is as certainly true, that she had perceived something
about him that left no disagreeable impression—nay, something
which she wished she might meet with in her future husband,
whoever he might be.
Leaving Jeanie Harrison to such reflections as these, we will follow
the footsteps of the disguised baronet. On leaving the house, he
walked at a rapid pace for an hour or so, till he came to a turn in the
road, at the distance of about four miles from Todshaws, where his
gig and man-servant, with a change of clothes, were waiting him by
appointment. Having hastily divested himself of his disguise, and
resumed his own dress, he stepped into the vehicle, and about
midnight arrived at Castle Gowan.
In this romantic attachment of Sir John Gowan’s, or rather in the
romantic project which it suggested to him of offering his heart and
hand to the daughter of a humble farmer, there was but one doubtful
point on his side of the question, at any rate. This was, whether he
could obtain the consent of his mother to such a proceeding. She
loved him with the utmost tenderness; and, naturally of a mild,
gentle, and affectionate disposition, her sole delight lay in promoting
the happiness of her beloved son. To secure this great object of her
life, there was scarcely any sacrifice which she would not make, nor
any proposal with which she would not willingly comply. This Sir
John well knew, and fully appreciated; but he felt that the call which
he was now about to make on her maternal love was more than he
ought to expect she would answer. He, in short, felt that she might,
with good reason, and without the slightest infringement of her
regard for him, object to his marrying so far beneath his station. It
was not, therefore, without some misgivings that he entered his
mother’s private apartment on the day following his adventure at
Todshaws, for the purpose of divulging the secret of his attachment,
and hinting at the resolution he had formed regarding it.
“Mother,” he said, after a pause which had been preceded by the
usual affectionate inquiries of the morning, “you have often
expressed a wish that I would marry.”
“I have, John,” replied the good old lady. “Nothing in this world
would afford me greater gratification than to see you united to a
woman who should be every way deserving of you—one with whom
you could live happily.”
“Ay, that last is the great, the important consideration, at least
with me. But where, mother, am I to find that woman? I have
mingled a good deal with the higher ranks of society, and there,
certainly, I have not been able to find her. I am not so uncharitable
as to say—nay, God forbid I should—that there are not as good, as
virtuous, as amiable women, in the upper classes of society as in the
lower. I have no doubt there are. All that I mean to say is, that I have
not been fortunate enough to find one in that sphere to suit my
fancy, and have no hopes of ever doing so. Besides, the feelings,
sentiments, and dispositions of these persons, both male and female,
are so completely disguised by a factitious manner, and by
conventional rules, that you never can discover what is their real
nature and character. They are still strangers to you, however long
you may be acquainted with them. You cannot tell who or what they
are. The roller of fashion reduces them all to one level; and, being all
clapped into the same mould, they become mere repetitions of each
other, as like as peas, without exhibiting the slightest point of variety.

Full Chapter A Rose Armed With Thorns Spinoza S Philosophy Under A Novel Lens Amihud Gilead PDF

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

You might also like

Full Chapter A Rose Armed With Thorns Spinoza S Philosophy Under A Novel Lens Amihud Gilead PDF

Uploaded by

Document Information

Original Title

Copyright

Available Formats

Share this document

Share or Embed Document

Sharing Options

Did you find this document useful?

Is this content inappropriate?

Copyright:

Available Formats

Full Chapter A Rose Armed With Thorns Spinoza S Philosophy Under A Novel Lens Amihud Gilead PDF

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

A Rose Armed with Thorns Spinoza s

Philosophy Under a Novel Lens Amihud

Spinoza s Philosophy of Ratio Beth Lord (Ed.)

Spinoza A Life Steven Nadler

Spinoza A Life 2nd Edition Steven Nadler

Suicide through a Peacebuilding Lens Katerina Standish

Socialising with Diversity: Relational Diversity

A Court of Thorns and Roses 1st Edition Maas

A Home for Noelle It s Complicated 1 A Forever Safe

Mariposa s Song A Novel 1st Edition Peter Lasalle

ARCHIVES INTERNATIONALES D'HISTOIRE DES IDÉES

A ROSE ARMED WITH THORNS: SPINOZA’S

More information about this series at http://www.springer.com/series/5640

A Rose Armed with Thorns:

ISSN 0066-6610 ISSN 2215-0307 (electronic)

© Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020

)‫ תשמ”ז‬,‫ מוסד ביאליק‬:‫ דרכה של תורת שפינוזה לשיטה פילוסופית (ירושלים‬1

deductive system pertains to this type. Instead, he follows a model of a system of

singular, things. Spinoza does acknowledge philosophical systematization and defi-

Haifa, Israel Amihud Gilead

1 Substance as the Systematic Unity of the Necessary Plurality������������ 1

4 The First Kind of Knowledge: Imaginatio �������������������������������������������� 109

6.3 The Relationship Between the Supreme Grade

1.1  he Differentiation in Substance—Spinoza’s Philosophy

Spinoza emphasizes the necessity of the plurality of Attributes also in Letter 9 (G

© Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 1

“particularly … , the more clearly it is understood” (TdIE 55).1 It is rather our

be perceived by [an] Infinite Intellect as constituting an essence of substance per-

Substance is possible, insofar as Substance consists of the absolute affirmation of

If any of our readers have ever seen a Scottish penny-wedding,

It’s no in fashion’s gilded ha’s

Oh, wad she deign ae thought to wair,

Wi’ pearls I wad deck her hair,

The sun abune’s no what he seems,

Jeanie could not help feeling a little strange as the minstrel

You might also like

Haifa, Israel Amihud Gilead

1 Substance as the Systematic Unity of the Necessary Plurality�� 1

4 The First Kind of Knowledge: Imaginatio �� 109

6.3 The Relationship Between the Supreme Grade

1.1 he Differentiation in Substance—Spinoza’s Philosophy