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 LEIBNIZ’S AESTHETICS
The Metaphysics of Beauty

Carlos N. Portales

Thesis submitted for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy

The University of Edinburgh

2019
 2

I declare that this thesis has been composed solely by myself and that it has not been submitted, in whole or in
part, in any previous application for a degree. Except where states otherwise by reference or acknowledgment,
the work presented is entirely my own.

12/03/2019
______________________ ______________________

Carlos N. Portales Date

 3

ABSTRACT

Here I argue that Leibniz’s notion of beauty constitutes a coherent, although somehow implicit, position of
realist and cognitive aesthetic formalism: beauty is metaphysically and ontologically explained as a formal
structure, which is an objective property of things with objective value, yet at the same time accessible for
subjective experience.
In the first part of the thesis, I respond to the question what is beauty for Leibniz? The general answer
is that beauty is a nominalist notion grounded on a formal structure, which corresponds to the formula of unity
in variety or harmony. Beauty is not something in itself, but it is in things that comply with the formal structure
of unity in variety, as well as some formal features entailed by this formula, such as wholeness, intelligibility
and potential for pleasure. After gaining an insight into a general definition of beauty, I focus on the notion of
variety and argue that it is not just a multiplicity of things, but also the degree of difference between those
things. For Leibniz greater variety, and thus greater beauty, is achieved when something expresses a harmonic
whole that includes not only perfectly consonant and similar elements, but also conflicting and dissonant
elements. In this way, beautiful things can exhibit a sort of complexity in their variety –which may even appear
as disorder–, as long as this variety finds an underlying order that reduces complexity and guarantees beauty.
For Leibniz, order is indeed an essential requirement for beauty. I argue that what unites this variety and effects
beauty is not one entity imposing over many, but an abstract principle of order that organises many diverse
things. This principle is the unity that the postulated formula of beauty expresses. Thus, an entity is beautiful
when its diverse components relate among each other in accordance with one principle of order.
In the second part of the thesis, I argue that for Leibniz beauty is not only an objective property, but
also an objective value, which is, nonetheless, available for subjective experience. The objectivity of beauty as a
property consists in its independence from three factors: subjective recognition, existence, and God’s will. I
explain that, in accordance with Leibniz’s philosophy, something is beautiful as a possible thing, before it gains
existence, so even before it can be grasped by any subject. The beauty of a possible thing is determined by its
compliance with the formal structure and requisites mentioned above. These rules of beauty do not depend on
God’s will, but they are in his intellect just as are mathematical truths. Hence, beautiful things are as such not
only independent from finite subjects, but also from God’s will. Likewise, the aesthetic value of the universe is
also objective. This means two things; firstly, that beauty is not only valuable when appreciated by finite beings,
and secondly, that nature’s aesthetic value is not meant only for our pleasure and happiness. I explain that the
world’s value is perfection and, in turn, perfection is a rational order in the form of unity in variety, which is
also beauty. Thus, unity in variety is valuable independently of valuers.
Finally, I claim that for Leibniz we can experience beauty through distinct knowledge and also through
confused perceptions. Since unity in variety is a formal abstract structure it is better experienced through distinct
ideas. However, Leibniz also considers that this structure manifests itself through matter and we can experience
confusedly through our senses. Accordingly, even if we are not conscious of the structure of beauty itself, we
still can experience it. Indeed our aesthetic experiences can have confused elements as well as distinct ones at
the same time. Moreover, experience of beauty can be a progression from more confused to more distinct not
too different from the progress of knowledge.
 4

LAY SUMMARY

Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz was a polymath and philosopher who lived between the 17th and 18th century. He is
famous for many mathematical and scientific discoveries, as well as for his insightful philosophical views on
many areas of this discipline. Because of his merits, scholars have researched and written profusely about his
ideas. Yet, one aspect of his philosophy remains poorly considered by researchers: Leibniz’s views about
aesthetics, or more specifically, his philosophical ideas about beauty. In my thesis, I explain what beauty is for
Leibniz, as well as how it relates to nature and us humans. As many of previous philosophers, Leibniz defines
beauty as harmony. In turn, harmony is unity in variety. Hence, there is greater beauty when there is greater
harmony, i.e. more variety with a higher degree of unity. What makes Leibniz’ view distinctive from the rest is
what unity and variety mean for him.
Unity for Leibniz is not the compression of many elements into one thing, but an order that governs the
relations between two or more elements. Hence, there is unity wherever a set of things relate to each other with
a certain order. On the other hand, variety is not just many things, but also the difference between two or more
things. Thus, an object is more beautiful when it is composed of more diverse parts. Since a higher degree of
difference among components is beneficial for harmony and beauty, a beautiful thing should include not only
perfectly consonant and similar parts, but also conflicting and dissonant ones. Therefore, greater harmony is
given by the inclusion of dissonant elements, which by themselves make things look chaotic. But according to
Leibniz, true beauty comes from an order that unites the apparent chaos introduced by dissonances. So beauty
follows the structure of a tonal musical piece that mixes dissonances with consonances, yet in the end, and as a
whole, it always resolves dissonances in perfect harmony. In the same way, beautiful things can exhibit a sort of
complexity in their variety that appears as disorder, but truly there is always an underlying order that reduces
complexity and guarantees beauty. This order does not make dissonances disappear, it just shows that within a
greater order they can find a correct place and thus become a contribution to overall harmony.
Based on this idea, Leibniz claims that the natural world is objectively beautiful, i.e. it is beautiful even
if no one is there to perceive it. If beauty is harmony, the world only requires to be harmonious in order to be
beautiful, independently of any individual impression that humans might have of it. For Leibniz, God is perfect,
therefore he cannot but create the most perfect possible universe. Since harmony is a sign of perfection, the most
perfect possible world must be harmonious. Thus, the world must be beautiful and hence valuable even if we do
not notice it.
Yet, Leibniz insists that if we are wise we can indeed recognise the world’s beauty and its value.
According to him, we can experience beauty in two ways: on one hand we can distinctly recognise the structure
of beauty, which means to acquire intellectual knowledge of the abstract structure that orders a variety of
elements, like when we hear a piece of music and consciously understand its rhythmic patterns and tonal
structure. On the other hand, even if we fail to gain intellectual knowledge of the structure of beauty, we can still
perceive it indirectly through our senses. For example, we can hear a piece of music, without distinct knowledge
of its structure, but still confusedly perceive it through the melody of the piece. Thus, even if we are unaware of
the structure of beauty we can still experience it.
In this sense, Leibniz’s notion of beauty is characterised as the structure of unity in variety that is an
objective and fundamentally valuable property, yet at the same time accessible for subjective experience.
 5

CONTENTS

Abbreviations 6

Introduction 9

Part I: What is beauty? 18

I. Perfection, harmony and beauty 28

II. Variety 47

III. Unity 69

Part II: Beauty as a property, value and experience 103

IV. Beauty as a property 110

V. Beauty as value 127

VI. Beauty as experience 159

Conclusion 205

Bibliography 212
 6

ABBREVIATIONS

A Sämtliche Schriften und Briefe, Darmstadt and Berlin: Berlin Academy, 1923-.

AG Roger Ariew and Daniel Garber, trs. & eds., G. W. Leibniz: Philosophical Essays,
Indianapolis: Hackett, 1989.

AT Charles Adam and Paul Tannery, eds., Rene Descartes: Œuvres de Descartes, new edition.
Paris: Vrin, 1964-74.

C Louis Couturat, ed., Opuscules et Fragments Inédits de Leibniz. Hildesheim: Olms, 1966.

CE Edwin Curley, trs, & ed., Benedict De Spinoza: Ethics. London: Penguin Books, 1996.

CP Robert C. Sleigh Jr., ed & tr., with contributions from Brandon Look and James
Stam, Confessio Philosophi: Papers Concerning the Problem of Evil, 1671–1678. New
Haven: Yale University Press, 2005.

CSM John Cottingham, Robert Stoothoff and Dugald Murdoch, trs. & eds., The Philosophical
Writings of Descartes, 3 vols., Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984-91.

D George Martin Duncan, tr. & ed., The Philosophical Works of Leibnitz. New Haven: Tuttle,
Morehouse & Taylor Publishers, 1890.

DS Gottschalk Eduard Guhrauer ed., Leibnitz’s Deutsche Schriften. Berlin: Veit und Comp.,
1838-40.

FB Louis Alexandre Foucher de Careil, ed., Refutation Inedite de Spinoza. Paris: Ladrange,
1854.

GM Carl Immanuel Gerhardt, ed., Leibnizens Mathematische Schriften, 7 vols., Berlin: A.

Asher; Halle: H. W. Schmidt, 1849-63.

GOC André Gombay, ed., assisted by Calvin Normore, Randal Keen and Rod Watkins, Œuvres
Complètes de René Descartes. Toronto: Connaught Descartes Project, University of
Toronto; Charlottesville: InteLex Corporation, 2001.

GP Carl Immanuel Gerhardt, ed., Die Philosophischen Schriften von Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz,
7 vols., Berlin: Weidman, 1875-90. Reprint, Hildesheim: Olms, 1975-90.

Grua Gaston Grua, ed., Leibniz: Textes Inédits, 2 vols., Paris: Presses Universitaires de France,
1948.

GW Carl Immanuel Gerhardt, ed., Briefwechsel zwischen Leibniz und Christian Wolff, Halle: H.
W. Schmidt, 1860.

H E. M. Huggard, tr., G. W. Leibniz: Theodicy; Essays on the Goodness of God, the Freedom
of Man and the Origin of Evil, London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1951. Reprint, La Salle,
Illinois: Open Court, 1985.
 7

Hasse Rudolf Hasse, ed., Der Briefwechsel zwischen Leibniz und Conrad Henfling. Frankfurt am
Main: Leibniz-Archives 9, 1982.

K Onno Klopp, ed., Die Werke von Leibniz, 11 vols. Hanover: Klindworth, 1864-84.

L Leroy E. Loemker, tr. & ed., G. W. Leibniz: Philosophical Papers and Letters, 2nd ed..
Dordrecht: Reidel, 1969.

Latta Robert Latta, tr. & ed., Leibniz: The Monadology and other Philosophical Writings.
London: Oxford University Press, 1898.

LAV Stephen Voss, tr. & ed., The Leibniz- Arnauld Correspondence. The Yale Leibniz. New
Haven: Yale University Press, 2016.

LDB Brandon Look and Donald Rutherford, ed. & tr., The Leibniz-Des Bosses Correspondence.
The Yale Leibniz. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2007

LDV Paul Lodge, tr. & ed., The Leibniz-De Volder Correspondence: With Selections from the
Correspondence Between Leibniz and Johann Bernoulli. The Yale Leibniz. New Haven:
Yale University Press, 2013.

LGR Lloyd Strickland, tr. & ed., Leibniz on God and Religion: A Reader. London: Bloomsbury,
2016.

LM Lloyd Strickland, tr. & ed., Leibniz’s Monadology. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press,
2014.

LTS Lloyd Strickland, tr. & ed., Leibniz and the Two Sophies: The Philosophical
Correspondence. Toronto: Centre for Reformation and Renaissance Studies, 2011.

M Haydn Mason, Leibniz-Arnauld Correspondence. Manchester: Manchester University Press,

1967.

MP Mary Morris & G. H. R Parkinson, tr. & ed., Philosophical Writings, London: Dent, 1973.

PDSR G. H. R. Parkinson, tr. & ed., G. W. Leibniz: De Summa Rerum: Metaphysical Papers,
1675-1676, New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1992.

R Patrick Riley, tr. & ed., The Political Writings of Leibniz. Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1972.

RB Peter Remnant and Jonathan Bennett, trs. & eds., G. W. Leibniz: New Essays on Human
Understanding. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981.

S Paul Schrecker and Anne Martin Schrecker, trs & eds., Monadology and Other
Philosophical Essays. Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill, 1965.

SLT Lloyd Strickland, tr. & ed., The Shorter Leibniz Texts: A Collection of New Translations.
London: Continuum Impacts, 2006.

W Philip P. Wiener, tr. & ed., Leibniz Selections, New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1951.
8
 9

INTRODUCTION
 10

Over the course of his lifetime, Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz (1646-1716) explored through his
writings a vast range of philosophical topics, encompassing among others ontology,
philosophy of mind, epistemology, logic, mathematics, philosophy of language, science,
politics, jurisprudence and ethics. In his writings, we can find insights, arguments or fully
fleshed theories about many of what today can be considered as the main topics in
philosophy. It would not be an exaggeration saying that his works have made important
contributions in many of these areas. It is no coincidence, then, that scholars have researched
and wrote profusely about his ideas. Nevertheless, one important aspect of his philosophy
remains underresearched: Leibniz’s views about aesthetics, or more specifically, his
philosophical ideas about beauty. Some recognised authors in the field of aesthetics have
suggested that during the period in which Leibniz was writing philosophers did not make
many significant or original contributions to the field. For example, Wladyslaw Tatarkiewicz
states that philosophers in the 17th century were not interested in aesthetics (1963, p.167).1 If
this were the case, it would explain the limited interest in Leibniz’s views on the topic. Yet,
Leibniz did write about beauty and other issues related to aesthetics. In fact, his influence is
undeniable in the work of Alexander Baumgarten, who was the first to propose the idea of a
discipline of aesthetics as an independent science. For this reason, Fredrick Beiser claims that
if Baumgarten is to be considered the ‘father of aesthetics’, Leibniz deserves the title of
‘grandfather’ of the discipline (2009, p.31).
A more likely explanation for the lack of interest in Leibniz’s aesthetics is that his
ideas about the matter exhibit two particularities that make them difficult to identify and
assimilate to the modern understanding of the field: firstly, the lack of an explicit theory; and,
secondly, the strong metaphysical flavour in his treatment of the matter. Here we consider
both particularities, as they both limit and guide the present work. In the pages to follow we
hope to show that once both traits are taking into consideration, it is clear that there is much
of interest in Leibniz’s views on aesthetics and thus they should be considered no less
significant than many of his contributions to other fields.
Although Leibniz never formulated a systematic theory about aesthetics, discussions
of aesthetic concepts are abundant through Leibniz’s corpus. Key aesthetic notions such as
beauty, harmony and sensations have significant roles in Leibniz’s philosophical system. At

1 Another example is Jerome Stolnitz, who holds that only with the British thinkers of the 18 th century the notion of aesthetic
theory, as we know it today, started to take shape (1992, p.186).
 11

the same time, these concepts find new meanings and reach new dimensions of philosophical
depth when examined within the framework of Leibniz’s metaphysics. Accordingly,
Leibniz’s views on aesthetics are not limited to subjective experience, as they stand on strong
metaphysical grounds. Indeed, the present work starts from the conviction that Leibniz’s most
important and original ideas on aesthetics derive from his metaphysical system. As we will
show, Leibniz’s view consists in a coherent, although somewhat implicit, position of
aesthetic formal realism grounded on ontological and cosmological arguments. Thus, as we
announced above, there are two conditions that determine the way in which the study of
Leibniz’s view of aesthetics should proceed: firstly, since Leibniz proposed no explicit
systematic theory about this matter, a proper account on his aesthetics requires arranging and
organising arguments and remarks that might seem more or less scattered; and secondly,
these remarks about aesthetics are to be systematised in the light of the broader context of
Leibniz’s metaphysical system. With this in mind, the main purpose of this thesis is to
articulate a coherent, although not necessarily exhaustive, account of Leibniz’s aesthetics
from the relatively sparse comments and arguments that he offers through his works and
explain them within the context of his much more systematic metaphysical views.
The articulation of metaphysics with aesthetics stands in stark contrast with the
language based position found in 20th century analytic philosophy and the subject oriented
tradition in continental philosophy after Kant, which tends to uncouple aesthetics from
metaphysics. This is so to such an extent that the modern use of the term aesthetics seems
almost inseparable from subjective experience. Indeed, this seems to be the case since its
origin: the term ‘aesthetics’ itself derives from aisthetikos, whose meaning relates to
sensitive, sentient or, in general, something pertaining to sense perception. This is close to the
meaning that the Leibnizian philosopher Alexander Baumgarten wanted to convey when he
coined the term in his book Metaphysica (1739). There, aesthetics is defined as a science
dedicated to the study of sensory cognition or sense knowledge (2013, p.205).2 Later, in
Aesthetica (1750), Baumgarten explains that aesthetics also is a ‘theory of the liberal arts,
lower theory of cognition, art of beautiful thinking, art of the analogon to Reason’ (2007,
p.10). Thus aesthetics, as a discipline dedicated to these topics, seems to be, from its
foundation, in great part inseparable from subjectivity. Nonetheless, there is one aesthetic

2 In Baumgarten words: ‘The science of knowing and presenting [proponendi] with regard to the senses is AESTHETICS’.
(2013, p.205). We should mention that the quoted English edition from 2013 follows the fourth edition of the Metaphysica,
from 1757.
 12

concept that stands out and gives itself to be understood beyond subjective experience;
namely, beauty. Although, beauty was understood by Baumgarten as a phenomenon
observable by taste (2014, pp. 239-40), thus a subjective phenomenon, much of the history of
philosophy before him says otherwise. For many of Baumgarten’s forerunners, beauty was
defined metaphysically, prior to any subjective experience.3 Leibniz was no exception. For
him beauty is also a rich and complex metaphysical notion that is not dependent on
subjectivity. Hence, a first approach to Leibniz’s notion of beauty must start from
metaphysics and not subjective experience. We acknowledge that, since the founder of
aesthetics, i.e. Baumgarten, delimited the term around subjective phenomena, it could be said
that the term ‘aesthetics’ is somewhat anachronistically applied to previous philosophical
endeavours that understood beauty as a metaphysical notion that is not grounded in
subjectivity. Yet, at the risk of being charged with anachronism, we must insist on the
significance of the metaphysical notion of beauty in order to articulate a Leibnizian aesthetic
theory.
Beauty is the most important concept regarding Leibniz’s views on aesthetics.
Contemporary aesthetics focuses on a number of specific concepts. For example, notions
such as art, taste, aesthetic experience, aesthetic value, sensation and beauty constitute
different topics in aesthetics. Leibniz does mention many of these concepts but none in much
depths. The one exception is the notion of ‘beauty’. From all the mentioned notions, beauty is
not only the most developed by Leibniz, but also the most interesting one, especially when
compared to the other aforementioned notions. For example, Leibniz’s remarks on the subject
of the arts are in most cases just illustrative and lack any significant theoretical
argumentation. His discussion about music is more thickly elaborated than the rest of the arts,
but it is mostly technical and mathematical. Although he does consider the notion of ‘taste’ a
bit more often, it is scarcely analysed in depth. Aesthetic experience and aesthetic value were
not yet in Leibniz’s vocabulary. Finally, even though Leibniz offers a very consistent and
interesting theory of sensations or sense perceptions, he does not think of them exclusively in
aesthetic terms. That said, all these notions can be supplied with theoretical content and
consistently explained as ingredients of a Leibnizian aesthetic theory, if examined in light of
an organised theoretical framework. However, we think that by themselves they are not
enough to guide and articulate a general theory of aesthetics. On the contrary, beauty is often

3 We will return to this point in the introductions of the first and the second parts of this thesis.
 13

mentioned, it is imbued with aesthetic content and, more importantly, it is related to one of
the most significant and ubiquitous notions in Leibniz’s philosophy; harmony. For Leibniz
beauty is harmony and as such it can be placed close to the centre of his metaphysics and, at
the same time, in connection with many of the other important philosophical themes treated
by him. Thus, in order to articulate an aesthetic theory of Leibniz, the key concept is beauty.
This notion constitutes for us a guiding idea and a starting point to understand and organise
his views on aesthetics. Hence, this thesis is concerned mainly with the metaphysical aspects
of beauty in Leibniz’s philosophy.
Because aesthetics and metaphysics have been treated as distantly related areas of
philosophy since modernity, we think that Leibniz’s views offer an original approach to the
matter. Even though it could be acknowledged that some of Leibniz’s ideas about beauty
were not completely new –such as grounding beauty on harmony– the ways in which he
articulated his arguments reveal a novel and varied relation between metaphysics and
aesthetics. Since for him beauty is harmony and most of his conceptions about harmony are
heavily integrated into the larger content of his philosophy, Leibniz’s account of beauty
delivers an argument coherent with his own metaphysical system and displays the same
originality that characterises all his oeuvre. Therefore, the consideration of Leibniz’s ideas
about the topic has the potential to widen and enhance contemporary discussion about
aesthetics. Also, Leibniz’s historical role must not be underestimated, since his philosophy
inspired an entire generation of German thinkers. The influence of Leibniz is undeniable at
the beginnings of German aesthetics: he not only influenced philosophers with recognised
contributions to the field, such as Christian Wolff and Moses Mendelssohn, but also art
historians and critics, such as Joseph Christoph Gottsched, Johann Joachim Winckelmann
and Gotthold Ephraim Lessing. More importantly, Leibniz’s influence weighs heavily on
Alexander Baumgarten, who was the first to proclaim aesthetics as an autonomous discipline.
Despite these facts, studies dedicated to Leibniz’s aesthetics are rather scarce. There
are relatively few papers and book chapters that explain Leibniz’s own views on the matter.4
Nonetheless, it is possible to find important works on the history of aesthetics that include
Leibniz’s views, such as Benedetto Croce’s Aesthetic (1920) or, more recently, Frederick
Beiser’s book Diotima’s Children (2009). However, in these works the space dedicated to

4The following is a comprehensive list of the works about Leibniz’s aesthetics that we came across, yet we do not claim that
it is complete: Knight (1891), Colorni (1939), Brown (1967), Galeffi, (1975), Frankle (1975), Villanueva (1984), Ortiz
(1988), Barnouw (1993), Breger (1994), Buzon (1995), Beiser (2009), Zelle (2013), Phemister and Strickland (2015).
 14

Leibniz is limited to one chapter or even a few paragraphs, so they tend to treat the topic from
a more or less general approach and relate Leibniz’s ideas to the works of his contemporaries,
followers and critics. In this way, they respond more to historical or contextual intentions and
do not always focus on more detailed aspects of the subject. This has not only resulted in
aspects of Leibniz’s aesthetics passing unnoticed, but also in incorrect readings of key
elements of his view,5 which this research hopes to rectify. On the other hand, there are well
documented papers that focus on specific aspects of Leibniz’s aesthetics, such as Herbert
Breger’s ‘Die mathematisch-physikalische Schönheit bei Leibniz’ (1994) and Pauline
Phemister’s and Lloyd Strickland’s ‘Leibniz’s Monadological Positive Aesthetics’ (2015).
The first one provides a thorough review of Leibniz’s aesthetics in relation to science and
mathematics; while the second, compares Leibniz’s views on nature’s beauty with the
contemporary theory of positive aesthetics. Yet, because of their extension and limited scope,
these papers do not pretend to provide a general theory of Leibniz’s aesthetics.
The objective of the present work is to present a comprehensive and general account
of Leibniz’s views on beauty. Yet, in doing so we also explain some specific issues that result
from the relation between beauty and other important matters, such as science, the natural
world and the theory of monads. We also review other themes pertaining to aesthetics, such
as sensations, aesthetic experiences and aesthetic value, among others. In this sense, we hope
that, through the exploration of Leibniz’s notion of beauty, this thesis will contribute
significantly to scholarship on Leibniz, as well as the history of aesthetics.
Nevertheless, our main focus here is only the notion of beauty, specifically in relation
with metaphysics. Thus, we do not pretend to give a complete account of Leibniz’s
aesthetics, but rather an organised theory about beauty that serves as a starting point for later
efforts in the interest of further research about aesthetics. Indeed there are many aspects of
Leibniz’s aesthetics that we do not include in this research. For example, although in chapter
VII we tackle the matter of the subjective experience of beauty according to Leibniz’s theory
of distinct and confused perceptions, we think that there is still more to say about the topic.
For instance, there are interesting views on the epistemological value of aesthetic experience
that are worth following through, although we did not consider them here, since we focused
on the metaphysics rather than the epistemology. Also, in every aesthetic theory there is

5 Some of these mistakes will be considered in detail through this thesis, especially in chapter VI.
 15

always an important place for art, yet we did not find enough material about this in Leibniz’s
writings. However, we abstain from categorically affirming that the possibility of a
Leibnizian theory of art is null. Other topics not exhaustibly explored here are those related to
the historical context. Without a doubt there is much to say about the historical context in
which Leibniz’s ideas were developed, especially about how previous philosophers
influenced his views, but also how he influenced later aestheticians. This is why we reserve
place for an introduction at the beginning of both parts of this thesis to talk about some
important aspects of Leibniz’s context. Nevertheless, explaining the historical place of his
thought on aesthetics is not our main purpose. Thus there is still much left unexplored about
this matter, such as Leibniz’s influence on Wolff and Baumgarten, as well as on Kant.
Finally, it is important to consider that here we abstain from offering an account of the
chronological development of Leibniz’s thought about beauty or aesthetics. Although we do
not deny that this might be possible to do, we found no evidence of a significant change in his
ideas about this subject across his writings. Therefore, in almost all cases we treat every
reference to beauty, no matter its date, as piece of the same implicit theory. There are a few
exceptions to this rule that will be considered, yet they are not significant enough to affect
our synchronic approach.
The structure of this thesis consists in two parts, each one with an introduction and
three chapters. In order to focus almost exclusively on Leibniz’s own views during the
chapters, we conceive an introduction for each part in which we offer historical and
theoretical context. The first part of the thesis seeks to answer the question what beauty is for
Leibniz. In chapter I, we show that beauty is harmony or an instance of harmony. In turn, we
establish that harmony is the formal structure of unity and variety. The degree of harmony,
and thus beauty, is accounted for according to the objective measure of these two terms, unity
and variety. This measure is a formal structure because it only fixes these two terms as
functions, independently of any content. The result is that anything that complies with the
formula of unity in variety, no matter what its content, is harmonious or beautiful. In other
words, something is beautiful when that something is constituted by many elements that are
united. This entails that Leibniz’s notion of beauty is a nominalist one: beauty is not
something in itself, but it is in things that comply with the formal structure of unity in variety.
Later in this chapter, we point out other formal features entailed by this formula that also
constitute important features of beauty, such as wholeness, intelligibility and potential for
 16

pleasure. In chapter II, we establish what variety is for Leibniz. We start by identifying what
sort of elements comply with the formal measure of the variety in Leibniz’s ontology. We
argue that in all entities variety is a multiplicity of parts, of properties, or of both parts and
properties. In this sense, while composite things can be beautiful on account of the unity of
the multiplicity their parts, simple things can be beautiful by expressing6 a unity of many
properties. Afterwards, we claim that Leibniz’s writings suggest that greater variety is
accorded by, not only the quantity of different things, but also by the degree of difference
among those things. The result is that higher degrees of variety are achieved when unity
includes not only many similar elements but also contrasting or even dissonant ones.
Accordingly, the heterogeneity of an entity’s constituents contributes to its beauty. This is the
case as long as the diverse and dissonant constituents reach unity. For Leibniz, beauty is
achieved when dissonances are harmonically resolved in the unity of a whole. This means
that an entity’s beauty is the result of a variety, where dissonances have a certain order that
offers complexity, yet at the same time harmonic resolution. In chapter III, we argue that the
idea of unity postulated in the formula of beauty is a principle of order. We claim that in
Leibniz’s philosophy unity is the abstract principle that defines an order in which two or
more things relate to each other. We show that this sort of unity can be found in many of the
entities proposed in Leibniz’s ontology. In chapter III, we focus primarily on the unity of
simple substances (i.e. monads), possible worlds and aggregates. With the explanation of
unity we arrive at an adequate definition of the main features that characterise the ontology of
beauty, as the formal structure of harmony. Thus, we conclude that, according to Leibniz’s
philosophy, an entity is beautiful when its diverse components relate among each other in
accordance with one principle of order.
With an understanding of what the ontological structure of beauty is, we can proceed
to examine its traits as a property and as value in the world, as well as how it relates to
subjective experience. Accordingly, in the second part of this thesis, we show that Leibniz’s
notion of beauty refers to an objective property with objective value, yet accessible by
subjective experience. In chapter IV, we explain that Leibniz’s views on cosmology present a
framework that posits beauty as an objective property of things. We argue that Leibniz’s
arguments lead to a completely mind-independent notion of beauty, where things are

6We acknowledge that the concept ‘expression’ has a specific meaning in some Leibniz’s texts. However, in this thesis we
abstain from using it in this way. Thus here we use the term ‘expression’, and its derivative forms, in a colloquial sense.
 17

beautiful even as possible entities, i.e. even before they even exist or even if they never exist
at all. If things possess the property of beauty independently of their existence, it is the case
that they do not need to be perceived by us in order to be beautiful. Furthermore, we claim
that an entity is beautiful whenever it complies with the structure of beauty as a possible
entity in God’s intellect, independent of God’s will. In chapter V, we examine a similar idea,
but in this case focusing on beauty as a value. We claim that beauty is an objective, non-
anthropocentric, value. We argue that for Leibniz harmony is value in itself and that therefore
beauty is not an instrumental value: harmony is not valuable just because of its effect (e.g.
pleasure or happiness) on us or even on God. Finally, in chapter VI, we support the idea that
the experience of beauty can include confused and distinct perceptions, sensations and
thoughts, and can therefore be sensitive as well as intellectual. Beauty is grounded on a
formal structure and as such it is insensible and abstract. Therefore, in itself this structure can
only be experienced intellectually. However, in most cases this structure is expressed through
a variety of sensible elements related in determinate order. In this form, beauty manifests in
sense perceptions. At times, we perceive a beautiful object only through sense perceptions,
having only confused perceptions, i.e. unaware of the structure of unity in variety. Yet, even
in those cases we still experience beauty at some level. More generally, Leibniz promotes a
type of aesthetic experience that mirrors the progress of our knowledge about the world, as a
constant progress from confused perception to a distinct intellectual experience.
In summary, we claim that Leibniz’s views express a formalist, realist and cognitive
understanding of the notion of beauty, as beauty is metaphysically and ontologically
explained as a formal structure, which is an objective property of things with objective value,
yet at the same time intellectually accessible by rational subjects.
 18

PART I: WHAT IS BEAUTY?

 19

Introduction to Part I1

Leibniz is an heir of a pervasive tradition in the history of the philosophical discussion about
beauty. Roughly defined, this tradition posits beauty as a sort of transcendental value, a real
objective property of the universe, often associated with a divine, cosmological or
metaphysical dimension. A common notion within this tradition is to consider beauty as
intimately related to harmony. Philosophers in line with this this tradition, such as Plato and
the Pythagoreans, believe that harmony is a real property of things and their relations, thus
harmony is an ontologically grounded in the universe.2 When beauty is conceived as
equivalent to harmony in this way, it gains independence from the realm of subjective
phenomena. Accordingly, beauty is not just a sensorial effect perceived by the subject or an
anthropocentric value. This view, however, does not deny subjective aesthetic experience, it
just posits beauty as a property outside the mind and places pleasure –or other emotional
responses– in the subject, as an effect caused by the extra-subjective property of beauty.
This tradition can be traced back at least to the Pythagoreans and Plato, whose
theories about harmony and beauty are based on a profoundly metaphysical background. A
fitting presentation of this background is found in Pseudo-Timaeus’s On the Soul and the
World, written by an anonymous neo-Pythagorean and Platonic philosopher. In that text it is
stated that the cosmos follows perfect proportions based on mathematical ratios, which at the
same time correspond to the rules of musical harmony (Navon, 1986, p.8). The author
explains that from matter and form, God developed the best production; a perfect and
beautiful world, endowed with soul and reason, following equal intervals as the base of
proportions harmonically combined according to numbers. The author adds that this pattern
‘is perceived by the mind, to which the created thing, having been carefully adjusted, has
become the most beautiful’ (Navon, 1986, pp.116-18).
This argument offers a cosmological view where the universe is beautiful, since it is a
harmonic whole, and it is so because it was produced to be perfect. This reasoning soundly
links perfection, harmony and beauty in a rather similar manner as Leibniz’s philosophy will

1 Some of the ideas expressed in this section are contained in the following published articles: Portales, Carlos (2016)
Variety and simplicity in Leibniz’s aesthetics. In Vorträge des X. Internationalen Leibniz-Kongresses, Band V. Hildesheim:
Georg Olms Verlag and Portales, Carlos (2018) Objective beauty and subjective dissent in Leibniz’s aesthetics. Estetika:
The Central European Journal of Aesthetics, 55(1), 67–88.
2 This way to understand beauty could be paired with what Wladyslaw Tatarkiewicz calls ‘The great theory of beauty’ that,

according to the author, ruled the European philosophical scenery until the 18th century. Tatarkiewicz states that this theory
conceives beauty as the effect of the interrelation of parts, their qualities and number; in other words, the harmony between
things (1980, p.125).
 20

do several centuries later.3 Furthermore, the profound kinship among these terms will become
one of the pillar notions of Leibniz’s own cosmology, metaphysics and aesthetics.
Perfection in early modern philosophy becomes a significant concept, especially for
philosophers attempting to rationally explain the divine nature of God, yet the term had been
philosophically relevant since the times of classical Greece. The Latin term perfectio is
equivalent to the term ‘complete’ and it was clearly defined by Aristotle in the Metaphysics.
There, Aristotle establishes three acceptations of the term: firstly, when none of the parts of a
thing could ever be found outside itself; secondly, as something that cannot be excelled in its
kind; and thirdly, as a thing that attained its own teleological end (Aristotle, 1984, v.2,
p.1613). All these meanings are more or less contained in Leibniz’s uses of the word. In
particular, a version of the first and second one are the most interesting for us here. As will be
explained in the first chapter, Leibniz claims that God is perfect because he possesses all
perfections (A VI 4, p.1531/AG, p.35). Or, using Aristotle’s terms; God cannot be excelled,
since he possesses all his ‘parts’ and each of these ‘parts’ are properties that cannot be
excelled. This formula is modified in Leibniz’s philosophy, since God is not a composite
being, so he does not have parts. Instead, God does possess several properties, attributes or
qualities that substitute for the Aristotelian idea of parts. These attributes are called by
Leibniz perfections (in plural), as they are valuable properties, whose nature allows them to
be possessed first and foremost by God in an infinite and greatest degree (A VI 4,
p.1531/AG, p.35). Beauty is one of these perfections, which entails that:
1- It is a valuable property per se.
2- It is possessed firstly and mostly by God.
3- Therefore, it is a supreme metaphysical value, ontologically grounded, and not a
common phenomenal qualia, such as colour, nor a mere feeling or passion, such as
joy.
These traits of beauty are shared –not without contrasts– by many of the exponents of the
previously considered philosophical tradition.4 These philosophers also tend to converge with
Leibniz towards a cosmology that implies that God’s beauty –or any of its variants:

3 Although it is evident that Leibniz read the Pythagoreans, Plato, the Stoics and other philosophers that adhered to the
mentioned tradition, here we are not making the case that Leibniz’s views are the direct result of any particular influence,
even though that would be a plausible thesis. Accordingly, our intention here is merely to show the clear resemblances
between Leibniz’s ideas and the ones shared among previous philosophers.
4 For example, regarding the first implication, Marcus Aurelius claimed that whatever is beautiful is valuable in itself (2008,

p.96-97). Plato sometimes considered beauty as one of the privileged ideas or forms related to the Good, the highest value in
his philosophical system (See Hippias Major, 296d or Philebus, 65a-65a in Plato, 1961, v.1 & v.3). The second implication
echoes Plato and the Stoics that attributed to God the most beautiful form –i.e. a spherical form– (Kleve, 1978, p.72), as well
as in the neo-Pythagoreans, for which beauty comes from God’s perfection (Navon, 1986, pp.116-118).
 21

transcendental beauty, infinite beauty, or supreme beauty– is one of the perfections that
guided the creation of the universe. This argument explains how something mainly in God is
also found in nature.5 The inevitable consequence of this line of thought is what Umberto Eco
(1959) has called ‘pancalism’; the belief that the cosmos is inherently beautiful.6
Here, there is an implicit fourth implication for beauty as a perfection:
4- For the cosmos to be perfect it must be harmonic, therefore beautiful.
The Pythagoreans, Plato and Leibniz also coincide in the depiction of a harmonic universe,
which grounds beauty.7 According to the popularised story, Pythagoras discovered a
mathematical ratio in the harmony of musical sounds, which pertains to the order of the
universe, so he concludes that the beauty of musical harmony is a sensible expression of the
proportion that configures the harmony of the cosmos (Levin, 2009, p.6). The notion of
harmony, based on a mathematical ratio, explains the beauty of the cosmos and also of music,
because when music is composed according to this ratio it is a reproduction of the harmonic
sound emitted by the movement of the planets: the so called ‘music of the spheres’ or
‘harmony of the spheres’ (Levin, 2009, p.13). Yet, harmony was not just a physical or a
musical property, it was firstly and most significantly a metaphysical force that rules the
universe. As the Pythagorean Philolaus reportedly described it; ‘[t]he harmony is generally
the result of contraries; for it is the unity of multiplicity, and the agreement of discordances’
and dissimilar things ‘must be organized by the harmony, if they are to take their place in the
connected totality of the world’ (Navon, 1986, pp.131-2). ‘Unity in multiplicity’ is also
Leibniz’s definition of harmony and just like Philolaus, Leibniz thought that harmony is the
metaphysical principle that rules the universe. This view was shared by other Greek thinkers,
such as Plato, who agreed that the universe is based on harmony thanks to the ruling presence
of measure or number, which ordered the cosmos. This ordering or harmony is not just what
causally produces beauty, but it is beauty in itself, as Plato claims in his Symposium (206c-e)
that beauty and harmony are identical (Grube, 1927, p.274).8

5 For example, as it was said some Pythagoreans believed that God created a perfect and beautiful universe by following
mathematical proportions which resulted in harmony (Navon, pp.116-118). Also Plato stated, in the Timaeus (20c-31b)., that
‘[f]or the deity, intending to make this world like the fairest and most perfect of intelligible beings’ (1961, v.3, p.1163)
6 This term was coined first by J. Mark Baldwin in his book Thoughts and Things (1906–11). Yet, here it expresses the use

adopted by Umberto Eco in Art and Beauty in the middle Ages (1986, p.17).
7 According to Tatarkiewicz this was a common relation, as he claims that, since classic Greece, the term beauty had

integrated the ideas of symmetry and harmony in the background, at least until the 18th century (1980, p.122).
8 In Plato’s dialogues is harder to find a direct definition of harmony as unity in multiplicity –although there are some

passages that might allude to this idea, for example see Timaeus 69b-70b (1961, v.3, p.756)–, since it seems that he preferred
a slightly different notion of harmony more related with measure and moderation as limits to the infinite and excess. See
Philebus 26a-26c (1961, v.3, pp.578-79).
 22

The first chapter will explain Leibniz’s version of perfection, harmony and beauty, by
defining each term and its mutual relation that, notwithstanding its ample agreement with the
Greek philosophers, shows very specific features. In comparison with Plato’s claim, it will be
argued that the Leibnizian view accepts that beauty is the same as harmony, yet harmony is
not exclusively beauty, for there are other positive qualities or perfections that agree with –or
can be explicable through– the formula of unity in variety, such as power and existence. It
will be considered that analytically speaking beauty is a ‘moment’ or an instance of this
formula. Something is beautiful when it complies with certain rules. The most fundamental
one is that something beautiful must conform to the structure of unity in variety, which is
intelligible in its disposition. For Leibniz, beauty requires a harmonic order determined by
coherence more than just a mathematical ratio. Furthermore, there are other rules for
enhancing beauty that have nothing to do with mathematical or logical structures such as the
unity of a large amount of elements and the degree of contrast among them. As we will see
the requirements or rules that enhance beauty can be summarised as follows:
1- Unity in variety or harmony.
2- Wholeness.
3- An intelligible order.
4- The potential to give pleasure.
5- Plenitude and contrasts in and between its diverse elements.
6- Consonance in and between its diverse elements.
In this way, Leibniz’s notion of beauty differs from the classical one at least in the sense that
Leibniz’s version is not only defined by proportions and measures, although it does not
exclude them, on the contrary, they are required. It is also important to consider that, in
contrast to the Platonic tradition, Leibniz’s beauty is not a universal. It will be argued that for
Leibniz beauty is a property of possible and actual things, but beauty in itself does not
possess being. Therefore, beauty is achieved when something exhibits specific formal
characteristics such as unity in variety and the described rules. These rules are formal in the
sense that there is no prescribed content that determines the way to achieve them. In other
words, while the rules are necessary to achieve beauty, the way to comply with these rules is
contingent. Following a nominalist view, the rules by themselves are neither beauty nor
beautiful, only an entity that complies with them should be called beautiful. This formula
entails a formalist notion of beauty that, although it allows us to present beauty as formal
 23

requirements to be prescribed before engaging with a particular, it does so in a strictly

nominalist way, hence avoiding universals.
The second chapter deals with one the two key aspects of harmony: variety. The
aesthetic tradition inherited by Leibniz shows one of its most interesting internal divergences
in Plotinus’ rejection or revaluation of the notion of harmony as beauty.9 This issue is directly
related to the role of variety in harmony and beauty. In the sixth tractate of his first Ennead,
Plotinus begins his reflection by doubting the Pythagorean understanding of beauty as the
harmonic relation of parts towards each other and towards a whole, since if this is the case,
then only compounded things could be beautiful and things devoid of parts –sunlight, colour
and gold according to Plotinus– couldn’t be considered as such (1917, p.78). Plotinus’
conclusion is that beauty in things comes from the communion with an Ideal-Form, a
‘Principle of Reason and Idea’ that endows shapeless matter with pattern (1917, pp.79-80).
Thus, it is not just the unity of a multiplicity –or harmony– that produces beauty, but first and
foremost Form; a principle derived from ‘divine thought’, which possesses the power to
mould matter (1917, p.80). Plotinus’ reasoning allows us to dispense with the necessity of
multiplicity for the constitution of something beautiful, relying on the simplicity and
indivisibility of a Platonic form.10 Leibniz sides with the Pythagoreans against Plotinus,
since, as we will show in chapter II, his notion of beauty is inseparable from harmony and
therefore, multiplicity. However, Leibniz does try to conciliate beauty and simplicity,
allowing that simple things can be beautiful, since their multiplicity resides in the diversity of
their properties and not always in the multiplicity of their parts.
Although there is an undeniable agreement between Leibniz and the Pythagorean
notions of harmony and beauty, there are significant differences that make Leibniz’s version
diverge from the Pythagoreans. These differences do not merely involve notions about
aesthetics, but are also related to metaphysics and theology. It is quite common to find some
Pythagoreans expressing a kind of Manicheism in their cosmology; for example, Archytas
reportedly said that there are two principles of Being, the first contains all that is ordered and
finished in the cosmos, while the second one comprises things that are unordered, irrational,

9 Tatarkiewicz claims that Plotinus made a significant reformation to this notion, yet he did not reject ‘The great theory’
completely, he just attempted to supplement it by integrating to its frame the beauty of not compounded things (1980,
pp.126-127). On the other hand, Gilbert and Kuhn state that Plotinus completely rejects the notion of harmony (1953, p.111).
For a different view regarding this discussion see Ota Gál’s paper ‘Unitas multiplex, as the basis of Plotinus' Conception of
Beauty’ (2011).
10 This posture finds certain radicalisation in some Neoplatonists such as Proclus, who rejected aesthetic expressions that

involve multiplicity since it can lead into confusion, as was the case of the music performed by the flute. On the contrary,
Proclus advocated only for simple music as an aid for education for it promotes tranquillity and moderation (Proclus, 1965,
p.131).
 24

evil and dissonant (Navon, 1986, p.142). In this vision of the universe, harmony sided with
the first principle, while dissonances sided with the second, effectively conceiving harmony
as something free from dissonances. Accordingly, harmony is a force that unites things,
making them agree with each other in consonance, while outside this force there is no
harmony nor agreement, but dissonance, evil, chaos, etc. On the contrary, Leibniz argues for
a universe that includes an infinite number of things, among which a small amount of them
seem evil or dissonant. However, these negative elements are beneficial parts of the harmonic
whole, since they enlarge the goodness and beauty of the universe (GP VI, p.384/H, p.385).
Consequently, while the Pythagoreans put harmony on one side and dissonance in the other,
Leibniz includes dissonance as an integral part of harmony.
Leibniz’s inclusion of dissonance in the metaphysical dimension of harmony, strictly
correlates with the advances of music theory and practice in the 17th century. During this
period the contrapuntal techniques started using a vigilant control of dissonances that brought
a new order in musical harmony (Carter, 2005, p.7). For example, the music theorist Marin
Mersenne stated in his treaty Harmonie Universelle (1636) that dissonances enter into
harmony as accidents, since music is mostly constituted by consonances, yet the former make
the latter more pleasant and agreeable (Mersenne,1965, p.121).11 Mersenne himself
established a connection between the legitimacy of musical dissonance and theological ideas,
suggesting that in the same way that God draws good from evil and order from disorder,
composers mimic the divine order and dexterously use dissonances that make great
ornaments to music (1965, p.131).12 This remark possesses a significant resemblance with
Leibniz’s thought, since both seem to embrace a theological view of harmony that agrees
impeccably with the Baroque innovations in music.13 If we are allowed to speculate into the
reason of this concurrence, it is not inconceivable that harmony is sometimes conceptually
determined by its musical application first and then exported to metaphysics, therefore

