minate erudition,
not independent thought, was all the Jewish leaders, connected in one
way or another with the Synagogue, were able to achieve. It was far
safer to cling to the innocuous past than it was to strike out boldly
into the future. Any independence of thought that was likely to prove
socially dangerous as well as schismatic was promptly suppressed. The
humiliation and excommunication (circa 1640) of the indecisive martyr
Uriel da Costa when he ventured to entertain doctrines that were not
orthodox, were prompted as much by political as by religious
considerations. It is true, many of the faithful were attracted by
Cabbalistic wonders and the strange hope of being saved from a bitter
exile by a Messianic Sabbatai Zevi. But these wayward deviations, in
reality not so very far removed from orthodox tradition, exhibited only
the more clearly the fearsome inner insecurity which a strained
formalism in thought and habit bravely attempted to cover.

In such social and intellectual atmosphere Spinoza grew up. Of his early
life, practically nothing is known. His parents, we know, were at least
fairly well-to-do, for Spinoza received a good education. And we know
that he was, when about fifteen years of age, one of the most brilliant
and promising of Rabbi Saul Levi Morteira's pupils. Everyone who then
knew Spinoza expected great things of him. He proved himself to be a
very acute rabbinical student; at that early age already somewhat too
critical, if anything, to suit the orthodox. But all felt reasonably
confident he would become a distinguished Rabbi, and perhaps a great
commentator of the Bible. Of course, of the orthodox sort.

But the Rabbis were early disillusioned. Spinoza soon found the learning
of the Synagogue insufficient and unsatisfactory. He sought the wisdom
of secular philosophy and science. But in order to satisfy his
intellectual desires it was necessary to study Latin. And Latin was not
taught in the Synagogue.

An anonymous German taught Spinoza the rudiments of the language that
was to enable him to enter into the important current of modern ideas
especially embodied in the philosophy of Descartes. Francis Van den Ende
gave him a thorough technical, not literary, mastery of it. And Van den
Ende taught Spinoza much more besides. He acquainted him with the
literature of antiquity; he gave him a sound knowledge of the
contemporary fundamentals of physiology and physics; and it was he
possibly, who