The Witch of Cologne

The philosopher glances around the room, nodding and gently smiling at those assembled, taking his time to shake the hands of all in attendance. Ruth, paralysed with anticipation, says nothing for she knows he has not recognised her in her female attire. After an eternity he turns towards her.

‘We collegians have not had the pleasure of a woman amongst us since the visit of the English Quaker, Margaret Fell. Indeed, I have never regarded theology or philosophy to be the domain of the feminine.’

‘Good sir, you know me not as the feminine but as the masculine.’

With that she slips off her head scarf. Spinoza looks perplexed then slowly a gleam of delighted recognition crosses his face.

‘Felix van Jos?’

“Tis the slow-witted youth himself, Benedict.’

The others look on bewildered as, smiling, he takes her hands into his own. ‘Ruth, the girl has become a woman.’

‘A wife and mother, sir, but I still practise my craft and retain my curiosity in scientia nova.’

‘I had been wondering what became of you. Your correspondence finished so suddenly during the Great Plague. I feared the worst.’

‘Fear not, it is really me, solid in flesh and spirit. For the last four years I have been living in Amsterdam, but I had not the courage to face you until now.’

‘Pray why?’

‘I have always been aware that your acceptance of my sex is predicated upon your observation that I am a freak of nature: a man’s intellect trapped within the form of a woman.’

‘Indeed, I still hold the opinion that women have not by nature equal rights with men, and that thus it cannot be that both sexes should rule alike, much less that men should be ruled by women.’

The other men in the room break into laughter, amused by the absurdity of such a notion. Only Detlef remains soberfaced.

Glancing at him, Spinoza smiles indulgently before continuing. ‘Therefore it follows that women should be excluded from government because of their natural weakness.’

Unable to control himself, Detlef interrupts.

‘With all respect, my wife has all the qualities I would look for in a leader although she has no desire to lead.’

‘Your wife?’

Spinoza glances from Detlef back to Ruth, who is defiant despite her burning cheeks.

‘I believe you know my husband, Detlef von Tennen?’

‘Naturally, his reputation as a preacher and theologian precedes him, but I see now he has other recommendations.’

‘He has. For you see, my most valued mentor, I took your notion to heart and I too regarded myself as an aberration and excluded all possibility of being loved and accepted by a man for my true nature. But as you now observe, Benedict, I believe we may both have been wrong.’

The room falls silent as all eyes turn to the philosopher. For a moment a cloud of irritation crosses Spinoza’s benign features, then suddenly his face breaks into an expression of amused perplexity as he extends his hand to Detlef.

‘I congratulate you on your enlightenment, but you must forgive me if I can only meet you halfway. Women should never be in government, by this I stand.’

‘Halfway is at least some of the way. In this we can agree to differ. I am honoured just to be in the presence of such eminent intellects.’

Detlef’s reply is firm and not in the least obsequious, Ruth observes. Her husband and she are of one mind, bound by one spirit, she thinks with renewed respect for his courage, although it is this outspoken bravery that makes her nervous for his safety.

Detlef’s gaze remains upon the philosopher. If Spinoza’s observations about the differences between man and woman are limited, so be it, he thinks. He still has a true comprehension of where man sits in the monumental scale of the universe, and he lives his philosophy. There is no compromise between his beliefs and his actions. His perception makes everything divine. He knows that all that is around him is God. This I respect, he thinks. Inspired, Detlef cannot help but feel immense gratitude towards the woman whose devotion has made the encounter with this luminary possible.

The philosopher takes his place at the head of the table. There is a flurry of chair-scraping and muffled coughs as the other men follow suit. Ruth, beside Detlef again, is reminded of an eccentric Last Supper with the philosopher as a bizarre Christ figure surrounded by his silent yet totally attentive disciples. Who would be Judas? Any man present could notify the ecclesiastical authorities of any philosophising which might be deemed blasphemous. And these are particularly dangerous times. She shudders, remembering the fate of Adriaan Koerbagh, who, if he were alive, would be sitting amongst them.

The silence thickens as Spinoza very deliberately packs a clay pipe then places a large bound manuscript on the table before him. Only after balancing a wire-rimmed pair of lenses on his nose does he begin to speak.

‘Firstly I wish to thank all those present. In this current climate it is no mean feat to speak out even in the company of trusted and like minds. In many ways it is precisely this that has propelled me to extend my writings to my latest treatise, Tractatus theologico-politicus. For within it is illustrated the belief that freedom to philosophise can not only be granted without injury to piety and the peace of the commonwealth, but that the peace of the commonwealth and piety are endangered by the suppression of this very freedom. I have also set out to prove that faith is something separate from philosophy, however there is room for both to coexist in a truly democratic Republic. In fact, I believe this to be a necessity within a Republic.