11 In the original French: ‘[I]l faut seulement remarquer que les Dissonances n'entrent dans les Compositions que par
accident; car la Musique est principalement composee des Consonances, et les Dissonances ne seruent que pour leur donner
de la grace, et pour les faire paroistre meilleures et plus agreables’. (Mersenne, 1965, p.121)
12 In the original French: ‘Mais si nous considerons l'ordre diuin dont Dieu dispose toutes choses selon sa volonté, il est sans

doute plus puissant que le desordre des creatures, dont il tire des auantages pour faire paroistre sa sagesse et sa puissance,
en tirant le bien du mal, et en conduisant à l'ordre ce que nous mettons en desordre. En quoy il semble que les Compositeurs
imitent la Sagesse diuine, lors qu'ils se seruent si dextrement des Dissonances, qu'elles apportent de grands ornemens à la
Musique’ (Mersenne, 1965, p.131). Furthermore, Descartes (with whom Mersenne had a well-known correspondence
exchange) claimed, from a physical and mathematical argumentation, that there are certain dissonances that are essential to
the tonal musical system (See Descartes’ Compendium Musicae, in GOC, pp.X128-X129).
13 Compare with the following passage of Leibniz’s Theodicy, written a few decades later: ‘So the limitation or original

imperfection of creatures brings it about that even the best plan of the universe cannot admit more good, and cannot be
exempted from certain evils, these, however, being only of such a kind as may tend towards a greater good. There are some
disorders in the parts which wonderfully enhance the beauty of the whole, just as certain dissonances, appropriately used,
render harmony more beautiful’. (GP, p.384/H, p.385)
 25

dragging with it the predominant musical tendency to the philosophical terrain.14 If this is so,
it should be considered that the whole musical system of the 17th century was characterised
by its paradigmatic shift from modality –which avoids tension by using only consonances and
excluding dissonances– to tonality –grounded on relaxation and tension, provided by
consonances mixed with a few dissonances (Cope, 1997, p.12).15 Since the Pythagoreans
experienced only modal music (since all music was modal during their time), which by
Leibniz’s time was already falling in disuse, it would be only natural that their ideas of
harmony differ in a musical and metaphysical dimension. Following this line of
argumentation Gabriel Menendez (1999) objects to Dietrich Mahnke’s (1964) Pythagorean
view of Leibniz and observes that Leibniz must not be aligned with the old notion of
harmony, as he is much closer to music theorists of his own time such as Kircher, Mersenne
or Printz. These music theorists, although still holding certain tenets of Pythagoreanism,
disregarded several Greek and medieval theoretical aspects that the new notions of tonal
music had rendered useless (1999, pp.35-36).16
In agreement with this view, in the second chapter we will argue that the inclusion of
dissonance in the principle of harmony calls for a different way to understand multiplicity.
Leibniz’s multiplicity or variety does not indicate just a large quantity of things, but also a
qualitative difference between them or, as mentioned earlier, contrast. Hence there is an
increase in the variety of harmony when the difference between two or more things is
significant, such as the difference between consonance and dissonance –or between good and
evil– coexisting in one unity. This does not mean that dissonances are valuable in themselves;
14 Although Leibniz makes the inverse reasoning, subordinating music to the metaphysical notion of nature’s harmony and
its understanding: ‘In the same way as almost nothing is more pleasant for the human senses than the consonance of music,
so nothing is more pleasant for the understanding than the wonderful consonance of nature, of which music is just a foretaste
and a small sample’. Author’s translation from the original German: ‘Und gleichwie fast nichts den Menschlichen Sinnen
angenehmer als die Einstimmung der Musick, so ist nichts dem verstand angenehmer als die wunderbare einstimmung der
Natur, davon die Musick nur ein vorschmack und eine kleine Probe.’ (GP VII, p.122).
15 The use of dissonances was by no means limited only to music. During the baroque dissonance, tension or any equivalent

term was extended from music to other arts (although it could be argued that only metaphorically). Heinrich Wölfflin
describes the difference between Renaissance and Baroque art, especially architecture, in very similar manner as Baroque
music is described by Cope: ‘In contrast to Renaissance art, which sought permanence and repose in everything, the baroque
had from the first a definite sense of direction’ (1964, p.58) This sense of direction is achieved by an ‘intension to create
intentional dissonance’, for example ‘[t]he baroque flaunts cramped niches, windows disproportionate to their allotted space,
and paintings much large for the surfaces they fill; they are transposed from a different key, tuned to a different scale of
proportions. The aesthetic charm of this approach is the resolution of the discords.’ (1964, p.68)
16 Another example of this is found in Kepler, who had already debunked the Pythagorean idea that the planets make actual

audible music and that their movement express harmony based on pure consonances (Pesic, 2005, pa. 3.19). In fact, Kepler
stated that the planets considered in musical combination, would match modern tonal music, which included dissonances
(Kepler, 1997, p.430). It is in this context that he made his famous ode to modern musicians, since their music is a more
definite reproduction of celestial and divine harmony: ‘Now there is need, Urania, of a grander sound, while I ascend by the
harmonic stair of the celestial motions to higher things, where the true archetype of the fabric of the world is laid up and
preserved. Follow me, modern musicians, and attribute it to your arts, unknown to antiquity: in these last centuries, Nature,
always prodigal of herself, has at last brought forth, after an incubation of twice a thousand years, you, the first true offprints
of the universal whole. By your harmonizing of various voices, and through your ears, she has whispered of herself, as she is
in her innermost bosom, to the human mind, most beloved daughter of God the Creator’ (Kepler, 1997, p.441)
 26

they are still considered as negative elements that standing alone are neither harmonious nor
beautiful –just as evil is different in kind from good and by itself is always a negative value.
Thus dissonance only enhances harmony and beauty in combination with elements and values
that together result in the resolution of dissonance. It will be argued that beauty for Leibniz
includes this resolution of tensions.17 In this sense, Leibniz’s position differs from the
Manicheism that excludes dissonances from harmony, yet also differs from a conception of
harmony as an equal distribution of opposites that grounds balance by perpetuating tension.18
The necessity of resolution stresses a notion of beauty that manifests itself when
something is considered as a whole. This points to another important idea: the beauty of the
parts is subordinated to the whole, which is the expression of their unity.19 The third chapter
focuses on this second key aspect of harmony: unity. It will be argued that a coherent
interpretation of Leibniz’s concept of unity cannot be limited to oneness or union, but it
should also include identity and agreement. In order to embrace all the significations that
unity involves in reference to harmony and beauty a more general concept is required. Here
we argue that unity in Leibniz’s formula of unity in variety (and all its equivalent phrasing
manners) is a principle of order.
This concept is more apt to describe the complexities of Leibniz’s notion of unity in
the context of beauty, which cannot be understood just as a ‘union’ or a ‘One’ without
multiplicity. Just to consider one example, for Thomas Aquinas the role of harmony in beauty
is to unite things that are not in principle an inherent unity; many ones that are not one. Yet
this does not apply when ascending the divine scale towards transcendental beauty, since at
this point these values are a union of transcendentals. In other words, they are one. Hence for
Aquinas, harmony does not constitute the most significant requirement for beauty (Rubin,
2016, pp.304-5). In contrast, for Leibniz, unity in the context of beauty is always a sort of
coordination between multiplicities. The oneness of an entity, although an important
17 This was a common feature of the baroque. In architecture Wölfflin considers this resolution of tensions a significant
feature that distinguishes the baroque from the gothic. For example regarding the vertical dimensions of buildings he states
that ‘in gothic the vertical movement streams upwards without check and dissolves playfully at the top, while in baroque it
encounters the resistance of a heavy cornice, though –and this is what matters– a harmonious solution is always found in the
end’ (1964, p.60). For German Bazin, baroque paintings replicate this process through their contrasting iconography, since
‘[c]onfronted by a multiplicity of symbols, the mind leaps from form to form, from subject to subject, in an intoxication of
ideas. Glad in the end to find beauty of an overriding order in so much complexity’ (1968, p.43). Furthermore, in literature
Panofsky relates the resolution of tensions with ‘happy endings’ that, in his view, ‘is a typical Baroque feature (in
Monteverdi’s opera even Orpheus remains in possession of his wife): a painful conflict resolved in a pleasurable issue’
(1995, p.68).
18 This conception of harmony as balance grounded on constant tension between opposites can be associated with Heraclitus,

especially with his fragment 51 and the metaphor of the bow and the lyre.
19 Once again Wölfflin’s words illustrate this point through baroque architecture: ‘Architecture had become dramatic; the

work of art was no longer composed by a series of independently beautiful and self-contained parts. Only through the whole
could the individual part gain value and meaning, or a satisfying conclusion and a termination to be brought about.’ (1964,
p.70)
 27

ingredient in Leibniz’s ontology, is neither a source of beauty nor the only aspect to which
the term ‘unity’ refers. Is for this reason that unity cannot be equated to oneness and thus we
turn towards the notion of a ‘principle of order’.
In the context of art, Rudolf Arnheim defines order as ‘the degree and kind of
lawfulness governing the relations among the parts of an entity’ (1966, p.123). Ruth Lorand
breaks down this definition in four essential traits of order:
1- It requires distinct parts.
2- It manifests in degrees.
3- It consists in the relations among parts.
4- It involves something that governs the relations among parts, such as a law or a
principle (2003, p.9)
Leibniz complies to all four of these requirements in his concept of harmony: the first –
something that contains distinct parts– and third –relations among parts– are obvious from
the ground definition that harmony is unity in variety. The second requirement –order has
degrees– is more controversial, as Lorand herself states that Leibniz’s philosophy does not
accept different degrees of order (2003, p.91). However, it will be shown that she is partially
wrong, since Leibniz considers degrees of order regarding certain entities. The fourth one –
the consideration of laws or principles that govern the relations between parts– seems less
clear considering what we have said until now, yet it will be argued that unity for Leibniz
consists exactly in principles and laws. Indeed, by principle of order we mean something that
introduces order to a multiplicity, such as principles and laws. This is a wide notion that also
includes rules, designs, programmes, or any other principle that induces order such as
organisation, coordination, inclusion, exclusion, direction, resolution, intelligibility or
compossibility. Here we have maintained the broad meaning of ‘principle of order’ on
purpose in order to do justice to the complexity of Leibniz’s notion of unity.20 Yet, we hope
that through its use, while examining Leibniz’s text, it will become much clearer and will
justify our decision of abstaining from give it a more specific meaning.

20Another significant aspect of this concept is that extends further than the Pythagorean and medieval idea of beauty as an
order given by number and its derivate terms (symmetry, proportion, measure, etc.), yet at the same time the idea of principle
of order does not exclude them.
 28

Chapter I: Perfection, harmony and beauty

The present chapter will argue that, for Leibniz, beauty is a perfection and, more specifically,
that it is one of the instances of unity in variety or harmony, which in turn is the formal
structure of perfection. We will also introduce certain features of unity in variety that
characterise beauty. In the first section, we explain what the term ‘perfection’ and
‘perfections’ mean in Leibniz’s metaphysics and their relation with the notion of beauty. It
will be shown that perfection –in singular– is unity in variety. Afterwards, we will define
harmony as the ‘formal structure of unity in variety’ and explain the meaning of ‘formal
structure’. With this definition at hand, it will be argued that not only perfection –in its
singular form– is harmony, but also some perfections –in plural– can be expressed through
the notion of unity in variety, as aspect or ‘moment’ of this formula. In the second section,
beauty is analysed as a perfection and accordingly as an aspect or ‘moment’ of unity in
variety. After comparing beauty with other perfections, we will establish the particular
features that characterise beauty in a different light from other aspects of unity in variety.

1. Perfection
1.1 Perfections and perfection
In On Wisdom (1693-1700?), Leibniz refers to the relation between pleasure and perfection,
stating that the latter is the source of the former. In this context he enumerates different
perfections in things, including beauty as one of them

Pleasure is the feeling of a perfection or an excellence, whether in ourselves or in something else.

For the perfection of other beings also is agreeable, such as understanding, courage, and especially
beauty in another human being, or in an animal or even in a lifeless creation, a painting or a work
of craftsmanship, as well. (GP VII, p.86/L, p.425).

To my knowledge this passage contains the only explicit statement where Leibniz clearly
establishes that beauty is a perfection. Nevertheless, throughout Leibniz’s writings, many
statements point to this conclusion. For example, he often depicts a causal relation between
beauty and pleasure as well as one between perfection and pleasure. Elsewhere, he also
defines both perfection and beauty as harmony –unity in plurality– and a harmony as a cause
of pleasure.1 This conceptual equivalence seems to suggest that beauty and perfection are

1Forexample, in an early work called Elements of natural law (1670-71), Leibniz refers to the mentioned relation between
beauty and pleasure, by defining beautiful things as those things that are pleasant or ‘the contemplation of which is pleasant’
(A VI 1, p.464/L, p.137), while later, in the New Essays, he describes pleasure in relation to perfection in a remarkably
 29

very closely related terms for Leibniz.2 According to some of this textual evidence, Gregory
Brown argues that it wouldn’t be completely wrong to assume that harmony, beauty and
perfection are the same thing (1988, p.577). However, in other writings, beauty and
perfection are mentioned in conjunction while enumerating attributes of the same thing.3
Although, this use of the terms reinforces the idea that there is a strong relation between
them, it might also suggest that they could differ in meaning.
It seems reasonable to assume that perfection, as a concept, is broader than beauty,
since perfection in Leibniz’s writings also refers to other attributes, such as power,
knowledge, goodness and existence. He also highlights the heterogeneity of perfections in §1
of the Discourse on Metaphysics (1686), where he says that ‘there are several entirely
different perfections in nature’ (A VI 4, p.1531/AG, p.35). In an early work entitled Ens
Perfectissimum Existit (1676), Leibniz explains his use of this word: ‘I term a perfection
every simple quality which is positive and absolute, or, which expresses without any limits
whatever it does express’ (A VI 3, p.578/ PDSR, p.101). According to Lloyd Strickland’s
analysis of this phrase the expressions ‘absolute’, ‘positive’ and ‘without any limits’ are
interchangeable between each other, since all of them mean ‘a complete absence of limits’
(2006, p.14). Hence a perfection is a quality that can be expressed without limits. However,
in the Discourse Leibniz adds that a perfection must allow a highest degree of a form or
nature, excluding from the former definition things such as numbers or figures (A VI 4,
p.1531/AG, p.35). Consequently, a quality is a perfection if it can be manifested without
limits and can be expressed in a greatest or ultimate degree.
The lack of limits and the idea of an ultimate degree might appear contradictory,
although it can be clarified by illustrating it with the example of a specific perfection. Power
without limits is omnipotence and, at the same time, omnipotence is power in its greatest
degree, since there cannot be anything with more power than omnipotence. Therefore,
omnipotence is a conceivable way to understand an unlimited power that is also the highest
similar manner, defining pleasure as ‘a sense of perfection’ (A VI 6, p.194/RB, p.194). In his letters to Wolff, he repeats this
association by relating pleasure to agreement in variety, which is not only another definition of perfection (GW, p.171/AG,
p.233) but also the definition of harmony and beauty as it appears in On Wisdom (GP VII, p.88/ L, p.426).
2 Another sign that suggests the proximity of these terms is found in the Discourse on Metaphysics (1686), where Leibniz

substitutes the word ‘beauty’, used in the title of the second paragraph, for the word ‘perfection’, when he paraphrases that
same title in the first sentence of the paragraph. The title of the second paragraph reads: ‘Against those who claim that there
is no goodness in God's works; or that the rules of goodness and beauty are arbitrary’. And the first sentence: ‘Thus I am far
from holding to the opinion of those who maintain that there are no rules of goodness and perfection in the nature of things’
(A VI 4, p.1532/L, p.304).
3 For example in De rerum originatione radicali (1697), Leibniz refers to ‘the universal beauty and perfection of the works

of God’ (GP VII, p.308/L, p.490) [Although throughout this work for this text we use Ariew’s and Garber’s translation
(AG), here we preferred Loemker’s translation instead, since AG seems less accurate] and in Résumé of Meaphysics (1697)
he states that ‘An intelligent being’s pleasure is simply the perception of beauty, order and perfection’ (GP VII, p.290/MP,
p.146)
 30

possible power. On the contrary, there is no such thing as an infinite number which is the
highest number of all, because it is always possible to conceive a higher number. It is also
important to clarify that this does not mean that an attribute has to be in its highest degree to
classify as a perfection. It only has to allow this as a possibility. In other words, if it is
possible for power to be expressed in its ultimate degree, such as omnipotence, any
manifestation of power (in any degree) is a perfection and not only omnipotence. As
Strickland states ‘[w]e should thus understand, as indeed Leibniz's contemporaries would,
that for a creature to have a perfection is for it to have some measure or value of an attribute
which is found in its fullest extent in God’, therefore ‘'perfection' refers to these attributes
themselves, rather than only the highest degree of them’ (2006, pp.20-21).
Accordingly, if the greatest beauty is conceivable and without limits, beauty would be
a perfection, among several other qualities that qualify as such. This seems to be the case for
Leibniz as he refers to God as ‘the most beautiful being of all’ (A VI 1, p.461/L, p.134),
which can be paraphrased as ‘God possesses the greatest beauty’. Leibniz also makes
references to unlimited beauty, especially regarding the infinite beauty of God’s work, plans
and actions (GP III, p.341/D, p.161 & GP VI, p.238-9/H, p.255). Thus we can affirm that
beauty is a perfection.
In the quoted passage from Ens Perfectissimum existit Leibniz also states that a
perfection is simple. By ‘simple’ he means that a perfection is not composed of other
qualities that could limit it (A VI, 3, p.577). However, for reasons that we will discuss later
on this chapter, we do not think that ‘simple’ as thus defined is a consistent trait of
perfections.
 31

The given definition of perfections does not exhaust Leibniz’s use of the term. He
also utilises ‘perfection’ in its singular noun form –as well as a more colloquial and less
relevant adjectival and adverbial form, i.e. ‘perfect’ and ‘perfectly’. Perfection, as a singular
noun, can be understood in relation to perfections in plural, as defined in Ens Perfectissimum
existit. For Leibniz, God’s perfection, in singular, means that all possible perfections, in
plural, belong to God, whose essence is, in fact, all perfections (A VI 3, p.519/ PDSR, p.79),
and he possesses each different perfection in the highest degree (A VI 4, p.1531/AG, p.35).
Because God possesses all perfections –i.e. ‘perfections’ in plural as positive qualities–, God
is perfect –i.e. ‘perfect’ as a singular noun.
This singular use applies also to the idea that there is overall singular perfection. In
Leibniz’s writings after Ens Perfectissimum existit, singular perfection refers often to
‘amount of essence’ of things or equivalent notions that indicate a relation between perfection
and existence. This requires some explanation. For Leibniz there is a potentially infinite
quantity of possible things in God’s ideas, yet only some of them have been actualised by
God. In simpler words, only some of them exist in the universe. The criterion for the
selection of these things is based on their degree of perfection or essence, as Leibniz states in
On Freedom and Possibility (1680-82?): ‘Perfection, or essence, is an urge for existence
[exigentia existentiae] from which existence indeed follows per se, not necessarily, but from
the denial that another thing more perfect prevents it from existing’ (Grua, p.288/AG, p.20).
This applies more accurately to possible universes, as Leibniz states that each possible
universe has ‘the right to aspire to existence in proportion to the amount of perfection it
contains in germ’ (GP VI, p.616/Latta, p.247).4 Therefore, from all possibles only the ones
with the highest amount of essence or degree of perfection are not denied existence.

4 As we will see in chapter 2, what becomes actual because of its perfection is the whole universe rather than individual
things. Indeed the most perfect universe can include some individual elements that are less perfect than other elements that
were not actualised. What matters is the overall perfection of a universe given by the combination of its elements. This will
be clarify further later on this thesis. [Through this thesis we use the translation of the Monadology given by Ariew and
Garber (AG). However, for this particular passage, we think that Latta’s translation includes an interesting translation of qu'il
enveloppe, as ‘contains in germ’, which we want to maintain. For other translations, see L, p.648, AG, p.220, as well as LM,
p.25 (also for commentary about this passage, see LM, pp.117-8).]
 32

1.2 Perfection, degree of essence and unity in variety

But what exactly is this perfection or degree of essence? Before answering this question we
should look further into what does entail degree of perfection or amount of essence. In De
rerum originatione radicali (1697), Leibniz states that ‘just as possibility is the foundation
[principium] of essence, so perfection or degree of essence (through which the greatest
number of things are compossible) is the foundation of existence’ (GP VII, p.304/AG,
p.151).5 Essence is determined by or founded in what is possible. For Leibniz a possible thing
is something that has no contradictions as an idea in the mind of God, yet does not
necessarily exist. As said, only certain things with the highest degrees of essence or
perfection reach existence. According to the quoted passage, the degree of perfection or
amount of essence determines the number of compossible things in existence, which in this
case is a reference to the perfection of the whole universe. Consequently, if a universe has a
higher degree of essence, or perfection, it has a higher claim for existence and allows more
compossible things in it.
With this in mind we are in a better position to answer the question about what defines
or determines the degree of perfection, as well as what is perfection in individual things. In
his letters to Christian Wolff (1715), Leibniz presents the following definition of perfection:

Perfection is the harmony of things, or the state where everything is worthy of being observed,
that is, the state of agreement [consensus] or identity in variety; you can even say that it is the
degree of contemplatibility [considerabilitas]. Indeed, order, regularity, and harmony come to the
same thing. You can even say that it is the degree of essence, if essence is calculated from
harmonizing properties, which give essence weight and momentum, so to speak’ (GW, p.172/AG,
p.233).

The first and last sentences of this paragraph share a similar idea with the previously quoted
fragment of De rerum originatione radicali. Yet, while in that passage Leibniz refers to
degree of essence as a determinant factor of the number of things that are compossible, in the
letter to Wolff he defines perfection as ‘the harmony of things’, and ‘degree of essence’ as
something calculated from ‘harmonising properties’. If we consider that, as said before,
perfection is degree of essence, we have now three notions that explain perfection. So
perfection or degree of essence is:
1) That which determines the quantity of compossible things.

5Alternatively, Loemker’s translation goes as follows: ‘just as possibility is the principle of essence, so perfection or degree
of essence is the principle of existence (since the degree of perfection determines the largest number of things that are
compossible)’ (L, p.488). And in its originial version in Latin: ‘Et ut possibilitas est principium Essentiae, ita perfectio seu
Essentiae gradus (per quem plurima sunt compossibilia) principium existentiae’ (GP VII, p.304).
 33

2) The harmony of things.

3) Something calculated from harmonising properties.
In this context, the word ‘things’ from 1) and 2) seems to be not just individual objects, but a
more general term that might include related concepts such as ‘properties’ or ‘qualities’. If
we accept this, the phrases ‘the harmony of things’ and ‘harmonising properties’ do not differ
much in meaning.6 Consequently, the singular use of perfection (overall perfection) or degree
of essence would indicate quantity of compossible or harmonising things or properties. To be
more precise, we should notice that 1) is less a definition and more like an effect of
perfection. Under this consideration, it seems prudent to prioritise 2) and 3) as constitutive
traits of perfection, which means to opt for the term ‘harmony’ instead of ‘compossibility’.7
Hence perfection is given by degree of essence, as well as by the harmony of things or
harmonising properties.
With this interpretation it is possible to determine the degree of perfection of a simple
thing –e.g. God– based on the harmony of its properties, as well as the degree of perfection of
an aggregate –e.g. the universe– based on the harmony of the things (objects) that compose it.
We can also say that some of these properties or qualities –if they are without limits and
allow a greatest expression– are perfections in the previously designated plural denotation.
Also, the more of these perfections a thing has and the higher these perfections are expressed
in that thing, the greater degree of singular overall perfection that thing has. This seems to be
the case in Leibniz’s description of God’s perfection mentioned above; God is perfect –he has
overall perfection or degree of essence– because he possesses all perfections –or properties
that are positive– in their highest degree (A VI 4, p.1531/AG, p.35).
According to what has been said here, there is a subtle difference between perfection
and perfections. The latter term refers to several different qualities that are positive, and the
former term is the harmonious coexistence of properties and things together in one entity –
this entity is either a simple one (e.g. God) or an aggregate (e.g. the universe). Therefore,
6 This might be what Leibniz means when he states that ‘it is the same to look for perfection in an essence and in the
properties that flow from the essence’ (GW, p.170/AG, p.233). Furthermore, this equivalence between the term ‘things’ and
‘properties’ is not necessarily dismissed in the quoted sentence from the De rerum originatione radicali, where the word
‘things’ is only implied in the original Latin with the word plurima and only made explicit in the translation. Loemker’s
English translation says in the parenthesis ‘since the degree of perfection determines the largest number of things that are
compossible’ (L, p.488) and, similarly, Ariew’s and Garber’s version goes ‘perfection or degree of essence (through which
the greatest number of things are compossible)’ (AG, p.151). Yet the original version is ‘per quem plurima sunt
compossibilia’ (GP VII, p.304), which literally means ‘through which many (or most) are compossible’. In this cases, the
word res (things), in Latin, is normally presupposed in the adjective (plurima), but it doesn’t have the same determination in
the meaning as its explicit form. Therefore, it wouldn’t be wrong to assume that plurima implies ‘things’ in a more general
manner that wouldn’t necessarily dismiss a related notion such as property.
7 The contrast between the terms ‘compossibility’ and ‘harmony’ will be explained further in chapters II and III. Yet for now

it suffices to say that 1), 2) and 3) point to very similar ideas, even though we deem 2) and 3) more adequate for the present
task of defining ‘perfection’ in singular.
 34

overall perfection in singular is the unity of a plurality of things or properties, among which
some these properties can be perfections. Furthermore, the more perfections an entity
possesses, the more perfect it is. Regarding this interpretation, a fundamental difference
between these two meanings seems to be that overall perfection involves a united variety of
properties and/or things, whereas perfections (in plural) do not relate to unity in multiplicity.
However, here it will be argued that perfections also share the structure unity in plurality,
which emerges when some of the main properties considered perfections by Leibniz are
closely examined and unity in variety is understood as a formal structure. But before pursuing
this idea any further, it is important to clarify exactly what is meant here by formal structure
of unity in variety, beginning with the terminological use of that phrase.

1.3 The formal structure of unity in variety

One of the earliest versions of this expression in Leibniz’s writings, appears in a letter to
Antoine Arnauld on November of 1671, using the terms diversitas identitate compensate. The
context is the definition of harmony in relation to pleasure: ‘I define […] happiness as
pleasure without pain; pleasure as the sense of harmony […]; harmony as diversity
compensated by identity [diversitas identitate compensate]. For variety always delights us if
it is reduced to unity’ (GP I, p.73/L, p.150). The phrase ‘diversity compensated by identity’ is
perfectly equivalent with other expressions in later works, even in other languages, such as
Einigkeit in der Vielheit used also to define harmony in On Wisdom (1690?): ‘Now, unity in
plurality [einigkeit in der vielheit] is nothing but harmony’ (GP VII, p.87/L, p.426). In the
quoted letters to Wolff (1715) harmony is similarly defined as consensus vel identitas in
varietate: ‘Perfection is the harmony of things, or the state where everything is worthy of
being observed, that is, the state of agreement or identity in variety [consensus vel identitas in
varietate]’ (GW, p.172/AG, p.233). In the same text Leibniz reiterates the relation between
agreement in variety, harmony and pleasure: ‘the sense of harmony, that is, the observation of
agreements [consensus] might bring forth pleasure […] Agreement is sought in variety, and
the more easily it is observed there, the more it pleases’ (GW, p.171/AG, p.233). Yet in the
same letter Leibniz also mentions an epistemological definition of harmony. As he explains
agreement in variety is also a ‘degree of contemplatibility [considerabilitas]’ (GW,
p.171/AG, p.233). This meaning links harmony to intelligibility and thereby connects unity in
variety with another similar phrase previously written in §6 of the Discourse of Metaphysics
(1686): ‘God has chosen the most perfect world, that is, the one which is at the same time the
 35

simplest in hypotheses and the richest in phenomena’ (A VI 4, p.1538/AG, p.39). This link
suggests that there is certain kind of equivalence between hypothesis and unity. Indeed some
commentators consider that the way in which the term ‘hypothesis’ is used in the quoted
paragraph expresses a state where a plurality of things can be made intelligible by its
reduction to simple laws, since these laws give ‘contemplatibility’ to things.8
Although all these different phrasing manners have different contexts and slightly
varied connotations, It would be safe to assume that they all sum up to the formal structure of
unity in plurality, which is harmony, gives pleasure and entails perfection.
A second clarification regards the idea hitherto articulated of ‘formal structure.’ The
notion of formality establishes that there is no univocal content fixed in either of the two
terms involved in the formula; neither unity nor variety entail a determinate content. In other
words, what is the thing that unites and what are the things that are varied is left
undetermined. Accordingly, not one kind of entity, but several can occupy the role of unity or
the role of variety. This laxity permits a diversity of elements to be considered for those roles.
An example of this can be observed in Leibniz’s quoted passages from his letters to Wolff,
when he uses the term ‘things’ and ‘properties’ as elements for the role of variety. It can also
be stretched to include phenomena as variety and simple hypotheses as unity, as it seems to
be the case in the quoted passage from the Discourse.9 As open and undetermined as it seems,
Leibniz did mention only a limited set of entities that can play the role of variety and unity.
What entities can or cannot be considered as unities or varieties will be examined later in this
and the next chapter. For now it suffices to establish that unity in variety is an abstract idea of
a relation of functional terms that have no univocal content, which is what is meant with the
notion of a ‘formal structure’. Therefore, from here on our treatment of perfections and other
qualities, including beauty, will be, most of the time, following the model of an analytic
abstraction. However, it must be said that this is done just for the sake of clarity, since we are
not committing to the idea that for Leibniz beauty exists abstracted from all things.

1.4 Perfections as unity in variety

8 This view follows the lines of Nicholas Rescher’s (1979) and George Gale’s (1976) accounts of Leibniz’s mathematical
version of perfection –simplicity of laws to abundance and variety of phenomena–, as well as Gregory Brown’s similar
interpretation that perfection is harmony, which in turn, is a specific kind of order defined as ‘a set of phenomena whose
richness greatly exceeds the complexity of the set of laws required to describe it’ (1988, p.577). We will examine this
specific relation between harmony, hypothesis and intelligibility in the chapter VI.
9 We will develop further this idea in chapter VI.
 36

With this in mind it is possible to repeat and confirm that unity in variety is the formal
structure of perfection (in singular), as Leibniz states that ‘the perfection a thing has is
greater, to the extent that there is more agreement in greater variety, whether we observe it or
not’ (GW, p.171/AG, p.233). In this way he depicts singular perfection as agreement in
variety, not only as a complemental or metaphorical relation, but as a formal structure that
determines perfection. Consequently, the degree of perfection depends on these two aspects;
agreement/identity/unity and variety/plurality/multiplicity, with no necessary mention of any
specific content.10
Yet, it is also possible to apply this dual formal principle of singular perfection to
most perfections (in plural). For example, power, which according to Leibniz is a perfection
(A VI 4, p.1531/AG, p.35), is defined as when ‘one rules many outside of itself and
represents them in itself’ (GP VII, p.87/L, p.426). This is clearly illustrated in the relation
between monads; when one monad dominates another monad or several others, it is in virtue
of the possession of more ‘degrees of perfection’ (GP II, p.451/L, pp.604-5). Degrees of
perfection in this case are further explained by Leibniz in §50 of the Monadology: ‘one
creature is more perfect than another insofar as one finds in it that which provides an a priori
reason for what happens in the other; and this is why we say that it acts on the other’ (GP VI,
p.615/AG, p.219). Brandon Look calls this relation ‘causal containment model’, which refers
to a dominant monad that has different kinds of perceptions of the functioning of its
subordinate monads, as well as the capacity to give them orders (2002, p.391). In other
words, ‘one rules many outside of itself and represents them in itself’ is an expression of the
relation of one with a manifold evidently equivalent to unity in plurality. The same is valid
for the mentioned case of existence, which is characterised by Leibniz as a perfection (C,
p.9/MP, p.134)11 and as something whose foundation is singular perfection understood as the
degree of essence, which in turn is ‘through which the greatest number of things are
compossible’ (GP VII, p.304/AG, p.151) or a degree ‘calculated from harmonizing
properties, which give essence weight and momentum’ (GW, p.172/AG, p.233). Both
propositions –the greatest number of compossible things and harmonising properties– express
or involve concurrence of many things together in one entity that possesses the property of
existence, in other words; identity in variety. Something similar appears to be the case with

10 This formality of beauty finds a strong opposition in Kant. See §15 of his Critique of the Powers of Judgement.
Unfortunately, a comparison between Leibniz’s and Kant’s notion of beauty falls out of the scope of this work.
11 It is worth mentioning that there is one passage where Leibniz contradicts the quoted one and states that existence is not a

perfection but a comparative relation among perfections (A VI 4, p1346). Unfortunately, this is not the place to solve this
controversy, thus we adhere here to the idea that existence is a perfection.
 37

knowledge understood as the representations of the whole in one mind, ‘which contains the
diversity of ideas’ (GP VI, p.615/AG, p. 219).12
Although, it would be out of the range of this research to argue that all perfections can
be reduced just to unity in plurality, it is possible to say that at least some of the most
recurrent ones in Leibniz’s writings (power, existence and knowledge), as well as beauty, can
be characterised as an expression13 of this formal structure. Furthermore, unity in plurality
can helps us explain perfections, if these are understood as stressing different aspects of unity
in plurality. For example, power stresses the unifying force of the one that acts over many or
represents them, whereas existence highlights the harmonic cohabitation of different
attributes in one entity. Furthermore, the relation among perfections can be described as if
each perfection is situated on a different ‘moment’ of the process of uniting a variety. This is
the case with power, existence, beauty and other properties, which according to Leibniz are
sequentially linked together:

I call any elevation of being a perfection [Vollkommenheit] […] Just so perfection shows itself in
great freedom and power of action, since all being consists in a kind of power; and, the greater the
power, the higher and freer the being. The greater any power is, moreover, the more there is found
in it the many revealed through the one and in the one, in that the one rules many outside of itself
and represents them in itself. Now, unity in plurality [Einigkeit in der Vielheit] is nothing but
harmony [Übereinstimmung] and, since any particular being agrees with one rather than another
being, there flows from this harmony the order from which beauty arises, and beauty awakens
love. (GP VII, p.87/L, p.426).

Power allows that many are revealed and rule by the one; beings consist in this power; the
greatest the power –i.e. more of the many are revealed through the one and in the one– the
more elevated or perfect the being –i.e. more agreement in greater variety (GW, p.171/AG,
p.233). Finally, since perfection is an urge for existence, more perfection entails existence
(Grua, p.288/AG, p.20).14 In this sense, it is possible to analytically depict power and
existence as different ‘moments’ or ‘instances’ that seem to manifest themselves sequentially

12 It even seems possible to explain goodness through unity and variety, if goodness is understood as the plurality of
individual good and/or evil events that, taken in its final totality or unity, turn out for the best possible result. This idea seems
to be implicit in §147 of the Theodicy: ‘Thus the apparent deformities of our little worlds combine to become beauties in the
great world, and have nothing in them which is opposed to the oneness of an infinitely perfect universal principle: on the
contrary, they increase our wonder at the wisdom of him who makes evil serve the greater good’. (GP VI, p.198/H, p.216).
Nevertheless, admittedly a proper explanation of goodness through unity in variety would require further detail, which
unfortunately escapes the scope of this thesis.
13 Here we should remind the reader that we are using the term ‘expression’ as it is commonly used and not to mean the

specific definition that Leibniz gives to the term in some of his texts.
14 To be clear, for Leibniz perfection entails existence in the case of possible worlds rather than individual things. See

section 1.1 of this chapter. As will be explained later, in order to be actualised individual things need to be compossible with
every other thing that reaches existence. See chapter III.
 38

through a process. Power would be the causal moment of unity in variety that composes
beings, while existence would be the consequence of this power, since the higher the power is
in a being, the more perfect it is, and hence the more chances the being has to exist.
Nevertheless, it must be clarified that the term ‘moments’ does not pretend to denote a
concrete temporal difference between perfections, yet it is used here as an analytical
conceptualisation that helps to abstractedly characterise the elusive particularities that
differentiate perfections in Leibniz’s work. Therefore, a specific characterisation of beauty
will be sought in a similar manner. In this sense, although beauty is unity in variety, it can
also be analytically conceived as a moment of unity and variety, or as an instance of
harmony.15
There is, however, one problem with explaining perfections as instances of unity in
variety. At the beginning of this chapter we showed than in Ens Perfectissimum existit,
Leibniz defines perfections as simple. In that text Leibniz writes that a simple quality is
‘indefinable or unanalysable’, which entails that it is neither composed by other qualities nor
defined by its negation (A VI 3, p.577). This suggests that if perfections are simple qualities,
they cannot be reduced to other terms, such as order or harmony. Yet, in On Wisdom, power
is explained through unity in variety and beauty is said to arise from the order provided by
harmony (GP VII, p.87/L, p.426). Furthermore, as shown, existence and knowledge are also
understood in reference to unity in variety. If perfections are necessarily simple none of these
concepts would be perfections. But Leibniz does say that these notions are perfections. Hence
it must be the case that either perfections are not required to be simple (at least as in the sense
that simplicity is here defined) or that they cannot be explained through harmony. Since we
have shown that these notions can be reduced to or at least explained through harmony, we
must reject that this definition of simplicity applies to perfections. Indeed, this definition of
simplicity applied to perfections is not very recurrent in Leibniz’s work, so it does not seem
to be a problem to understand perfections free from the limitation imposed by this definition
of simplicity. Indeed, in this and other chapters, we defend the idea that beauty is complex
and formal, hence not simple in the sense defined in Ens Perfectissimum.16

2. Features of Harmony as Beauty

2.1 Completeness and pleasure
15 We must insist here that characterising beauty or any other perfection as a ‘moment’ or an ‘instance’ of unity in variety is
just an analytic distinction made here for practical purposes. We think that it is not wrong to say that for Leibniz beauty
simply is unity in variety.
16 For more about the simplicity of beauty, see Portales, 2016.
 39

In the quoted paragraph of On Wisdom, after defining power, Leibniz goes to mention unity
in variety as harmony. He does so in a way that seems as if power –as ‘the one rules many
outside of itself and represents them in itself’– creates unity in variety. Then he states that
unity in variety is harmony. And harmony, in turn, is an order from which beauty arises. The
fact that beauty is at the end of this sequence –just before love– suggests that it is one of the
‘final moments’ of unity in variety. Indeed, beauty is the ‘moment’ that gives pleasure and
pleasure comes only with the completed composition of things.
The relation of pleasure and beauty appears in Leibniz since his earliest texts, for
example, in the Elements of Natural Law (1670), he gives one of his first definitions of
beauty: ‘We seek beautiful things because they are pleasant, for I define beauty as that, the
contemplation of which is pleasant’ (A VI 1, p.464/L, p.137). Years later, in a text titled
Résumé of Metaphysics (1697), Leibniz inverses the formula to define pleasure: ‘An
intelligent being’s pleasure is simply the perception of beauty, order and perfection’ (GP VII,
p.290/MP, p.146). In the following sentence of the same text, Leibniz draws a relation
between pleasure, completeness and order. He explains that pain, contrary to pleasure,
contains something disordered and fragmented. Notwithstanding, in an absolute sense, all
things are ordered, therefore disorder is ‘only relative to the percipient’ (GP VII, p.290/MP,
p.146):

So when something in the series of things displeases us, that arises from a defect of our
understanding. For it is not possible that every mind should understand everything distinctly; and
to those who observe only some parts rather than others, the harmony of the whole cannot appear.
(GP VII, p.290/MP, p.147)

There are two ideas in place here; first, that displeasure comes from a failure in our cognition
to understand things distinctly.17 And second, that displeasure is caused by a certain
subjective partial appreciation, which does not capture the whole. Regarding the second idea,
it is worth noticing that the view that displeasure is caused by partiality is a recurrent theme
in Leibniz’s writings, used often to describe the problem of evil and its parallel in aesthetic
phenomena. For example in De rerum origination radicali, Leibniz states the following:
‘Look at a very beautiful picture, and cover it up except for some small part. What will it look
like but some confused combination of colors, without delight, without art’ (GP VII,
p.306/AG, p.153). And again in §134 of the Theodicy:

17 The notion of distinctness will be explained in detail in the last chapter.

 40

[W]e acknowledge, […] that God does all the best possible, […] when we see something entire,
some whole complete in itself, and isolated, so to speak, among the works of God. Such a whole,
shaped as it were by the hand of God, is a plant, an animal, a man. We cannot wonder enough at
the beauty and the contrivance of its structure. But when we see some broken bone, some piece of
animal's flesh, some sprig of a plant, there appears to be nothing but confusion. (GP VI, p.188/H,
p.207)

The optimal way to appreciate the objective beauty of a natural thing is to contemplate it as a
whole, since a partial observation might prevent us from grasping things without confusion.18
By the same token, beauty arises from unity in variety or harmony at that ‘moment’ where
things are complete, i.e. when things are whole unities, in the sense of one complete thing or
as a complete harmonious aggregate of things.19

2.2 Contemplatibility
In the quoted passages from the Theodicy and the Résumé, Leibniz suggests that order is
opposed by confused or non-distinct understanding. This suggests a link with another
important element of pleasure; namely, ‘contemplatibility’. Both, contemplatibility and
beauty, are indicated as the source of pleasure in harmony. This idea is explicit in the cited
fragments of the letters to Christian Wolff:

You also see from this how the sense of harmony, that is, the observation of agreements
[consensus] might bring forth pleasure, since it delights perception, makes it easier, and extricates
it from confusion. Hence, you know that consonances please, since agreement is easily observable
in them […] Perfection is the harmony of things, or the state where everything is worthy of being
observed, that is, the state of agreement [consensus] or identity in variety; you can even say that it
is the degree of contemplatibility [considerabilitas]. Indeed, order, regularity, and harmony come
to the same thing. (GW, pp.171-2/AG, p.233)

18 In the quoted passage Leibniz refers to individual things as wholes that we should observe as such in order to grasp their
beauty. It is worth mentioning that for Leibniz, these individual wholes subsume into a truly complete whole, which is the
universe itself. This latter is greater in beauty, yet hidden from us, since it ‘embraces too much for us to understand in our
present state’ (K IX, p.117/ LGR, p.163).
19 Here it must be warned again about the analytical use of the word ‘moment’, since a temporal interpretation of the term

would not work at a metaphysical level. For example, if we picture a process where a thing is becoming complete, yet still is
not, we might perceive it as not beautiful. However, in itself, the germ of its wholeness has perfection and beauty, as is
suggested in the previous quote of §54 of the Monadology, where Leibniz states that each possible thing in the universe has
‘the right to aspire to existence in proportion to the amount of perfection it contains in germ [or ‘which it enfolds’ in L,
p.648]. In the original French: ‘qui’il envelope’]’ (GP VI, p.616/Latta, p.247). Furthermore, we can surpass the apparent
fragmentation or partiality of things with the help of knowledge, as Leibniz seems to be advocating in the continuation of the
quoted §134 of his Theodicy: ‘But when we see some broken bone, some piece of animal's flesh, some sprig of a plant, there
appears to be nothing but confusion, unless an excellent anatomist observe it: and even he would recognize nothing therein if
he had not before seen like pieces attached to their whole’. (GP VI, p.188/H, p.207). The idea of wholeness or completeness
will be examined with more detail in chapter III.
 41

Hence, contemplatibility is a state of agreement or harmony that allows us to perceive free

from confusion and brings forth pleasure in the process. Contemplatibility is an order of
things disposed in such a way that it is cognitively intelligible. Yet, the value of
contemplatibility resides in its disposition or availability to be observed and not in the fact
that it is being observed. For Leibniz it does not matter if we fail to grasp it: ‘For it is not
possible that every mind should understand everything distinctly’ (GP VII, p.290/MP, p.147),
therefore, there is perfection, harmony and unity in variety ‘whether we observe it or not’
(GW, p.171/AG, p.233).20 Both beauty and contemplatibility are objective values of things,
posited in the ‘final moment’ of unity and variety and both give pleasure. Thus defined,
contemplatibility, as an aspect of unity in variety, seems to coincide point by point in its
characterisation with beauty. This raises the question about the particularity of beauty: is
there a specificity in beauty as harmony? Or is contemplatibility the same as beauty? To be
sure, a first difference is that contemplatibility suggests a cognitive value rather than an
aesthetic one: it refers mainly to what is ‘worthy of being observed’, when what gives to the
observation are ‘general properties’ (GW, p.170/AG, p.232), which also relates to ‘the
degrees of affirmative intelligibility’ (GW, p.161/AG, p.230). For Leibniz there is no
contradiction or exclusion between aesthetic and cognitive values. Indeed, simultaneous
references to both values can be found in some of his statements, for example: ‘Distinct
cogitability gives order to a thing and beauty to a thinker’ (GP VII, p.290/MP, p.146) or ‘the
more a mind desires to know order, reason, the beauty of things which God has produced […]
the happier he will be’ (Grua, p.581/R, p.84). Because beauty arises from harmony, and
harmony is order, it is not, in principle, confused, therefore what is beautiful is intelligible in
its disposition. However, while the disposition of intelligibility does not guarantee that we,
finite minds, are able to have always distinct perceptions and therefore pleasure, beauty
seems available for us even with confused perceptions or if we are unaware of the intelligible
structure of harmony underlying certain phenomenon.21 Leibniz exemplifies this with the
case of music

Music charms us, even though its beauty consists only in the harmonies of numbers and in a
calculation that we are not aware of, but which the soul nevertheless carries out, a calculation
concerning the beats or vibrations of sounding bodies, which are encountered at certain intervals.
The pleasures that sight finds in proportions are of the same nature, and those caused by the other

20 The objectivity of beauty is further explained in the second part of this research.
21 The subjective experience of beauty and the relation between beauty and confused perceptions will be explained in detail
in chapter VI.
 42

senses amount to something similar, even though we might not be able to explain it so distinctly
(GP VI, pp.605-6/AG, p.212).

