When Spinoza heard that a crazed mob had just murdered Prime Minister De Witt and his brother, his peace of mind was shattered, and he lost all sense of reason. The news was horrifying. The mob dragged the brothers to a scaffold with such violence that they were mutilated and dead when they got there. They nevertheless strung up the bodies upside down, as in a butcher shop, and ripped them to pieces. Spinoza leapt up from his desk and, without thinking, shouted that he would rush out immediately and denounce the mob, show them exactly what they were—filth, scum, the ultimate in barbarity. And then, losing his mind completely, he added that, in order to drive his point thoroughly home, he would hammer a placard to the scaffold, written in the clearest Latin, saying exactly what he thought o