In this sense, beauty can be said to differ from a cognitive value. Even if we sometimes
cannot get pleasure from the intelligibility of harmony, we might still be able to get pleasure
from its beauty. That said, the structure of beauty is always potentially intelligible for us,
independently of the fact that we might fail to notice it.

2.3 Plenitude, contrast and consonance

Hitherto contemplatibility and beauty have been only distinguished from each other by their
manner of producing pleasure. Yet still their defining traits seem to be almost identical.
Furthermore, in the cited passage about music, beauty seems inseparable from mathematical
arrangements, which are closely linked with contemplatibility.22 Nevertheless, beauty does
involve other not necessarily mathematical or cognitive features, such as plenitude and
contrast. The first notion is mention as correlative to perfection in quoted passages of De
rerum originatione radicali: perfection or degree of essence is ‘through which the greatest
number of things are compossible’ (GP VII, p.304/AG, p.151). Hence, greater perfection or
degree of essence entails larger quantity, and because greater perfection brings forth
existence, therefore ‘it is obvious that of the infinite combinations of possibilities and
possible series, the one that exists is the one through which the most essence or possibility is
brought into existence’ (GP VII, p.303/AG, p.150). In simpler words, there exists as many
things as it is possible, because a high quantity of things is related to perfection and what
exists is the most perfect. This is why, in §3 of the Principles of Nature and Grace, Based on
Reason (1714), Leibniz states that ‘[e]verything is a plenum in nature’ (GP VI, p.598/L,
p.636). Largest quantities of things are also an expression of beauty. As Leibniz suggests in a
letter to Arnauld (1687): ‘it is in keeping with the greatness and beauty of the workmanship
of God (since these substances don’t get in one another’s way) to make in this universe as
many of them [substances] as there can be, and as many as higher reasons allow’ (A II 2,
pp.187-8/LAV, p.203). An even much more aesthetic example of plenitude is given in §17 of
the Résumé, where Leibniz said that ‘the world is a cosmos, full of ornament; that is, that is
made in such way that it gives the greatest satisfaction’ (GP VII, p.290/MP, p.146). Hence
higher quantities of things entail more beauty.

22 The relation between mathematics and intelligibility will be explained in detail in chapter VI.
 43

As some of the contexts of these passages suggests ‘plenitude’ is a notion related to

the concept ‘variety’. Indeed, plenitude is specific kind of variety that occurs when there is a
large number of different things. Here onwards this aspect of variety will be called
‘quantitative variety’. However, there is another aspect of variety suggested before with the
term ‘contrast’. This dimension of variety has a specific significance in Leibniz’s harmony,
which is made present mainly with the term ‘dissonance’. If quantitative variety means large
numbers of different things, this other aspect of variety expresses the degree of difference
between two or more things. In other words, how different one thing is from another. Here,
this dimension of variety will be called qualitative variety and it will be discussed in detail in
the next chapter. As we will see, a higher degree of contrast between things, or qualitative
variety, entails a higher degrees of beauty.
It is also possible to find another aspect of beauty that is not necessarily related to
intelligibility or mathematics. As said, wholeness and large quantities of different things
contribute to greater beauty. However, it is not enough to include absolutely all compossible
qualities in a unity or bring together a set of randomly united things. What is required is a
selection of elements that results in a greater harmony, which implies the exclusion of other
elements. Power unites variety, yet this concept, as is colloquially used, does not imply any
kind of specific agreement between its components previous to its unification. In other words,
if power is what unites variety, then variety is united just by merit of power and not by any
other feature, such as the consonance of its elements. Yet as was remarked on the cited
passage of On Wisdom, ‘any particular being agrees with one rather than another being there
flows from this harmony the order from which beauty arises’ (GP VII, p.87/L, p.426).This
suggests that a univocal unifying power is not enough for beauty, but a certain kind of
agreement or consonance between united things is needed, as will be explained further in the
chapter III.
Therefore, we have at least four particularities of harmony as beauty. First, harmony
requires to be an intelligible ordered structure (sometimes even a mathematical one) in its
disposition, in other words, contemplatibility. Second, a beautiful harmony has a specific
effect on finite beings, which is beauty’s potential to give pleasure to minds, even when they
do not reach distinct understanding.23 Third, the contribution of plenitude and contrast in the
harmonic order from which beauty arises. And fourth, the requirement of a specific order or
consonance among the variety of united elements.
23 It is important to insist that this is only a relational property of beauty, in other words just an effect, because beauty, in
itself, is objective, so it does not need perceivers. This is further explained in the second part of this thesis.
 44

2.4 Nominalism
Finally, we must add that for Leibniz beauty is always a property or a quality in/of
something. Accordingly, beauty is not a pure idea that has being by itself alone. Despite the
fact that our treatment of beauty has been hitherto fairly analytic and abstract, this has been
done only for practical purposes. We did not intend to postulate that for Leibniz beauty is in
any way an entity that can be separated from things. In fact, the case is rather the opposite,
since for Leibniz qualities are not beings. As he comments in Dissertation on the Art of
Combinations (1666): ‘it is obvious that neither quality nor quantity nor relation is a being’
(GP IV, p.35/L, p.76). Hence beauty –or any other quality– has no being by itself alone. By
this he means to reject universals and abstract terms. 24 In the Preface to an Edition of
Nizolius (1670), Leibniz explicitly adheres to the opposite view; the nominalists. He defines
them as ‘those who believe that all things except individual substances are mere names; they
therefore deny the reality of abstract terms and universals forthright’ (GP IV, pp.157/L,
p.128), then he adds that ‘the nominalists have deduced the rule that everything in the world
can be explained without any reference to universals and real forms’ and ‘[n]othing is truer
than this opinion’ (GP IV, p.158/L, p.128).25 Leibniz supports his view by arguing that two
equal entities that define or contain each other is illogical. He briefly explains that ‘if ‘being-
ness’ [entitas] were a being [ens], ‘real-ness’ were real and ‘something-ness’ [aliquiditas]
were something, the thing would be the form of itself, or a part of its own concept, which
implies a contradiction’ (GP IV, p.147/L, p.126).26 The same argument could be extended to
beauty by stating that if the pure idea of beauty were defined by the proposition ‘Beauty is
beautiful’, it would be a contradiction, since the entity ‘Beauty’ would contain only itself.27

24 Leibniz often mentions universals in conjunction with concepts such as ‘abstract terms’ and ‘real forms’. Both terms refer
practically to the same idea of universals, but accentuate different aspects of that notion. For example, ‘abstract terms’ makes
a clear allusion to its linguistic nature –namely, terms of the F-ness form-, while ‘real forms’ refer to an ontological entity,
more related with a neo-platonic tradition.
25 Although Leibniz sides with the nominalist, he also diverges from some of the more radical positions, such as the one

presented by Hobbes, whom Leibniz calls a ‘super-nominalist’. According to the German philosopher, his English colleague
argues that ‘the truth of things itself consists in names and what is more, that it depends on the human will, because truth
allegedly depends on definitions of terms, and definitions depend on the human will’ (GP IV, p.158/L, p.128). In a later text,
entitled Dialogue (1677), Leibniz develops his counterargument stating that although we use arbitrary names or characters to
express truths, there is permanent, non-arbitrary, element in the relation or analogy between characters and things which
remains the same even if we express it with other characters (GP VI, pp.192-3/L, pp.184-185). For a more detailed analysis
of Leibniz relation with nominalism and Hobbes, see Di Bella (2005).
26 Here Leibniz probably had in mind the third man argument. See Plato’s Parmenides 132a-b (vol.2, 1961, p.675) and, more

specifically, Aristotle’s Metaphysics 990b15-996a26 (vol.2, 1984, pp.1566-69).

27 We can complement this brief argument with the mentioned notion that being is given by a degree of essence as

harmonising properties or qualities (GW, p.172/AG, p.233). Accordingly, it could be said that the abstract entity ‘Beauty’,
having only one quality represented in itself –i.e. beautiful-, would lack any other property to constitute harmony and
therefore being. Since universals do not have multiplicity and a degree of perfection or essence requires a multiplicity,
 45

Furthermore, multiplying entities with abstract terms such as being-ness, something-ness and
Beauty goes against parsimony. Although, Leibniz’s argument here is mainly practical, since
he is defending parsimony as a virtue of good philosophical writing, it is nonetheless based
on metaphysical grounds. He thinks that a plurality of different things is a more perfect trait
of the universe than many identical things and, therefore, God creates a universe where
‘entities must not be multiplied beyond necessity’ (GP IV, p.158/L, p.128). It must be noticed
that this argument does not undermine the aforementioned notion that the existence of more
things indicates more perfection, because that argument points to perfection as a multitude of
diverse things, while ‘the multiplication of entities’ that Leibniz rejects refers to a plurality of
similar or even equal entities. This last idea would also violate the principle of identity of
indiscernibles that states that no two things resemble each other completely and differ only in
number (A VI 4, p.1541/AG, p.41). In this way, Leibniz considers beauty, as well as other
perfections, as attributes of something, even if that something is as intangible as God or
God’s rays (GP VI, p.27/H, p.51). The same applies to unity in variety or harmony: there
must always be a united variety of something. Another logical conclusion from this premise
is that no attribute or quality can be beautiful by itself, because they do not have being by
themselves. For example, power is not beautiful, as there is no such thing as power, just
powerful things. Thus, when we say that unity in variety is beautiful or that beauty is a
‘moment’ of unity in variety we imply that there is a thing or an aggregate of things that
comply with the characteristic of having unity in variety and having it entails that that thing
possesses beauty, since there cannot be unity in variety, or beauty, without things.28

3. Conclusions
To summarise, it has been said here that beauty is a perfection, which means first that it is a
quality that can be expressed in an ultimate degree and at the same time without limits.
Consequently, beauty is in God in its highest degree, yet also in the world and in individual
things in different degrees. Unity in variety is harmony, which is the formal structure of
perfection and perfections. Because beauty is a perfection it can also be posited as one of the
‘moments’ or ‘instances’ of harmony. Beauty arises from harmony in its ‘final moment’, i.e.
when it is completed as a whole. Harmony is an intelligible ordered structure that gives

universals do not have perfection or degree of essence. For Leibniz whatever is possible must have a degree of perfection or
essence, hence universals are not possible.
28 Nonetheless, variety does not require a multitude of things, it can also be a variety of properties that the thing has, see

chapter II. In a similar manner, unity does not need to be represented in just one thing, but it can arise from multiple things
as a principle of order, see chapter III.
 46

pleasure. Hence beauty is also intelligible in its disposition and has the potential to give
pleasure. Something is more beautiful when it has more elements with more diversity and, at
the same time, these elements possess more consonance among each other. This formal
description of beauty constitutes ‘the rules of beauty’, with which every beautiful thing or
aggregate complies.
Although Leibniz seem to not have explicitly listed any rule of beauty, it seems safe
to assume that beautiful things or beautiful aggregates comply with certain formal rules.
Conversely, we could say that for something to be beautiful it must comply with certain
traits. According to what we have said here beauty consists in the possession of the
following features:
1. To be a united variety.
2. Completeness.
3. Intelligible order.
4. The potential to give pleasure.
5. Plenitude (quantitative variety) and contrasts (qualitative variety) in and among its
diverse elements.
6. Consonance (order) in and among its diverse elements.
If something observes these rules it is beautiful, it does not matter if it is an individual thing
or an aggregate. This allows us to formally conceptualise beauty, yet not as a pure idea or a
universal, but as a convergence of traits that, even though they are available to be defined
abstractedly or formally –and therefore define beauty abstractedly–, they must always be
in/of something.
 47

Chapter II: Variety1

Variety is one of the two concepts that defines the formal structure of harmony. In other
words, there cannot be harmony without variety. Since beauty is harmony, variety is also a
necessary component of beauty. In the first section of this chapter, we introduce the
significance of variety in Leibniz’s metaphysics and establish the connection between this
notion and beauty. As we show, these two concepts are linked in Leibniz’s philosophy from
the deepest ontological dimensions of substances to the most basic expressions of the arts. In
the second section, we explore the issue of how simple things can be beautiful if they lack
variety of parts. The solution here postulated is that, although simple things cannot have
variety of parts, they can express a variety of properties and/or of representations and,
therefore, be considered harmonious and beautiful. The third section of this chapter, tackles
the more fundamental question about the nature of variety. Here we postulate that Leibniz’s
view on variety must be understood in two different analytical aspects; one quantitative and
another qualitative. Following the characterisation of the latter in Leibniz’s texts, we
encounter the notion of ‘dissonance’, as a radical example of qualitative variety. The issue
with dissonance is that it is a value that clashes with harmony, yet, at the same time, Leibniz
insists that dissonance enhance harmony and beauty. We explain how for Leibniz beauty
benefits from the heterogeneity offered by dissonance and how its inclusion achieves a better
order than its exclusion. Finally, we conclude that beauty is achieved when dissonances are
harmonically resolved in the unity of a whole. This means that beauty is the result of a
variety, where dissonances have a certain order that offers complexity, yet, at the same time,
harmonic resolution.

1. Variety and Beauty

1.1 The metaphysics of variety
As Christia Mercer (2001) shows, the metaphysical question about the origins of variety is
answered by Leibniz in accordance with the standard neo-platonic view. The One –a supreme
principle or being– is the emanative source of the variety that is the created cosmos. The
argument goes as follows: the One possesses an unbounded perfection that overflows with

1 Some of the ideas and passages expressed in this section are contained in the following published articles: Portales, Carlos
(2016) Variety and simplicity in Leibniz’s aesthetics. In Vorträge des X. Internationalen Leibniz-Kongresses, Band V.
Hildesheim: Georg Olms Verlag and Portales, Carlos (2018) Objective beauty and subjective dissent in Leibniz’s
aesthetics. Estetika: The Central European Journal of Aesthetics, 55(1), 67–88.
 48

being. The result of this ontological surplus is that when the One actualises itself it does so as
the multiplicity of things in the universe. In this sense, the resulting plurality is part of the
indivisible One and the One is part of the effected variety. Hence, the One is the unity and the
multiplicity (Mercer, 2001, pp. 180, 190, 209 & 248). In Book II, §45 of Summa Contra
Gentiles, Aquinas offers a clear version of the same idea:

God is the most perfect agent. Therefore it belonged to God to induce His likeness into created
things most perfectly, as far as is befitting to a created nature. But created things cannot come by a
perfect likeness to God, with respect to only one species of the creature: because, since the cause
surpasses its effect, that which in the cause is simply and unitedly, is found in the effect to have a
composite and multiple nature […] Therefore there was need for multiplicity and variety in things
created, in order that we might find in them a perfect likeness to God according to their mode.
(1934, p.106)

Mercer states that Leibniz’s earlier philosophy is in agreement with Aquinas’ view as for him
‘God is immanent in creatures and distinct from them so that their diversity (or variety) is the
divine essence variously manifested and their unity (or identity) follows from the fact that
they are all acts or emanations of the same thing’ (2001, p.212). Consequently, all variety
found in the universe sparks from one simple thing and finds its ultimate unity in its original
source. Mercer points out that Leibniz claims that it is in this divine origin where we should
look for the source of harmony and beauty (2001, p.213). Leibniz states in Demonstrationum
Catholicarum Conspectus (1668-1669?): ‘the beatific vision or [seu] the intuition of God,
face to face, is the contemplation of the universal Harmony of things because GOD or [seu]
the Mind of the Universe is nothing other than the harmony of things, or [seu] the principle of
beauty in them’. (AVI i, p.499/ trans. in Mercer, 2001, p.213) .2
This is not to say that variety has no substantial existence, as if the constituents of
variety were just different modes of the one thing. As Mercer notices, even though Leibniz is
clear about God being the unity in the world, he is less categorical about God being the
multiplicity in things (2001, p.216). Although all variety may have originated from one, the
whole realm of reality is populated by an ontologically real multiplicity of things. As Leibniz
wrote to Arnauld ‘it is in keeping with the greatness and beauty of the workmanship of God
[…] to make in this universe as many of them [substances] as there can be’ (A II 2, pp.187-
8/LAV, p.203). 3 In other words, the beauty of the universe is given by a multiplicity of not

2 In the original Latin: ‘Visio beatifica seu intuitio DEI de facie in faciem est contemplatio universalis Harmonise rerum qvia
DEUS seu Mens Universi nihil aliud est qvàm rer. harmonía, seu principium pulchritudinis in ipsis.’ (AVI 1, p.499)
3 The relation of variety and existence is established also through another reasoning in A Résumé of Metaphysics (1697). In

this text Leibniz repeats his known idea that perfection entails existence. Afterwards, he depicts the relation between
 49

just of any kind of element, but of substances.4 In the same manner, Leibniz uses beauty as a
criterion to justify the existence of a multiplicity of soul-like entities:

I believe on the contrary that it is consistent neither with order nor with the beauty or the reason of
things that there should be something vital or immanently active only in a small part of matter,
when it would imply a greater perfection if it were in all. […] there should be souls, or at least
things analogous to souls [everywhere] (GP IV, p.512/L, p.504).

The idea that there is an aesthetic dimension of variety at the most profound ontological level
of reality suggests that for Leibniz the relation between these notions is not superficial.

1.2 Beauty as ordered variety

Nevertheless, the relation between variety and aesthetics is not limited just to substances. The
aesthetic significance of variety is extended to the whole world and even to the invisible
worlds within our world. As Leibniz assures Johann Bernoulli, ‘there could be, indeed, there
have to be, worlds not inferior in beauty and variety to ours in the smallest motes of dust,
indeed, in tiny atoms’ (GM III, p.553/AG, p.169). Harmony and beauty can be found
wherever there is a variety of elements. As Donald Rutherford states for Leibniz ‘harmony is
always the property of a ‘system’ of things: a plurality of distinct entities whose mutual order
bestows on them a type of collective unity’ (1998, p.31). In a similar fashion, Strickland
depicts beauty as a property of sets or wholes, not individuals:

Consequently beauty is to be found in systems or wholes, not individual things (unless these are
themselves systems or comprised of parts). Single sounds or sense impressions can be said to be
devoid of beauty, for if they have no relation to any other sounds or sense impressions they cannot
be in agreement with anything outside themselves. This follows from Leibniz's assertion that
beauty arises from order, as order is a property of multiple things rather than individuals
considered by themselves. (2006, pp.104-105)

Indeed, we can find beauty in any group of elements put together in certain orderly manner,
such as it happens in nature. According to Leibniz, nature is composed of the greatest variety
of individual things that relate with each other in the best possible order (GP VI, p.603/AG,

perfection and reality by stating that perfection is quantity of reality and quantity of reality ‘is not to be located in matter
alone’, since its quantity ‘would in any way have been the same; rather it is to be located in form or variety’ (GP VII,
p.290/MP, p.146). Accordingly, variety is the principle of quantity of reality that is perfection, which in turn entails
existence. In other words, there is no existence without variety. In this way, variety is not only ontologically significant
because it is composed of a multiplicity of individual substances, but also because variety is a constitutive principle of
reality, perfection and existence.
4 The reason for the specific requirement of a variety of substances will be explained in chapter V. For now we can anticipate

that, according to Leibniz, monads or mind like substances serve as an echo that reflects the harmony of God’s world as a
multiplication of its beauty (A VI 1, p.438).
 50

p.210). Yet this definition extends beyond nature, even to the arts. For Leibniz music, poetry
or dance please us for the same reason:

Everything that emits a sound contains a vibration or a transverse motion such as we see in
strings; thus everything that emits sounds gives off invisible impulses. When these are not
confused, but proceed together in order but with a certain vibration, they are pleasing; in the same
way, we also notice certain changes from long to short syllables, and a coincidence of rhymes in
poetry […] Drum beats, the beat and cadence of the dance, and other motions of this kind in
measure and rule derive their pleasurableness from their order, for all order is an aid to the
emotions. (GP VII, pp.86-7/L, pp.425-26).

Therefore, any variety of individual things, such as planets, sounds, syllables or body
movements, put together in certain order is harmonic or beautiful and pleases us.5 In this
sense, Leibniz differs from Plotinus, for whom beauty is not determined by harmony and
indeed can be instantiated by a single isolated sound (1917, p.78).6 Furthermore, for Leibniz
this harmonic order is more important than the particular beauty of any individual thing. He
states that under certain circumstances ‘it may happen that for a construction or a decoration
one will not select the most beautiful or the most precious stone, but the one which fits best
into the empty space’ (GP VI, p.459/S, p.143). He also commented elsewhere that ‘the part of
a beautiful thing is not always beautiful, since it can be extracted from the whole, or marked
out within the whole, in an irregular manner’ (GP VI, p.245/H, p.261). In this sense, beauty is
in the ordered relation of a variety of elements that compose a whole, more than in the
particular beauty of a constitutive part of the whole. In other words, the beauty of the whole
takes precedence over the beauty of the part. This statement reveals another level of beauty
that we have not yet considered, i.e. the beauty of the individual parts that compose the
ordered system.
It seems reasonable to extend Leibniz’s view to individual parts that are composed of
other individual parts. We can assume that parts possess variety in the same way that systems
do, since they themselves are wholes composed of a variety of other smaller parts. For
Leibniz this is the case for almost everything, as his ontology is based on a model of things

5 Laurence Carlin suggests that for Leibniz harmony is a certain kind of order, therefore not any order is harmony (2000,
p.103). Although it is an interesting conjecture and a possible interpretation of the issue, I do not think that the author offers
enough convincing textual evidence to discard the alternative view, namely that any ordered multiplicity is harmony. Indeed,
I think that it is safer to assume that for Leibniz every ordered multiplicity is harmony. This does not exclude the fact there
could be different degrees of order, and therefore different degrees of harmony, or different types of unity, as we will see in
the next chapter.
6 In his first Ennead Plotinus wrote that if harmony were the only source of beauty, ‘[i]n sounds also the simple must be

proscribed, though often in a whole noble composition each several tone is delicious in itself’ (1917, p.78).
 51

constituted by sets of other things, which in turn, are constituted by others and so on. For
example in §66 & §67 of the Monadology (1714) Leibniz writes:

From this we see that there is a world of creatures, of living beings, of animals, of entelechies, of
souls in the least part of matter. […] Each portion of matter can be conceived as a garden full of
plants, and as a pond full of fish. But each branch of a plant, each limb of an animal, each drop of
its humors, is still another such garden or pond. (GP VI, p.618/AG, p.222)

Hence, the beauty of any particular being, human, animal, tree, sculpture or building –or any
of their parts– depends on the united variety of their elements. Although, this account can
accommodate plurality and beauty in composed things, a more problematic idea is the
question about variety and beauty in individual simple things, i.e.; things that are neither
composed by other things nor have parts.

2. Variety in simples
2.1 Variety of properties
The suggested idea that beauty is a property that requires a multiplicity of things or parts,
seems to exclude the possibility that there are beautiful partless things. Yet, for Leibniz there
are simple entities that are indeed beautiful. The clearest example being God, since, as said in
chapter I, Leibniz refers to God as ‘the most beautiful being of all’ (A VI, 1, p.461/L, p.134).
If a simple being such as God has no parts, how could it be beautiful?
One approach to answer this question is to ground a simple thing’s beauty in its
variety of properties. As has been already explained, Leibniz states that perfection could be
understood as ‘the degree of essence, if essence is calculated from harmonizing properties,
which give essence weight and momentum, so to speak’ (GW, p.172/AG, p.233). Here,
perfection is not characterised as a variety of individual things, but as harmonising properties.
Therefore, an individual thing may lack a variety of parts, yet it could possess a variety of
properties. For Leibniz, everything that is possible has degree of essence or perfection, those
things that have more essence are the ones that gain existence and, as it was said, degree of
essence is ‘calculated’ from harmonising properties. This means that every possible thing
must have a multiplicity of properties with some degree of harmony. For Leibniz this is the
case for God, who possesses all perfections –or positive properties– in its highest degree (GP
IV, p.427). In this sense, a plurality of harmonising properties complies with the formula of
unity in variety in the case of partless things. Accordingly, simple things are harmonious and
beautiful without the requirement of parts.
 52

But what are properties and how could they be harmonic? For one, it is possible to
state that for Leibniz properties are in substances, thus they do not exist independently of
things.7 In this aspect his well-known idea of complete notions is categorical, since for
Leibniz complete notions contain all predicable properties of a thing, properties that are not
individual things by themselves:

[T]he nature of an individual substance or of a complete being is to have a notion so complete

that it is sufficient to contain and to allow us to deduce from it all the predicates of the subject to
which this notion is attributed. Thus, taken in abstraction from the subject, the quality of being a
king which belongs to Alexander the Great is not determinate enough to constitute an individual
(A VI 4, p.1540/AG, p.41).

Some commentators have understood this as if individual natures are an exhaustively

enumerated set of predicable properties and qualities.8 For example, the individual substance
of a particular football consists in being white, round, made of leather, being able to bounce
in certain degree, etc.9 All of these predicates and much more refer to a list of the variety of
properties and qualities possess by the complete concept of something. In this scenario the
beauty of the ball would be constituted by all these coexisting properties united in the identity
or complete notion of the ball. However, under this model a sort of strange occurrence takes
place: if we said that the ball is beautiful, because the ball has a variety of properties united in
harmony, then the beauty of the ball would be just another property of the ball to add to the
list. Thus the addition of the property ‘beauty’ increases the variety of the ball’s properties,
hence making it more beautiful –since more variety is more beauty. The issue here is not just
the clumsy idea that the mere possession of beauty increases beauty, but also that all
properties and qualities are at the same level, with no other relation than pertaining to the
same complete notion. Therefore, this model does not explain the harmonising aspect of
‘harmonising properties’.
A way out of these problems can be found in James Mann’s criticism of the idea that
substances are a list of its predicable properties and qualities. He highlights that Leibniz does
not only say that individual concepts ‘contain’ all their predicable properties, but also uses
the word ‘deduce’ and ‘derive’ (1987, pp.116-7).10 In this view the individual concept of the

7 See the discussion about Leibniz’s nominalism in chapter I.

8 James Manns refers to this view as ‘mirror theory’ and attributes it to Rescher, Sellars and Woolhouse (Manns, 1987,
p.174).
9 Of course a complete notion also includes predicates related to events and relational properties, but for the sake of

simplicity I will not include these kind of predicates here, although I don’t think that the presented view excludes them.
10 For example in a letter to Arnauld, Leibniz claims that ‘we must not conceive a vague Adam, that is to say a person to

whom certain attributes of Adam belong, when the issue is to determine whether all human occurrences follow from
 53

ball would be constituted by predicable properties that can be deduced or derived from more
fundamental ones, rather than just a list of all them. For example, the ball’s ability to bounce
in a specific way is deduced from the degree of elasticity of its material, its colour from the
way in which its materials reflect the light, etc. Accordingly, we could keep finding even
more fundamental predicable properties that explain elasticity or the power of certain
material to reflect light and then repeat the process again and again. The result is a formulaic
principle that establishes that the relations among properties are given by a deductive
structure. In other words, this formulaic principle dictates the order among the properties of a
thing. Since we said that harmony and beauty are variety united in certain order, it follows
that this deductive structure is a perfect candidate for being the harmonic character of
‘harmonising properties’. Thus, since ‘harmonising properties’ is what grants beauty to
something, we can state that beauty is found in this deductive structure.
Hence, beauty is not just another addable property at the same level as the other
mentioned ones, but the aesthetic value of this deducible order of predicable properties. This
idea can be grounded on Leibniz’s claim that ‘[t]he more there is worthy of observation in a
thing, the more general properties, the more harmony it contains’ (GW, p.170/AG, p.232).
Rutherford states that ‘general properties’ that are ‘worthy of observation’ refer to properties
that conform to general rules or ‘lawlike properties’, which constitute an instance of unity of
variety and therefore harmony (1995, pp.34-35). In the same way, we can say that, because
beauty is an aspect of harmony, what is beautiful in something is the lawlike form of its
properties and qualities.11 Therefore, things are beautiful when a variety of their properties
engage in an intelligible-lawlike formal structure, which can be referred to as ‘harmonising
properties’, and this could be the case for every individual thing, simple or composed,
including God.

2.2 Variety of representations

Another approach to explain beauty and variety in simple things is through Leibniz’s later
notion of substance: the monad. For Leibniz monads are what is truly without parts. Hence,
besides God, they are the best example of simple things. But, are they beautiful? This
question seems to be left unanswered by Leibniz, at least explicitly, yet there is some reason
to believe that they are. Monads are indivisible metaphysical points that have no shape, parts,
supposing him; instead, we must attribute to him a concept so complete that everything that can be attributed to him can be
deduced from it’ (A II, 2b, pp.48-9/LAV, p.67).
11 It is important to highlight that this lawlike conceptual deductive order is only one instance of unity in variety and it is not

sufficient to define all dimensions of harmony or beauty in Leibniz’s philosophy. This issue is treated in detail in chapter III.
 54

or direct relations with their exterior. Although all monads pertain to the same kind of entity,
they all differ from each other in virtue of their internal qualities, which are their perceptions
and appetitions. As he explains in §2 of his Principles of Nature and Grace:

For the simplicity of substance does not prevent a multiplicity of modifications, which must be
found together in this same simple substance, and which must consist in the variety of its relations
to external things. (GP VI, p.598/AG, p.207)

At a fundamental level, monad’s qualities are perceptions or representations of the manifold

of the external world from a specific perspective. Each monad is a ‘living mirror’ that
represents the variety of the whole universe from its own point of view. Furthermore, monads
are not just ‘static’ mirrors, but they change according to their appetitions, which determine
the tendencies to change through time from one perception to another (GP VI, p.598/AG,
p.207). Thus monads represent the whole as variety in at least two ways: 1) simultaneously or
synchronically, as the variety of the parts of the world, and 2) successively or diachronically,
as a variety of representations which is a set of representations that changes through time.12
Dietrich Mahnke (1925) picks up from Leibniz that, despite the characterisation of monads as
simple, they are in fact ‘little universes’13, where their unity has the character of a law that
extends over an infinite variety and unfolds a continuous succession of orders of
representation to all other monads. Regarding 1), i.e. simultaneous variety, Mahnke compares
the represented variety in the monad with knowledge. More specifically, with a kind of
knowledge that is combinatorial (kombinatorisch) or synthetic. Combinatorial knowledge
‘creates unity from a variety and at the same time comprehends all sides at once’ (1925,
p.312). In other words, unity does not eliminate, overcome, or undermine the represented
variety, but intensively concentrates it in order.14 This coincides with Leibniz’s statement that
‘cognition is a certain active representation of the many at the same time, made in a single

12 In a letter to Samuel Mason (1716), Leibniz states the following: ‘However, the simplicity of a substance does not prevent
several modes from being in it all at once. There are successive perceptions, but there are also simultaneous ones, for, when
there is a perception of the whole, at the same time there are perceptions of its actual parts, and it is even the case that each
part has more than one modification. There is a perception all at once, not only of each modification, but also of each part.
These perceptions, however much they are multiplied, are different from one another, even though our attention cannot
always distinguish them, and that is what makes confused perceptions, each distinct one of which contains an infinity
because of its relation to everything external. Finally, that which is composition of parts outside is represented only by the
composition of modifications in the monad; without this, simple beings could not be distinguished internally from one
another, and they would have no relation to external things. And finally, since everywhere there are only simple substances
whose composites are only aggregates, there would be no variation or differentiation among things if simple substances did
not have any internal variation.’ (GP VI, p.628/AG, p.228).
13 In §16 of the Discourse on Metaphysics (1686), Leibniz had expressed a similar idea even before he arrived to his concept

of monads, as he says that every person or substance is like a ‘small world’ (A VI 4, p.1554/AG, p.48).
14 Mahnke distinguishes Leibniz’s synthesis from Hegel’s, as the latter strives for a model similar to melody, where different

things oppose and overcome each other through time, whereas Leibniz’s model is similar to harmony, as he postulates the
subordination of differences to connections that do not negate each other (1925, p.308)
 55

thing by itself’ (A VI, 4, p.2848).15 Accordingly, there is united variety in the monad, thus
monads can be harmonious and beautiful.
Yet, this raises a question about the originality of monadic beauty: if each monad
represents the whole of the cosmos, then its variety seems to be nothing else than a reflection
of the harmonic multiplicity of external things. If all monads represent the same universe, are
monads a unique source of beauty or just a reflection of an external source? As noted, what
makes each monad unique is the degree of distinctness with which a monad perceives the
whole –i.e. perspective– and the way in which its perceptions unfold through time following
its appetites. Accordingly, the question would be if a particular monad, with a particular
perspective, at a particular time can be called beautiful in its own right? For a monad to be a
source of beauty, and not just a mirror-like reflexion of external beauty, its representations
must be expressed in a modified manner uniquely pertaining to that monad and nothing else.
This is equivalent to the way in which a painting of a certain view of a mountain is beautiful
in itself and not just as a mirror of the real mountain. In a footnote Mahnke warns us that
although Leibniz uses the example of monads as different perspectives of the same town,16
this is only an image to illustrate a point. We should not, however, take it literally and assume
that monads are only points of view of each point in the spatial quantitative continuity or just
different ‘mirror-like’ perspectives of the same thing.17 For Mahnke each monad possesses
something qualitatively particular that makes it different from the others (1925, p.538). To
support his position, Mahnke refers to Leibniz’s idea that two things cannot differ just
regarding time or space, but there is always a need for some other internal difference (C,
p.8).18 What Mahnke has in mind here is expressed in his view about combinatorial
knowledge. He explains that the many-sidedness (vielseitigkeit) of Leibniz’s combinatorial
model is not merely receptive, but mostly productive. Just like a work of art is something else
than just the sum of its lines and colours, as it is an organic whole, each unity of a particular
representation of the variety of things is the production of something new (Mahnke, 1925,
p.311). Following this intuition, it could be said that when a monad represents in its own

15 Author’s translation. In the original Latin: ‘cogitatio est activa quaedam repraesentatio multorum simul facta in re per se
una’ (A VI 4, p.2848)
16 See §57 of The Monadology (GP VI, p.616/AG, p.220).
17 A similar idea is also found in Ernst Cassirer’s interpretation of Leibniz, who says that a monad described as a mirror of

the universe is a useful metaphor, but it would be a mistake to interpret it as an exact definition. In his words: ‘Die
populärste Bestimmung der Monade ist ihre Bezeichnung als „lebendiger Spiegel des Universums". Dieser Ausdruck, der,
als Gleichnis aufgefasst, seinen Wert als anschauliche Belebung und Verdeutlichung des Gedankens hat, wird
missverstanden, sobald man ihn, wie es häufig geschieht, als exakte Begriffsbestimmung annimmt und ausdeutet’ (Cassirer,
1902, p.467).
18 In the original Latin: ‘Et non posse duas res inter se differre solo loco et tempore, sed semper opus esse, ut aliqua alla

differentia interna intercédât.’ (C, p.8)

 56

manner the variety of the world, it constitutes something qualitatively new. A qualitatively
new thing is not just a mirror that reflects the qualities of an original object from a
determinate perspective, but is a source of qualities in itself. Therefore, the beauty of the
variety represented by a specific monad is this monad’s own beauty.19
Hitherto we have just considered the variety of the representation in a monad. Yet, as
noted before, a monad does not only have one point of view, but a variety of them that unfold
through time. Indeed, from a diachronic approach, each monad has a variety of different
representations through time, just as a melody is composed by different notes varying through
time. Accordingly, Hide Ishiguro states that for Leibniz the notion of any individual
substance is far from simple, as this tendency to change implicates that monads are
susceptible to an enormous, or maybe infinite, multiplicity of true predicates (1998, p.539).
Furthermore, Leibniz says that in order to change, the simple substance must have variety:

But, besides the principle of change, there must be diversity [un détail] in that which
changes, which produces, so to speak, the specification and variety of simple substances. […]
This diversity must involve a multitude in the unity or in the simple. For, since all natural change
is produced by degrees, something changes and something remains. As a result, there must be a
plurality of properties [affections] and relations in the simple substance, although it has no parts.
(GP VI, p.608/AG, pp.213-214)

Change by degrees is only possible when not everything changes at the same time, which
means that some properties in the substance change, while others do not. For this to be the
case it follows that there must be more than one property. Since the simple substance
changes, it must possess variety.
We will further explain the relation of monads and harmony in next chapter. For now,
is enough to have pointed out that Leibniz manages to include variety even in simple things,
through two approaches. Regarding the idea of complete notions, beauty is the result of
complying with a structure of a variety of predicable properties ordered in a derivative or
deductive relation. In this case, harmony is an intelligible organisation of the manifold
properties and qualities that constitute the essence of an individual being. In a similar manner,
even though monads are indivisible units, they also present a type of plurality. The beauty of
the monad is the result of the simultaneous expression of all the variety of the universe
represented in a unique manner, without cancelling or negating its diversity and, hence
becoming productive.

19 The idea of an individual identity of each monad is further developed in chapter III.
 57

2. What is variety?
2.1 Quantitative and qualitative variety
Until now it has been suggested what kind of elements can conform a variety in Leibniz’s
aesthetics. Hence it is possible to state that harmony can be constituted by a variety of
substances, natural physical things –from microscopic organisms to planets-, elements of
artistic expressions –from verses in poetry to sounds in music-, properties, qualities and
representations or perceptions. However, there is a much more fundamental question still
pending: what is variety in the context of Leibniz’s notion of beauty?
I claim that in Leibniz’s writings it is possible to distinguish between two aspects or
dimensions of variety, even though Leibniz himself does not make this distinction. In the
previous chapter we called ‘quantitative variety’ an aspect of variety that can be found in
definitions of beauty such as the one Leibniz offers in On Wisdom, where he states that
beauty comes from unity in variety, which is when ‘the one rules many outside of itself and
represent them in itself’ (GP VII, p.87/L, p.426). In this sentence, ‘many’ is an expression of
quantitative variety, since variety in this context is understood just as a quantity of things or a
quantity of properties. This dimension of variety complies with one of beauty’s features
named in chapter I, namely ‘plenitude’.
On the other hand, there is other dimension of variety, which is expressed, for
example, in what Leibniz calls the ‘law of delight’ (laetitiae lex):

On that same principle it is insipid to always eat sweet things; sharp, acidic, and even bitter tastes
should be mixed in to stimulate the palate. He who hasn't tasted bitter things hasn't earned sweet
things, nor, indeed, will he appreciate them. Pleasure does not derive from uniformity, for
uniformity brings forth disgust and makes us dull, not happy: this very principle is a law of delight
(GP VII, 307/AG, p.153)

In this case, variety is not just a quantitative denomination, but also involves a notion of
diversity that is qualitative. In other words, variety is a significant difference between two or
more qualities, such as bitter and sweet. For lack of a better word, I will call this ‘qualitative
variety’. Qualitative variety corresponds to what we called ‘contrast’ and constitutes one of
the features of beauty considered in chapter I.
The use of the term ‘qualitative’ here merits a short explanation. In Leibniz’s
metaphysics the difference between any two things is their different degrees of perfection
(GP III, p.343/LTS, p.311). Therefore, at a metaphysical level, one thing is qualitatively
 58

differentiated from another by a quantitative measure, namely degrees. In this sense, the term
‘qualitative variety’ is not the most adequate to express the metaphysically deep Leibnizian
distinction between two things. Nevertheless, here I use ‘qualitative variety’ to denote a more
colloquial meaning, which is the magnitude of the difference between two things, in
contraposition to ‘quantitative variety’, as many things. In this sense, more qualitative variety
means more difference or contrast between two or more things. It must also be added that
here both terms ‘quantitative’ and ‘qualitative’ are expressions of different aspects of the
term ‘variety’ and not mutually exclusive types of variety. In fact, for Leibniz, any
quantitative variety implies qualitative variety. This is the case because any quantitative
multiplicity is composed of things that are qualitatively different from each other. Otherwise
quantitative multiplicity would be many of the same thing and this goes against Leibniz’s
principle of identity of indiscernibles.20

2.2 Dissonance
Leibniz often exemplifies through music the positive effect of qualitative variety in harmony,
more specifically with the figure of dissonance. For example in De rerum originatione
radicali, he writes ‘the most distinguished masters of composition quite often mix
dissonances with consonances in order to arouse the listener, […] so […] the listener might
feel all the more pleasure when order is soon restored’ (GP VII, p.306/AG, p.153). As said,
qualitative variety involves contrast between things and in music dissonances and
consonances are defined by their mutual contrast. As explained in the introduction of the first
part, the notion of harmony containing dissonances was common in metaphysics and music –
especially in tonal music– during the baroque and diverged from the classical and medieval
Pythagorean view. The latter located dissonance outside harmony, whereas Leibniz, as well
as other baroque thinkers and musicians, included dissonance as a beneficial element of
harmony. But dissonances are indeed not harmonious, in fact they are the opposite. So what
is interesting about dissonances being a beneficial part of harmony is that dissonance is a
value that is opposed to the very thing that it improves: harmony. The same thing is said
about evil, as for Leibniz lower quantities of evil enhance the goodness of the world (G VI,
p.384/H, p.385). Another equivalent relation is the one between order and disorder. For
example, in the Theodicy (1710), Leibniz writes ‘[t]here are some disorders in the parts which
wonderfully enhance the beauty of the whole, just as certain dissonances, appropriately used,

20 I would like to thank Edward Glowienka for pointing this out.

 59

render harmony more beautiful’ (GP VI, p.384/H, p.385). If beauty is an ordered multiplicity
how can some disorders in the parts enhance it? In this sense, evil, disorder and dissonance
play a similar role in enhancing harmony and beauty, even though they are opposed values.
As we will explain, it is indeed by virtue of being opposed values that they introduce more
contrast or qualitative variety, which according to Leibniz is what helps to enhance beauty
and harmony.
Before we continue with this explanation, we should ask now what dissonance is for
Leibniz. Although he does not explicitly define dissonance, he does say that consonances are
expressed by a variety in which agreement or order is easily observable (GW, p.171/AG,
p.233). It would be safe to assume that, conversely, dissonances occur when that agreement
or order is not easily observable. Drawing from passage §134 of the Theodicy quoted in the
chapter I, we could say that order is not easily observed when some parts do not appear
immediately connected to a whole, like ‘some piece of animal's flesh’ or ‘some sprig of a
plant’. Leibniz points out that ‘there appears to be nothing but confusion, unless an excellent
anatomist observe it’ (GP VI, p.188/ H, p.207). In this case, the knowledge of the anatomist
makes it possible to relate the dissonant piece of flesh to an ordered whole, i.e. the animal.
The anatomist can observe that the piece of flesh in fact complies with a broader order that
was not so easily found in the piece by itself. Likewise, in the above example of a musical
composition, Leibniz seems to suggest that dissonance is a momentary disorder, but further
events in time provide the right context to incorporate it in a larger order. For example, at
some point in a musical piece a certain interval might cause tension, sounding unrelated or
inadequate in relation to the previous intervals, but as the piece progresses it can resolve the
tension of that dissonant interval into a further consonant one. In this case the dissonant
element is eventually integrated within the harmonic pattern of the piece, justifying that
moment of tension and inadequateness as an acceptable part of a whole. Therefore,
dissonances are a relative disorder or less immediate order in some parts of an overall ordered
whole.21
As these examples show, dissonances are produced by elements that introduce certain
disorder by contrasting with their immediate context. Hence, dissonance entails a significant
degree of difference between things. This difference is expressed in the relations those things
establish with each other. Accordingly, there is a difference between the sort of relations that
21It is important to notice that dissonance is not the same as incompossibility. While the latter refers to the impossibility of
incorporating two or more things under the same general rule (see chapter III), the former expresses a local or momentary
mismatch between two or more closely related things, yet from a wider perspective those things do conform to the same
general rule.
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a dissonant thing establishes with its immediate context (relative disorder) and the relations
that consonant things establish with each other (easily observed order). As we explain in the
next chapter, the relations between things that determine their order or relative disorder are
objective. Therefore, dissonances and the relative disorder among some elements are not
determined by a perceiver, but by the objective relations among things. These relations can be
objectively ordered or disordered (or some degree between these terms) with their immediate
context. Hence things can be objectively consonant or dissonant (or some degree between
these terms).22 In other words, dissonance and consonance are real properties of the
universe.23
As said, in Leibniz’s metaphysics, dissonance and evil share the same function; both
are negative values that work against the main features of the world, i.e. order/harmony and
goodness, while at the same time introducing variety (GP VI, p.384/H, p.385). But how could
dissonance contribute to harmony or be considered beautiful at all? An immediate answer can
be drawn from Leibniz’s law of delight, since it seems that he takes at face value the idea that
qualitative variety pleases24 and, within a set of consonant elements, dissonances introduce
diversity. In this sense, heterogeneity is a key element of pleasure, embodied by a certain
kind of multiplicity that, if it is truly heterogeneous, must include contrasting elements such
as dissonance, even if in itself dissonance opposes harmony or beauty. In fact, dissonances
are not pleasing by themselves, as Leibniz states that ‘certain dissonances would offend the
ear by their harshness if they were heard quite alone, and yet in combination they render the
harmony more pleasing’ (GP VI, p.434/H, p.440). To become a contribution to the aesthetic
value of a set of consonant things, dissonances must be in certain orderly combination, which
needs to be observed to be appreciated. In a letter to the musicologist and mathematician
Conrad Henfling, Leibniz wrote that beauty, or what is pleasing, ‘consists in the observability
of multiplicity to such an extent that deformity itself would immediately please, when it

22 I do not think that Leibniz would deny that there can be degrees of consonance and dissonance, in the same way that there
are degrees of good and evil (even though there are things in the world that are clearly good and others clearly evil). If this is
the case the difference between consonance and dissonance could be considered quantitative (i.e. degrees). Yet for the sake
of simplicity, I will not consider here in detail the consequences of this variance of degrees.
23 When Leibniz defines consonance as a variety in which agreement or order is easily observable, I do not think that he

means that the difference between consonance and dissonance is determined by a subjective observer. I think that ‘easily
observable’ is a nominal definition and not a definition of the nature of consonance in itself. This means that it is not that
consonances appear when an observer easily observes the order of some parts, but when some parts objectively have a
significant degree of order the observer can easily observe that order. In the case of dissonance, order is not so easily
observed because there is a momentary disorder among parts.
24 A similar idea was expressed before by Descartes: ‘Variety in all things must be noticed to be pleasing’ (Author’s

translation. In the original Latin: ‘Denique notandum est varietatem omnibus in rebus esse gratissimam’ (See Compendium
Musicae, in GOC, p. X, 92).
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renders itself observable’ (Hasse, p.140).25 This notion can be contextualised with the
emphasis that Leibniz puts in the relation between observability and pleasure, as he wrote to
Wolff that ‘consonances please, since agreement is easily observable in them’ (GW,
p.171/AG, p.233). In light of the passage directed to Henfling, it seems appropriate to add
certain modifications to the latter quote: if consonances please because their agreement is
easily observable, then harmony with dissonances requires a greater effort to be observed and
become pleasing. With effort, nonetheless, it is possible to find agreements with the inclusion
of dissonances and become observable.26 Furthermore, according to Leibniz’s statements
about the use of dissonance in music, this greater effort has the potential to result in even
more pleasure or beauty. Leibniz’s idea here seems to comply with the principle of
completeness commented in chapter I, since it states that our partial perspective of the
totality, limited only to perceiving some parts, encounters some dissonant aspects of the
whole, which by themselves could be wrongly conceived as undesirable, yet when the whole
is observed, these dissonances find their place in agreement and contribute to enhance
harmony and beauty.

2.3 Dissonance and the beautiful

This explanation still raises the metaphysical question if dissonances are inherent elements of
beauty? Which is related to a second question; why are there dissonances in the best –most
beautiful– possible world? In the Theodicy, Leibniz states that ‘the limitation or original
imperfection of creatures brings it about that even the best plan of the universe cannot admit
more good, and cannot be exempted from certain evils, these, however, being only of such a
kind as may tend towards a greater good’ (GP VI, p.384/H, p.385). The way in which Leibniz
phrases this statement, seems to indicate that the imperfection of creatures is a given
condition that forces the existence of evil elements in the universe.27 Yet, luckily, these
elements can be used to enlarge the goodness of the universe and make the best of it in its
aim towards perfection. Equally, it could be said that because of creatures’ imperfection the
25 Author’s translation. In the original Latin: ‘Nam revera pulchritudo, vel (si hoc generalius accipias), quod gratum est, in
multiplici observabilitate consistit; usque adeo, ut ipsa subinde deformitas placeat, cum se observabilem reddit…’ (Hasse,
p.140).
26 Heinrich Wölfflin makes a very similar comment regarding baroque architecture that might help to illustrate this point:

‘for the baroque is bold enough to turn the harmony into a dissonance by using imperfect proportions. As long as the work
have any aesthetic meaning at all, its proportions cannot of course be governed entirely by such a dissonance. But
harmoniously related proportions became fewer and less conspicuous. The simple harmony of Bramante’s style suddenly
seemed trivial and made way for more far-fetched relationships, more unnatural transitions that the untrained eye could
easily mistake for complete absence of form.’ (1964, pp.67-68)
27 Indeed, for Leibniz, all things are created by God with limitations or, what is the same, with some degree of metaphysical

evil. It is because of these limitations that created things cannot know everything and are susceptible to err in their actions,
i.e. commit sins. And this is how moral evil arises from metaphysical evil.
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beauty of this world must include dissonances (as equivalent to evil). Following this
assumption, it could be thought that, although the imperfection of this world mandates the
inclusion of dissonance, there is such thing as pure beauty without dissonance in an ideal
realm or in God. Hence, in this scenario, dissonances are not inherent enhancers of beauty,
but by-products of creaturely imperfection. Accordingly, a world with no dissonances would
be better (more beautiful or more perfect), if such thing were possible.
However, in other paragraphs Leibniz suggests that the inclusion of dissonance is in
fact better than its exclusion, for example in a documented dialogue with Baron Dobrzensky
(1695) Leibniz states the following:

I believe that God did create things in ultimate perfection, though it does not seem so to us
considering the parts of the universe. It's a bit like what happens in music and painting, for
shadows and dissonances truly enhance the other parts, and the wise author of such works derives
such a great benefit for the total perfection of the work from these particular imperfections that it
is much better to make a place for them than to attempt to do without them. (Grua, p.365-6/AG,
pp.154-5)

Also in the Theodicy, Leibniz explains that ‘he [God] can banish evil, but that he does not
wish to do so absolutely, and rightly so, because he would then banish good at the same time,
and he would banish more good than evil’ (GP VI, p.435/H, p.441). In the same text he also
states that ‘[i]t is true that one may imagine possible worlds without sin and without
unhappiness, and one could make some like Utopian or Sevarambian romances: but these
same worlds again would be very inferior to ours in goodness’ (GP VI, p.108/H, p.129). In
this sense, good and evil or consonance and dissonance seem to be inextricably interrelated to
the point that a greater positive value is not without the diversity introduced by a negative
one.
There seem to be at least two reasons why Leibniz thinks this. The first reason is the
same as in the ‘law of delight’: qualitatively different things grouped together result in a
positive value (be it good, beauty or pleasure). Although we already mention this idea, let’s
expand a bit more. As said, the inclusion of opposites in a certain order increases variety and
in a group of mostly good and consonant things, evil and dissonance are the best diversifiers.
For example, in his Confessio philosophi (1672-1673), Leibniz justifies sins as contributions
to the superior aesthetic value of harmony: ‘[God] would not be more pleased by the
universal series were sins absent –in fact less, because this very harmony of the whole is
rendered delightful by the dissonances which are interposed and compensated for in
marvellous manner’ (A VI 3, p.124/CP, p.49). If even for God harmony is more delightful
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when it contains diversity, then it can be said that qualitative variety is objectively valuable. 28
If this is the case, negative elements in a certain order do inherently enhance beauty, since the
best and most beautiful harmony requires in its constitution negative elements such as
dissonance, evil or sins. Yet again, this does not mean that qualitative variety is an
unconditional positive value or that any kind of diversity enhances beauty. In his letters to
Wolff, Leibniz is rather clear about the superior amount of good needed for this to be so:

I don't know whether it can be said more absolutely that the unlimited is more perfect than the
limited. The unlimited is a certain sort of chaos, but its observation brings on discomfort
[molestia], not pleasure. If the divine intellect were to produce good things and bad in equal
measure, it would remain unlimited, but it would not remain perfect. It is more perfect for the
better things among the possibles alone to exist than for good and bad things to exist equally and
indiscriminately. But [God's] intellect is also unlimited in its kind with respect to the best, since it
produces infinite harmonies. (GW, p.171/AG, p.233)

In this sense, for qualitative variety to be a contribution to harmony and beauty, it must be a
certain ratio between a greater quantity of positive elements and a lesser amount of negative
ones. As said, negative elements must be also precisely located in specific relation with good
ones.29
A second reason for the inclusion of negative elements is that it achieves a better
order. As was shown in the passage quoted at the beginning, beauty arises from the order that
flows from harmony, in other words; order is a fundamental feature of beauty.30 Hence the
question is if the inclusion of negative elements could bring a better order than their
exclusion. For example, in baroque music, the integration of dissonance was far from an
attempt to bring confusion into harmony, on the contrary as Tim Carter states ‘the careful
control of dissonance brought a new order to musical harmony that might be termed classical,
at least in the sense of balance’ (2005, p.7). The suggestion that musical dissonances are
associated with control, order and even ‘classical balance’, can be also applied to Leibniz’s

28 This is also confirmed in Confessio philosophi, as Leibniz suggests that the fact that diversity –introduced by discord and
apparent disorder– contributes to harmony is not a fact in virtue of God’s will, but in virtue of God’s understanding. Hence
the fact that diversity contributes to harmony is a fact in the same way that three times three is nine, i.e. not because God
wants to, but because it is in the nature of numbers themselves, which are, however, in God’s intellect (See A VI 3, pp.121-
122/CP, pp.43-45). As Frédéric De Buzon explains, for Leibniz ‘the proportions, relationships, or reasons which constitute
universal harmony depend not on the will of God, but on his very existence, since the divine understanding is the place in
which the ideas of things reside’ (1995, p.102).
29 The notion of ‘negative elements’ raises the question whether the particular imperfections are themselves ‘things’ or not.

If they are, they would be ultimately perfect in some significant degree, otherwise they would not have qualified for
existence. Here we should remember that Leibniz subordinates the value of the part to the whole, so the low degree of
perfection (or imperfection) of an isolated thing could be perfect in its contribution to the whole. We will return to this topic
in chapter V. Yet for now we should think of negative elements along the lines of our definition of dissonance, i.e. elements
that exhibit a relative disorder within their immediate context.
30 In chapter 3 we will see that unity (one of the two fundamental notions of harmony) is a principle of order.
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harmony. In fact, Gilles Deleuze sees Leibniz’s thought –in analogy with baroque harmony–
as the ultimate attempt to reconstitute classical reason:

Classical reason toppled under the force of divergences, incompossibilities, discords, dissonances.
But the Baroque represents the ultimate attempt to reconstitute a classical reason by dividing
divergences into as many worlds as possible, and by making from incompossibilities as many
possible borders between worlds. Discords that spring up in a same world can be violent. They are
resolved in accords because the only irreducible dissonances are between different worlds […]
Confronted by the power of dissonance, it discovers a florescence of extraordinary accords, at a
distance, that are resolved in a chosen world, even at the cost of damnation. (1993, pp.81-82)

Before commenting on Deleuze’s passage, we need to briefly review some basic notions of
Leibniz’s metaphysics. Leibniz does not draw a fundamental division between good and evil
or consonance and dissonance.31 For him, there are at least three orders of being:
 An order of God’s intellect or ‘Region of Verities’: an infinite set of all possible
things and eternal truths. Here all things that are conceivable without internal
contradiction are included. Hence this order only excludes impossible things, such as
a square circle. Yet, some of these possible things, although consistent by themselves,
are fundamentally incompatible with other possible things.
 An order inter possible worlds: within God’s intellect these possible yet incompatible
things are separated from each other and assigned to different possible worlds with
closed borders, making each possible world internally consistent, but inconsistent
with other possible worlds. Accordingly, some possible worlds contain possible things
that are inconsistent with other possible things in other possible worlds.
 An order intra possible worlds: although everything within a possible world is
consistent with each other, there are things that are not in immediate agreement
among each other. Thus each possible world contains certain degrees of evil and
dissonant things i.e. certain things that have a low degree of perfection or that exhibit
a relative disorder with their immediate context. However, these things are ordered in
a way that brings more goodness and beauty. Among these worlds the actualised
world is the one that achieves these last attributes in a greater degree.
What Deleuze points out is that this distribution of beings attains a greater order including
those negative elements (evil or dissonance) –that classical thought unsuccessfully tried to

31This differs with certain kinds of Manicheism in classical thought, such as the case of Pythagoreans like Achytas, whose
cosmology was explained in the introduction of the first part.
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purge– by locating them in separated worlds.32 In Leibniz’s metaphysics only things that are
fundamentally inconsistent between each other are in different world, but things that establish
relations that are dissonant between each other are tolerated within the same world. Indeed,
they are not only tolerable, but desirable, as for Deleuze the inclusion of dissonance and evil
in the third described order is crucial for harmony, since it avoids the eternal dissonant
resonances or ‘the eternal resentment of the damned’:

[I]ntegration can be made in pain. That is the specific character of dissonant accords, the accord
here consisting in preparing and resolving dissonance, as in the double operation of Baroque
music. The preparation of dissonance means integrating the half-pains that have been
accompanying pleasure, in such ways that the next pain will not occur ‘contrary to all
expectations.’ […] The resolution of dissonance is tantamount to displacing pain, to searching for
the major accord with which it is consonant, just as the martyr knows how to do it at the highest
point and, in that way, not suppress pain itself, but suppress resonance or resentment […] A
counterexample would be furnished by the damned, whose souls produce a dissonance on a
unique note, a breath of vengeance or resentment, a hate of God that goes to infinity. (1993,
pp.131-132)

This amounts to the neutralisation of radical evil –or pure dissonance– by perfectly placing
negative elements in an order that finds harmonic resolution. Since every possible thing has
being in God’s intellect, there must be some things or relation between things that happen to
be evil or dissonant, which must be located within some possible world. Confronted with this
problem, the hypothetical solution of Manicheism would be to put all these negative elements
into one world apart from all other non-dissonant and non-evil things, resulting in a world of
pure dissonance or radical evil and other world(s) without dissonance or evil. On the
contrary, the order that Deleuze sees in the Baroque and in Leibniz’s philosophy is that these
evil and dissonant elements are distributed among all possible worlds in a perfect measure in
order to serve the mentioned purpose of enhancing harmony within these worlds. As Leibniz
states: ‘And as this vast Region of Verities contains all possibilities it is necessary that there
be an infinitude of possible worlds, that evil enter into divers of them, and that even the best
of all contain a measure thereof. Thus has God been induced to permit evil’ (GP VI, p.115/H,
p.136). This inclusive operation contributes to gain in beauty, as it establishes a more
efficient overall order of beings, despite the fact that it might appear not to be the case if we
do not see the whole. As Deleuze puts it: ‘the Baroque universe witnesses the blurring of its
melodic lines, but what it appears to lose it also regains in and through harmony’ (1993,
32Although Deleuze does not mention the Pythagoreans here, we could once again consider Achytas as an example of a
classical thinker that excludes dissonances from the harmoniously ordered universe.
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p.82). This is the case because dissonances and evil become productive in their worlds as
they help to achieve a positive result. Otherwise, if they were be excluded and isolated they
would be always in a state of pure evil or dissonance with no chance of redemption or
resolution. In this sense, Leibniz proposes a more successful order through the integration
and distribution of negative elements, which result in a harmonic unity composed of
qualitative variety or diversity that enhances beauty.

2.4 Resolution
As said, for qualitative variety to be a positive contribution to harmony, it must entail a
certain order. The fundamental trait of this order is that it must be able to achieve the
harmonic resolution of dissonances within the unity of a whole. In Confessio philosophi,
Leibniz explains that beauty is achieved with the reduction of the apparent and temporal
disorder between things (that is dissonance):

[F]or harmony is unity in multiplicity, and it is greatest in the case where a unity of the greatest
number of things disordered in appearance and reduced, unexpectedly, by some wonderful ratio to
the greatest elegance [concinnitatem]. (A VI 3, pp.122-123/ CP, 43-44)

In this sense, harmony –and hence beauty– reaches its peak at the moment when the
dissonances are harmonically reduced. Later in the same text, Leibniz repeats this idea by
stating that in ‘the more exquisite harmony the most turbulent discord is unexpectedly
reduced to order’ (A VI, 3, p.126/CP, p.53). And again, a third time, he applies this same
principle to art, calling it ‘the rule of art’: ‘it is with the essence of harmony that the
discordant diversity is redeemed wonderfully by seemingly unexpected unity. This is taken as
a rule of art, not only by those who write songs but also by those who write stories concocted
to delight, which are called novels’ (A VI, 3, p.147/ CP, p.103).
The moment when dissonances are suddenly redeemed and order is restored relates to
the aesthetical supremacy of the whole in Leibniz’s philosophy. As he states:

[E]ven if harmony is pleasing, nevertheless it does not immediately follow that whatever arises
from this harmony is pleasing. Because the whole is pleasing it does not follow that each part is
pleasing […] But the unpleasantness that exists in these things considered in themselves is
dispelled by the departure or, rather, actually the increase from the source of the pleasantness of
the whole. Hence because of this compensation, the dissonant in this mixture is made indifferent
from what was displeasing, the permitted from what was rejected. Only the whole is pleasing,
only the whole is harmonious, only the configuration, as it were, of the whole is harmony. (A VI,
3, p.131/CP, p.63)
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Thus, only a whole exhibits the true beauty of something, since a whole is associated with the
moment of the redemption of dissonance and the highest peak of harmony, that is, when
elements in relative disorder within their immediate context are shown to be in fact an
ordered part of a bigger whole. Accordingly, beauty is not merely quantitative multiplicity or
qualitative diversity, but also the resolution of dissonances in certain complete final unity.
Beauty is therefore realised in the culmination of the formal structure of unity in variety or, as
said in the previous chapter, beauty is the ‘final moment’ of harmony.

3. Conclusions
As we have explained here variety not only possesses a significant ontological status in
Leibniz’s metaphysics, but also in his views about aesthetics. To this extent variety is one of
the two conditions that cannot be found lacking in any consideration of the notion of beauty.
As an instance of harmony, beauty is, at its most basic, an ordered variety.
Even simple entities in Leibniz’ universe are not without variety. Indeed, simple
things can be beautiful by being harmonious, that is when variety is not only a plurality of
things, but also a variety of properties and representations contained in a partless entity.
Regarding the idea of complete notions, beauty is the result of complying with a structure of
a variety of predicable properties ordered in a derivative or deductive relation. In this case,
harmony is an intelligible organisation of the manifold properties and qualities that constitute
the essence of an individual being. In a similar manner, even though monads are indivisible
units, they also present a type of plurality. The beauty of the monad is the result of the
simultaneous expression of all the variety of the universe represented in a unique manner,
without cancelling or negating its diversity and, hence becoming something new. The monad
also expresses a diachronic variety as a series of representations succeeding each other in
time.
Consequently, simple things can be beautiful either by possessing a multiplicity of
properties harmonised by a deductive law-like form or by intensively representing the
external variety in a unique manner.
In the second section, we explained that variety is not only a quantitative plurality of
elements, but also the qualitative diversity between these elements. Furthermore, more
diversity entails more beauty, therefore dissonances and negative values increase beauty.
Indeed beauty is enhanced by a union of contrasting elements that produces dissonance. We
postulated two reasons to justify the value of dissonances: first, dissonances are examples of
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diversity and diversity rightly ordered always render a positive outcome. And second, the
right distribution of dissonance through all possible worlds generates an optimal order
avoiding possible worlds of pure dissonance.
Lastly, we said that for Leibniz the tension introduced by dissonances in the universe
is harmonically resolved in the order of the whole, resulting in an objectively beautiful
universe. In the following chapter we will examine how this order is expressed as the unity of
the formula unity in variety that is beauty.
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Chapter III: Unity1

Harmony has been here defined as unity in variety, which is a formula that combines two
terms; ‘unity’ and ‘variety’. Unity in variety has been deemed equivalent to several other
expressions coined by Leibniz, such as ‘diversity compensated by identity’ [diversitas
identitate compensate], ‘variety reduced to unity’ [varietas reducta in unitatem] (GP I, p.73/
L, p.150), ‘unity in plurality’ [einigkeit in der vielheit] (GP VII, p.87/L, p.426), ‘agreement or
identity in variety’ [consensus vel identitas in varietate] (GW, p.172/AG, p.233) and even as
‘the simplest in hypotheses and the richest in phenomena’ (A VI 4, p.1538/AG, p.39).
However, the careful comparison of these phrases highlights the following issue: although the
terms ‘variety’, ‘plurality’ and ‘diversity’ refer more or less to the same idea, the terms at the
other side of the formula, i.e. ‘unity’, ‘identity’ or ‘agreement’, are at odds with each other.
These terms are not evidently equivalent to each other in the same way that ‘multiplicity’ and
‘variety’ are to each other. Indeed, there are several meanings conveyed by different
expressions at the side of the formula opposed to variety: on one hand ‘unity’ could be
understood as numerical unity and/or as many things put together (united); ‘identity’ refers to
individuality or, in logical terms, something that is equal to itself; and, ‘agreement’ indicates
a relation that coordinates two or more elements.
Here we will assume that this terminological ambivalence in Leibniz’s work is,
nonetheless, deliberated. Furthermore, we think that the fact that these terms fulfil the same
role in the formula of harmony points to a key aspect of his metaphysics: numerical units, the
unity of many things, identity and agreement are all traits that are co-dependent on each
other, and cannot be found apart in any entity. In other words, in Leibniz’s universe
everything that could be referred as ‘one’ or any individual thing with a unique identity is an
ordered multiplicity in some sense. Moreover, in any united group of things there must be
agreement among those things, as we will argue there is no forced convergence of the
manifold into one.
Nevertheless, even if unity, identity and agreement cannot be found apart in the
universe, they still have different meanings that refer to different traits. Hence, in a sense, it

1Some of the ideas expressed in this section are contained in the following published articles: Portales, Carlos (2016)
Variety and simplicity in Leibniz’s aesthetics. In Vorträge des X. Internationalen Leibniz-Kongresses, Band V. Hildesheim:
Georg Olms Verlag and Portales, Carlos (2018) Objective beauty and subjective dissent in Leibniz’s aesthetics. Estetika:
The Central European Journal of Aesthetics, 55(1), 67–88.
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could be said that unity in variety does not refer to harmony in the same way that agreement
in variety does. In order to establish a univocal formula of harmony that works as a single
ground for beauty it is important to surpass this semantic divergence. Fortunately, all these
notions converge when noticed that, at an ontological level, numerical units, identities and
agreement of multiplicities are all dependent on something more fundamental: a principle of
order. It will be argued that for Leibniz there is a principle of order that not only produces
unities, constitutes identities and the agreement of their internal multiplicities, but also is the
unity that the postulated formula of harmony/beauty expresses. Unifying principles of order,
such as laws or rules, can be found at any level where it is possible to designate unities; from
the set of all possible worlds, through each one of these possible worlds, to any of the
individuals that inhabit those worlds. Therefore, harmony’s unity interpreted as a principle of
order opens the possibility to extend beauty to every ontological level.
The main purpose of this chapter is to show how the notion of ‘principle of order’
articulates different aspects of the notion of unity that is required for the formula of beauty in
Leibniz’s aesthetics. For this reason we focus largely on metaphysical issues that might seem
distanced from aesthetics. Yet, even though beauty is not explicitly discussed as often in this
chapter as in the previous ones, this is so with the purpose in mind of explaining significant
aspects of the formal structure of unity in variety, especially unity, which indeed grounds the
metaphysics of beauty.
Since individual substances display the most peculiar and complex examples of the
rule-based ontology that we propose here, it seems appropriate to start from this level. In
section 1, we will firstly explain how a principle of order can be unity as individuality and
identity in substances. Afterwards, we will tackle unity as agreement and power understood
as a principle of order. The second section is about the unity of the world and possible
worlds, particularly about how a principle of order constitutes this unity and relates with the
members of the world as well as its identity. We also explain the divine nature of this
principle, its relation with beauty and how it differs from logical compossibility. In the third
section, we briefly examine other principles of order or unities found in Leibniz’s philosophy.
We especially focus on the notion of aggregates. Finally, in the conclusions, we offer a
summary of the different types of unities, such as the unity of a substance, the unity of the
world, the unity of aggregates and the unity of God. We also describe how these different
types of unities affect the degree of beauty.
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1. Unity and individual substance

1.1 The unity of complete concepts and monads as a principle of order
As has been said, for Leibniz the possibility and the existence of individuals depends on their
degree of essence or perfection which is determined by harmonising properties. For any
entity to have some degree of reality, it must unite many properties in harmony. Thus the
formula of unity in variety, harmony and, hence, beauty are realised at an ontological level in
the structure of individuals. In the previous chapter we stated that in the case of complete
concepts ‘harmonising properties’ refers to a logically deductive order of predicable
properties. In this sense, some commentators have noticed that according to Leibniz’s theory
of complete concepts an individual is not determined by its form and matter, as scholastic
philosophy established, but by a complete concept, which expresses individuation in terms of
logical combinations.2 Indeed, at a conceptual level all possible individuals are constituted by
logical combinations of predicable properties, therefore they all comply with a general
principle of logical compossibility, i.e. all individuals are self-consistent.
Yet individual entities must be different from each other and, since we stated that
unity is a principle, there must be different principles for each individual. Hence, a universal
law of logical compossibility is not enough to determine unique individualities, but a more
specific principle of individuation is needed. Such principle, however, cannot replace or
violate logical compossibility. Indeed, it derives from it and points towards a more specific
order, which suits the requirements of individuation. Ohad Nachtomy calls this individuation
principle a ‘rule of production’ –or in slightly different contexts ‘programme of action’– and
identifies it as the defining unity of possible and actual individuals in Leibniz’s ontology. In
his words; ‘the unity in question is not that of material parts which are held together by some
physical force rather, it is a unity deriving from a dominating program of action’ (Nachtomy,
2007, p.246). This rule or programme consists in a method of producing unique combinations
of mutually consistent predicates, where every predicate has a particular order. Furthermore,
as a programme of action this structure determines the potential and actual agency of the
individual (2007, pp.2, 3, 8 & 53).
Nachtomy argues that this rule or programme is also the identity of the individual. His
argument proceeds as follow: for Leibniz the definition of a complete concept seems to be the

2 See for example Mugnai (2001, p.43) and Nachtomy (2007, p.50). This holds specifically for Leibniz’s view on
individuation according to his theory of complete concepts, which might differ from some of his later views on the same
issue that is explained through the theory of monads and the law of the series. Later on this chapter we will we focus on the
latter. However, we do not have enough space here to discuss in detail the differences between the two theories or the
transition from one model to the other.
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sum and order of its predicates. However, since a complete concept entails infinitely many
predicates, it is impossible to define one individual whole by identifying a set of infinitely
many predicates. Therefore the task of characterising the identity of the concept falls upon
something more definitive. A rule achieves this role, if it is understood as a particular
algorithm-like formula that constitutes a ‘law of the series’. This law can be identified and
defined even if the infinitely many predicates of an individual are not considered in its
totality, since this law can be presented as a formula that indicates the rationale for including
and ordering all the predicates of a complete concept.3 This law is a pre-established rule of
organisation that combines, includes and excludes particular properties and also determines
and explains the order of succession of particular actions and events of one individual (2007,
p.70). In this sense, the unity of complete concepts is neither the complete concept as a
subject that is all its predicates (as numerical unit or identity) nor just the logical order of
compossible predicable properties (as a type of agreement). Unity is the specific and
individual rule that determines what predicable properties the concept possesses (had, has and
will have) and the order of their manifestation (as relational properties such as events and
actions). Thus unity as an individual rule creates and regulates numerical unit, identity and
agreement.
The same principle applies to later notions of Leibniz’s substances, such as monads.
As he states in the Theodicy: ‘by nature every simple substance has perception, and that its
individuality consists in the perpetual law which brings about the sequence of perceptions
that are assigned to it’ (GP VI, p.289/H, p.304). John Whipple presents a clear exposition of
this understanding of substances that he calls ‘Substance/Primitive Force/Law of the Series
Identity Thesis’ (2010, p.393). This thesis states that primitive force and the law of the series
are not only responsible for the production of substance, but are the substance (2010, p.401).
It is worth noticing that in the case of Leibniz’s later theory of substances there is a new
element at play, namely primitive force. Although, ‘law of the series’ coincides with the idea
conveyed by ‘rule of production’ or ‘program of action’, the notion of ‘primitive force’ seems
to be a different component. In fact, Nachtomy makes a clear distinction between rule of
production and force (2007, p.119). In contrast, Whipple provides convincing textual
evidence to support the view that for Leibniz’s mature philosophy the law of the series and
primitive force refer to similar if not to the same thing (2010, pp.391, 392 & 393). For
3 This is another way in which ‘the simplest in hypotheses and the richest in phenomena’ (A VI 4, p.1538/AG, p.39), can be
considered as another version of unity in variety: in the mentioned model the law of the series, which individuates and unites
infinitely many predicates, acts as singular entity that explains and justifies its predicates, just like a scientific hypothesis
does with natural phenomena.
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example, in his correspondence with De Volder (14/07/1686), Leibniz states that ‘that which
persists, insofar as it involves all cases, contains primitive force, so that primitive force is the
law of the series’ (GP II, p.262/L, p.533). Also in On Nature Itself (1698), he states that ‘we
must add a soul or a form analogous to a soul, or a first entelechy, that is, a certain urge
[nisus] or primitive force of acting, which itself is an inherent law, impressed by divine
decree’ (GP IV, p.512/AG, p.162).
In Leibniz’s mature philosophy, primitive force and law of the series seem to play an
equivalent role in the process of individuation. Both primitive force and law/rule are used in
different contexts by Leibniz as the ground of individuality in things. Regarding the former,
he states that ‘dissimilarity or qualitative difference, and also alloiosis or alteration, which
Aristotle explained insufficiently, derive from different degrees and directions of nisus, and
thus derive from modifications of the monads existing in things’ (GP IV, p.514/AG, p.163).
For something to be a unique individual it must possesses a monad with a unique
combination of ‘different degrees and directions of nisus’. Primitive force is here expressed
as a monad’s nisus or as a striving4 towards certain direction. This striving is unique in each
monad and autonomously fuelled from its own depths.5 However, when Leibniz explains how
individuals relate harmonically with the world he defines individuality as something
constituted by a law of order

But in my opinion it is in nature of created substance to change continually following certain

order which leads it spontaneously […] through all the states that it encounters […] And this law
of order, which constitutes the individuality of each particular substance, is in exact agreement
with what occurs to every other substance and throughout the whole universe. (G IV, p.518/L,
p.493)

According to this passage, a law of order determines the changes in a substance in a similar
manner as direction of nisus leads the modifications of a substance. More importantly, here
Leibniz explicitly states that individuality is constituted by a ‘law of order’. In this fragment
individuality is said to be the product of a principle of order just as in the previous quote it
was said to be the result of primitive force. We take from this that, regarding individuation,
both terms fulfil the same role, making it plausible to assume that Leibniz identifies the
particular direction of nisus or primitive force that provides individuality with a law of order

4 In Latin Leibniz uses the word nisus or conatus (although conatus is used sometimes to refer to a derivative purely physical
force). In English this has been translated as ‘strive’, ‘effort’ or ‘endeavour’.
5 In this sense, striving is related with the idea of appetites in a monad, which dictates the changes in the monads states from

within the monad itself. A monad moves from one represented set of the manifold to another following its appetites (GP VI,
p.598/AG, p. 207).
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(or law of the series).6 Hence we conclude that when unity refers to the individuality of
substances, it can be understood as a principle of order, hence confirming so far the present
thesis that unity (as individuality in this case) can be reduced to a principle of order.

1.2 Power and agreement

A more complicated conceptual issue in Leibniz’s philosophy is found when force is used as
the power of a unit to unite the manifold. As we have seen in On Wisdom, Leibniz states that
beauty arises from harmony that is unity in plurality and it is suggested that this latter formula
is the result of power. In that text, power [kraft] is defined as ‘many revealed through the one
[Einem] and in the one [Einem], in that the one [Eines] rules many outside of itself and
represent them in itself’. After this definition, he introduce the notion of ‘unity in plurality’
[einigkeit in der vielheit] (GP VII, p.87/L, p.426). The text implies that unity is dependent on
a numerical unit, since this ‘One’ has the power to ‘rule’ many outside itself, which results in
unity in plurality. In this context Frederick Beiser makes an interesting statement about
Leibniz’s philosophy that relates aesthetics with ontology:

Leibniz defines substance in terms of living force (Vis viva, Kraft), which he identifies with the
power to unify a manifold, to create unity amid variety. Unity amid variety is order or harmony,
which is the structure of beauty itself. Hence living force manifests itself as beauty, so that beauty
is the measure of the power of a substance. (Beiser, 2009, p.32)

Despite certain imprecisions in the use of the terms,7 Beiser’s statement delivers a valuable
attempt to frame the rather abstract depiction of beauty given in On Wisdom within the core
6 For Nachtomy the difference is conceptually significant and it is established based on the actual meaning of the terms:
‘Although Leibniz’s notion of a source of action often confuses the notion of primitive force with that of an internal law of
changes, the two are conceptually distinct and each constitutes a distinct requirement for the self-sufficiency of substances.
While the law prescribes a course or program of action, primitive force is required to enable the execution of the program’
(2007, p.119). Even though this argument makes sense from a semantic perspective, the presented textual evidence suggests
that in Leibniz’s mature philosophy active force and the internal law of the monad can be taken as equivalent notions. So
here we will not argue that they are significantly different aspects of the substance. Nevertheless, it must be said that the idea
of primitive force is rather significant by itself for some contexts. It is particularly useful for understanding individuality and
form in bodies or matter, as Leibniz states ‘It is also useless to turn to shape over and above motion. For in a mass that is
perfectly homogeneous, undivided, and full, no shape, that is, no boundary or distinction between its different parts arises,
unless through motion itself. But if motion contains no mark for distinguishing things from one another, then it likewise
bestows no mark with respect to shape’ (GP VI, p.513/AG, p.163). For Leibniz movement is the principle of individuality in
matter and body, yet most physical movements are just the result of derivative forces whose original source is primitive
force: ‘Active force (which might not inappropriately be called power [virtus], as some do) is twofold, that is, either
primitive, which is inherent in every corporeal substance per se […]), or derivative, which, resulting from a limitation of
primitive force through the collision of bodies with one another, for example, is found in different degrees’ (GM VI,
p.236/AG, p.119). Primitive forces are the same as entelechies or substances, ‘which contain not only act or the completion
of possibility, but also an original activity’ (GP IV, p.479/AG, p.139) and derivative forces are its physical counterpart or
result. Thus, substance depicted as primitive force is not only the striving but also the original force that provided movement
to matter and hence also its individuality. The development of Leibniz’s late theory of substance –including the relation of
the notions of ‘force’, ‘law of the series’ and ‘appetite’– involves a complicated and rather controversial topic in the
specialised literature, which unfortunately we cannot examine here at length. It should suffice to say that here we agree with
Whipple’s interpretation that affirms the equivalence of force and law of the series. For a more detailed chronological
account of the progression of Leibniz’s theory of substance and the concept of force see Garber, 2009.
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of Leibniz’s ontology. What is distinctive of a substantial individual unit is the power or force
to unite a manifold constituting harmony and therefore beauty. Thus harmony is the result of
an ontological operation of substances that starts with power and ends with beauty.
However, sheer power alone can achieve neither harmony nor beauty. In the next line
of the quoted paragraph from On Wisdom, Leibniz introduces the other requirement for
beauty, namely that ‘unity in plurality [einigkeit in der vielheit] is nothing but harmony
[übereinstimmung]’ and ‘since any particular being agrees [stimmet] with one rather than
another being, there flows from this harmony the order from which beauty arises’ (GP VII,
p.87/L, p.426). Agreement between those beings composing the united manifold is an integral
part of harmony. In the original text in German, Leibniz phrases the sentence in a way that
seems to indicate that order flows mainly from the fact that there is agreement between
certain things.8 Hence order, as a property of harmony, is not given by the power of the one
to unite the many (or at least not entirely), but by the agreement between the many. This
happens to be the case also for the relation between Leibniz’s substances

[T]he interaction between substances or monads arises not from an influx, but through an
agreement [consensum] derived from divine preformation, accommodating each thing to things
outside of itself while each follows the inherent force and laws of its own nature (GP IV,
p.510/AG, p.160)

Substances do not exert direct power over each other, since they are already in agreement
from their origin. This model could be compared to contrapuntal movement in music that
consists in two or more independent melodic lines harmonising each other, but with no
necessary subordination of one to the other.9 In this sense, harmony and beauty, as described
in On Wisdom, are perfectly germane to individual substances. Yet not exactly as Beiser
depicts it, since he stressed the role of power and overlooked the prominence of agreement in
the ontological operation of substances.

7 Beiser uses here the notion of ‘living force’ [vis viva] in the same way that Leibniz uses ‘power’ [Kraft] in the mentioned
paragraph of On Wisdom. This requires some comments. Although, in his text called On the Correction of Metaphysics and
Concept of Substance (1694) Leibniz explicitly states that his substantial concept of ‘force’ [vis] is the same as Kraft in
German (GP IV, p.469/L, p.433), he is referring to vis as primitive force [vis primitiva] and not living force [vis viva], since
the latter is conceived in his Specimen Dynamicus (1695) as a derivative force corresponding to physics and not to
substances (see GM VI, pp.238-9/L, pp.438-9/AG, pp.121-2). Furthermore, even if Beiser were referring to primitive force,
Leibniz uses this notion mostly to indicate the substance’s original activity and not so much in reference to the power to
unify a manifold. Nonetheless, Leibniz does not explicitly distinguish primitive force from power [Kraft] in this context, so
they seem to be related. Thus, although there might be certain similarities between vis primitiva and Kraft as used in On
Wisdom, there is hardly any between vis viva and Kraft.
8 In the original German: ‘Nun die einigkeit in der vielheit ist nichts anders als die übereinstimmung, und weil eines zu

diesem näher stimmet als zu jenem, so fließet daraus die ordnung, von welcher alle schöhnheit hehrkomt’ (GP VII, p.87).
9 Indeed, Arthur Dony claims that Leibniz’s metaphysical model of harmony could be considered as isomorphic with Bach’s

use of the imitative counterpoint, since the latter consists in superimposing different autonomic voices of equal importance
in a way that results in harmony (1996, p.320).
 76

Does this mean that power has no involvement in the harmony and beauty of
substances? And if this is so, what is the role of the ‘One’ [Einem] that Leibniz mentioned in
On Wisdom? Furthermore, what is then agreement? For Leibniz, power as the faculty to act
upon other things is still relevant, yet it must be understood in a different manner. For
example, as is described in A New System of the Nature and the Communication of
substances (1695):

For one may say that when the particular disposition of one substance provides a reason for a
change occurring in an intelligible manner, in such a way that we can conclude that the other
substances have been adapted to it on this point from the beginning according to the order of the
divine decree, then that substance should be thought of as acting upon the others in this sense.
(GP IV, p.486/L, p.459)

Substances still act on each other, yet within a pre-established order, where their acting and
its consequences are already determinate, much more like a choreography. However, this is
not all. As early as in the Discourse (1686), Leibniz gives a complete depiction of power in
substances. Here power is measured in the extension of their expressions or representations:

Thus a substance, which is of infinite extension insofar as it expresses everything, becomes

limited in proportion to its more or less perfect manner of expression. This, then, is how one can
conceive that substances impede or limit each other, and consequently one can say that, in this
sense, they act upon one another and are required, so to speak, to accommodate themselves to one
another. For it can happen that a change that increases the expression of one diminishes that of
another. […] And whenever something exercises its efficacy or power, that is, when it acts, it
improves and extends itself insofar as it acts. Therefore, when a change takes place by which
several substances are affected (in fact every change affects all of them), I believe one may say
that the substance which immediately passes to a greater degree of perfection or to a more perfect
expression exercises its power and acts, and the substance which passes to a lesser degree shows
its weakness and is acted upon [pâtit]. I also hold that every action of a substance which has
perfection involves some pleasure, and every passion some pain and vice versa. (A VI 4,
pp.1553-4/AG, p.48)

Leibniz understands substances’ power not as a ruling physical force, but as privileged
representation or expression of one substance over another. This idea remained almost
unmodified in Leibniz’s mature though, as he reiterates it years later in the Monadology
(1714):

The creature is said to act externally insofar as it is perfect, and to be acted upon [patir] by
another, insofar as it is imperfect. Thus we attribute action to a monad insofar as it has distinct
perceptions, and passion, insofar as it has confused perceptions […] And one creature is more
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perfect than another insofar as one finds in it that which provides an a priori reason for what
happens in the other; and this is why we say that it acts on the other. […] For, since a created
monad cannot have an internal physical influence upon another, this is the only way in which one
can depend on another. […] [A]ctive insofar as what is known distinctly in one serves to explain
what happens in another; and passive insofar as the reason for what happens in one is found in
what is known distinctly in another. (GP VI, p.615/AG, p.219).

A substance’s distinct and clear perceptions are correlative with a greater degree of
perfection. In other words, a monad is more perfect than another monad if the former has a
more distinct representation of an aspect of the world, including aspects of other monads,
than the latter monad. When a monad distinctly perceives part of other monads’ qualities or
actions, the former represents in itself part of what the latter ones are/do or will be/do (their
perceptions and appetites). Thus the active monad contains the explanation of some aspect of
the passive ones. Only in this sense the former can be said to act upon or have power over the
latter ones. Hence, in the paragraph of On Wisdom, the ‘One’, which ‘rules many outside of
itself and represent them in itself’, is equivalent to an active monad and as such it unites a
variety, not by imposing sheer power, but through representing and explaining in itself some
of the qualities of the many. Therefore, harmony and beauty are not grounded on a forceful
imposition of order dictated by one over many.
Moreover, it is important to notice that according to Leibniz active and passive
relations between monads are a matter of perspective. One monad is active and other passive
only according to a specific relation that they establish in a particular moment, from a
particular point of view. Hence the active or passive nature of a relation is not absolute, since
‘[f]or God, comparing two simple substances, finds in each reasons that require him to adjust
the other to it; and consequently, what is active in some respects is passive from another point
of view’ (GP VI, p.615/AG, p.219).10

10In contrast, there are also dominant monads. A dominant monad occurs when there is a substantialisation of the relation
between an active monad and its subordinated monads. Thus, the active power of a dominant monad is substantial over its
subordinated monads and not just a matter of perspective. This is how Leibniz describes complex living beings to Des
Bosses: ‘Moreover, God not only considers single monads and the modifications of any monad whatsoever, but he also sees
their relations, and the reality of relations and truths consists in this. [e.g. duration, situation, intercourse, presence and
connection] […] Through these [relations], things seem to us to form a unity […] But over and above these real relations, a
more perfect relation can be conceived through which a single new substance arises from many substances. And this will not
be a simple result, that is, it will not consist in true or real relation alone; but, moreover, it will add some new substantiality,
or substantial bond […] [I]t suffices that it unites those monads that are under the domination of one monad, that is, that
make one organic body or one machine of nature. And in this consists the metaphysical bond of soul and body, which
constitute one complete substance’ (GP II, pp.438-9/LDB, p.233). A dominant monad is what makes several monads one
composed substance, by representing/acting over the others in a way that is not just relative to a certain perspective, but
substantial, even to God. Living creatures are the paradigmatic case of dominant monads, where the dominant monad is the
soul and the subordinated ones are the body. The distinction between dominant monads and just active monads is given by
the substantialisation of the power relation: dominant monads’ active power over its subordinates is substantial, while non-
dominant active monads refers to the same relation but relative to a perspective. All dominant monads are active over its
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1.3 Principle of order, power and agreement

As said, each monad is individualised by a particular law, rule or programme that determines
its representations and the order in which they change. If we apply this model to understand
what we have said about active/passive relations, we have that the acting monad’s particular
law, rule or programme includes some of the laws, rules or programmes that correspond to its
passive counterparts. The agreement of two or more substances is not achieved by an
imposition from a third monad, but a convergence of those monads’ rules within the rule of
an acting monad. This convergence takes place when the rule or programme of the acting
monad, expresses the rules of the passive ones. Thus the active monad provides the unity,
identity and individuality for the rest of the passive monads, since the former’s programme
expresses the latter’s in a way that also explains them.
Is in this sense that not only power, but also agreement between substances should be
understood. Since for Leibniz monads are closed entities that ‘have no windows through
which something can enter or leave’ (GP VI, p.607/AG, p.213), the only way for them to
relate to each other is by including in their own closed constitutions a rule that coordinates
the programmes of the others in order to produce a relation from the beginning. Monads
include their relations with others into their own individual programmes with more or less
distinctness. In this way monadic relations work like a software programme that do not
‘recognise’ other pieces of software unless they are pre-programmed to do so (although, in
fact, monads do ‘recognise’ all others). Accordingly, agreement takes place when two or
more monads share aspects of their programming or when there is a coordination between
their independent constitutive rules.11

subordinated monads, but not all active monads are dominant over the ones that they are being active. That said, all monads
are dominant over some set of other monads, yet they can be active, passive or neutral over other set of monads besides the
ones that conform the set of their subordinated monads. The relation between a dominant monad and its subordinated
monads is a substantial unity, thus the degree of unity of the manifold is qualitatively different than in the case of other non-
substantial unities. Here we will not give further consideration to the notion of dominant monads, since we lack enough
space to discuss the topic at length.
11 In a letter to Arnauld (April 30, 1687), Leibniz gives the following example: ‘To use a comparison I will say that this

concomitance I maintain is like several different bands of musicians or choirs separately playing their parts, and placed in
such a way that they do not see and do not even hear each other, though they nevertheless can agree perfectly, each
following his own notes, so that someone hearing all of them would find a marvelous harmony there, one more surprising
than if there were a connection among them. It is quite possible that someone next to one of two such choirs could judge
from the one what the other was doing (particularly if we supposed that he could hear his choir without seeing it and see the
other without hearing it), he would, as a result, form such a habit that, with the help of his imagination, he would no longer
think of the choir where he was, but of the other, and he would mistake his own choir for an echo of the other, attributing to
his own only certain interludes in which some rules of composition [symphonie], by which he distinguished the other, were
not satisfied. Or, attributing to his own choir a certain beating of the tempo, performed on his side according to certain plans,
he might think, because of the agreement on this he finds as the melody continues, that the beating of the tempo is being
imitated by the others, since he doesn't know that those on the other side are also acting in accordance with their own plans,
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But what makes ‘any particular being [substance or monad in our case] agrees
[stimmet] with one rather than another being’? For a monad to agree more with one than with
another, there must be a way to show ‘preferences’. In a text, entitled The source of
contingent Truths (1685-89?), Leibniz states that each substance ‘agrees with the other as
exactly as they would if there were a true influx’ and this is the case for every substance
‘even those the most distant from one another, although in them the agreement does not
appear so distinctly’ (Grua, p.325/AG, p.100). It is important to notice that all substances in
the universe are in agreement among each other. Nevertheless, there is a difference in the
degrees of distinctions in which this agreement is perceived by each substance. This idea is
again presented later in The Monadology, where Leibniz says that ‘each simple substance has
relations that express all the others’, yet within certain restrictions, since ‘[m]onads are
limited, not as to their objects, but with respect to the modifications of their knowledge of
them’ (GP VI, p.617/AG, p.220). What Leibniz means is that monads know or perceive the
whole universe, hence they represent every object in it. However, the limitation of the monad
is their degree of knowledge of those objects. Accordingly, it could be said that ‘monadic
preference’ is a matter of the degree of knowledge, since from an absolute view point
everything is in agreement.
An analogy could be established with the phenomenon of sympathetic resonance,
where if a single body (e.g. a string) starts vibrating, it makes other bodies passively vibrate
as well. In the case of a piano, for example, each fundamental note emitted by one string
initiates a passive vibration on other strings or parts of them. The notes of these passive
vibrations correspond to specific series of notes known as the harmonic series. The harmonic
series includes different notes in the intervals of octaves that are higher from the fundamental
(the eighth note in the first higher interval of octave, eighth and fifth note in the third interval,
then third, etc.). Interestingly, in tonal western music, the first three resonating –and more
easily perceived– notes of the harmonic series (eighth, fifth and third) together compose the
major chord of the fundamental, since they agree more ‘clearly’ with each other. Yet the
sympathetic resonance continuous further than these three notes, including more and more
notes –known as tensions– in the higher octaves further from the fundamental note, until at
some point the series becomes chromatic and all notes resonate together as a cluster.
Analogously, a substance agrees more clearly or shows preferences with some rather than

though in agreement with his’ (A II 2, pp.182-3/AG, p.84). [Here we use the translation given by Ariew and Garber (AG),
since we think it is the clearest one of this passage. For other translation, see LAV, p.197-8.]
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others, but from an absolute point of view each monad agrees also with the ones that are
further away, yet this agreement is not so distinctly perceived.12
An interesting aspect of this example is that although the degree of clearness of the
agreement between certain intervals is understood as a matter of perception, the order in
which the intervals can be ranked from more to less clearly noticeable is given by an
objective fact of physics: the order of intensity in which certain intervals vibrate with more or
less strength by sympathetic resonance is not dependant on the perceiver, but on a law of
nature. In other words, the quality of our perception of the agreements among intervals is
founded on an objective reality. Here we should remember what was said in the previous
chapter about consonances and dissonances. Consonances are found when agreement or order
is easily observable among a variety of elements and dissonance when this agreement is not
so easily observable. The equivalence with our definition of monadic preference is clear; they
are both defined according to perception or knowledge. But as said in chapter II, the criterion
‘easily observable’ is a nominal definition, since it is a result of an objective state of affairs.
What determines if this agreement is easily observable or not is the objective degree of order
between two or more things. The degree of order is objective, yet relative. It is objective in
the sense that the relation between two or more things is a property of the universe, not
constructed by a finite perceiver external to the relation.13 But, it is relative because the
specific degree of order –or lack thereof– in that relation can be varied if considered from
another perspective in a wider context with other relations. As said in the previous chapter, a
dissonance is a manifestation of a contrasting element that seems unrelated to its context, yet
from a wider perspective its conformity to order becomes clear. In the same way, a low
degree or lack of monadic preference occurs when a common principle of order between two
substances is objectively not so easily perceived from a narrow perspective in the proximity
of those substances. However, since everything is related, that common principle does exist.

12 This would also explain why for Leibniz, although consonances easily please, so do dissonances if we make a greater
effort to notice their place in the whole, i.e.; their harmonic relation with the rest (see chapter II). As the history of music
progressed composers have gradually expanded the use of notes in intervals further away from the fundamental, including
dissonant notes, thus ‘discovering’ harmonic relations that were not considered as such before. As Arnold Schoenberg said
‘the expressions 'consonance' and 'dissonance', which signify an antithesis, are false. It all simply depends on the growing
ability of the analyzing ear to familiarize itself with the remote overtones, thereby expanding the conception of what is
euphonious, suitable for art, so that it embraces the whole natural phenomenon’. (Schoenberg, 1983, p.21). Although, it is
unlikely that Leibniz would completely agree with Schoenberg regarding dissonance – since, as we said in the past chapter,
for the baroque philosopher dissonances are different in kind from consonances and the former must be resolved (or
absolved) in the latter, hence it is not a matter of ‘familiarising’ with dissonance (or with evil for that matter) – he does show
essentially a similar position in the idea of the harmonic relation of substances: every substance has an harmonic relation
with the other even though sometimes that relation is harder to notice.
13 Leibniz’s views about the objectivity of relations will be explained with more detail further on this chapter when we

examine the notion of aggregates.

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Accordingly, we can say that monadic preferences are indeed objective even though they are
the product of a representation relative to a particular perspective of the universe.
Under the given interpretation agreement and power are not opposing notions. The
only difference is that power can be characterised by a relative, and even temporal,
asymmetry in the degrees of distinctness in which one substance relates with and represents
the other, while agreement is the more general type of relation between substances
representing each other. Hence, power should be understood as a modality of agreement,
since there is no power without agreement. Correspondingly, power is necessary neither for
agreement nor harmony, because it could be the case that harmony is only grounded on a
basal agreement of the monads with no real active monad (‘One’) providing the ground for
unity.14 Moreover, power is also not necessary for unity, since even if there is no clear active
monad there could still be unity. If this latter term is understood as a principle of order (law,
rule or programme), there is unity as long as substances’ laws or rules share or include their
relations and therefore coordinate accordingly as one unit.15

2. Unity and the world

2.1 The cause of worlds
As mentioned, objectively, every monad agrees with all the others. Therefore their collective
unity would be the whole actual universe. For Leibniz this is the case. If unity is given by a
law or a rule, there is a more general unity than individual substances, which in fact
determines them. As Leibniz states in a letter to Arnauld (14/07/1686):

I will add that I think there is an infinity of possible ways in which to create the world, according
to the different designs which God could form, and that each possible world depends on certain
principal designs or purposes of God (desseins principaux ou fins de Dieu) which are distinctive
of it, that is, certain primary free decrees (conceived sub ratione possibilitatis) or certain laws of
the general order of this possible universe with which they are in accord and whose concept they
determine, as they do also the concepts of all individual substances which must enter into this
same universe. Everything belongs to an order, even miracles, though they may be contrary to
certain subordinate maxims or laws of nature. Hence, assuming the choice of Adam as made, all
human events must have happened as they have happened in fact, but not so much because of the

14See the example given in a letter to Arnauld (A II 2, pp.182-3/AG, p.84), quoted in this chapter, in footnote 11.
15Furthermore, in some cases for Leibniz, there is no necessity of adding the idea of union as something different and above
things that are in agreement. For example regarding the issue of body and soul Leibniz comments: ‘After he [French Jesuit
Tournemine] had offered some praise of my pre-established harmony –which seemed to provide an explanation of the
agreement that we perceive between soul and body– he said that he still desired one thing, namely, an explanation of the
union, which assuredly differs from the agreement. I responded that whatever that metaphysical union is that the schools add
over and above agreement, it is not a phenomenon and there is no notion of, or acquaintance with it. Thus I could not have
intended to explain it’. (GP II, p.281/LDV, p.331)
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individual concept of Adam, though this encloses them, as because the designs of God which also
enter into this individual concept of Adam as well as those of all other individual substances in
this universe. (A II 2, p.73/L, p.333).16

Each world has a particular and unique principle of order framed within a more general
structure of possible logical combinations. This principle or design defines the particularity of
a possible world, as a particular law of order for each world that determines the inclusion of
certain individuals and bring them into accord. Therefore, any world should be also
understood as a unity, with identity and agreement, by merit of its principle or design.
There is one issue exposed in the quoted paragraph that can be summarised in the
following question: is this principle a divine creation or just the logical result of possible
combinations?17 As said, for Leibniz, God’s intellect contains all infinitely many possible
things distributed into an infinite number of possible worlds (A II 2, pp.46-7/LAV, p.65). If
this is the case, it could be said that each unique principle of order of each possible world is
just one possible logical combination among infinitely many possible ones that are contained
in God’s intellect. Thus, principles of order as a design of these possible worlds, would not
require the intervention of the divine will, since they are just the result of a logical operation
consisting in grouping things that are compossible with each other into worlds, therefore
distributing all infinitely many possible things into infinitely many possible sets, each one
conformed by all those individuals that fit together.18 This is a logical operation that does not
involve any criterion other than logical compossibility.19 Logical compossibility, in this case,
is the absence of contradiction between the content of two or more complete concepts in a
determinate possible world. Under this interpretation a principle of order, as a principal

16 Although through this thesis we use Voss’ translation of Leibniz-Arnauld correspondence (LAV), here we prefer to
illustrate this passage with Loemker’s version. The reason is that the latter is more faithful than the former to the variety of
concepts that Leibniz uses in the original passage in French. For example, we value Loemker’s translation of desseins to
‘designs’, instead of ‘plans’ as it appears in Voss’ version. For Voss’s translation, see LAV, pp.101-3.
17 This issue is within the context of a major topic of discussion among Leibniz’s scholars: Leibniz’s notion of

compossibility of possible worlds. The main two opposing views regarding this issue respond to what Margaret Wilson
(1993) called the ‘lawful’ and the ‘logical’ approach. The ‘logical approach is exemplified by accounts such as the ones
offered by Benson Mates (1972) and Nicholas Rescher (1979). This view suggests that the compossibility of a world is
based only on the logical compatibility among individuals, thus each world includes all possible individuals that do not
contradict each other. For example, Rescher postulates that logical compossibility is the only criterion for grouping elements
in possible worlds, hence each world is composed by absolutely everything that is logically possible to cohabitate in it: ‘The
possible world of any substance is the totality of all substances compossible with it’ (1979, p.17) and ‘[t]here is never any
addable possible substance –one that is not already a member of a given possible world and yet is compossible with the
substance of this world’ (1979, p.49). On the other hand the ‘lawful’ approach states that possible individuals are
compossible into a possible world when they conform to the same law, rule or principle of order in general. As Russell puts
it: ‘possibles cease to be compossible only when there is no general law whatever to which we both conform (1937, p.37).
This issue has sparked a considerable debate in the secondary literature. Unfortunately, we do not have enough space here to
explore every argument in detail, but we will show some of the positions in the coming footnotes. We can advance that here
we agree with the ‘lawful’ approach. For recent works about this topic see Gregory Brown and Yual Chiek, 2016.
18 In her paper ‘Plenitude and compossibility in Leibniz’ (2000), Catherine Wilson critically explains and evaluates this

interpretation of Leibniz’s worlds in more detail.

19 Hence this view can be understood as compatible or even equivalent to the interpretation offered by the ‘logical’ approach.
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design, seems superfluous and secondary, since the unity of the world is produced almost
automatically by the inherent compossibility of certain individual things.
However, the quoted paragraph from Leibniz’s correspondence with Arnauld conveys
a different view. He explicitly states that God forms these principles of order as ‘general
designs’ and that they are free decrees that determine ‘the concepts of all individual
substances which must enter into this same universe’. In a previous paragraph of the same
letter he defends the significance of these divine decrees in the following way

I agree with you, against the Cartesians, that the possibles are possibles before the actual Decrees
of God, but not without sometimes presupposing the same decrees taken as possible: for the
possibilities of individuals and of contingent truths contain in their concept the possibility of their
causes, namely the free decrees of God: in which they differ from the eternal truths or possibilities
of species that depend only the understanding of God, without presupposing his will, as I have
already explained above. (A II 2, pp.72-3/LAV, p.101)

In order to understand this idea we need to distinguish between the ontological status of
necessary or eternal truths and contingent beings (here we can also include contingent truths
like the laws of nature). All necessary truths and all possible contingent beings are in God’s
intellect or understanding, yet not in the same way. The difference between the two is that the
former does not need a cause for being –hence the name eternal truth–, while the latter does.
For example, 2+2=4 does not need a cause to be so, since, as an eternal truth, it would be as it
is even if (in the hypothetical case that) God had not decided so or even ‘before’ God took
any decision.20 Yet this is not the case for possible things and possible worlds, since they are
contingent and as such they require a possible cause in their individual concepts. For
example, let’s say that God decides to create a contingent thing A. If A is possible –i.e. A is
not self-contradictory– A has being in God’s understanding, so God only has to actualise
possible A. However, because A is contingent it must have a cause C, therefore the
actualisation of A entails (retrospectively) the actualisation of C. In the quoted passage
Leibniz is arguing that the fact that A depends on C is also valid for the possibility of A, thus
C must be possible in order for A to be a possibility. Or as Leibniz would put it; the complete
concept of possible A contains possible C. Now if C is God’s decision to put some elements
together to constitute a possible world A, the possibility of A depends on the possibility of
God’s decision.

20 This distinguishes Leibniz’s God from Descartes’ version. See chapter IV.
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Now, God’s free decrees conform a plan or aim for the world, which is also the cause
of the world: ‘the idea of a building results from the ends or plans of the one who undertakes
it, and the idea or concept of this world is a result of these plans of God considered as
possible’ (A II 2, p.47/LAV, p.65). Leibniz also states that ‘everything [contingent] must be
explained by its cause, and that of the universe is the ends of God’ (A II 2, p.47/LAV, p.65).
In this sense, a world, as a concept or contingent entity, must contain its cause, which is
God’s free decree or divine plan. Yet, according to what has been said, this is valid not only
for an actual world but also for a possible one. Therefore, any possible world requires its
possible cause, which for Leibniz is a voluntary design produced by God’s will. Since the
possibility of God’s will is in fact constitutive of possible worlds, they are not just a logical
composition of compossible things in God’s intellect; possible worlds are not like eternal or
necessary truths.21

2.2 The world and its content: laws of nature and individuals
The idea of a general law of a world must be understood as a plan or design of a world, which
means the most general and complete vision of a world that, as said, is also its cause, just as
an architectural plan conceives, regulates and is the cause of all the aspects of its projected
building. The general law also mandates what elements the world contains –that is
individuals and natural laws– and how it regulates its members and their relations.22 This
general law also includes more specific laws or sub-laws that are also free decrees from God,
such as natural or physical laws (e.g. gravity, motion, etc.).23
Laws of nature are principles of order for the variety of phenomena. Laws of nature
and the general design of the world work in a similar way; both allow things or phenomena to
be compossible by conforming to a common principle of order. In other words, natural laws
are specific principles of order or unities subordinated to the general principle of order of the
21 This view, however, raises the question if this possible divine will, applies also to independent possible individuals. If
possible beings are contingent beings as a set of harmonising properties, would not they also need the possibility of God’s
will as a cause? Regarding this issue Leibniz is not so clear. In the correspondences with Arnauld, he states that ´the possible
concepts in themselves do not depend on the free decrees of God’, yet in the next paragraph he says that they are ‘not
independent of all the free decrees of God’ (A II 2, p.46/LAV, p.63). Unfortunately, we cannot extend further on this issue.
But it should suffice to say that whatever is its proper answer, it should not affect directly the view expressed in this thesis.
22 In this sense, here we agree with the ‘lawful’ approach to Leibniz’s compossibility of possible worlds.
23 There are times that Leibniz seems to suggest an equivalence between the laws of nature and the general law of the world

and some commentators have confused the attributions of the law of the world with physical laws. Ian Hacking seems to
confuse these two types of laws by claiming that compossibility is due to the laws of nature (1982, p.193). Margaret Wilson
also states that the ground of compossibility between substances are given by the laws of nature (1993, pp.131-2). Catherine
Wilson, as well, makes a similar reference (1983, pp.775-776). Although natural and physical laws also serve as factors for
compossibility, they are not the general law of the world that we are considering here. As Leibniz explains, the general law
includes elements that the laws of nature do not. One example of this kind of elements are miracles, since miracles conform
to the general law of the world, ‘although the particular maxims that are called laws of nature may not always be observed in
it’ (A II 2, p.48/LAV, p.67).
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world. From God’s understanding, natural laws are hypotheses that explain the complexity of
natural phenomena, as Leibniz states that ‘God has chosen that world which is the most
perfect, that is to say, which is at the same time the simplest in hypotheses and the richest in
phenomena’ (GP IV, 431/L, 306). In this context, hypotheses are unities of reason, since their
purpose is to make nature intelligible by ordering a variety of phenomena.24
Laws of nature are designed by God, so although they are objective, they are not
necessary laws. For Leibniz this fact adds an aesthetic value to the laws of nature, in a way
that seems to celebrate the divine free creation entailed by the contingency of these laws

All that is admirable, but one does not see its absolute necessity. A movement on the two sides of
the right-angled triangle composes a movement on the hypotenuse; but it does not follow that a
ball moving on the hypotenuse must produce the effect of two balls of its own size moving on the
two sides: yet that is true. Nothing is so appropriate as this result, and God has chosen the laws
that produce it: but one sees no geometrical necessity therein. Yet it is this very lack of necessity
which enhances the beauty of the laws that God has chosen, wherein divers admirable axioms
exist in conjunction, and it is impossible for one to say which of them is the primary. (GP VI,
p.320-1/H, p.333)

Thus, creative freedom can be considered as another factor that enhances beauty, in
contraposition with acts determined by necessity. 25 There seems to be no reason why the
aesthetic value given by divine freedom to the physical laws cannot be extended to all the
other laws that have been mentioned up to now, such as the law of individual substances and
the law of the world. This would provide an additional reason to support the idea that the
principle of order of the world is created freely by God’s (possible) will. Otherwise, the
principle of order of the world would be determined by necessity26 and, therefore, the world
would not be as beautiful as when produced by a contingent and free decision.27
The idea of a general law, design, plan or divine aim for the world is equivalent with
the previously discussed principle of order (rule of production, programme of action or law of
the series) that is the unity and complete concept of individual things. In fact, Leibniz states
that God’s plans reveal that there must be a primary concept of the universe:

24 We will come back to the topic of hypotheses as unity at the end of this chapter and in chapter VI.
25 However, as we will see later, God’s freedom always follows rules in order to comply with perfection. It is important to
notice that for Leibniz following rules does not imply necessity. God chooses freely to follow rules since acting in this way
guarantees to act –or rather is the result of acting– in the best possible way. We will refer to the relation between rules and
perfection later in this chapter and others, especially in chapter V. Lastly, we should clarify that freedom to choose and
contingency are factors that enhance beauty, but they are not necessary requirements for beauty. Otherwise, it would be the
case that what is mandated by necessity cannot be beautiful, which would entail that logical structures, such as mathematics,
are not beautiful, and this is not the case for Leibniz, as we will show in chapter V.
26 As is in fact postulated by the ‘logical’ approach.
27 In chapter IV we will look more in detail into Leibniz’s argument about freedom in divine creation and the beauty of the

universe.
 86

this universe has a certain principal or primitive concept, of which particular events are only
consequences, except however for freedom and contingency, which certainty does not impair,
since the certainty of events is partly founded on free acts. (A II 2, p.47/LAV, p.65)

Just as in the case of individual substances, possible worlds have principles of order, plans or
laws that constitute the particular concept of each one of these worlds and their identities. The
concept of the world is the set of all its predications that constitute its identity. If for
individual substances their concepts contain predicable properties and qualities that make
them unique, in the case of worlds their concepts include predicates about individual
substances (with their respective properties and qualities), their relations and the laws that
regulate them. Moreover, just as individual substances, the general law of the world or design
is what determines the inclusion of elements into each world, as Leibniz clearly states that

the resolution he [God] makes with regard to Adam and that which he makes with regard to other
particular things are consequences of the resolution he makes with regard to the whole universe
and of the principal plans that determine its primitive concept, and establish within it that general
and inviolable order to which everything is conformable. (A II 2, p.48/LAV, p.67)

The concept of individual things is a consequence of the concept of the world. This suggests
that the former is constituted, at least in part, by the latter. Thus, the concept of the world is in
a certain way previous or at least simultaneous to the concept of individual things.28
The relation between the laws or programmes of individual substances and the
worlds’ design consists in the expression of the latter in the concept of the former. For
Leibniz ‘each possible individual of any world contains in its concept the laws of its world’,
which means that ‘each individual substance of this universe expresses in its concept the
universe into which it enters’ (A II 2, p.47/LAV, p.65). The idea that individuals ‘express’ or
‘contain’ the laws of their respective worlds should be understood here in the same way as
was explained before regarding monads, i.e. the principle of order of the individual substance
(its rule of production, programme of action or law of the series) is compatible with or
includes the general law of the world to which that substance belongs. It could be also said
that the law of the world relates to the monad in a recursive relation, where the former is

28 Several commentators have different views regarding this issue. For example, Catherine Wilson states that ‘[t]he notion of
a ‘world’ conceptually precedes the notion of a substance’ (2000, p.10). For Nachtomy the question of precedence is
misleading, as for him ‘complete possible individuals and possible worlds are mutually dependent or, in other words, that
possible worlds and complete individual concepts are mutually constitutive’ (2007, p.108). On the other hand, for Gilles
Deleuze ‘the world is virtually first, but the monad is actually first’ (1993, p.52), since before individual substance there is a
virtual world without subjects that consists only in ‘a series of inflections or events’ (1993, p.60). Nevertheless, all these
different views coincide in affirming the dependency of individuals to their world, at least in the sense that individuals do not
come separately and before their world.
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somehow repeated in the latter in a different scale and from a unique perspective.29 When
individual substances contain or express and, therefore, agree with the design of the world,
they are compossible. This coincides with the interpretation given by several commentators,
according to which the compossibility of worlds is based on the lawfulness of worldly
principles.30 Furthermore, by virtue of the inclusion of a common general law in every
individual member of the world, all individuals are in agreement among each other, therefore
the world is harmonious and hence beautiful.

2.3 The world’s design, divine rules and beauty

The plan, general law or design of each world is the unity that, together with their variety,
constitutes their harmony and beauty. However, for Leibniz beauty seems to be anterior to
these plans, since the reason why God formulated these plans is to comply with order and
beauty

God could not have refrained from establishing laws and following rules, because laws and rules
are what makes order and beauty; that to act without rules would be to act without reason; and that
because God called into action all his goodness the exercise of his omnipotence was consistent
with the laws of wisdom, to secure as much good as was possible of attainment. (GP VI, p.328/H,
p.341) 31

Because Leibniz is not a voluntarist,32 his God does not choose or design random principles
or laws without criteria. In fact it could be said that God follows an even more general law;
the law of wisdom, as a criterion to design the general laws of each world. In a letter to
Bernard le Bovier de Fontenelle (1703), Leibniz argues that beauty plays a significant role as
a criterion in these divine designs

29 As an analogy the law of the world can be thought as a hardware and each of the individual substance as software; a
hardware integrates many softwares as long as they are compatible with it, where compatibility is given by the softwares
sharing the ‘rules’ of the hardware.
30Here we are referring to the ‘lawful’ approach. As said, according to the ‘lawful’ approach compossibility for Leibniz is

not logical consistency, but consistency under a general law, as Ian Hacking explains: ‘Compossibility is a more demanding
relation than mere consistency. For one thing to impede another is more a matter of laws of nature than of logic’ (1982,
p.193). Russell also held a similar view, where compossibility is only intelligible under the reign of some law (1937, p.67).
Along the same lines, Gregory Brown argues that the law of a world is contained in each individual substance of that world,
hence individuals are consistent with each other because they share the same general worldly law (1987, p.196). Margaret
Wilson also claims that complete concepts of compossible substances are logically consistent on the grounds that they
contain compatible laws of nature (1993, pp.131-2). Rutherford and Medina have a similar position, at least in respect of the
main thesis, as they argue that for Leibniz compossibility between substances is given by the fact that God can conceive of
them together in a same previously conceived notion of a world, which is an abstract relational structure. They add that this
world is constituted not only by a general law, but also by a common spatiotemporal order inhabited by substances (2009,
p.969).
31 Is in this sense, divine creativity is not anarchic, but governed by rules.
32 See chapter IV for a more specific discussion about voluntarism and beauty.
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In the same way, we should not believe with Lucretius that there are worlds in which, instead of
animals, the collision of atoms forms detached arms or legs, nor finally that everything possible
occurs however unreasonable it may be, or to want it to belong to the greatness and magnificence
of God that he should make everything that is possible. Apart from the fact that this is impossible,
because of the incompatibility of possibles and the connection of all creatures; quite apart from
that, it is, I say, to want grandeur at the expense of beauty. And it is as if, pretending that it was
one of the perfections of God to be a poet, we wanted this perfect poet to produce all possible
verses, good and bad; the same applies to an architect, and God truly is one. (G III, p.595/ trans. in
Strickland, 2006, p.137).

Leibniz’s God does not produce a world that lacks beauty just because it is compossible,
since he prefers beauty over grandeur.33 Here we find yet another argument to conclude that
possible worlds are not just logically construed, since they are put together partly based on an
aesthetic criterion –among other criteria.
Furthermore, there is at least one more aspect of this view that constitutes another
reason to reject mere logical composition. Leibniz’s commitment to a divine design is also
motivated by a rejection of a cosmology based on chance, such as the one entailed by bare
logical compossibility. In a letter to Lady Masham (1704), Leibniz criticises the element of
chance, as the cause of the world’s beauty, in Epicurean philosophy:

The only surprising thing which follows from this [the lawful agreement between souls and
bodies] is that the works of God are infinitely more beautiful and more harmonious than had been
believed. And it may be said that the subterfuge of the Epicureans against the argument drawn
from the beauty of visible things (when they say that among numberless productions of chance it
is not to be marvelled at if some world like our own has succeeded passably) is destroyed, in that
the perpetual correspondence of beings which have no influence one upon the other can only
come from a common cause of this harmony. (GP III, p.341/D, p.161)

The world is not beautiful by chance, but because of its divine design that follows the rules of
beauty. In the particular case of this quote, the pre-established harmony between bodies and
souls presents us a metaphysical aspect of the world that stresses the high degree of divine

33Gregory Brown (1987) points out two conflicting ideas in Leibniz’s metaphysics: on one hand there is a more perfect
world that complies at the same time with being the ‘simplest in hypotheses and richest in phenomena’, and therefore
excludes some things in order to preserve this perfection. On the other hand, as mentioned in the first chapter, in De rerum
originatione radicali (1697) Leibniz presents a maximalist world that is more perfect because perfection or degree of
essence is ‘through which the greatest number of things are compossible’ (GP VII, p.304/AG, p.151), in other words;
grandeur. However, according to Brown both views are correct if in the second view ‘degree of perfection’ is considered not
only as individual things or substances, but as harmonious properties (1987, pp.200-201). This interpretation coincides with
the view presented in the first and second chapters of the present work, where we stated that perfection is variety of not only
individuals, but also harmonious properties. Hence, the most perfect world has the largest number of harmonious properties,
yet it still excludes many not so harmonious things that could otherwise include.
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intervention in the design of a world following harmony and beauty that in no way could be
achieved just by chance.34
It must not be taken from this that the aesthetic criterion that Leibniz’s God followed
to design the world is a universal pure idea of beauty that precedes and is actualised by
possible worlds, since as has been argued Leibniz is a nominalist. As explained in chapter I,
the criterion of beauty is a formal structure that includes certain rules with which worlds’
designs comply and then they are beautiful. In other words, beauty does not precede a
possible world or its plan. However, what seem to precede possible worlds are the rules or
requirements for achieving beauty, which do not require God’s will. For example, in
Confessio Philosophi, Leibniz seems to suggest that the fact that the criterion of diversity
contributes to harmony and beauty is in virtue of God’s understanding, in the same way that
three times three is nine (A VI 3, pp.121-122/CP, pp.43-45). In this sense, the criteria for
beauty are formal eternal truths in God’s understanding, yet beautiful things, such as worlds,
are contingent entities dependent on (the possibility of) God’s will to be designed in a manner
that comply with those rules. We will return to this in more detail later in this chapter and
again in chapter V, but for now it suffices to reiterate that if God’s design of worlds follows
an aesthetic criterion, worlds’ unity must be dependent on divine will, hence worlds cannot
be the product of mere logical composition or, worse, of chance.

3. Unities
3.1 Different types of unity
Since the actual world finds its unity as a whole in its plan or design, the world has its unity
in a transcendental and hence a separated plane. Here we find a significant difference

34 It must be said that in the last two quoted paragraphs is hard to tell if Leibniz is talking about all possible worlds or
exclusively about the actual world. However, if the latter alternative is correct, it would be the case that the actual world is
designed by God with beauty in mind, while other possible worlds are not. In this regard Leibniz explicitly affirms that
‘another possible World will also have all of this [the general order of God’s plans whether considered in its actual or
possible state] in its manner, although the plans for ours have been preferred’ (A II 2, p.47/LAV, p.65). Hence, at least we
know that every world has a divine plan or design. The question that remains is whether every plan has been designed
following the criteria for beauty. Leibniz explanation in the Theodicy states that our world is the more perfect or beautiful,
followed by an infinite amount of other possible worlds that can be ranked according to their perfection to such degree that
‘there is not any one [possible world] which has not also less perfect worlds below it’ (GP VI, p.364/H, p.372). Therefore,
there is at least a differential degree of beauty in each world. Other passages suggests that this degree never falls so low to
the point that there are ugly or imperfect worlds; God doesn’t write bad verses (G III, p.595/ trans. in Strickland, 2006,
p.137). Yet Leibniz also said that God’s intellect or the ‘vast Region of Verities contains all possibilities’ therefore ‘it is
necessary that there be an infinitude of possible worlds’ (GP VI, p.115/H, p.136). If all possible worlds are or have being,
then either ugliness or complete imperfection is not a possibility for any world or there are in fact ugly and imperfect
possible worlds. We think that the former is the case. The way Leibnizian ontology is able to claim that ugliness and
complete imperfection is not possible is by considering that, as said in the chapter I, every being must have a degree of
essence or perfection that is a variety of harmonious properties, which for Leibniz is beauty. Therefore ugliness and
complete imperfection do not have being. Accordingly, every possible or actual world or individual thing must have a
certain positive degree of overall perfection and beauty.
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between the unity of an individual thing and the unity of the world, since the former finds its
unity in the rule of the monad or substance that is in the plane of existence, while the unity of
the world does not depend on anything on the plane of existence –the world has no individual
substance, monad or soul–, but in a design that is only virtually in the mind of God.35 This
indicates two type of unities in Leibniz’s metaphysics, which should also correspond to two
types of beauty. On one hand, the unity of individual substances is given by a substantial
unity contained in itself, such as the monad. Since the unity of an individual substance is
contained in itself, unity also results in a singular unit or simple entity. On the other hand, the
unity of the world finds its unity in a transcendental plane outside itself, hence it is a
composition of other units and therefore lacks substantial unity. However, both are objective
unities, in the sense that in both cases unity is given by a principle of order that is
independent of a subjective mind.
If unities are sets of many elements defined by a principle or rule, the type of unity
depends on the type of rule. Hence, the type of rule partially determines also the type of
beauty. Moreover, these types of rules present different degrees of unity and, as Leibniz says,
‘however much greater is both the variety and the unity in variety, so much greater is the
harmony’ (A VI 4, p.1359/SLT, p.191), to which we could add, the greater the beauty.
Therefore different types of beauty are susceptible of classification and even to be ranked.
But before we do this, we have yet to consider, at least briefly, other types of unity hitherto
left unspecified here. Besides the unity of the world and the unity of the substances we could
consider three others. Firstly, we will comment on the unity of God. We will do so briefly, as
most of its main features coincide with the analysed case of the individual substance’s unity.
Next we will extensively focus on the unity of aggregates, since it significantly differs from
the ones so far analysed. Lastly, we will offer a few remarks about a fifth hypothetical type of
unity that stands mid-way between the unity of the monad and the unity of the world, i.e. the
unity of monadic representation.

3.2 Divine unity

God is the supreme unity that is substantial and objective, so in this sense his unity is similar
to the one that is found in the monads.36 God is the unity of all eternal truth, every possible
world and any conceivable thing. As commented at the beginning of chapter II, all variety is
35 Unlike Spinoza, for Leibniz the universe is not a mode of the divine substance, but something conformed by many
substances that, although created by God, are different from God.
36 Indeed, there are passages that Leibniz does identify God as a monad. See for example a deleted passage from §47 of the

Monadology (LM, p.107) and G VII, p.502.

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the manifestation of the divine essence, making God the source and hence the unity of
everything else (Mercer, 2001, p.212). There is also a causal argument by which God is the
source of absolutely everything, be it eternal truths or contingent beings. In the case of the
latter God is a causal source since contingent entities need always a cause and God's will is
that cause. Regarding eternal truth, although God’s will is not required, they do need to have
being ‘somewhere’. That ‘somewhere’ is God’s mind, which means that for eternal truths
‘God is the cause not by his will but by his existence’ (A VI 3, p.122/CP, p.43).
In §47 of the Monadology, Leibniz repeats this idea about God being a causal source
and adds that ‘God alone is the primitive unity or the first [originaire] simple substance’ (GP
VI, p.614/AG, p.219). Because God is a substantial unity in the same way that monads are (or
rather monads are like God), this supreme unity is substantial and there is nothing more
strongly united as one (and at the same time with more variety) than him. By the same token,
God does not only possess supreme beauty (A VI 1, p.461/L, p.134), but he is also the
principle of beauty in everything, as he is the unity amidst all variety, hence the harmony of
all things (A VI 1, p.499/LGR, p.33).37 God is the supreme principle of order in at least two
senses; firstly, because everything in him (in his understanding) is supremely ordered and
harmonious and, secondly, because all principles of order (all unities) are established by him.
As Leibniz states ‘God is all order; he always keeps truth of proportions, he makes universal
harmony; all beauty is an effusion of his rays’ (GP VI, p.27/H, p.51). An example of God
being the supreme principle of order in the first sense, i.e. everything is in God, is found in
what was said in chapter II: the order of all possible things in different possible worlds is in
God’s mind organised in such way that it avoids incompatibility and at the same time it
manages to include in him everything with perfect harmony. But God is also the supreme
principle of order because he establishes all objective principles of order. Here it is enough to
consider that all examples of real unity are given by God, i.e. the principles of order (rules,
designs, laws, etc.) of each monad and all possible worlds. The only exception would be the
case of unities by aggregation that do not have an objective or substantial unity. However, as
we will see, any unity of aggregates, although subjectively given by finite minds, must have
being in God’s mind too.

3.3 The unity of aggregates

37In Leibniz words: ‘God, i.e. the Mind of the universe, is nothing other than the harmony of things, or the principle of
beauty in them’ (A VI 1, p.499/LGR, p.33).
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In contrast with God, as the strongest type of unity, the weakest type is the unity of
aggregates. For Leibniz ‘an aggregate is nothing other than all the things from which it results
taken together, which clearly have their unity only from a mind, on account of those things
that they have in common, like a flock of sheep’ (GP II, p.256/LDV, p.275). Aggregates are
neither objective nor substantial unities, since their unity is founded on subjective ideas.
Aggregates take place when the mind apprehends a set of relations among individual
elements and bring them to unity under one idea or concept. These relations that conform the
unity of an aggregate can be apprehended rationally, perceptually or even aesthetically.
However, this unity by aggregation is not radically created by the mind ex nihilo, as if
it were operating with no regards for the relations and properties of the individual elements
that it unites. Paul Lodge states that although ‘aggregates exist only if a mind exists and
apprehends the relation that constitutes the essence of that aggregate’, it is still necessary to
have ‘things standing in those relations’ (2001, p.473). Therefore, an aggregate also depends
on there being individual substances that can be apprehended as related by the mind. As
Leibniz states: ‘[t]he unity of the idea of an aggregate is a very genuine one; but
fundamentally we have to admit that this unity of collections is merely a respect or a relation,
whose foundation lies in what is the case within each of the individual substances taken
alone’ (A VI 6, p. 146/RB, p.146). Aggregates then share with the world the trait that their
principle of unity is extrinsic or not substantial, yet in the case of aggregates there is no
objective principle of unity, since ‘the only perfect unity that these ‘entities by aggregation’
have is a mental one, and consequently their very being is also in a way mental, or
phenomenal, like that of the rainbow’ (A VI 6, p. 146/RB, p.146).
Despite the mind-dependent character of aggregates, Leibniz still refers to their unity
as ‘perfect’ and ‘genuine’, since aggregates do have being: ‘Being and one [or unity] are
convertible, but just as there is being by aggregation, so also there is one by aggregation,
although this entity and unity are semi-mental’ (GP II, p.304/LDB, p.30). If aggregates have
being, they are not completely created by our mind, but they are first in the mind of God as
possible beings. As was remarked in the first chapter, for Leibniz, being is made possible by
degree of essence or perfection. Accordingly, if being and one (or unity) are convertible then
unity must also has degrees. Although in the cases of the unity of individual substances and
possible worlds the significance of degrees of unity is not made explicit by Leibniz, in the
case of aggregates he is clearer
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I agree that there are degrees of accidental unity: that a regulated society has more unity than a
confused throng, and that an organized body, or machine, has more unity than a society. That is, it
is more appropriate to conceive of them as a single thing, because there are more relation among
the ingredients. (A II 2, p.190/LAV, p.207)

In aggregates, connections between constituents determinate their degrees of unity, therefore

the objective nature of individual elements –and the relations they establish by virtue of their
nature– affects the degree of unity of an aggregate. However, if the unity of aggregates is an
idea, why would the connections between things matter? Here we should remember that the
foundation of the uniting idea of an aggregate is the relations taken from the nature of the
individual substances that are the idea’s constituents or ingredients. Therefore, a correct idea
that supplies the unity for an aggregate, although subjective, should be correlated with the
objective nature of individual substances. This correlation is weaker when the connections or
relations between substances is weaker. When the idea of an aggregate has fewer degrees of
unity it has less being. In turn, if the idea has less being then it is less correlated with the
objective reality of substances. That said, as Lodge puts it ‘aggregates are very cheap’, since
they come into existence with an extraordinary facility (2001, pp.473-4). Yet this is to be
expected from a harmonically interrelated world, where every individual thing is related to
every other, allowing the mind to discover connections everywhere and, hence grouping
together individuals almost at will.38
In the previous section we established that ‘monadic preference’ is given by the
degree in which a relation is clearly perceived. Along the same lines we can say here that the
degree of unity of aggregates depends on the degree of clarity in which the relations of the
united elements are able to be perceived, in other words the facility to notice the relations
united by an idea.39 By the same token, the degree of correctness of our ideas that constitute
aggregates is an issue only for finite subjects. Indeed, for Leibniz this issue seems to be
incumbent mostly for its utility to organise our minds: ‘there is sometimes more, sometimes
less basis for assuming many things to be forming a single thing, according to the degree of

38 The randomness of some contemporary art installations offers a good example of how several apparently unconnected
objects can be united under one idea, hence becoming one individual aggregate. Just to give one example, let’s consider
Robert Rauschenberg’s ‘Monogram’ (1955-9), composed by the following elements: oil, paper, fabric, printed paper, printed
reproductions, metal, wood, rubber shoe heel, and tennis ball on canvas with oil and rubber tire on Angora goat on wood
platform mounted on four casters.
39 As said in chapter II, Leibniz writes to Wolff that ‘consonances please, since agreement is easily observable in them’

(GW, p.171/AG, p.233). The same principle is extrapolated here to aggregates. Accordingly, the facility with which relations
are noticed explains the degree of unity of the aggregate. Yet once again, we should warn the reader that this seemingly
subjectivist view is not enough to explain the whole issue, since for Leibniz, just as it was in the cases of dissonance and
monadic preference, aggregates’ unities are, in a way, also objectively and substantially founded, as we will explain in the
following paragraphs.
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connection between these things, but that is useful only for summarizing our thoughts and
representing phenomena’ (A II 2, p.185/M, p.121).40
However, for Leibniz it is also possible to establish an objective hierarchy between
relations regarding the degree in which they are grounded on nature. In order to understand
this idea, we must first delve into the discussion about the nature of relations: are relations
objective or just mind dependent? Some commentators, including Lodge, take relations to be
subjective, in the sense that they are ‘not features of the real world’, since relations ‘exist in
the minds of beings that apprehend similarities between intrinsic features of individual
things’ (Lodge, 2001, p.477). For Lodge it seems to be the case that aggregates require to be
founded on substances’ content, but not on substances’ relations, since these latter are a
product of the mind. On the contrary, other commentators have argued that relations are not
mind dependent, as they do have an ontological base in the individual concept of
substances.41 Some passages of Leibniz’s writings confirm this latter view, for example in the
correspondences with Arnauld he states that

the concept of the individual substances contains all its events and all its denominations, even
those commonly called extrinsic (that is, the ones that belong to it only in virtue of the general
connection of things and because it expresses the whole universe in its manner), since there must
always be some foundation for the connection of the terms of a proposition, which must be found
in their concepts. (A II 2, p.80/LAV, p.111)

Relations or extrinsic denominations are in the individual substance; they are not a mere
product of the mind. Relations are contained in the complete concepts of individual things.42
This coheres with what was said in the first section of this same chapter, when we established
that agreement among substances was given by their own internal programme, since each
substance in agreement with others includes the programme of all others.
Following this line of argumentation, aggregates cannot just be based on relations
established by the subject’s mind, since those relations are already present within the

40 In this thesis we use Voss’ translation of Leibniz-Arnauld correspondence (LAV), but here we prefer to illustrate this
passage with Mason’s version (M). We do not think that there is anything wrong with the former version (in fact, it could be
argued that is even more faithful to the original), we simply consider that the latter conveys the point more forcefully by
translating sert into ‘useful’ instead of ‘serve’. For Voss’ translation, see LAV, p.201.
41 For example Hide Ishiguro states that ‘there is no way of characterizing things without invoking both the relational

properties and the non-relational properties of the thing in question’ (1990, p.107). Also Nachtomy states that ‘relations (but
not primarily those of time and space) are constitutive of complete individual concepts’ (2007, p.118). He considers the
complete concepts of individuals as perfect when they include all the relational properties of the world that they inhabit.
There is an alternative position, which states that relations are mind dependent, but objective nevertheless, since they are
grounded on God’s mind, see Carlin (2000, p.108).
42 This raises the following question: how can external relations be internal to the substance? This issue has sparked

significant controversy, yet here is not the place to examine this debate. For more on this topic see Ishiguro (1990), Carlin
(2000), Lodge (2001), Nachtomy (2007) and Phemister (2016).
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complete concept or substantial programme of individual things. We propose instead that

aggregates are the product of a mental process of selection of certain relations –existing in the
substance’s concept–, where the mind includes some and exclude others, following the
criteria given by an idea. Although, objectively –or in God’s perfect view– there is no
exclusion between any possible set of connections, there are relations that are objectively
easier to be apprehended than others. Accordingly, the degree of unity of these selections of
relations is determined by the facility with which certain relations are more easily disposed to
be apprehended by the mind or the clarity with which an idea can establish the criteria of
selection in comparison with other ideas. Once again music serves as a good example: as said
before, the agreement between the first three resonating notes of a harmonic series is
perceived more clearly than the agreement with other notes, because objectively they
sympathetically vibrate in a more prominent manner. Yet if we heard more attentively, we
would perceive the objectively harder to perceive sympathetic vibration of many or all the
other notes and hence their relation. In this sense, there is an objective hierarchy of related
things, i.e. some things are more strongly related to others in nature, but in the end everything
is related. Thus, there are aggregates with a higher degree of unity than others. For example,
we could say that the idea of tonality expressed in Mozart’s compositions, which considers a
more limited set of intervals to be harmonically related, had a stronger unity than the idea of
tonality expressed in the music of Debussy, where more and further resonating intervals were
accepted as part of the tonal harmony.

3.4 Aggregates’ beauty

Although Leibniz did not offer an explicit account of the relation of aggregates and
aesthetics, we claim that aggregates respond to the formula of unity in variety and, therefore,
they replicate the structure of beauty. Indeed, as we have seen, aggregates replicate a
principle of order that unites a variety, just as the law of individual substances and the general
design of worlds. Leibniz’s concept of aggregates suggests the existence of subjective
harmonies that run in parallel with the objective harmony of the world and the harmony of
substances. Yet, since this principle of order is a subjective idea, there are differences
between aggregates and other objective unities regarding the resulting sort of beauty.
The degree of unity in aggregates is established by how easily noticeable are the
relations that our human mind establishes, which depends on the objective disposition of
these relations to be apprehended and united under the criteria of an idea. In turn, the degree
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of beauty depends on the degree of unity of our ideas plus the variety (quantitative and
qualitative) of elements that these ideas are able to unite. Since our mind has a limited
capacity it is normal to assume that there is a trade-off between the degree of variety –how
many and diverse elements– and the degree of unity –how accessible are the connections
between these elements. When there is more quantity and more diversity of and between
elements, it is harder to find an idea apt to establish clear connections among them. Here the
comparison between Mozart and Debussy works as well. As said Mozart’s music presents
more unity in the form of stronger –easier to apprehend– relations between intervals at the
cost of limiting the set of intervals used in his music. On the contrary, Debussy’s use of
chromatic scales sacrifices degrees of unity in order to reach more variety, i.e. a greater
diversity of intervals, but harder to apprehend as related to each other.
The limitations of our mind to give unity to a high degree of variety without losing
unity would explain why according to Leibniz the beauty of aggregates is outranked by the
other mentioned types. Leibniz expresses several times that things created by God are more
beautiful and complex than the ones created by us or even than the things that our mind could
ever imagine. For example, regarding nature he states that ‘[t]he beauty of nature is so great’
that all other delights should be considered ‘small by contrast’ (GP VII, p.89/L, p.428). In the
Theodicy, Leibniz expresses his agreement with Bayle about the fact ‘that there is more
artifice in the organism of animals than in the most beautiful poem in the world or in the most
admirable invention whereof the human mind is capable’ (GP VI, p.42/H, p.66) In another
passage Leibniz recommends us to look at organic bodies and we ‘will find there a
contrivance and a beauty transcending all imagination’ (GP VI, p.232/H, p.248). Regarding
souls he comments the following: ‘The operation of spiritual automata, that is of souls, is not
mechanical, but it contains in the highest degree all that is beautiful in mechanism’ (GP VI,
p.356/H, pp.364-365). Accordingly, for Leibniz, those entities whose unity is objectively
given (e.g. the world, nature, God, substances, etc.) unite a larger quantity of more diverse
elements than the unity of aggregates. Thus the former are able to achieve greater beauty than
the latter.
But, on the other hand, the unity of aggregates is more flexible than the objective
unity of natural entities. Aggregates’ unities can overlap each other over the same individual
thing. Unities produced from artworks are a good example of overlapping unities by
aggregation. A traditional painting is a unity because mentally we assume that everything that
is within the frame is one individual painting. This unity is given by a rational or
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conventional idea of what a painting is. Yet this unity is not the only possible unity of a
painting. We can consider the variety of physical and aesthetic properties of what is inside the
frame of the painting and find its principle of order and evaluate its degrees of unity
accordingly. In this case our ideas and perceptions regarding the composition of the figures,
the relation of the colours and the meaning of the iconography would constitute different
overlapping principles of order over the same object, hence creating different unities.
Moreover, we can subordinate these unities into one more general unity that includes them.
For example, the principles of order that unite the composition, the iconography and the
colours could be subordinated as traits of the mentioned conventional principle of order that
is everything that is within the frame is one individual painting. By this token, there are still
more types of unities by aggregation regarding art, for example when we are able to connect
a variety of aesthetic traits or several artworks to the idea of a style, one artist or even to one
period.
These examples of unity show how flexible the unity per aggregation is. Indeed, thus
understood, the notion of aggregates allows Leibnizian philosophy to articulate a dynamic
unity that results in a more relative and varied conception of beauty. The advantage of this
view is that it can explain and even justify the possibility of disagreement among subjective
aesthetic judgements. This is the case because aggregates’ harmonies not only differ from
nature’s objective harmonies, but also from each other. Since ideas are subjectively
grounded, they enjoy a certain level of freedom regarding the way in which they select the
multiple elements they unite. Furthermore, the presence of dissonances in the world allows
ideas to form aggregates with different combinations of consonant and dissonant elements.
As a result, aggregates can resolve dissonances harmonically with different degrees of
success, thus generating different aesthetic judgements about the world.43 In this sense, Ruth
Lorand is partially wrong when she writes that

Rationalism tends to espouse the notion of total order, and does not generally consider orders that
may vary in degree […] In the perfectly ordered universe of Spinoza and Leibniz, for instance,
coherence between events and laws is maximum; the notion of quantitative coherence is ruled out
and disorder does not exist. (2003, p.91)

Although she is right in saying that the universe for Leibniz is perfectly ordered and that there
is no place for disorder, Leibniz’s notion of aggregates allows a dynamic organisation of

43Here we cannot extend further in explaining this idea. But for more on aesthetic disagreement in Leibniz’s philosophy, see
Portales (2018).
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unities with different degrees of unity and hence a variety of different types and degrees of
order that differ from the objective order of natural entities.
That said, Leibniz’s philosophy allows and pretty much promotes the possibility of
the encounter between subjective unity and objective unity. The objective unity of the world
includes several sub-unities, such as laws of nature. But it also includes those of natural
individual beings that are given by a dominant monad, which in turn includes an infinite
amount of other subordinated monads that are dominant monads to other monads. Hence
there are almost infinite principles of order or unities cohabitating within each unity. In this
sense, it is not uncommon that the mind grasps or conceives a principle of unity that
coincides with these natural unities. Examples of beauty under these circumstances would be
the beauty of scientific theories in natural sciences.44
An important caveat must be considered here: the notion of a subjectively grounded
unity does not entail a subjective notion of beauty. In Leibniz’s philosophy, beauty is always
objective for three reasons: first, the rules with which a unity per aggregation must comply in
order to reach beauty are objective, i.e. they are in God’s understanding (e.g. unity, variety,
wholeness, etc.) (A VI 3, pp.122-23/CP, pp.43–45). Accordingly, the formal structure of
beauty is always objective. Second, the relations that are united by an idea must be founded
on individual substances, i.e.; objective reality. Therefore, even if the principle of order that
unites a variety is subjective, the variety that is being united is objective. Third, for Leibniz,
beauty is a property of the object. Even if we are able to establish arbitrary unities and hence
create ‘new objects’ (even as ideas), these objects have being in the mind of God even before
we conceive them. This is the case because for Leibniz every conceivable thing has being in
God’s intellect. In other words, any conceivable unity already has being in the mind of God.
We will cover extensively the idea of the objectivity of beauty in the next two chapters, so for
now it suffices to reiterate that the beauty of the aggregates is not a subjective beauty.

3.5 The unity of monadic representations

Finally, there is one other type of principle of order that we already partially described in
chapter II, when in section 2.2 we refer to the monadic synchronic representation of the
manifold. This is why we will just briefly describe it. In the unity of monadic representations,

44This is not so different from contemporary cognitivist views of nature’s aesthetics, such as Carlson’s idea (1981) that
natural sciences provide the categories through which we should judge nature’s beauty. For a comparison between Leibniz’s
metaphysics and aesthetics of nature and Carlson’s positive aesthetics, see Phemister and Strickland (2015). We will come
back to this topic in chapter VI.
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the unity of the world and the unity of individual substances converge. This is the unity of the
world from the perspective of a monad. More specifically, it is a unity of one perspective
found in one particular representation of one particular monad at a particular time –that is
before the monad follows its appetites and move to another representation.
All monads represent the same objective universe, yet each representation of the
whole universe is different. The difference is given by the specific perspective from which
each monad, at one moment, expresses the universe. While the principle of order of
aggregates only unite a limited set of things and relations, the monad expresses the whole
universe. Yet each monad represents the infinitely many elements of the world with different
degrees of clarity, obscurity, distinctness or confusion. Monads perceive the same whole
from different perspectives. The particularity of each perspective is determined by a specific
principle of order that only works for one representation or one perspective of the universe.
This type of unity largely coincides with the general principle of order of the world.
However, in the Monadology Leibniz seems to make the distinction between the order of the
world and the order of the monad’s perspective:

since every monad is a mirror of the universe in its way, and since the universe is regulated in a
perfect order, there must also be an order in the representing being, that is, in the perceptions of
the soul, and consequently, in the body in accordance with which the universe is represented
therein. (GP VI, p.618/AG, p.221)45

The principle of order (or unity) of each monadic representation determines the particular and
unique perspective of each monadic representation. In order for this to be the case, the
principle of order of each monadic representation must dictate which elements of the universe
are to be represented distinctly, confusedly and in which degree. This makes every
representation a unique version of a common world. Hence this type of unity can be
considered the cause of the originality and uniqueness of the monad that we described in
chapter II. Indeed, Ernest Cassirer extends this trait of the Leibnizian monad to define
artworks, as he states that the ‘internal model that represents and shapes the outer, is the
power and the tendency of the artwork’ (1902, p.461).46
The unity of the monadic representation also differs from the unity of the monad, i.e.
what we have called the rule of production, the programme of action or the law of the series.
While the unity of the monad is objective and determines an indivisible unit, the unity of
45 In this passage, Leibniz refers to this order of the representing being in relation to the body and the soul. Unfortunately, we
cannot draw here on the soul/body discussion.
46 Author’s translation from the original German: ‘Dieses „innere" Vorbild im Aeusseren darzustellen und zu gestalten, ist

die Kraft und die Tendenz des Kunstwerkes. (Cassirer,1902, p.461)

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monadic representations is the expression of the former in time and space. The former is a
rule of production or law of the series that, from God’s point of view, indicates the whole set
of perceptions and appetites of a monad, independent of time and space; it is a substantial and
objective unity. This corresponds to the unity of what would be the unfolded soul, outside of
space and time, that Leibniz describes in his Principles of Nature and Grace: ‘One could
know the beauty of the universe in each soul, if one could unfold all its folds, which only
open perceptibly with time’ (GP VI, p.604/AG, p.211). In contrast, the unity of monadic
representations is ephemeral; a new unity is created for each new representation. The unity of
monadic representations is included and dependent on the unity of the monad. Indeed the
former is determined (in content and order of succession) by the principle of order of the
monad.
The unity of monadic representation could be considered a subjective one, in the
sense that it is a perspective. Yet it is also substantial, as these representations of the world
constitute the nature of the monad.

4. Conclusions
The main objective of this chapter was to claim that ‘unity’ in Leibniz’s philosophy is
ultimately given by a principle of order. This is the case especially for ‘unity’ in the formula
‘unity in variety’ that is harmony and beauty. As defined, a principle of order grounds other
related notions of unity, such as individuality, identity, and agreement. In the first section we
illustrate the notion of ‘principle of order’ with the case of individual substances. We
developed our notion of principle of order for individual substances with the help of
Nachtomy’s concepts of ‘rule of production’ and ‘programme of action’. With this
conceptual framework, we proposed that a complete concept’s principle of order decides its
identity and individuality, since it determines what predicable properties the complete
concept possesses. In the case of monads we followed Whipple’s ‘Substance/Primitive
Force/Law of the Series Identity Thesis’ and showed that a principle of order, such as the law
of the series, regulates the attributes of a monad and the order of their manifestation, thus
explaining unity, especially as individuality and identity.
Regarding unity as agreement among substances, we explained that it takes place
when a substance includes in its own closed constitutions some aspects of the programme of
other substances, thus coordinating with each other in order to produce agreement despite
their closed nature. Power relations among substances are not an imposition of unity from
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one substance to another, but something not so different from agreement. What defines power
in a substantial relation is an asymmetry given by an active monad that expresses in its own
programme the principle of order (order or part of it) of a passive monad. We gave a similar
definition to explain different degrees of agreement among substances or as we called
‘monadic preference’: a substance agrees more with some substances than others when their
relation is more easily observed by a third party.
In the second section we claim that for Leibniz the world also has a principle of order
that is its unity. The world’s general plan or design defines the set of its members and
expresses the agreement among them. This worldly principle of order is not just the
automatic result of possible logical combinations, but a divine design produced by God’s
will. The world’s general law includes and determines sub-unities such as natural laws and
individual substances that express the same general law in their own constitutions, thus
making each individual compatible and their world compossible.
Finally we noticed other types of unities in Leibniz’s philosophy that also work as a
principle of order. In summary, we can classify unities in at least four categories:
a. Substantial/objective: unities defined by the rule of individual substances, be it God
or Monads. Substances are undividable unities, in other words; the only type of
entities that are truly one. In this sense, substances are the elements with the highest
degree of ontological individual unity and therefore being (because ‘being and one are
convertible’). This implies that entities formed with this type of unity possess a high
degree of beauty. Examples of this type of beauty are the beauty of God, the monad,
the soul or the mind.
b. Non-substantial/objective: unities defined by God’s free given rule (desseins
principaux or fins de Dieu) over a group of substantial individuals, such as possible
worlds. Although this type of rule does not determine the most ontologically strong
unity, they are objectively real unities, since they are united by a divinely given order.
There are infinitely many different rules or designs of this type, one for each possible
world. Each different rule or designs determines a different world with a different
degree of perfection and beauty for each one. In this sense, possible worlds are ranked
according to their perfection.47 In that ranking, the actual world is at the top, as it is

47 In § 416 of the Theodicy, Leibniz explains the ranking of worlds through a metaphor of a pyramid when he is narrating the
tale of the encounter of Theodorus with the goddess Pallas Athena: ‘The halls rose in a pyramid, becoming even more
beautiful as one mounted towards the apex, and representing more beautiful worlds. Finally they reached the highest one
which completed the pyramid, and which was the most beautiful of all: for the pyramid had a beginning, but one could not
see its end; it had an apex, but no base; it went on increasing to infinity. That is (as the Goddess explained) because amongst
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the most beautiful. In fact it is objectively beautiful, because its beauty comes from
the best possible God-given rule or design (the one with the higher degree of
agreement and variety) and its variety is also objective. In this sense, a non-
substantial/objective unity allows different degrees of beauty, 48 although not ugliness
or lack of beauty, since they are divine rules and, as it was established, ‘God does not
produce bad poetry’. Example of this type of beauty is the beauty of the actual
universe and the beauty of possible non-actual worlds, yet their degree of beauty is
inferior.
c. Non-substantial/subjective: unities that are mind dependent, i.e. aggregates. These
unities are sets with no objective rule or principle of order, but only a subjective one.
Yet, this subjective principle is founded on actual relations and properties of
individual things that the mind is able to apprehend. This subjective unities also
reproduce the formula of harmony (unity in variety), so they can achieve beauty.
Nonetheless, since their unity depends in part of finite subjects’ minds, their degree of
beauty is the result of a trade-off between degree of unity and degree of variety.
Hence, their beauty is in a lesser degree than those things which possesses God’s
given unity. The beauty of art is an example of this kind of unity.
d. Substantial/subjective: unities defined by the rule that determines the agreement in
the representations of the external world in the monad. This is another level of the
first type of unity (substantial/objective) and it is framed and determined by that one.

an endless number of possible worlds there is the best of all, else would God not have determined to create any; but there is
not any one which has not also less perfect worlds below it: that is why the pyramid goes on descending to infinity’ (GP VI,
p.364/H, p.372).
48Although different worlds have different degrees of beauty it is not certain that they possess different degrees of unity, at

least Leibniz does not mention the latter explicitly. However, the idea of different degrees of unity in different worlds should
not be completely discarded, as it would help to explain why there are different degrees of beauty in different possible
worlds.
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PART II: BEAUTY AS A PROPERTY, VALUE AND EXPERIENCE

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Introduction to Part II

The debate about objectivity and subjectivity in aesthetics is one of the most common
discussions about the topic, starting long before Leibniz. In ‘Objectivity and Subjectivity in
the History of Aesthetics’, Wladyslaw Tatarkiewicz situates this discussion at the very
beginnings of philosophy, with the Pythagoreans on one side and the Sophists on the other.
The former ones argued for an objective notion of beauty, grounded on the idea that among
the properties of a thing there is one that constitutes its beauty, the latter ones defended
aesthetic subjectivism, since for them beauty varies from one person to another, so it must be
a property in the subject rather than in the object (Tatarkiewicz, 1963, pp. 157-158).
According to Tatarkiewicz, although this debate has survived through the history of
philosophy, the objective position predominated for thousands of years (1963, p.159). Indeed,
most Greek philosophers after Plato endorsed the idea that beauty is objective (with the
prominent exception of the Epicureans and the Sceptics). This position persisted though the
Middle Ages, where Augustine hit the medullar point of the dichotomy with the following
reflection: ‘And my first question will be whether these things are beautiful because they
delight, or delight because they are beautiful. Here he will undoubtedly answer that they
delight because they are beautiful’ (Augustine, 2005, p.70). Tatarkiewicz explains that, not
without several and important contrasts, this was the predominant tendency also through the
Renaissance and the 17th century, until the 18th century, when the subjective position
becomes generally accepted in philosophy (1963, p.170).
In this context, Leibniz is found defending the predominant position of objective
beauty at the end of the 17th century and the beginning of the 18th, when, as Tatarkiewicz
states, philosophers took little interest in aesthetics (1963, p.167). However, if we take a
closer look into that period, this was not entirely the case. Philosophers such as Spinoza did
have some clear and diverse positions about aesthetics and, although they did not develop a
systematic theory, some of their metaphysical views did include interesting and diverging
conceptions about notions such as beauty, sensations and music. For example, Descartes’
position on beauty can be recognised, yet mixed with other concepts such as perfection and
goodness, as an objective notion based on the idea that God willed to create a beautiful
universe (CSM II, p.248). The opposite view was held by Spinoza, who said that beauty is a
property only in our imagination and that it has nothing to do with God, nature or reason (CE,
pp.30-31). In this context, Leibniz argued against both philosophers in defence of complete
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objectivity. His argument is not only against Spinoza’s explicit subjectivism, but also against
Descartes’ position, since for Leibniz the logical result of Descartes’s view ends up meeting
Spinoza’s subjectivism (A II 1, p.505/D, p.2). As will be discussed in the following chapter,
Leibniz’s disagreement with Descartes was based on a subtle contrast between two different
ways to conceiving an objective notion of beauty: while for Descartes the nature of beauty –
whatever beauty is– is decided by God’s will, Leibniz insisted that the rules that determine
what is beautiful are grounded in God’s intellect with anteriority and independence of divine
will. Through this reasoning Leibniz affirms the complete autonomy of an object’s beauty. In
other words, beauty as a property cannot but reside in the object itself.
The objective characterisation of beauty in Leibniz has not been adequately developed
by his commentators. This is the case not just because there are only few academic works that
focus their attention on this specific issue, but also because there are some valuable
contributions that have been mistaken about Leibniz’s position. An example of this is found
in Frederick Beiser’s book Diotima’s Children, where he states and implies several times
that, for Leibniz, beauty is the intuition –or perception– of perfection.1 This formula suggests
that the concept is based on a subjective and an objective dimension. The subjective aspect of
beauty would correspond to our intuition or perception of an object; whereas, the objective
aspect comes from the perfection of the object in itself –its unity in variety. Even though
Beiser’s book is arguably one of the most complete contributions recently given to the
discussion of the rationalists’ account of aesthetics, it mistakes Leibniz’s view for the ones of
his successors, particularly Wolff and Baumgarten. For Leibniz a subjective perception or
intuition is not needed for beauty, as it is in the case of Wolff’s and Baumgarten’s later
formulations. There are two main aspects of Leibniz’s thought that corroborate this view:
firstly, as we will see in chapter IV, beauty is in things by themselves with autonomy from
any subjective intuition, i.e. if a thing is beautiful, it is as such before it is perceived or even if
it is not. And secondly, as we explain in chapter V, beauty is not exclusively or completely
for us, human perceivers, since its value does not reside only in our subjective appreciation.
Both aspects are entailed by the idea developed in chapter I that beauty is a perfection and not
a phenomenon that emerges from the interaction between a subject and perfection, as it is the
case for Baumgarten.
In order to distinguish the subtleties surrounding Leibniz’s discussion it would be
useful to establish some basic definition of objective beauty, starting with the difference
1See Beiser (2009). In pages 2 and 19 Beiser stated that this idea is valid for all German rationalism; and on pages 33, 36
and 42 he explicitly attributes this idea to Leibniz.
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between the concepts of objectivity and subjectivity in aesthetics. A first and simple
definition can be postulated as follows: beauty is subjective if beauty is in the perceiving
subject. And beauty is objective if it is in the object. Both propositions seem to agree that the
main difference between the two positions resides in the location of beauty: objectivity posits
beauty in the object and subjectivity in the subject. Yet this is not enough to define all the
nuances of the objective position, since it is possible to posit beauty in the object but still
require a subject for beauty to manifest itself. As said, Beiser mistakenly attributes this idea
to Leibniz’s aesthetics, yet Beiser is right in considering Baumgarten as an adherent of this
position. Indeed, Baumgarten’s notion of beauty is relational, since he defines it in
Metaphysica §662, as ‘the perfection that is a phaenomenon (perfectio phaenomenon), or the
perfection observable by taste’ (Baumgarten, 2014, pp. 239-40), and later, in his Aesthetica
§14, as the perfection of sensory cognition (perfectio cognitionis sensitivae). Mirbach
explains that, in Baumgarten’s account, beauty is the appearance of metaphysical perfection,
but only in the degree to which perfection can be grasped by the subjective cognition of the
human mind, therefore beauty can only have place when there is a subject (Mirbach, 2008,
p.111-2).2 Thus beauty is a relational, therefore, not a completely objective property. Roughly
summarised, Baumgarten’s position can be stated as follows: an object O has beauty or is
beautiful if and only if there is a subject S, which has a specific relation R to O.3
What is then truly objective –i.e. not relational– beauty? Simply put, the answer is an
intrinsic property.4 John O’Neill offers three definitions of intrinsic value that can be also
applied to beauty as a property:

1) Intrinsic value is used as a synonym for non-instrumental value. An object has instrumental
value insofar as it is a means to some other end. An object has intrinsic value if it is an end in
itself.

(2) Intrinsic value is used to refer to the value an object has solely in virtue of its 'intrinsic
properties'. The concept is thus employed by G. E. Moore: To say a kind of value is 'intrinsic'

2.In his Psychologia Empirica, Wolff defines beauty as the observability of perfection. Paul Guyer thinks that for Wolff
beauty is a relational property because it is coextensive with or emergent from objects’ perfection, but is not intrinsic to
them, since without a perceiver beauty is not equivalent to perfection (Guyer, 2007).
3 For similar positions in contemporary debates see Nehamas (2007) and Sartwell (2004).
4 The word intrinsic has been object of many debates, yet for our purpose there is no necessity to extend on this discussion. It

should be enough just to consider O’Neill’s definition as we will do in the text. Nevertheless, here we offer couple of simple
definitions, besides O’Neill’s, such as the one given by David Lewis: ‘A thing has its intrinsic properties in virtue of the way
that thing itself, and nothing else, is’ (Lewis, 1983, pp.111-2). In other words, it could be said that a thing has beauty because
of what it is and not because a subject participates in the fact that that thing has beauty. A similar but negative definition is
given by Brian Ellis, who states that an intrinsic property ‘is a property that something has independently of any other thing’
(Ellis, 2001, p. 26). The notion of independence implies that the property is not related in any way to the context or to any
other thing, such as a subject, to emerge or to manifest itself. In chapter IV we will emphasise the importance of
independence in Leibniz objective account.
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means merely that the question whether a thing possesses it, and in what degree it possesses it,
depends solely on the intrinsic nature of the thing in question.

(3) Intrinsic value is used as a synonym for 'objective value' i.e., value that an object possesses
independently of the valuations of valuers. (O’Neill, 1992, pp.119-120)

In chapter IV we will investigate beauty as a property, which refers mostly to O’Neill’s

second definition of intrinsic value; the autonomous reality of beauty. Chapter V will focus
on Leibniz’s notion of beauty as a value, where we will explore an acceptation of ‘intrinsic’
along the lines of O’Neill’s definition one and three, namely the non-instrumental nature of
beauty and its independence from valuers.
Until now we have been mostly defining the objectivity of beauty in general terms
that coincide mainly with beauty as a property and less with beauty as a value. Thus we have
been uncritically overlooking the differences that might come up between these two
approaches. We will return to specify the nature of beauty as a property in chapter IV, but
now is time to say something specific about value. The question about aesthetic value implies
that there is something positive in certain aesthetic properties, such as beauty. This means
that beauty supplies almost always a positive value to the things that possess it.5 When this is
the case, it is possible to ask not only if this value is in the object or the subject, but also if it
is a value for the object or the subject. John O’Neill differentiates these contrasting aspects of
value stating that the first question –where is the value?– asks about the source of value and
the second one –for what or for whom is the value?– about the object of value. He insists that
it is possible and perfectly coherent to be objectivist in one aspect and subjectivist in the
other, e.g. to hold an objectivist claim about source of value –such as ‘there is value in a thing
x independently of the attitudes of the ones evaluating x’– is compatible with an
anthropocentric view of the object of value –such as ‘x is valuable only if there are human
beings to acknowledge it’. This position would recognise that beauty is in the beautiful thing
independently of any other object or subject, nonetheless it only matters if a human subject
contemplates it in such a way that ‘a world without humans would have no value whatsoever’
(O’Neill, 1992, p.121). Although O’ Neill does not make the distinction between property
and value, we should remark that in our case O’Neill’s first question –where is value?– is
related to our notion of beauty as a property, while his second question –for what or for
whom is the value?– addresses the notion of beauty as a value. Accordingly, it is important to
keep this difference in mind while analysing Leibniz’s position.

5 For a contemporary discussion about this topic, see Mothersill (1984), Goldman (1990) and Zangwill (1995).
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In chapter IV, we will consider beauty as a property –or in O’Neill terms as the source
of beauty– in things. It will be argued that this view of objectivity is grounded on a notion of
beauty as a completely autonomous property that is in things, since beauty resides in the
object in itself with independence of subjective recognition and even before the object itself
reaches existence. In chapter V, we will approach beauty as a value, or in O’Neill’s terms the
object of beauty. This means that we will consider for what or for whom beauty is valuable.
As will be argued, Leibniz holds here a non-subjective position, as for him the beauty of our
universe ‘is not made for us [humans] alone’ (GP VI, p.232/H, p.248). Furthermore, we will
show that Leibniz’s view on this issue also sides with the objectivist camp.
Finally, in chapter VI, we will engage with the subjective experience of beauty.
Hitherto, we have only focused on Leibniz’s position on the objectivity of beauty and we
have insisted that Leibniz held a strictly objectivist position. Nevertheless, this does not mean
that Leibniz’s philosophy has nothing to say about the subjective dimension of beauty.
Although for Leibniz beauty, as a property and a value, is objective, it is something that can
be known, perceived or, in general terms, experienced by a subject. It is worth repeating that
for Leibniz objective beauty does not require any form of subjective counterpart in order to
emerge or acquire being. But, as many other entities with an independent ontological status, it
can be experienced by subjects.
The subjective experience of beauty was arguably one of the main fields of aesthetics
in 18th century. Yet before that, and despite his objectivist position, Leibniz provided a
significant contribution to the understanding of subjective aesthetic phenomena. In fact, in his
survey of the history of aesthetics, Benedetto Croce attributes to Leibnizian thought a twofold
role in the advances of aesthetics. On one hand, Leibniz ‘opened the door’ to notions such as
imagination, wit, taste and, in general, to subjective ‘aesthetic facts’ ‘from which
Cartesianism recoiled in horror’.6 On the other hand, Croce seems to suggest that Leibniz
tackled these topics ‘more thoroughly and with greater philosophical rigour’ than his
contemporaneous counterparts in Britain –such as Shaftesbury and Locke– and, furthermore,
even than later British empiricists –such as Hutcheson and Hume (1964, p.207). Moreover, it
is no small thing to consider that aesthetics, as a subjective experience, was first proposed as
an independent discipline of philosophy by a Leibnizian thinker. Indeed, Alexander
Baumgarten developed his views on aesthetics mostly based on Leibniz’s philosophy.
6Croce’s statement quoted here is a bit more complex. He explicitly states that Leibniz ‘opened the door to a crowd of
physical facts’ and only later Croce relates this opening to imagination, wit, taste and ‘aesthetic facts’. We apologise for not
being able to develop the subtleties of Croce’s interpretation in detail here. However, we will return to Croce’s view in
chapter VI.
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Despite the significant role of Leibniz in the history of aesthetics, there is by no

means an abundance of works dedicated to this topic. Furthermore, as we will see in chapter
VI, among the few that have written about this, it is very common to fall into an inadequate
interpretation of Leibniz’s views on the experience of beauty. Many of these shortcomings
are the result of the difficulties in accounting for the relation of the aesthetic experience and
the rest of Leibniz’s system. But more recurrent is the confusion of Leibniz’s original views
with later rationalist aestheticians such as Baumgarten. More specifically, we often find in
those works the mistaken idea that for Leibniz beauty is exclusively a confused perception. It
is true that, in the 18th century, Baumgarten, and afterwards other Leibnizian philosophers
such as Mendelssohn, established the limit and definition of aesthetics around confused
perceptions. Yet this was not Leibniz’s view. As we will see, Leibniz’s account accepts that
aesthetic experience is constituted by distinct thoughts, based on reason, as well as by
confused perceptions and sensations, while reserving higher praises for the former rather than
for the latter. We will dedicate chapter VI to resolve this issue and other ones related to the
subjective experience of beauty.
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Chapter IV: Beauty as a property

In this chapter we will focus on beauty as a property. More specifically, we will argue that for
Leibniz beauty is an objective property. Here we understand objectivity as O’Neill’s second
definition of ‘intrinsic’, i.e. when a property depends exclusively on the intrinsic nature of the
thing in question. In this sense, intrinsic is understood as opposed to relational. However, this
is a problematic distinction in Leibniz’s philosophy. A proper account on his views on
intrinsic/relational properties would require a rather long explanation that, unfortunately, we
cannot provide in this chapter. Many of these complications are associated with the difficulty
of finding a theory of purely intrinsic properties in Leibniz. Indeed, in former chapters we
have described beauty more like a relational property than an intrinsic one: for example the
beauty of the universe is a property that pertains to the ordered relation of all members of a
world, so it is not intrinsic to any particular substantial individual. Nevertheless, in this
chapter, we are interested in the objectivity of beauty as a property only in terms of its
independence from subjective perception. Therefore, we will ignore the nuisances of
relational beauty, if ‘relational’ means relations between objects or between properties.
Accordingly, ‘intrinsic’ in this chapter means that the property is within the object and does
not need a subject in order to emerge.1 Here we will assume that complete objectivity is
intrinsic in this sense of independence from subjectivity. In the form of a proposition this
goes as follows: a thing is objectively beautiful if it is beautiful or has beauty intrinsically.
This will constitute our first main proposition to define objective beauty.
However, this is still not enough to define complete objectivity if we consider that
recent discussions about aesthetics have been using a weak sense of the term ‘objective’,
which brings a certain amount of confusion to the characterisation of objectivity. For
example, Frank Sibley’s renowned contribution to contemporary discussions about aesthetics
attempts to make the case for this specific kind of weak objectivity. He acknowledged that
aesthetic properties are objective only in the sense that if there is an aesthetic judgement
about a thing, that judgement can be true or false. For example, if I say that a work of art is
‘graceful’ or ‘beautiful’ and other observer says that it is not, one of us will be correct and the

1Here we will also ignore beauty as a result of a unity given by subjective ideas, such as it is the case of aggregates. The
beauty of aggregates is a specific case in which one requirement of beauty is subjectively provided –namely, unity–, yet as
we explained at the end of chapter III, the beauty of an aggregate is, nonetheless, objective. Here we will not return to that
discussion. We will abstain from analysing the nature of beauty’s requirements or structural constitutive elements (e.g. unity,
variety, intelligibility, wholeness, etc.). We will focus here only on beauty as a whole in its ontological status as a property in
something.
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other mistaken, depending on which proposition is true (Sibley, 2006, p.71). Sibley’s
suggestion is that, under the right set of conditions, observers might tend to agree about some
aesthetic judgements (2006, p.85). This weak account of objectivity is, in principle, coherent
with the idea of intrinsic objective beauty, since it is assumed that the aesthetic properties,
mentioned in our propositions, are in the object. Nevertheless, the reality of these properties
is a nominal categorisation based on agreed perceptions and not an ontological state of the
thing in itself, mainly because the proof for the objectivity of aesthetic properties is posited
on the possibility of intersubjective agreement.2 Consequently, it raises the following
question: would there be beauty if there were no subjects to agree with each other? This
suggests at least the possibility of certain degree of ontological dependence from subjective
judgement in the form of intersubjective corroboration, which makes his interpretation of
objectivity partial and limited.
In order to make a clear distinction between the strong objectivity that we are
proposing and Sibley’s weak version, it will be added to the mentioned first proposition of
intrinsic beauty a negative version of itself, to supplement it and to permit a better
understanding of what we mean by complete objective beauty. Hence 1) objective beauty is
when an object is beautiful or has beauty intrinsically and 2) when it does not need any kind
of subjective corroboration. This latter proposition intends to exclude individual,
intersubjective and nominal corroborations of beauty as necessary for something to be
objectively beautiful. With this in mind it is possible to establish a basic definition of
complete objective beauty with two premises, one positive and other negative:

 Positive definition of objective beauty (P): O is beautiful or has beauty intrinsically.

 Negative definition of objective beauty (N): O is beautiful or has beauty without the
necessary condition of any kind of subjective corroboration.

These propositions will establish the standard that every characterisation of objective beauty
must meet. In other words, any definition of objective beauty must be necessarily coherent
with these two propositions.3

2 Sibley himself explicitly expresses his intention to distance his argument from any ontological commitment (2006, p.71).
3 We are not saying here that P and N together are sufficient and necessary definitions of objective beauty. We do not affirm
this in order to avoid stepping in an endless discussion about definitions and their objections. For example it could be said
that together they are not sufficient because they could overlap each other, hence in certain contexts P might include N, so P
would be by itself sufficient. On the other hand, they might not be necessary because there could be other definitions that
supply an account of objective beauty. Instead we are just saying that both propositions conform to a basic standard, with
which every account of true objective beauty must necessarily cohere.
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Through this chapter we will examine Leibniz’s views about the objective nature of
beauty as a property and compare it with these two propositions. We will consider not only
Leibniz’s explicit statements about beauty and similar properties, but we will also infer the
characterisation of a Leibnizian notion of objective beauty from his views on theology,
cosmology and ontology. In the first section, we follow Leibniz’s argument against Cartesian
voluntarism and Spinoza’s subjectivism. We explain how Leibniz’s ideas about objective
beauty converge with his views on God and the world’s creation in one coherent stand
against the ideas of Descartes and Spinoza. We will also see how Cartesian voluntarism and
Spinoza’s subjectivism relate to our definition of objective beauty represented by P and N.
By exploring Leibniz’s rejection of the views of these two philosophers, we will be in a better
position to understand his own ideas and to develop a Leibnizian account of objective beauty,
based on the autonomous nature of beauty as a property. In the second section, we will
examine whether Leibniz’s account of objectivity is compatible with propositions P and N or
not. We will do this by inferring from Leibniz’s views on cosmology and ontology a
systematic definition of objective beauty. We will try out three possible propositions to
represent a Leibnizian definition of objective beauty and examine them regarding their
compatibility with P and N. It will be argued that the Leibnizian views that properties are
independent from subjective corroboration and that the beauty in things is prior to existence
results in a completely objective account of beauty.

1. God, creation and objective beauty

1.1 Creation and the rules of beauty
For Leibniz, God created an objectively beautiful universe and there is a reason why he did
so. The case that the universe is beautiful is postulated in the title of §2 of the Discourse on
Metaphysics (1686): ‘Against Those Who Claim That There Is No Goodness in God's Works,
or That the Rules of Goodness and Beauty [Beauté] Are Arbitrary’ (A VI 4, p.1532/AG,
p.36). Here, Leibniz argues that there are rules of goodness and beauty in the nature of all
created things as well as in God’s ideas of them. This complies with the account of God that
Leibniz states in the first paragraph of the same text, according to which God is an ‘absolute
perfect being’ who possesses ‘supreme and infinite wisdom’ and, therefore, ‘acts in the most
perfect way’ (A VI 4, p.1531/AG, p.35). The fact that he acts in the most perfect way implies
that he created the world in the most perfect possible way, which includes the rules of beauty
and goodness in all created things, since these rules constitute his essence (A VI 4,
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p.1533/AG, p.36). Hence, the reason why God created a beautiful universe (or nature) is
because it is in his essence to do so.
The rules of beauty that Leibniz mentions refer to the idea that there are criteria or
requirements that must be satisfied by something in order to be beautiful. These criteria are
independent of or logically prior to God’s will.4 Indeed, as we have briefly suggested in
chapter II and III, these criteria are in God’s intellect and they are not a product of his will.5
As an example of these criteria, see the ones we enumerated in chapter I, among which the
most fundamental is unity in variety.6

1.2 Cartesian voluntarism

But why is Leibniz concerned about rules of beauty? Leibniz is arguing in defence of rules of
beauty that come before God’s will in contradistinction with the view that we referred to as
‘voluntarism’.7 In Leibniz’s argument he criticises the idea that the power of God prevails as
will, which means that God can do whatever he pleases and does not need to comply with
goodness, justice or wisdom. Leibniz attributes this position to Descartes8 and not without
good reason: for example, in the Meditations, Descartes states that ‘just because he [God]
resolved to prefer those things which are now to be done, for this very reason, in the words of
Genesis, 'they are very good'; in other words, the reason for their goodness depends on the
fact that he exercised his will to make them so’ (AT VII, pp.435-6/CSM II, p.293).
Accordingly, goodness was not a criterion that mandated God’s preferences for his creations,
but God’s preferences determined what goodness is. As Descartes explains:

If anyone attends to the immeasurable greatness of God he will find it manifestly clear that there
can be nothing whatsoever which does not depend on him. This applies not just to everything that
subsists, but to all order, every law, and every reason for anything's being true or good. (AT VII,
pp.435/CSM II, p.293).

Contrary to Leibniz, voluntarism posits the foundation of goodness or beauty in the act of the
divine will and not as a reason to guide the divine will.9

4 Logical priority should not be understood as a referring to time, but as indicating an order of logical concatenation: for
Leibniz the divine will is perfect, which means that it must follow perfections. Accordingly, these perfections must be
logically anterior to God’s will. We will discuss this in detail through this chapter.
5 See A VI 3, pp.121-122/CP, pp.43-45. We will return to this idea later in this chapter and in the next one.
6 Completeness, intelligibility, the potential to give pleasure, etc.
7 Leibniz himself did not use the term ‘voluntarism’.
8 Descartes was not the only thinker that held this view. See for example Pierre Poiret’s L’oeconomie divine, ou Systeme

universel et démonstré des oeuvres & des desseins de Dieu envers les hommes (1687), book I, page 54.
9 The purpose of this view is to ensure absolute freedom for God’s will. In the same paragraph, after asserting that

everything depends on God’s will, Descartes writes as follows: ‘If this were not so, then, […], God would not have been
completely indifferent with respect to the creation of what he did in fact create. If some reason for something's being good
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These two different views result in two different ways to value the properties of world
and its maker. Indeed, Leibniz defends the thesis that God is to be praised exactly because he
acts in compliance with perfect reason and not otherwise:

For why praise him for what he has done if he would be equally praiseworthy in doing the exact
contrary? Where will his justice and wisdom reside if there remains only a certain despotic power,
if will holds the place of reason, and if, according to the definition of tyrants, justice consists in
whatever pleases the most powerful? Besides, it seems that all acts of will presuppose a reason for
willing and that this reason is naturally prior to the act of will. (A VI 4, pp.1532-3/AG, p.36)

Because Leibniz’s God is not a tyrant we should not call his creation beautiful, or assume that
it is beautiful, just to praise the arbitrary choice of its author, but on the contrary: we should
praise God because we recognise the beauty and/or goodness of its creation. Leibniz repeats
this idea years later in the Theodicy §254 stating that we can be content with God and his
creation by being acquainted with true principles, which ‘must rest upon the perfection and
beauty of things’ (GP VI, p.268/H, p.283). What Leibniz means can be summarised in the
following phrase: ‘it is through a consideration of his works that we can discover the
craftsman’ (GP VII, p.86/L, p.304). These arguments favour the notion that beauty could be
recognised in things in themselves, independently of the recognition of God’s hand in their
making. Moreover, we can know the nature of the creator by inferring it through the
consideration of his works.
From this position Leibniz argues against the logical consequences of the tenets of
voluntarism: namely, on accepting goodness or beauty in things only from the premise that
these things were made by God’s will. Leibniz claims that he is ‘far removed from the
opinion of those who maintain that there are no rules of goodness and perfection in the nature
of things or in the ideas God has of them and who say that the works of God are good solely
for the formal reason that God has made them’ (A VI 4, p.1532/AG, p.36). The position of
voluntarism that Leibniz is criticising, states that things must be praiseworthy just because
they are caused by God’s will. According to Loemker, in this passage Leibniz has in mind
specifically Descartes’ voluntarism (L, p.328). Leibniz’s criticism about Descartes seems
appropriate if we consider the first paragraph of the third part of Descartes’s Principles of
Philosophy:

we must bear in mind the infinite power and goodness of God, and not be afraid that our
imagination may over-estimate the vastness, beauty and perfection of his works. On the contrary,

had existed prior to his preordination, this would have determined God to prefer those things which it was best to do’. (AT
VII, p.435/CSM II, p.293).
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we must beware of positing limits here, when we have no certain knowledge of any, on pain of
appearing to have an insufficient appreciation of the magnificence of God's creative power. (CSM
I, p.248)

The demand to over-estimate the beauty of God’s works and the warning against appearing to
have an insufficient appreciation of their magnificence, indicate that Descartes is asking us to
not trust completely in our judgement and accept the beauty of creation based on God’s
power and goodness. This is what Leibniz calls a ‘formal reason’ of beauty, which implies
judging the beauty of a thing not in itself, but by deducing it from assumed external premises
such as ‘the infinite power and goodness of God’.
As an analogy to understand this position it could be supposed that there is a
praiseworthy artist A who creates an artwork W. The voluntarist claim would consist in
praising W just because A decided to create W and A is praiseworthy. In this context, it does
not matter whether A decided to create W or Y or V, because what is being evaluated is not
the artwork a posteriori and not even the praiseworthiness of A. There is an a priori
acceptance of two facts; first, that A is a praiseworthy artist, and second that, because of the
first fact, anything that A makes must be praiseworthy. If we do not accept these principles
we might suffer the ‘pain of appearing to have an insufficient appreciation’ of A’s work,
because we were afraid to ‘over-estimate the vastness, beauty and perfection of his works’.
Furthermore, according to voluntarism any criterion C, used to qualify whatever is
praiseworthy, is given only by A through whatever A creates. Thus there is no C before A
decides to create something. For Leibniz the opposite must be the case, i.e. the reason why
we praise A is because first we find W praiseworthy, and we find it so only through our
knowledge of C. Hence we can find W praiseworthy even if we do not know that W was
created by A. This is the case because the criteria to determine if something is praiseworthy
comes before any creation. Before further explaining Leibniz’s view, we will first consider
Leibniz’s position regarding Spinoza’s aesthetic subjectivism and its relation to Descartes.

1.3 Spinoza’s subjectivism

In the same chapter of the Discourse where Leibniz introduces his argument against
voluntarism, he extends his criticism against those who say that beauty is just an exclusive
human property of the imagination, which men attribute to things or to the Creator

I confess that the contrary opinion [that God’s works are good or beautiful just because he made
them] seems to me extremely dangerous and very near to the opinion of the recent innovators who
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hold that the beauty of the universe and the goodness we attribute to the works of God are but the
chimeras of those who conceive of God in terms of themselves. Thus, in saying that things are not
good by virtue of any rule of goodness but solely by virtue of the will of God, it seems to me that
we unknowingly destroy all of God's love and all his glory. (A VI 4, p.1532/AG, p.36)

According to Loemker, in the original draft of the Discourse, instead of ‘recent innovators’,
Leibniz wrote ‘les Spinozistes’ (L, p.328). There is no reason to think that the fact that
Leibniz deleted this word means that in the quoted fragment, Leibniz is not arguing against
Spinoza. Indeed, by the content it is clear that Leibniz is in fact considering Spinoza´s
philosophy. More specifically, Leibniz is arguing against the notion that the world’s beauty is
just a human projection onto nature and God.10 Leibniz’s disagreement with Spinoza here is
that for the German philosopher God’s perfection involves beauty, meanwhile for Spinoza it
does not.11 For the latter, God’s perfection is based neither in his will nor even in his
goodness, but on his power as a free substance (CE, p.25). Accordingly, God’s perfection is
not reflected in the goodness of his will or in his wisdom to create a beautiful world. By the
same token, for Spinoza, God’s perfect creation is not coextensive with human taste, since
‘the perfection of things is to be judged solely from their nature and power: things are not
more or less perfect because they please or offend men's senses, or because they are of use to,
or are incompatible with, human nature’ (CE, p.31). We tend to project onto nature and God
what is pleasing to us, yet these attributes correspond to neither nature nor reason;

We see, therefore, that all the notions by which ordinary people are accustomed to explain nature
are only modes of imagining, and do not indicate the nature of anything, only the constitution of
the imagination. And because they have names, as if they were [notions] of beings existing
outside the imagination, I call them beings, not of reason, but of imagination (CE, pp.30-31).

Indeed, beauty is an example of these ‘beings of the imagination’. In other words, Spinoza’s
God –or any of God’s modes– does not possess the attribute of beauty. Properties such as
goodness, order, harmony and beauty are merely ‘modes of imagining’ or ‘beings of
imagination’ in men’s brains and not an attribute of things pertaining to the infinite substance
(CE, p.30).
In the same analogy mentioned before, Spinoza’s position would state that A is not an
artist: A does not even care, know or consider the notion of art. However, A does create W,
which we wrongly think is an artwork, when in fact it is something else. Indeed, Spinoza’s
position simply denies the true existence of beauty.

10 For Spinoza´s argument see CE, p.30.

11 Furthermore, for Leibniz, beauty is a divine perfection, as it was explained in the chapter I.
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On the contrary, for Leibniz it is very clear that there are rules of goodness and beauty
in created things and in the ideas that God has of these things, as is perfectly clear from the
title of §2 of the Discourse quoted at the beginning of this chapter. Moreover, as said in
chapter I, beauty is a perfection, which God possesses in the highest degree, therefore, beauty
is a property more closely related to the divine than to us.12 Following this premise, to say
that God does not know about beauty, or that he does not act according to it, would be to
deny his absolute perfection, and hence that he is God.

1.4 The convergence of voluntarism and Spinozism

As quoted before, in §2 of the Discourse, Leibniz says that the opinion that God’s works are
good and beautiful just because he made them seems to him ‘extremely dangerous and very
near to the opinion of the recent innovators [les Spinozistes] who hold that the beauty of the
universe and the goodness we attribute to the works of God are but the chimeras of those who
conceive of God in terms of themselves’. In other words, Leibniz is bringing together what
seemed to be two opposing positions; voluntarism and Spinoza’s subjectivism. Although
Cartesian voluntarism and Spinoza’s subjectivism are grouped together by Leibniz’s
criticism, it is clear that Spinoza is far from agreeing with the doctrine of voluntarism.
Indeed, in the Ethics (1677) he explicitly denies the existence of God’s will as an attribute of
his nature (CE, pp.14&24). So why does Leibniz mention both together in the same passage
under the same criticism? In this context it would seem that Leibniz is taking a stance in the
middle of two opposing positions; first, against a Cartesian voluntarism, which, in Leibniz’s
terms, claims that things are good or beautiful just because God decided to create them, and
second against Spinoza’s subjectivism, which states that God has nothing to do with beauty,
but it is we who attribute it to him and his creation.
Yet, on the contrary, for Leibniz there is a connection between both positions. Indeed,
the mentioning of Spinoza in that passage is of vital significance to understand Leibniz’s
position against the Cartesian account of God and his creation. This position was developed
with more detail a few years before the Discourse in a couple of letters to Christian Philipp in
1679 and 1680. In one of those letters Leibniz quotes the article 47 of the third part of
Descartes’ Principles of Philosophy, where it is stated that ‘matter must successively assume

12 This idea will be discussed further in the next chapter.

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all the forms of which it is capable’ (CSM I, p.257). Leibniz strongly objects to Descartes’
view and pairs it together with Spinoza’s opinions:

I do not think that it is possible to form a more dangerous proposition than this. For if matter
receive successively all possible forms it would follow that nothing so absurd, so strange and
contrary to what we call justice, could be imagined, which has not occurred or would not some
day occur. These are exactly the opinions which Spinoza has more clearly explained, namely, that
justice, beauty, order belong only to things in relation to us, but that the perfection of God consists
in a fullness of action such that nothing can be possible or conceivable which he does not actually
produce. (A II 1, p.505-6/D, p.2)

In an article entitled Refutation of Spinoza (1709), Leibniz explains this parallel between
Descartes and Spinoza’s proposition 16 on the first part of his Ethics: ‘From the necessity of
the divine nature there must follow infinitely many things in infinitely many modes’ (CE,
p.13). Leibniz finds this proposition seamlessly equivalent to Descartes’ opinion that matter
successively assumes all possible forms (FB, pp.46-8/D, pp.179-180). If matter assumes all
possible forms it implies a lack of any kind of criteria of actualisation in the divine intellect,
which means that God is indifferent to whatever he brings into existence. God does not
choose the best because he simply does not choose, as everything that is possible comes to
existence. From the idea that every possible becomes actual it follows, that there must have
been, there are or there will be forms that are absurd, strange, unjust, ugly, chaotic, etc.13 For
Leibniz this means that Descartes’ God is a God that is indifferent to properties such as
justice, beauty and order. In other words, these properties do not correspond to God’s
perfection. If beauty and these other properties do not correspond to God’s perfection, but are
possible for us to conceive, it must be the case that they are only in our imagination, which is
exactly what Spinoza says.14 Leibniz is very much aware that Descartes never explicitly
manifested these opinions, but he thinks that they can be clearly concluded from Descartes’
arguments (A II 1, p.506/D, p.2).
Nevertheless, for Leibniz this divine indifference towards beauty and other properties
is already entailed by Descartes’ more explicit view of voluntarism: if God’s will is the
‘formal reason’ of beauty, something beautiful is just whatever God decides to create, hence

13 It could be objected that in Descartes’ phrase ‘matter must successively assume all the forms of which it is capable’, the
concept of ‘capable’ could act as a limitation for forms such as unjust, ugly and chaotic. In other words, it could be said that
matter is not capable of assuming unjust, ugly and chaotic forms. Nevertheless, Leibniz interpreted ‘capable’ as ‘possible’
and possible is for him everything that we can conceive or everything that is not a contradiction (GP VII, p.319/L, p.363).
Hence, unless unjust, ugly and chaotic forms are unconceivable or contradictory they are possible, therefore, according to the
aforementioned quote, matter must assume those forms.
14 It could be said that there is a third possibility: beauty is neither a part of God’s perfection nor is it in our mind, but in the

objects. However, this would not be valid for Spinoza as for him perfection is the same as reality (CE, p.32).
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God’s will does not pursue what is beautiful, but what is beautiful comes after his will,
therefore his will is indifferent to beauty. Indeed, even without considering the logical
consequence of a statement such as ‘matter successively assumes all possible forms’,
Cartesian voluntarism turns divine will into a ‘fiction’ and results in an understanding of God
and his creation that, according to Leibniz, is not significantly different from Spinoza’s blind
determinism:

Such understanding [Descartes’ voluntarism] is nothing but a chimera, and consequently it will be
necessary to conceive God, after the manner of Spinoza, as a being who has neither understanding
nor will, but who produces quite indifferently good and bad, and who is indifferent respecting
things and consequently inclined by no reason towards one rather than the other. Thus, he will
either do nothing or he will do all. But to say that such a God has made things, or to say that that
they have been produced by a blind necessity, the one, it seems to me, is as good as the other. (A
II 1, p.507/D, p.4)

Leibniz’s point here is that a divine will that does not follow goodness, beauty and even truth
is a will with no reason and thus sterile as an alternative to determinism. In this sense,
Leibniz is not defending a position in the middle of two opposing views –Descartes and
Spinoza–, as seemed to be the case before, but on the contrary, he is opposing Descartes’s
view because its logical conclusion is a sort of determinism by indifference that ends up
meeting Spinoza’s subjectivism.

2. Objectivity as autonomy
2.1 Independence from formal reasons
Regarding the relation between beauty and determinism, Leibniz suggests that beauty is
enhanced when there is no determinism in creation, in other words; there is more beauty
because of God’s free choice among possibles:

All that is admirable, but one does not see its absolute necessity. A movement on the two sides of
the right-angled triangle composes a movement on the hypotenuse; but it does not follow that a
ball moving on the hypotenuse must produce the effect of two balls of its own size moving on the
two sides: yet that is true. Nothing is so appropriate as this result, and God has chosen the laws
that produce it: but one sees no geometrical necessity therein. Yet it is this very lack of necessity
which enhances the beauty of the laws that God has chosen, wherein divers admirable axioms
exist in conjunction, and it is impossible for one to say which of them is the primary. (GP VI,
p.320-1/H, p.333).
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In this sense, creative freedom is per se an important aspect of beauty in contraposition with
acts determined by necessity. For Leibniz, God does not bring everything into existence, just
what is the best according to certain principles which include beauty. Therefore, there are
possible things that did not and will not exist, in other words, there are possible beings or
complete worlds that are, nonetheless, not actual. God chooses to actualise some things that
are beautiful in themselves, more beautiful than others that he does not actualise.
An object O is more or less beautiful in itself depending on its compliance with the
rules of beauty –namely, more variety and more unity in variety (A VI 4, p.1359/SLT, p.191).
This means that if we can recognise the compliance of an object O with these rules, we can
recognise the beauty of O without any reference to reasons beyond the properties of the
object itself, contrary to Voluntarism. Furthermore, it is exactly because O is beautiful in
itself, without the necessity of external reference, that O’s beauty does not need to be
corroborated by us. What this account provides is the notion that the objectivity of beauty is
based on its autonomy, understood as complete independence of external elements. This view
is postulated as follows:

 Objectivity by Autonomy 1 (OA1): An object O is beautiful or has beauty if this

property can be recognised just by contemplating O and does not need to be assumed
by deducing it from any premise extrinsic to O.

Accordingly, the beauty of the object O is independent of external things or as Leibniz puts it
‘formal reasons’. The beauty of O can be corroborated only on the basis of examining the
object O.
However, that formulation of the definition has a significant problem; namely, that it
is based on a criterion that contains implicitly a subjective and epistemic element, as it calls
for a ‘recognition’ in order to define something as objectively beautiful. OA1 does not seem
clearly correlated with P, since it states that beauty can be recognised just by contemplating
O, which appears to call for the requirement of something else which is not O, thus seeming
much like a relational property and not an intrinsic one. Furthermore, even though OA1 states
that beauty does not need to be assumed by deducing it from any premises extrinsic to O, it
does include the term ‘recognised’ that, without further clarification, could be related to the
presence of subjective corroboration, which is what N explicitly denies. OA1 leaves space for
further questioning, for example what happens if we fail to recognise the beauty of the object
O? Is O still beautiful? The obvious answer will be yes, because things are beautiful in
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themselves and it does not need us to corroborate this beauty. However, OA1 is not the best
proposition to explain these questions.

2.2 Independence from subjective recognition

One possible solution would be to modify OA1 in such way that there is no place for a
possible failure in the recognition of beauty, this can be done by assuming an infallible
subject that will never fail to see the truth about O. Leibniz himself uses God as an infallible
subject for similar purposes and it is precisely this subject-God that he uses in his argument
against Descartes, referring to a passage from the Genesis:

If things are not good by any idea or notion of goodness in themselves, but because God wills
them, God, in Genesis, had but to consider them when they were made and to be satisfied with his
work, saying that all was good; it would have sufficed for him to say, I will it, or to have
remembered that he willed them, if there is no formal difference between the two things, to be
willed by God, and to be good. But it is apparent that the author of Genesis was of another
opinion, introducing a God who would not be content with having made them unless he found
further that he had made them well. (A II 1, pp.506-7/D, pp.3-4)

In the Discourse, Leibniz says that these verses of Genesis –i.e. that God saw afterwards that
his creation was good– are ‘anthropomorphic expressions’. According to Leibniz, we should
understand from these verses ‘that the excellence of God's works can be recognized by
considering them in themselves, even when we do not reflect on this empty external
denomination which relates them to their cause [i.e. God]’ (A VI 4, p.1532/AG, p.36). In
other words, the objectivity by autonomy of beauty could be based on the ‘anthropomorphic
expression’ that God, as an infallible subject, would have seen that things are good, or in this
case beautiful, and since God’s observations and the truth are the same15, if God recognises
things to be beautiful it must be the case that they truly are. Based on this example we can
formulate a second proposition of beauty by autonomy as follows:

 Objectivity by Autonomy 2 (OA2): An object O is beautiful or has beauty objectively

if this property can be recognised just by the contemplation of O by an infallible
subject and, therefore, the beauty of O does not need to be assumed by deducing it
from any premises extrinsic to O

15 This notion differs from the theories about the observer in ideal conditions described by Sibley (2006, p.85) or O’Neil
(1992, pp.127-8) in the sense that God, as an infallible subject, does not depend on ideal conditions to see or know the truth
of an object. Furthermore, God’s recognition of beauty would entail a commitment with the objective reality of beauty in the
strong and not just in the weak sense provided by Sibley’s view.
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This proposition provides an infallible subject, so the question about failing to see beauty is
not valid. Compared with P, OA2 affirms that there is beauty in O because what God
recognises to be, must be truth, so there is true beauty in O. The question that remains is if the
beauty of O requires subject-God to recognise it. If this is the case beauty would be a
relational property as it needs two different entities to emerge; God and O.16 OA2 does state
that for objective beauty God’s recognition is a condition, so it is possible to ask if beauty
exists in the hypothetical case that God would not recognise it.
Leibniz’s cosmology never formulates this situation explicitly, although it still
presents a frame in which a solution for this issue can be found. In almost all of his texts
about this topic, Leibniz alternates the words ‘create’ and ‘choose’ for describing the relation
of God and the actualised universe. The word ‘choose’ conveys the idea that God chose to
actualise one set of combination of things (world or universe) from an infinite number of
possible combination of things (worlds or universes).17

For, since all the possibles have a claim to existence in God's understanding in proportion to their
perfections, the result of all these claims must be the most perfect actual world possible. And
without this, it would not be possible to give a reason for why things have turned out in this way
rather than otherwise. (GP VI, p.603/AG, p.210)

The idea that God decides to actualise the most perfect possible world, entails the notion that
there are alternative worlds, even if they are non-actual entities. Indeed, possible things do
not have existence if they have not been actualised, yet they are true beings if they are
conceivable without contradiction: ‘A being is that whose concepts involves something
positive or that which can be conceived by us provided what we conceive is possible and
involves no contradiction’ (GP VII, p.319/L, p.363). This means that there are infinitely
many possible worlds, yet they do not possess existence. Now, if Leibniz’s God chose from a
set of possible universes to actualise the best one among them, it must have been the case that
God had certain criteria to determine that the chosen universe was indeed the best universe.
Indeed, God must have had these criteria, even ‘before’18 he took the decision of actualising
this world. It also means that the chosen alternative had certain properties ‘before’ God
decided to choose it –when it was still a non-actualised possibility, i.e. a true being but

16 For Leibniz God is different from O, since he bases his whole metaphysical system in individual substances.
17 It is worth noticing that the difference between creating the world and choosing it is for Leibniz only apparent, because all
possible things are in God’s understanding, from which he choose to actualise/create one possibility (see for example L,
p.575). Also, as said in chapter III, God creates a general design that unites many possible things, thus constituting a possible
world. So in this sense, God chooses among his creations.
18 The term ‘before’ indicates logical priority and not a position in time. In this case, ‘before’ cannot refer to time because

there is no time before creation.

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without existence–, since it was because of these properties that God chose it as the most
perfect possible world. Within these properties beauty was undoubtedly one of them, since
beauty is a perfection. Indeed, Leibniz explicitly says that ‘God created [or chose] all things
in accordance with the greatest harmony or beauty possible’ (A VI 4, p.2804/D, p.130).
Accordingly, if we could make an analytic and hypothetical distinction, we could say
that the actualised universe was beautiful even ‘before’ God decided to actualise it, therefore
its beauty was real ‘before’ God recognised it. In fact, as previously suggested, in Confessio
Philosophi (1671-1678) Leibniz hints that the formula of unity in variety, that is beauty, is in
God’s intellect, independent from God’s will (A VI 3, pp.121-122/CP, pp.43-45).
Accordingly, we can postulate a third definition as follows:

 Objectivity by Autonomy 3 (OA3): An object O is beautiful or has beauty objectively

if this property is in or is possessed by O as a possible being, before existence and,
therefore before any kind of recognition, yet it can be recognised just by the
contemplation of O by an infallible subject and therefore, it does not need to be
assumed by deducing it from any premises extrinsic to O.

In this case it is possible to say that beauty is completely autonomous, even from God,
considered as a subject. OA3 establishes that O is beautiful even before or independently of
existence, which means that O is beautiful even as a being –a logical possibility- without
existence. At this ontological level, the autonomy of beauty is reached by excluding any
possible dependence on other subjective-like entities. In other words, beauty cannot be found
anywhere else than in O itself, since the beauty of O and O itself are as such ‘before’ any
other subjective-like entity recognises them. It is for this reason that O cannot be or have
beauty but intrinsically, as P states, and it denies, in the most radical way, the necessity of
any kind of subjective corroboration, thus agreeing with N.
This view can be illustrated in a much simpler manner: for example, let’s say that A is
an artist that created a beautiful work W. A wanted to create something beautiful so before
creating W, A imagined W. A thought about something possible –i.e. with no contradiction–,
that she found beautiful before it existed and then she actualised it. According to Leibniz’s
theory, it must be the case that even if A never did create W, W, as a possible non-actualised
entity is still beautiful. In fact, in Elements of Naural Law (1670-71) Leibniz explicitly
affirms this: ‘Just so the relations of numbers are true even if there were no one to count and
nothing to be counted, and we can predict that a house will be beautiful, a machine efficient,
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or a commonwealth happy, if it comes into being, even if it should never do so’ (A VI 1,

p.460/L, p.133). Yet according to what has been said, we can go even further in our example:
even if A had not even thought about W, W would still be a possible entity. This is the case
because W has no internal contradiction. Non-actual possible entities are real beings in their
own right, with all the same properties as if they were actual, except existence. Then, W is
still beautiful even if it does not possess existence or even if no one thinks about it. In this
scenario W is intrinsically beautiful, since its beauty resides only in itself, thus its beauty
does not depend on any subjective corroboration.
Finally, we need to consider what appears to be a contradiction between OA3 and
Leibniz’s criticism of Descartes’ voluntarism. At the beginning of the chapter we showed that
Leibniz is adamant in insisting that, contrary to voluntarism, we must be able to recognise
nature’s beauty and not just assume that it is there because of an external (formal) reason,
such as faith in God. Yet, OA3 states that beauty is independent of any subjective
corroboration. This entails a commitment to the idea that there might be uncorroborated
beauty, i.e. things that are beautiful beyond our recognition. Indeed, this is the case for
Leibniz. There are not only infinitely many possible beautiful things that are beyond our
knowledge, but even within the actualised world we cannot always fathom its overall beauty.
Certainly, this is one of the most important points of the Theodicy: despite the fact that the
world in some parts might appear to us disordered, dissonant, imperfect and evil, we should
not assume that it is so in its totality, and have faith in the creator’s perfection and in his
perfect design. Furthermore, elsewhere, referring to the beautiful order of the universe,
Leibniz writes that ‘[t]he natural light of reason does not suffice for knowing the details
thereof, and our experiences are still too limited to catch a glimpse of the laws of this order
[the order of the universe]. The revealed light guides us meanwhile through faith’ (GP VI,
p.508/LTS, p.246). There is no doubt that passages such as this one reassemble Descartes’
recommendation to overestimate God’s creation just because it is God’s creation, even if we
fail to notice its merits. How, then, can Leibniz insist upon a beautiful universe that can be
recognised as such without any reference to its author?
A first glimpse of the solution to this apparent contradiction is partly contained in the
caveat that Leibniz introduces in the next sentence of the quoted passage: ‘there are grounds
to think that in time we will know more of this order by experience itself, and that there are
minds which already know more of it than we do’ (GP VI, p.508/LTS, p.246). The limitation
of our knowledge to apprehend the beauty of the divine creation and, hence the
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recommendation to follow faith, is only temporary. We might later reach a better knowledge
of the beauty of the universe. The most significant aspect of this statement comes when we
ask why Leibniz believes that our knowledge will progress. Leibniz’s answer can be
summarised in the following argument: God created the world following reason. Thus, the
world is rational or has a (divine) rationality. God’s rationality and ours is one and the same –
reason just differs in magnitude; God’s is infinite, while ours is finite. Therefore, in principle
we are equipped with the means to understand and know the whole of God’s creation. Hence,
our knowledge can progress without any limitation except our finitude. We will explore this
idea in detail in the next chapter, but for now we should focus on how it reflects on our
previous issue. For Leibniz it is the case that, in principle, we are able to recognise the beauty
in any object O that is beautiful, without reference to its creator, because God created O with
a rational structure that coincides with our reason, hence we can know O’s properties
including its beauty. That said, our finitude does not allow us to know the whole universe’s
beauty (or the beauty of other possible world), but only because we cannot experience
something of such magnitude in its entirety with our temporally finite reason and experience.
Because of this, we can only infer that there is more beauty to discover beyond our
knowledge from the recognition of the beauty of the part of the world that we already know.
Accordingly, we do not assume that the world is beautiful just because it was created by God,
but, because we can apprehend its beauty, if not in its entirety, at least in parts.

3. Conclusions
As we have seen, Leibniz postulates that beauty is a completely objective property in things.
His account is not a limited to a debate about the nature of properties, but it involves
ontological, cosmological and theological principles. Indeed, Leibniz’s position regarding the
debate about the objectivity of beauty is inextricably related to a wider framework of his
metaphysics. Thus, when he stands against Cartesian voluntarism and Spinoza’s
subjectivism, he does so as a result of his wider commitment with a God that acts following
rules and a world that was chosen for its perfection among many other possibilities. The
logical conclusion of these tenets is that properties such as beauty are in things even when
these things are only possible entities.
Leibniz objects to Descartes that beauty is arbitrarily decided by God and the entailed
conclusion that our recognition of world’s beauty depends on a ‘formal reason’, i.e. the world
is beautiful just because God created it. A God that does not act according to principles, is a
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God that cannot guarantee us a world that exhibits perfections as its properties. Thus the
Cartesian God created a world which properties are not available for us to judge with
certainty and independence.
A notion of beauty that is truly objective must be a property of the world that we can
recognise independently of our knowledge of any external premise. Furthermore, such
property must be –or possess being– independently of any kind of subjective recognition.
Accordingly, we argued that the Leibnizian notion of objective beauty can be characterised
by a radical independence from any sort of subjective corroboration, even in the hypothetical
case that God is considered as a subject. We reasoned that the world must have been the most
perfect and, thus the most beautiful, even before its actualisation. We based this conclusion
on two of Leibniz’s notions: firstly, an ontology that establishes that possible things are even
before existence and, secondly, a God follows rules and therefore chose the most perfect
possible world. Therefore, positive properties such as beauty must be in things even before
existence for God to be able to choose a world with the highest degree of these properties.
From this position it must be the case that beauty is in things before any subjective
recognition.
We conclude that a proper Leibnizian definition of objective beauty that states that
beauty is objective if it is in a possible thing even before existence, therefore independently
of subjective requirement, yet it can be recognised just by being contemplated by a rational
subject.
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Chapter V: Beauty as value

Now that we have settled the matter of the objectivity of beauty in terms of where is beauty
as a property, we can address the second question posed at the introduction of the second part
of this research: is the value of beauty subjective or objective? This question requires us to
recognise beauty as a value, in other words, as a property that is fundamentally positive. Once
this is understood, the main issue is to establish whether, for Leibniz, beauty is a subjective or
objective value. The question about the value of beauty differs from the analysis given in the
previous chapter, where beauty was addressed just as a property, and the question was about
its location; either in the object or the subject. Here, regarding beauty as value, the subjective
position states that beauty is valuable only as long as it is perceived by subjects, in other
words, the significance of beauty in things is the subjective appreciation of it. This position
implies that in a universe without subjects to perceive its aesthetic value, beautiful things
would not be valuable. An objective position would hold the idea that the value of beauty
does not depend on the subjective perception of it, therefore the value of beauty is not just
meant for subjects to appreciate. The issue between these two positions can be further
itemised with two questions: (1) Is beauty valuable only when it is appreciated by subjects?
And (2) is beauty valuable because the effect it produces on subjects? For example is beauty
meant only for subjects’ happiness? 1
In order to answer these questions, we must first explain what value is and what has
value according to Leibniz. In Section 1, we will explain this and show that Leibniz’s notion
of value is grounded on an ontological position that states that everything has value in
different degrees. Afterwards, in section 2, we will tackle the relation between us and value
by taking into account Leibniz’s complex relation with anthropocentrism. In this section we
will show that despite Leibniz’s considerations for beings with minds such as us, his notion
of the value of harmony and beauty is not reduced only to our well-being. In section 3, we
will explore ways in which harmony and beauty can be indirectly valuable –for example,
instrumentally valuable because of their effects on us and God– and the relation between God
and harmony as a value. We will conclude that harmony, and hence beauty, are values in

1 Consequently, in this chapter we tackle two aspects of O’Neill’s definition of intrinsic value given in the introduction of
this part; firstly, if the aesthetic value of nature is instrumental, as a mean to an end (for example, if nature was created
beautiful just for human happiness). And secondly, if beauty is valuable ‘independently of the valuations of valuers’
(O’Neill, 1992, pp.119-120).
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themselves. This entails that harmony and beauty are valuable not indirectly as instrumental
values and also that they are valuable with independence of its relation with God.

1. What is value?
1.1 Perfection(s) is value and every being has value
In Leibniz’s philosophy, to be a perfection means that something is a positive property, and
to be a positive property is to be valuable. Thus, we could say that perfections (in plural) are
values. As Strickland explains, Leibniz himself uses the term ‘value’ in this way: ‘We should
thus understand, as indeed Leibniz's contemporaries would, that for a creature to have a
perfection is for it to have some measure or value of an attribute which is found in its fullest
extent in God’ (2006, p.20). Strickland quotes as an example a letter to Johann Christian
Schulenburg (1698), where Leibniz states that ‘this value, since it must consist of a positive,
is a certain degree of created perfection’ (GM VII, p.239/ Strickland, 2006, p.38). In this
quote, it seems that Leibniz is stating that value is a degree of perfection (in singular). Thus,
both perfection in singular and plural are value.
As said in chapter I, some perfections (in plural), such as beauty, are ‘moments’ or
instances of unity in variety. On the other hand, in that same chapter, we established that
unity in variety is the formal structure of perfection (singular). Therefore, if perfection and
perfections are value or valuable, value must be unity in variety, or harmony. Consequently,
if ‘the perfection a thing has is greater, to the extent that there is more agreement in greater
variety’ (GW, p.171/AG, p.233), the more agreement in greater variety also translates into
more value. In the first chapter we also stated that every being (possible or actual) is in virtue
of its degree of essence or perfection, which is ‘calculated’ from its ‘harmonising properties’
(GW, p.171/AG, p.233). Leibniz states that ‘we must hold that everything having some
degree of perfection is possible and, moreover, that the possible that occurs is the one more
perfect than its opposite’ (Grua, p.288/AG, p.20). The inverse reasoning is also valid; a
possible is what possesses some degree of perfection and an actual being (a possible being
that occurs) is one that has the highest degree of perfection among possible beings.2 Hence
beings are defined as such by possessing degrees of perfection, harmony or unity in variety.
Accordingly, if perfection, harmony or unity in variety are value, then every possible or

2 To be precise, this is the case when the considered being is a possible world. However, a high degree of individual
perfection does not guarantee existence for an individual thing. For example it could be the case that despite its individual
perfection, a thing X contributes less to the overall perfection of the world that a thing Y. If that is the case, even if Y has a
lower degree of perfection than X, Y would achieve existence instead of X. We will return to this issue later on this chapter.
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actual thing has a certain degree of value. It is also clear that if harmony is value, beauty is
also an expression of value.
The notion that value is ontologically related to being is consistent with Leibniz’s
fierce opposition to the idea that nature is neutral regarding value.3 Yet, in order to criticise a
value-neutral universe it is not enough to state that every being has value. It must be added
that their degrees of value differ from each other. Furthermore, if everything had the same
value, the Leibnizian notion of the best possible world would be impossible. Indeed,
Leibniz’s theory of the best possible world requires that things present unequal value. Since
God actualises the most perfect possible world and perfection is value, the actual world is the
most perfect possible world, hence the one with the highest degree of value. By the same
token, the world’s value was a reason for God to create it. Since God can only choose the
best, if everything had the same value, there would be no best to choose from.
In a text probably written between 1680 and 1684, Leibniz lays a form of this
argument using beauty as an example of value. Indeed, Leibniz explicitly states that God
freely chooses to actualise some things instead of others by taking their aesthetic value into
account

From the essence of God or from supreme perfection it follows, certainly and so to speak by a
necessary consequence, that God chooses the best, yet he chooses the best freely, because in the
best itself there is no absolute necessity, otherwise its contrary would imply a contradiction and
only the best would be possible, but then everything else would be impossible, contrary to the
hypothesis. And so with a circle or triangle each claiming existence, God freely chooses the circle
(so we may imagine), although he chooses it because of its greater beauty. (A VI 4, p.2577/SLT,
p.110)

Leibniz’s defence of God’s freedom –or the contingency of his decision to actualise certain
things– implicitly requires a differential of value between possible things. Leibniz assumes
three conditions that collectively permit the free act of a divine decision; (C.1) there are many
possible things, (C.2) among which only some will be actualised and (C.3) all these possible
things possesses different value, therefore they can be ranked as better and worse. Under
these conditions, God freely chooses to actualise the best and most beautiful set of things. In
order for there to be a divine free decision, condition (C.2) –the actualisation of some things
instead of others– must be met, which in turn requires condition (C.1) –there are possible
things among which to choose. This argument can be also examined in reverse: If there were
3 Jonathan Israel claims, Leibniz’s Theodicy is in great part a critique of philosophers such as Spinoza and Bayle who hold
that the universe is value neutral, regarding morality (2014: p.240). As we will explain here, we think that it is possible to
extend Israel’s claim about Leibniz to other values such as harmony and beauty.
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no free divine decision, it would be necessary that only the best exists, making the other
possibles not possible at all. So in order to satisfy condition (C.1) –there are possibles–,
condition (C.2) –the actualisation of some things instead of others– must be realised by a
contingent decision. However, as contingent as it may be, God’s decision is always
subordinated to his wisdom. In other words, he has always a good reason to choose what he
chose to actualise.4 This reason is given by condition (C.3); each thing, or set of things,
possesses different degrees of perfection or value (or beauty). The presence of higher
perfection –or higher value (including aesthetic value) – in some things, gives God a reason
to decide to choose some of them for actualisation instead of others. As Leibniz explains in
his Principles of Nature and Grace, Based on Reason (1714)

For, since all the possibles have a claim to existence in God’s understanding in proportion to their
perfections, the result of all these claims must be the most perfect actual world possible. And
without this, it would not be possible to give a reason for why things have turned out in this way
rather than otherwise. (GP VI, p.603/AG, p.210)

Leibniz’s strong insistence that everything has a reason requires that all things must possess
more or less value in order to explain why only the actual set of things exists. Moreover,
Leibniz states that ‘if there were not the best (optimum) among all possible worlds, God
would not have produced any’ (GP VI, p.107/H, p.128). The differential of value between
possibles is so important that if there weren’t any difference, there would be no universe,
since there would be no reason to create one instead of another. It is important to notice that,
as said before, ‘in the best itself there is no absolute necessity’. Accordingly, only value
stands as a criterion for the divine actualisation of the best. We can take from this three
important ideas; firstly, the actualised set of things is the most valuable, and hence beautiful,
among other sets of possible things. Secondly, beauty (and perfection) is valuable for God,
i.e. something worth choosing to actualise. And thirdly, there is a differential of value
between the actual world and the non-actual possible ones that provides God the only
possible reason to actualise some and not others.

4 Paul Rateau claims that one of the three fundamental theses behind Leibniz’ Theodicy is that God’s freedom does not step
in the way of his wisdom: ‘according to Leibniz, the power of God is always subordinated to his wisdom. His absolute
independence and freedom do not imply he could decide and act without considering any law or rule. God always acts
according to wisdom, goodness, and justice, never in an arbitrary manner, even if we are unable to understand all the reasons
of his Providence’ (Rateau, 2014, pp.95-96). Leibniz’s conviction about this issue is illustrated in the following passage:
‘God cannot sin; he is obliged by a sort of moral necessity of his own wisdom and goodness to do and choose the best, and
his failure to do this would be worse that any creaturely sin because it would conflict with divine perfection. For a lesser
good has the character of evil’. (GP III, p.33/LGR, p.293)
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1.2 Absolutely everything has a different value

It must be specified that all these arguments show that the most significant difference in value
is observed between the actualised world and other non-actual possible worlds. Yet this is not
the only difference. As Leibniz explains in the Theodicy, each non-actual possible world also
has a different value. He illustrates this with the figure of a bottomless pyramid:

The halls rose in a pyramid, becoming even more beautiful as one mounted towards the apex, and
representing more beautiful worlds. Finally they reached the highest one which completed the
pyramid, and which was the most beautiful of all: for the pyramid had a beginning, but one could
not see its end; it had an apex, but no base; it went on increasing to infinity. That is (as the
Goddess explained) because amongst an endless number of possible worlds there is the best of all,
else would God not have determined to create any; but there is not any one which has not also less
perfect worlds below it: that is why the pyramid goes on descending to infinity. (GP VI, p.364/H,
p.372)

The actual world, as the most valuable/perfect possible world is in the apex of the pyramid,
while below it, each possible world is ranked in a different position according to its
value/perfection. Hence all possible worlds have a different degree of perfection or value,
including the infinitely many non-actual possible worlds.
What is less obvious is whether all individual things within the actualised world differ
in value between each other. Leibniz often talks about different degrees of perfection between
created things and especially between substances, as we stated in chapter III. But this is not
the same as stating that, among existing things, absolutely all of them differ in value among
each other. Nevertheless, there is no lack of evidence to suggest that for Leibniz every
individual being possesses a different value:

Indeed, all individual created substances are different expressions of the same universe and
different expressions of the same universal cause, namely God. But the expressions vary in
perfection, just as different representations or drawings of the same town from different points of
view do. (A VI 4, p.1646/AG, p.33)

If all individual substances differ from each other by being different expressions, and
expressions vary in degree of perfection, all individual substances have a different degree of
value. Later, in the Theodicy, Leibniz extends this characterisation further to include organic
bodies: ‘But these organic bodies vary no less in perfection than the spirits [individual
substances] to which they belong’ (GP VI, p.179/H, p.198). By the same reasoning, different
degrees of perfection in organic bodies indicate different value in organic bodies. Moreover,
according to Rutherford’s interpretation, for Leibniz the only difference between two or more
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things is their degree of perfection (1998, pp 25, 41). Rutherford quotes as evidence Leibniz’s
letter to Sophie Charlotte of 8 May 1704: ‘my great principle of natural things is […] that it is
always and everywhere in all things just as it is here. That is, that nature is fundamentally
uniform, although there is variety in the greater and the lesser and in the degrees of
perfection’ (GP III, p.343/LTS, p.311). Rutherford also points out that in the New Essays,
Leibniz’s speaker Theophilus states that in the system of pre-established harmony, there is
‘an astonishing simplicity and uniformity, such that everything can be said to be the same at
all times and places except in degrees of perfection’ (A VI 6, p.71/RB, p.71). Thus, value is
not just different in each possible and actual thing, but also what determines the difference
between any two different things.
Accordingly, we can establish that every possible and actual thing, and every set
integrated by these things, can be arranged in a hierarchical order according to their value,
aesthetic or otherwise. That said, it is worth mentioning that, for Leibniz, beings with lower
degree of perfection or value are nonetheless valuable for the whole. In this latter sense, value
is conceived not as value in the thing itself, but as a contribution; a relational value. A good
example of this value is the value of dissonances. We will say more about this later on this
chapter.
Value must be possessed intrinsically and objectively by possible things. This means
that, although God assesses the value of possible things and actualises them, he does not give
them their value –at least not as an act of his will. Otherwise, he would not be choosing
wisely among possibles of different quality, but imposing his whim. So every possible thing,
and every set of them, has different value, which gives God a reason for choosing the best.
But how does God recognise what has value or what is valuable? In other words, how does
God impart judgement over things? As said, things possess different degrees of perfection,
therefore different degrees of value. Consequently, for God to judge the value of each thing
or series of things he would need to consider their degrees of perfection, which is harmony as
unity in variety. Since beauty is an instance of harmony, it could be said that God’s reason to
decide what to actualise is in part determined by his aesthetic judgement. However, God’s
aesthetic judgement must not be understood as a matter of relative taste, but as a factual
judgement, i.e. either one thing is more beautiful than another or not. Hence the reason of
God’s choice to actualise certain things is based on both; a judgement of a matter of fact and
a judgement of value: God knows for a fact that A has objectively more unity in variety than
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B, therefore A has objectively more value (is more perfect or more beautiful) than B.5
Because beauty is an objective property and God possesses infinite knowledge and wisdom,
he can never fail to know what is, for a fact, more perfect, more beautiful and hence more
valuable.
Since God perceives, or rather knows, beauty and chooses beautiful things, because
he knows they are valuable, we already have a partial answer to our first question: (1) The
value of beauty is not dependent only on us, finite rational subjects, as beauty is also valuable
for God, as an infinite rational subject. This begs three related questions: (1.a) would beauty
be valuable if God wasn’t a percipient subject? (1.b) Can finite subjects value objective
beauty as God does? And if we can, (1.c) are we humans the only ones? We will deal with
these questions through this chapter, but first we should notice that a partial answer to our
second initial question is also implicit here. In (2) we asked if beauty is valuable because the
effect it produces on subjects (e.g. is beauty instrumental for our happiness?). Since God
chooses to bring into existence things because they are beautiful, aesthetic value seems to be
a reason in itself to motivate God’s choice. In other words, God does not choose beautiful
things only because their beauty works as a mean to a different end, e.g. our happiness.
Furthermore, regarding the question why God created a beautiful world, the answer turns
around the question: the world was created because it is beautiful (as a possible world). But
then again, there are following questions to these statements: (2.a) if beauty is not just for our
happiness, but a value in itself, could the same be said about God’s happiness? In other
words, is beauty for God’s happiness? And, (2.b) is there any relation between our happiness
and the value of beauty? Among these questions there some that refer to God (1.a & 2.a) and
others to finite subjects (1.b, 1.c & 2.b). We will start from the ones about finite subjects to
then proceed to answer the questions related to God.

5 It must be admitted that this illustration of God’s choice is a simplification. Even though this view is right in a general
sense, it does exclude a few important details of Leibniz’s view on value or rather perfection. Firstly, if we consider the case
of perfection of individuals, it is the case that God not always chooses to actualise the ones with the highest levels of
perfection, harmony or value, but the ones that fit better into the most perfect world. The result is that there are individuals
with low level of perfection (low levels of value) that are more perfect (or more valuable) for the world than other
individuals with higher levels of perfection (higher value) in themselves. This issue is discussed further later in this chapter.
Secondly, when the perfection or value of worlds is appraised, there are some aspects that also contribute to their perfection,
such as human’s overall happiness and nature’s mechanistic order. Yet, later on this same chapter we will explain that the
main divine consideration of the world’s value is metaphysical perfection; that is the overall harmony of a universe. Finally
it could be objected that, in the case of monads, perfection is measured by the degree of distinctiveness of each monad’s
representation of the whole. Accordingly, it could be claimed that degrees of distinctness and, therefore, perfection in this
case have nothing to do with harmony or unity in variety. This is a significant objection, yet in the next chapter we will make
our case arguing that a higher level of distinctness entails more unity and more variety, hence a higher degree of harmony.
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2. Value and anthropocentrism

2.1 The value of/for minds
The questions about value that refer to humans are related to Leibniz’s position regarding
anthropocentrism. It is hard to ignore the importance of human beings in Leibniz’s
philosophy. For example, in the Discourse on Metaphysics (1686), he claims that ‘[s]ince
God himself is the greatest and wisest of all minds, it is easy to judge that the beings with
whom he can, so to speak, enter into conversation, and even into a society […] must be
infinitely nearer to him than all other things’, he continues, ‘all wise persons value a man
infinitely more than any other thing, no matter how precious it is’ (A VI 4, p.1585/AG, p.66).
It must be said that Leibniz himself will moderate his own statement later in his Theodicy
(1710), as he explicitly states that ‘[i]t is certain that God sets greater store by a man than a
lion; nevertheless it can hardly be said with certainty that God prefers a single man in all
respects to the whole of lion-kind’ (GP VI, p.169/H, p.188). Be it as it may, Leibniz clearly
distinguishes between humans, or rather minds as rational souls, and the rest of creation,
including other monads. In his Monadology (1714) Leibniz states:

Among other differences which exist between ordinary souls and minds, some of which I have
already noted, there are also the following: that souls, in general, are living mirrors or images of
the universe of creatures, but that minds are also images of the divinity itself, or of the author of
nature, capable of knowing the system of the universe, and imitating something of it through their
schematic representations [échantillons architectoniques] of it, each mind being like a little
divinity in its own realm. (GP VI, p.621/AG, p.223)

The privileged position of minds is based mainly on two related reasons: firstly, we are
created in God’s image; and secondly, because we are so created, we have a privileged access
to the knowledge of the universe, and hence to its value. Regarding the first reason, Leibniz
has a very specific interpretation of the Christian notion of ‘being created in God’s image’.
As he explains in §36 of the Discourse:

Thus the quality that God has of being a mind himself takes precedence over all the other
considerations he can have toward creatures; only minds are made in his image and are, as it were,
of his race or like children of his household, since they alone can serve him freely and act with
knowledge in imitation of the divine nature; a single mind is worth a whole world, since it does
not merely express the world but it also knows it and it governs itself after the fashion of God. (A
VI 4, p.1586/AG, p.67)
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Leibniz’s interpretation is rather simple: we are created in God’s image. God is mind. Hence
we are minds (i.e. rational souls).6 This implies that we can imitate divine nature by having
will and knowledge.
Since rational souls or minds are created in God’s image, they are not only the most
cherished by God, but they are also governed by different laws from the rest of creation. One
of the sources of our privileged access to knowledge derives from the capacity of rational
minds to transcend the ‘Kingdom of Nature’ and converge with God in the ‘Kingdom of
Grace’. The latter kingdom differs from the former in ‘that the Kingdom of Grace has special
laws, laws besides those by which the Kingdom of Nature is governed’ (GM III, p.561/AG,
p.170). While the Kingdom of Nature is the one of efficient causes, the Kingdom of Grace is
the one of purpose or final causes, more specifically awareness of purpose and morality.7 The
difference, as Leibniz explains it, is ‘between God considered as the architect of the
mechanism of the universe, and God considered as the monarch of the divine city of minds’
(GP VI, p.622/AG, p.224). Minds, and souls in general, are more than the mechanistic laws
of nature regulated by causality. Both, minds and common souls, ‘act according to the laws of
final causes, through appetitions, ends and means’ (GP VI, p.620/AG, p.223). The difference
is that minds are self-conscious of final causes and free to choose.8 Since minds are free and
capable of conceiving purpose, they have access to dimensions of reality such as freedom and
morality. Because minds self-consciously relate to purpose, they have access to a more
complete picture of the world and its truth. As Leibniz puts it:

it is a fact that we can sometimes arrive at the truth about natural things through final causes,
when we cannot arrive at it easily through efficient causes […] For just as in animated bodies
what is organic corresponds to what is vital, motions to appetites, so also in the whole of nature
efficient causes correspond to final causes, because everything proceeds from a cause which is not

6 To be precise we are not only minds, we have minds. We are not just minds because we have indeed bodies.
7 Strictly speaking for Leibniz the difference between the kingdoms of nature and grace is not their respective restriction to
efficient and final causes, since the kingdom of nature also includes purpose, yet not awareness of it. This is the case because
the kingdom of nature is composed, on one hand, by bodies that act according the laws of efficient cause and, on the other by
souls that that obey final causes (GP VI, p.621-2/AG, pp.223-4). In this sense, Pauline Phemister considers that, for Leibniz
there are two natural kingdoms distinguished from one another by their respective modes of operating: the natural kingdom
of bodies, which is restricted to efficient causes, and the natural kingdom of souls, which includes purpose (2003, p.127).
Here we consider that the crucial difference between the realm of nature and the realm of grace is that although the former
includes souls (and hence purpose), they are non-rational souls that are unaware about purpose and their freedom to choose,
while the realm of grace considers minds or rational souls that are self-conscious, thus aware of purpose. Despite recognising
the subdivision of the kingdom of nature, here we will use the notion of kingdom or realm of nature to refer mostly to what
has been identified as the natural kingdom of bodies characterised by efficient causes, since it is more relevant to the present
argument.
8 Pauline Phemister explains the mind as follows: ‘Minds, however, can reason abstractedly, reflect on themselves and their

actions, and are generally conscious of themselves as agents. Like God, they have knowledge of final causes and can make
conscious choices as to which ends they wish to pursue’ (2003, p.132). Is for this reason that minds are morally responsible
and included in the moral realm of grace.
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only powerful, but also wise; and with the rule of power through efficient causes, there is involved
the rule of wisdom through final causes. (C, p.13/MP, p.174)

Since the cause of the world is not just blind power, but also wisdom and final causes, minds
are better suited to reach the truth about reality by being able to conceive the purpose of the
world. The same could be applied to the aesthetic value of nature and state that minds are
more able to appreciate aesthetic value, since we can grasp not only the natural order of
efficient causes, but also the purpose and goodness of the creation. And this variety of
different orders surely contributes to the overall perfection by increasing the variety of the
universe. Purpose, and every other dimension of reality related to the kingdom of grace,
enhances the unity and the variety of the universe, thereby exhibiting more aesthetic value for
the minds that have access to these dimensions.9 Therefore, minds have potentially more
capacity for happiness than other beings, since they perceive more unity and more variety or
harmony than other souls.

2.2 Human happiness versus nature and perfection

Our happiness is important to God, and hence happiness is one of the purposes of nature’s
value and thus its beauty. As Leibniz states in the Discourse ‘we mustn't doubt that the
happiness of minds is the principal aim of God and that he puts this into practice to the extent
that general harmony permits it’ (A VI 4, p.1537/AG, p.38). However, it is important to
notice the restriction to human happiness that Leibniz introduces in this last quote from the
Discourse, when he adds ‘to the extent that general harmony permits it’. Later, in the
Theodicy, this condition guides Leibniz’s charge against one of the main maxims of Christian
anthropocentrism defended by Pierre Bayle. In the Theodicy Leibniz quotes Bayle’s version
of this maxim:

'An infinite goodness having guided the Creator in the production of the world, all the
characteristics of knowledge, skill, power and greatness that are displayed in his work are destined
for the happiness of intelligent creatures. He wished to show forth his perfections only to the end
that creatures of this kind should find their felicity in the knowledge, the admiration and the love
of the Supreme Being.' (GP VI, p.168/H, p.188)

Leibniz immediately dismisses the view that ‘all is made solely for man’, stating that it is ‘not
sufficiently exact’, and later, he calls this view ‘a remnant of the old and somewhat

9Consider the case of art criticism: for the appreciation, interpretation and description of any artwork, its purpose or
meaning is equally or more significant than the knowledge of how it was made.
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discredited maxim’ (GP VI, pp.168-9/H, pp.188-9). For Leibniz our happiness cannot be the
only goal of a perfect design:

I grant that the happiness of intelligent creatures is the principal part of God's design, for they are
most like him; but nevertheless I do not see how one can prove that to be his sole aim. It is true
that the realm of nature must serve the realm of grace: but, since all is connected in God's great
design, we must believe that the realm of grace is also in some way adapted to that of nature, so
that nature preserves the utmost order and beauty, to render the combination of the two the most
perfect that can be. And there is no reason to suppose that God, for the sake of some lessening of
moral evil, would reverse the whole order of nature. (GP VI, p.168/H, p.188)

The realm of nature –or more specifically the natural kingdom of bodies (hence excluding
souls) – is a machine based on efficient causes that follows mechanical principles. Therefore,
its aesthetic value is grounded on a rational order based on causality. In God’s most perfect
possible design, nature is not just a malleable medium in order to achieve the moral purpose
of the realm of grace. In other words, the preservation of the natural order and its beauty,
based on efficient causes, should not be altered for the purpose of minds’ happiness.
Therefore, the order that grounds the aesthetic value of the realm of nature is not always
destined to our happiness. As said before, the Kingdom of Nature and the Kingdom of Grace
must go together only ‘to the extent that general harmony permits it’.
Pauline Phemister claims that ‘[t]he net result is that Leibniz’s anthropocentrism is
balanced with a less obvious but equally robust nature-centrism’. She argues that for Leibniz
there is a close relation between the kingdom of grace and the kingdom of nature. Both
kingdoms ‘stand in a reciprocal relation of mutual utility’ (2016, p.79). This means that
Leibniz’s God is capable of designing a universe that aims towards several converging ends
at the same time:

There already is the abuse or the ill effect of the preceding maxim. It is not strictly true (though it
appear plausible) that the benefits God imparts to the creatures who are capable of felicity tend
solely to their happiness. All is connected in Nature; and if a skilled artisan, an engineer, an
architect, a wise politician often makes one and the same thing serve several ends, if he makes a
double hit with a single throw, when that can be done conveniently, one may say that God, whose
wisdom and power are perfect, does so always. (GP VI, p.169/H, p.189)

Nevertheless, the result is that, in some cases, it is just not possible to comply with all these
aims, and human happiness must be sacrificed, as it is neither God’s only nor final aim:

The felicity of all rational creatures is one of the aims he has in view; but it is not his whole aim,
nor even his final aim. Therefore it happens that the unhappiness of some of these creatures may
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come about by concomitance, and as a result of other greater goods: this I have already explained,
and M. Bayle has to some extent acknowledged it. (GP VI, pp.169-70/H, p.189)

Here Leibniz implies what we already discussed in the second chapter; the harmony of the
world includes dissonances and evil. As stated then, the inclusion of evil and negative values
is what allows a better order, and more order entails more beauty, even though the integration
of negative elements goes against the happiness of some. As Leibniz states ‘it would by no
means follow that the interest of a certain number of men would prevail over
the consideration of a general disorder diffused through an infinite number of creatures’ (GP
VI, p.169/H, p.189).
Furthermore, for Leibniz’s God there is another source of worldly value: the overall
metaphysical perfection of the world. In the last two quoted paragraphs Leibniz is not
referring just to the occasional mismatch between the realm of nature (the natural kingdom of
bodies) and our happiness. Besides the realm of nature there is another source of value that
can differ from human happiness. This is metaphysical perfection or goodness, which refers
mostly to the harmonic distribution of degrees of perfection of each individual substance
within the overall perfection of the world. The result of metaphysical perfection is the overall
harmony and the beauty of the whole in metaphysical terms; i.e. degrees of perfection.
Leibniz’s commitment is first and foremost to this metaphysical perfection or overall
harmony of the world, even at the cost of some measure of moral and physical evil, i.e.
human unhappiness:

Each perfection or imperfection in the creature has its value, but there is none that has an infinite
value. Thus the moral or physical good and evil of rational creatures does not infinitely exceed the
good and evil which is simply metaphysical, namely that which lies in the perfection of the other
creatures. (GP VI, pp.168-9/H, p.188)

Metaphysical perfection depends on this distribution among substances of different degrees

of perfection. Since their degree of perfection is finite, there is also moral and physical evil.10
In other words, the harmony and beauty of the most perfect possible world cannot be without
some dissonance and evil, because ‘[e]ach perfection and imperfection in the creature has its
value’. This last sentence expresses how the notion of value presents certain duality when
regarded in the individual thing itself versus the whole. If, as said, degree of perfection is
value, how can it be that ‘[e]ach perfection and imperfection in the creature has its value’?

10For the same reason Leibniz considers that ‘[t]he perfection of the universe, or harmony of things, does not allow all
minds to be to be equally perfect’ (A VI 4, p.2804/W, p.568). Here we find another argument, why every mind has a
different degree value or perfection.
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The answer is that a certain imperfection (low degree of perfection or low value) in the
individual could determine the perfection (high degree of perfection or high value) of the
whole, if located in the right order. This is not different from what was said regarding
dissonances in the chapter II, as dissonances caused by elements with low degrees of
perfection in their immediate context, yet, in relation to the whole, they enhance its harmony
or overall degree of perfection. In relation to this, Pauline Phemister considers the notion of
an ‘intrinsic relational value’, a hybrid notion that is

at once both (a) intrinsic to the individual insofar as it is grounded on its intrinsic or internal
relational properties and (b) instrumental insofar as an individual’s relational value can be
assessed in terms of its particular contribution to the overall perfection of the world and to the
perfectibility or flourishing of other individuals within the whole (2016, p.104).

With this notion we can explain that, although in itself a creature could present a low degree
of perfection or value, its contribution to the whole could indeed be valuable independently
of its low individual value. In other words, creatures with low degree of perfection can have
high degrees of intrinsic relational value.
Now we are in position to answer one of the previously postulated questions: (2.b) Is
there any relation between our happiness and the value of beauty? Since we have minds, we
have access to the realm of grace and hence reach a dimension of the world’s value related to
purpose that other beings have no access. Thus, we are more able to appreciate certain
aesthetic value offered by the universe’s purpose, which results in pleasure and happiness.
This is not fortuitous because our happiness is important for God, and hence one of the
purposes of nature’s beauty. However, the aesthetic value of the world is not solely for our
happiness, as there are two other dimensions of the world that must be upheld, even if they
are sometimes at odds with individual human happiness: the realm of nature (more
specifically the natural real of bodies) and metaphysical perfection. Both of them are sources
of aesthetic value in different ways; nature’s aesthetic value is in its order based on a
mechanic order or an order of efficient causes and metaphysical perfection refers to the
harmony that rules the cosmos based on the distribution of perfection. In both cases, the same
structures that make them aesthetically valuable can stand in the way of individual human
happiness. Nonetheless, we must add that this should not be understood as a trade-off
between nature’s order together with metaphysical perfection on one side, and human
happiness on the other. As we will explain later, human happiness depends in part on the
appreciation of world’s beauty and, in turn, worldly beauty depends on the intelligible order
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of the world.11 This order involves the metaphysical perfection of the whole and the
mechanic order of the realm of nature.

2.3 The world’s value is not just for us, yet it is if we are wise
The relation between happiness and beauty relates to the questions (1.b) about our capacity to
value nature’s beauty. However, in order to answer it, we must first examine our position in
the universe and if (1.c) we humans are the only one able to value beauty? There are passages
where Leibniz argues against humanity’s uniquely privileged position in the universe.
Nevertheless, humans do not occupy a marginal position either. Our position in the universe
is best summarised by the following paragraph from the Theodicy:

Wait until you know more of the world and consider therein especially the parts which present a
complete whole (as do organic bodies); and you will find there a contrivance and a beauty
transcending all imagination. Let us thence draw conclusions as to the wisdom and the goodness
of the author of things, even in things that we know not. We find in the universe some things
which are not pleasing to us; but let us be aware that it is not made for us alone. It is nevertheless
made for us if we are wise: it will serve us if we use it for our service; we shall be happy in it if
we wish to be. (GP VI, p.232/H, p.248)

This paragraph contains Leibniz’s central idea of the relation between the world’s value and
us. What is of especial interest to this chapter is the last part, when Leibniz claims that the
universe is not made for us alone, yet it is made for us if we are wise. Here we have two
statements; firstly, the cosmos is not made just for us, and secondly, it is made for us if we
are wise.
Regarding the first statement, we have already shown that the world’s value is not just
perceived by us, but also by God. Yet Leibniz has more to say about this. For example, in the
first part of the Theodicy, Leibniz considers our limitations to impart judgement over all
reality, since we only know a relatively small part of an extremely vast universe:

Thus since the proportion of that part of the universe which we know is almost lost in nothingness
compared with that which is unknown, and which we yet have cause to assume, and since all the
evils that may be raised in objection before us are in this near nothingness, haply it may be that all
evils are almost nothingness in comparison with the good things which are in the universe. (GP
VI, p.114/H, p.135)

11Rutherford explains this issue in the following way: ‘God understands these qualities in such a way that the greatest
happiness and virtue can only be actualized in minds under the condition that they inhabit the possible world of greatest
perfection and harmony, for only under this circumstance will there be realized the objective conditions that make possible
the knowledge on which happiness and virtue depend. It follows, therefore, that the perfection of the whole cannot be
sacrificed for the sake of the happiness and virtue of minds, for the former is itself a necessary condition for the latter’ (1995,
p.49).
 141

If we know only a minuscule part of the whole cosmos, it must be the case that the universe’s
value is not meant only for humans. Furthermore, Leibniz even speculates about the possible
existence of non-human rational beings; ‘it must be acknowledged that there is an infinite
number of globes, as great as and greater than ours, which have as much right as it to hold
rational inhabitants, though it follows not at all that they are human’ (GP VI, p.114/H, p.135).
The existence of other rational inhabitant of the cosmos, takes away from humans the
privilege of being the only rational observers of God’s creation and hence weakens the idea
that we are the only ones towards whom value is addressed. Moreover, rationality is not the
only attribute that defines the capacity of beings to perceive the value of beauty. In a letter to
Christian Wolff (18/05/1715), Leibniz states that even beasts are capable of something like
pleasure when they observe harmony, even though they ‘do it empirically’ (GW, p.171).12
Thus, regarding the question (1.c) –are we humans the only ones that value beauty?–,
the answer is no. Furthermore, even if humans share with animals and possible aliens the
status of being witnesses of the universe’s beauty, Leibniz does not think that every member
of humankind grasps the world’s beauty in the same way. As stated above, we can only fully
appreciate the world if we are wise and, as Robert Merrihew Adams notices, Leibniz
expected the wise to be only a few (2014, p.198).13 Here we seem to have a contradiction: on
one hand, the aesthetic value of the world is not just for us, as it is also for other possible
rational beings, as well as for animals. Yet, on the other hand, this value is fully appreciated
just for the wise few. To solve this contradiction we should consider that for Leibniz beauty
has a particularity that other perfections do not have: the capacity to give pleasure even if we
only have a confused perception of it. In this sense, beauty can be valuable for animals and
even for unwise humans. Nonetheless, the appreciation of value is higher if we are wise and
reach higher levels of distinct perceptions and knowledge of the universe. We will address
the relation between confusion and beauty in detail in the next chapter, but for now we can
conclude about this point that wisdom is not strictly necessary to appreciate beauty to a
certain degree, but it is so if we want to value the world as if it was made for us and ‘be
happy in it if we wish to be’ (GP VI, p.232/H, p.248). What Leibniz means here seems to be
that if we are wise we can value the world in a way that is similar to how God does.

12 In the original Latin: ‘Sunt et Bruta cujusdam quasi voluptatis capacia, quia observant consensus, quamvis hoc faciant
Empirice, non vero ut nos a priori sic ut rationem reddere possint’ (GW, p.171). Here Leibniz seems to be suggesting that
beauty can give pleasure even if confusedly perceived. We will explain the notions of ‘confused’ and ‘distinct’ in relation to
beauty and pleasure in the next chapter.
13 Adams does not mention any explicit reference in Leibniz’s bibliography to state that the wise are only a few. Even

though it seems that Leibniz never stated this literally, it is possible to notice through Leibniz’s writings that the possession
of wisdom is a quantifier that does not necessarily include all humanity.
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2.4 Can we value the world’s beauty as God does?

What is at stake in the relation between wisdom and value is the content of question (1.b):
Can we value objective beauty of nature as God does? In other words, can we value the full
potential that the universe offers? The answer is not so straight forward. We can value
nature’s beauty just as God does if we are wise as God is wise. In principle we can do this,
since wisdom is qualitatively the same in finite subjects and in God. Nevertheless, we cannot
value nature’s beauty as God does, because God’s wisdom is superior to ours in degrees. As
Leibniz states: ‘His [God’s] goodness and his justice as well as his wisdom differ from ours
only because they are infinitely more perfect’ (GP VI, p.51/H, p.76).
This issue is related to one of the main controversies that Leibniz has with Bayle in the
Theodicy. Leibniz argues against Bayle’s particular sceptic fideism, which denies that God
and finite beings share the same universal attributes; mainly the attribute of reason. In
Bayle’s words; ‘everything which seems to us not to be in conformity with reason, must seem
to be contrary to reason’ (quoted in Labrousse, 1983, p.57). The discrepancy that Bayle
establishes is essentially between the divine mysteries, truths and reason, on one hand, and
men’s reason, on the other. As Leibniz explains; ‘He [Bayle] acknowledges fully that our
Mysteries are in accordance with the supreme and universal reason that is in the divine
understanding, or with reason in general; yet he denies that they are in accordance with that
part of reason which man employs to judge things’ (GP VI, p.84/H, p.107). Leibniz opposes
this view, as he firmly believes in the divine origin of our reason, hence it cannot go against
or be different from God’s own reason

But this portion of reason which we possess is a gift of God, and consists in the natural light that
has remained with us in the midst of corruption; thus it is in accordance with the whole, and it
differs from that which is in God only as a drop of water differs from the ocean or rather as the
finite from the infinite. Therefore Mysteries may transcend it, but they cannot be contrary to it.
One cannot be contrary to one part without being contrary to the whole. That which contradicts a
proposition of Euclid is contrary to the Elements of Euclid. That which in us is contrary to the
Mysteries is not reason nor is it the natural light or the linking together of truths; it is corruption,
or error, or prejudice, or darkness. (GP VI, p.84/H, p.107)

The metaphor of the drop of water and the ocean illustrates that the difference between our
reason and God’s is one of degrees and not in kind. As pointed out earlier, Bayle’s argument
is that because there are some mysteries that do not seem to conform to our reason, they must
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be against our reason. Leibniz, in opposition to this argument, refers to the distinction
between ‘against reason’ and ‘above reason’:

The distinction which is generally drawn between that which is above reason and that which
is against reason is tolerably in accord with the distinction which has just been made between the
two kinds of necessity. For what is contrary to reason is contrary to the absolutely certain and
inevitable truths; and what is above reason is in opposition only to what one is wont to experience
or to understand. (…) For I observed at the beginning that by REASON here I do not mean the
opinions and discourses of men, nor even the habit they have formed of judging things according
to the usual course of Nature, but rather the inviolable linking together of truths (GP VI, p.64/H,
p.88)

Reason here is the logical concatenation of truths, hence for Leibniz what is contrary to
reason is false and illogical and, therefore, not reason at all. There could be, however, things
above our reason, since we may lack enough experience or understanding in order to grasp
them.14 But more important is the notion that reason is the one and the same. For Leibniz
there are not two types of reason, only one in different degrees. The same applies to wisdom,
justice, goodness and other attributes shared by God and humankind. Thus, Leibniz’s position
finds itself in direct opposition to Bayle’s idea that God’s truths might be against our reason.
The logical consequence of Bayle’s fideism is the objection to natural theology and
the idea of a rational God that we can understand. Bayle makes a distinction between God’s
wisdom and God’s goodness and he rejects the former in favour of the latter. God’s goodness
is mostly a religious notion, which assumes that God’s utmost concern is our eternal
salvation. On the other hand, God’s wisdom refers to the lawfulness and rationality of God’s
creation and, in general, the rationality of God’s actions. Since Bayle rejects that we can
approach God through human reason, it is also futile to try to understand God’s creation
through reason. Accordingly, nature’s truths and value do not follow any law or rationale that
is within the reach of our understanding. As Elisabeth Labrousse explains, for Bayle the main
reason why he is against the idea of divine wisdom is that the notion of God’s wisdom
implies a universe functioning according to fixed laws, which assumes that God is faced with
a ‘nature of things’ that acts as some sort of resistance to God’s will: ‘We have still reduced

14 For example, consider the case of contingent truths. Leibniz conceives an analogy between truths and mathematical
proportions. He explains that truths are the containment of the predicate in the subject just as in proportions a smaller
quantity is contained in a larger or equal quantity. The way to prove the truth value of a statement is to give reasons in order
to achieve common notions between the subject and the predicate, just as in proportions a mathematical operation shows
common quantities. The particularity of contingent truths is that they require an infinite series of arguments to reduce a
statement to a simple tautology, and therefore to be proved and known. As we finite beings can only compute finite series of
operations, we cannot prove contingent truths, since only an infinite being can fathom infinite series of operations. In other
words; it is above our reason, but not against reason. (See The source of contingent truths in AG, pp. 98-101, original source
in A VI 4, pp.1661-4).
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the omnipotent One to the status of a craftsman working with rebellious matter’ (Labrousse,
1983, p.65). Bayle opposes to this idea hoisting a voluntarist position that simply denies any
law or rule abided by God in the creation of the world. For Bayle, God’s goodness is the only
one attribute that guides his divine will.
On the contrary, for Leibniz it is exactly the case that God is like a craftsman that
works with laws and rules –to the extent that the laws of the realm of nature are to be
respected even if they might attempt against our immediate happiness. More importantly, we
are able to understand these rules and therefore have a glimpse into God’s reasons. 15 As
Leibniz writes in a letter to Wolff (1715) ‘wisdom always acts through principles, that is,
through rules, and never through exceptions, except when rules interfere with one another,
and one rule limits another’ (GW, p.163/AG, p.231). Even before that, in a text entitled On
Contingency (1689?), Leibniz says that ‘God always acts wisely, that is, in such a way that
anyone who knew his reasons would know and worship his supreme justice, goodness, and
wisdom’ (A VI 4, p.1651/AG, p.29). Because Leibniz’s God is wise, he created reality
following rules and laws that are based on reason (which is one and the same for us and for
God), so potentially we could grasp the same structure of reality and even God’s reasons to
create the universe as he did if we were infinite. For Rutherford, a world that is grounded on a
rational order is the key notion behind the Theodicy and Leibniz metaphysics in general:

I argue that a principal measure of the world's perfection for Leibniz is its ‘rational order,’ or the
degree to which reason in the form of order and intelligibility - has been realized within the
constitution of created things. It follows on this reading that the perfection God finds in the world
is, at the most fundamental level, an intellectual good: a state of affairs that is recognized to be of
the highest value by an omniscient intelligence. […] The ground of Leibniz's belief in the doctrine
of the best of all possible worlds is a thoroughgoing faith in the governing power of reason:
reason as it directs the creative will of God, reason as it is subsequently realized in the intelligible
order of the created world, and reason as it helps human minds discern and appreciate that order.
As I try to show, this conception of the pervasiveness of reason is the guiding force behind his
theodicy, and the thread that connects it with the detailed theories of his metaphysics. (Rutherford,
1995: p.2)

The main point of interest for us in Rutherford’s passage is that God acts following reason,
the world is based on reason and minds have the faculty of reason. Therefore, the rule of
reason is the common ground where God, the world and minds converge and reach
communion. As we said before, for God the aesthetic value of the world is exactly the same

15Furthermore, as stated in the previous chapter, we know God through our appreciation of his creation: ‘it is through a
consideration of his [God’s] works that we can discover the craftsman [ouvrier]’ (A VI 4, p.1532/L, p.304).
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as its degrees of harmony, or what is the same; order. Following Rutherford, this order is in
fact a rational order. In this sense, we can say that for God the aesthetic value of the world is
related to the perception of the rational order of the world. The appreciation of a rational
order requires the exercise of reason, hence for us –as for God– reason is required to be able
to value the world.16
Although all minds have the potential to do this, not all minds necessarily engage in a
wise rational appreciation of the world. This is what Leibniz means when he adds the
conditional ‘if we are wise’ in order to appreciate the world’s value:
all measurable things of which we have an adequate conception, that they are not only just and
perfect but also quite harmonious and beautiful […] Indeed, we cannot see such harmony so long
as we do not enjoy the correct point of view, just as a picture in perspective is best appreciated
only from certain standpoints and cannot be seen properly from another angle. It is only with the
eyes of the understanding that we can place ourselves in a point of view which the eyes of the
body do not and cannot occupy. (DS, p.51/W, p.572)
In this passage, Leibniz affirms the objective aesthetic value of the world, which is not
automatically perceived by all subjects. He suggests that, for us to perceive this value, we
require that our understanding moves beyond our partial point of view and our senses. This
adequate use of our faculties is what is at stake when Leibniz states that the world ‘is
nevertheless made for us if we are wise’ (GP VI, p.232/H, p.248). More specifically, being
wise in the context of the given quote refers to the right exercise of reason.
Wisdom, for Leibniz, is connected to morality, politics and ethics, all aspects of
Leibniz’s thought that fall outside the scope of this thesis. However, we can briefly show the
relation between wisdom, value and reason as it is expressed by Leibniz in his text entitled
On Wisdom. The first line of that essay defines wisdom as ‘merely the science of happiness
or that science which teaches us to achieve happiness’. Immediately, he defines ‘happiness’
as ‘a state of permanent joy’ and then ‘joy’ as ‘a pleasure which the soul feels in itself’. Now
‘pleasure’ is ‘the feeling of a perfection […] such as understanding, courage, and especially
beauty’ (GP VII, p.86/L, p.425). Thus, wisdom is a science that teaches us how to be happy
through the appreciation of worldly perfections such as beauty. Since the best possible
appreciation of beauty in nature requires from us to exercise reason to grasp the rational order
of the world, wisdom is the science of rightly exercising reason, which brings us happiness.
Thus, our happiness is possible because the world is based on a rational order and we can

16As Rutherford explains ‘In Leibniz’s view, a proper appreciation of harmony requires the exercise of reason. It is based on
an understanding of the order by which a variety of things is united in a pleasing whole, a whole whose harmony, or well-
ordered diversity, is judged by divine wisdom to be an objective good in the construction of a world.’ (1995, p.14)
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exercise reason to appreciate it.17 When we use reason rightly we enter into a communion
with the criteria and structure of the world itself. If we do so, we will not fail to appreciate
nature’s value, including its beauty. In this sense, wisdom or the right use of reason is a way
for us to connect with the aesthetic value of the world. If we are wise we will see the value of
the world, because the world was made following the same criteria that define our wisdom;
reason (based on laws), which brings happiness, not only to us, but also to God. Is in this
sense that we can we value objective beauty as God does.18

3. Value beyond harmony and beauty

3.1 Reason as value
So far we have been examining the notion of value as a perfection, but are there other
possible sources of value? In what follows we will consider some alternatives and at the same
time answer the pending initial questions about God and value.
In some passages Leibniz seems to suggest that the exercise of reason itself is a
source of value. For example, while he is arguing for the value of non-rational beings, he
states that ‘if there were only rational creatures, there would be less good’. The reason is that
[n]ature had need of animals, plants, inanimate bodies; there are in these creatures, devoid of
reason, marvels which serve for exercise of the reason. What would an intelligent creature do if
there were no unintelligent things? What would it think of, if there were neither movement, nor
matter, nor sense? If it had only distinct thoughts it would be a God, its wisdom would be without
bounds: that is one of the results of my meditations. (GP VI, p.179/H, p.198)

One of the ways in which non-rational beings’ existence contributes to the value of the world
is by serving as the objects of reason. More specifically, they are objects of high complexity
that tend to be represented by minds as confused thoughts. Leibniz is suggesting that there is
more value when some things prevent minds from always having only distinct thoughts. Here
we find again a sort of Leibnizian dialectic similar to the case of dissonance: certain negative
elements contribute to the overall positive result. In this case natural non-rational beings that

17 Here I agree with Rutherford when he states that ‘Leibniz grounds the virtue and happiness of intelligent creatures in their
possession of rational knowledge’ (1995, p.47).
18 Nonetheless, as mentioned before, we are finite minds, while the creator is an infinite one, and therefore so is his creation

infinite as well. Although in kind we are equipped with the same reason, the difference in magnitude constitutes our
limitation. In a letter to Queen Sophie Charlotte of Prussia (1702) Leibniz explains that the light of reason ‘makes us
resemble in miniature the divinity’, as it allows us to recognise the order of the universe ‘by ordering which we ourselves
know how to give to the things which are within our reach’. Our perfection and virtue is related to the recognition of order,
‘as our felicity consists in the pleasure we take therein’. However, ‘the natural light of reason does not suffice for knowing
the detail thereof, and our experiences are still too limited to catch a glimpse of the laws of this order’. Nevertheless, ‘there is
room to believe that in the course of time we shall know them even more by experience, and that there are spirits that know
them already more than we do’ (GP VI, pp.507-8/W, p.366). See the previous chapter where we examined this passage in
more detail.
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are apprehended by minds as confused thoughts work as a restriction for finite minds to have
only distinct thoughts. This restriction makes different thoughts between minds possible,
since if all minds had a completely distinct representation of the world, they would be all the
same. Different thoughts introduce variety, more variety results in higher levels of perfection
and in turn, this means higher value.19
In this sense, the exercise of reason over non-rational beings seems to be instrumental
for a more important metaphysical phenomenon; the production of quantitative and even
qualitative variety. Although this passage states that, in a certain way, the value of non-
rational beings is instrumental for the exercise of reason (including the limitation they entail),
it also implies that in this case the exercise of reason is instrumental to extend variety. Indeed,
for Leibniz, rational souls not only contribute to variety, but they also reproduce the harmony
and beauty of God’s creation. Minds or rational souls have the peculiar effect of enlarging the
harmony of the world as echoes or duplications. This is the case because minds reflect the
world just like mirrors. In his notes for Elements of Natural Law (1668-1670?), Leibniz
asserts the value of this occurrence, since the reflection of the harmonic and beautiful world
multiplies these traits. He writes that ‘[i]f God had no rational creatures in the world, he
would still have the same harmony, but alone and devoid of echo; he would still have the
same beauty, but devoid of reflection and refraction and multiplication’. In fact, God’s
wisdom demanded (exigebat) the creation of rational creatures in order to achieve this
multiplication (A VI 1, p.438/L, p.138). In this context, yet again our faculty of reason is an
instrumental element in order to multiply harmony and beauty.
Yet, this reproduction of variety is not exclusive to rational souls. In later writings
Leibniz extends the metaphor of mirrors to substance in general. In the Discourse, he states
that:
every substance is like a complete world and like a mirror of God or of the whole universe, which
each one expresses in its own way, somewhat as the same city is variously represented depending
upon the different positions from which it is viewed. Thus the universe is in some way multiplied

19 In the same paragraph Leibniz establishes the importance of variety as different levels of perfection and how this is more
reasonable: ‘There are innumerable others which attract the inclination of God: from all these inclinations there results the
most possible good, and it turns out that if there were only virtue, if there were only rational creatures, there would be less
good. Midas proved to be less rich when he had only gold. And besides, wisdom must vary. To multiply one and the same
thing only would be superfluity, and poverty too. To have a thousand well-bound Vergils in one's library, always to sing the
airs from the opera of Cadmus and Hermione, to break all the china in order only to have cups of gold, to have only diamond
buttons, to eat nothing but partridges, to drink only Hungarian or Shiraz wine—would one call that reason?’ (GP VI,
p.179/H, p.198).
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as many times as there are substances, and the glory of God is likewise multiplied by as many
entirely different representations of his work. (A VI 4, p.1542/ AG, p.42)20

Hence all substances reproduce the universe from its own point of view, yet not all
substances are minds. Thus, the reproduction of the universe is not just an exercise of rational
souls, but a function of every substance.21 In any case, this shows that reason alone cannot be
the only value or the source of all values. This does not mean that reason is of absolutely no
value by itself and just purely instrumental. However, it does entails that in Leibniz’s system
reason is neither the only valuable element nor the element that gives others their value.22

3.2 God’s pleasure as the purpose of harmony and beauty

At the end of the previously quoted passage Leibniz implies that the aim of the multiplication
of the universe is God’s glory. In the continuation of the same paragraph he seems to suggest
that God’s glory is the reproduction of God himself:

It can even be said that every substance bears in some way the character of God's infinite wisdom
and omnipotence and imitates him as much as it is capable. For it expresses, however confusedly,
everything that happens in the universe, whether past, present, or future—this has some
resemblance to an infinite perception or knowledge. And since all other substances in turn express
this substance and accommodate themselves to it, one can say that it extends its power over all the
others, in imitation of the creator's omnipotence. (A VI 4, p.1542/ AG, p.42)

Following this idea, it could be said that in the same way that the exercise of reason is
instrumental to the reproduction and enhancement of harmony and beauty, harmony and
beauty are instrumental to God’s glory, which is the reproduction of himself.
At the end of this chapter we will explore the suggestion that God is by himself the
source of all value, but first let us consider God’s happiness or God’s pleasure as the purpose

20 Later on, in his Principles of Nature and Grace, Based on Reason (1714), Leibniz applies the same metaphor in a similar
context, yet this time for monads: ‘And since everything is connected because of the plenitude of the world, and since each
body acts on every other body, more or less, in proportion to its distance, and is itself affected by the other through reaction,
it follows that each monad is a living mirror or a mirror endowed with internal action, which represents the universe from its
own point of view and is as ordered as the universe itself’ (GP VI, p.599/AG, p.207).
21 Yet there is a difference between minds and other monads in this process of reproduction. As Leibniz points out in his

Elements of Natural Law (1670-71) that ‘[p]leasure, however is doubled by reflection, whenever we contemplate the beauty
within ourselves which our conscience makes, not to speak of our virtue […] For every mind is something like a mirror […]’
(A VI 1, p.464/L, p.137). Since rational souls are able of self-conscience, they do not only reflect the external world, but also
their own reflection of the world, which is a source of beauty. The quote also seems to suggest that reflecting what is within
ourselves also involves virtue. Just as we said before, only minds are able to grasp the moral dimension of the kingdom of
grace and therefore only they can reproduce it by reflecting what is inside of them. This is on aspect that distinguishes minds
from other monads. Other distinguishing aspect to consider is that minds reproduce the world with a higher degree of clarity
and distinction than other monads.
22 Nonetheless, rationality is a structural component of harmony and the exercise of reason is the method to enter into

communion with the value of harmony as well as to reproduce harmony. Also, for Leibniz rational souls with their distinct
perceptions are more perfect (more valuable) than others, therefore reason can be considered a manifestation of perfection.
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of value in relation with harmony and beauty. This relates with one of our previous questions:
(2.a) if beauty is not just for our happiness, could the same be said about God’s happiness? In
other words, is God’s glory or happiness the purpose of harmony and beauty? In an undated
passage, Leibniz states that God’s aim is ‘his own joy or love of himself’, therefore he
‘created all things in accordance with the greatest harmony or beauty possible’ (A VI 4,
p.2804/W, p.568). This implies that God not only values harmony and beauty, as we said
before, but he also enjoys them.
Leibniz not only considers that harmony is a source of pleasure, but he even affirms
more than once that harmony is the only source of pleasure. For example in the second half of
Elements of Natural Law (1671?) he writes that ‘neither is delight without harmony nor
harmony without variety’’ (A VI 1, p.466).23 And also in Confessio Philosophi (1672-1673):

Furthermore, all happiness is harmonious or beautiful […] Now, surely happiness is the state of
mind most pleasing to the mind itself, but nothing is pleasing to a mind except harmony […] since
we agreed previously that being delighted is nothing but experiencing harmony (A VI 3, p.116/
CP, pp.29-31).

For Leibniz harmony and beauty delight every wise person (A VI 1, pp.434-5).24 Plus,
‘[s]ince God is the most perfect mind, however, it is impossible for him not to be affected by
the most perfect harmony’ (A II 1, p.117/L, p.146). In this sense, we can give a partial answer
to question (2.a): harmony and beauty do give pleasure and happiness to God. Yet, we still
haven’t answered a more relevant question: Is God’s delight the main purpose of harmony
and beauty? Or, formulated for our context: Are beauty and harmony valuable just because
they delight God?
In letter to Magnus Wedderkopf (May, 1671), Leibniz writes that:

What, therefore, is the ultimate reason for the divine will? The divine intellect. For God wills
things which he understands to be the best and more harmonious and selects them, as it were,
from an infinite number of all possibilities. What then is the reason for the divine intellect? The
harmony of things. What [is] the reason for the harmony of things? Nothing. For example, no
reason can be given for the ratio of 2 to 4 being the same as that of 4 to 8, not even the divine will.
This depends on the essence itself, or the idea of things […] Since God is the most perfect mind,
however, it is impossible for him not to be affected by the most perfect harmony. (A II 1, p.117/L,
p.146)

23 Author’s translation. In the original Latin: ‘[S]ed nec delectatio est sine harmonia, nec harmonia sine varietate.’ (A VI 1,
p.466)
24 ‘Sed hâc qvilibet delectabitur, qvia omnis sapiens delectabitur pulchritudine seu harmonia. Sed ita tamen ut penset inter

se istam ex harmonia voluptatem, et damnum suum.’ (A VI 1, pp.434-5)

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‘There is no reason for the harmony of things’. To understand the implication of this sentence
we must remember that according to Leibniz’s principle of sufficient reason, everything that
is must have a reason. The implication is that a thing X has a reason R, R has a reason R2
and, in turn, R2 has R3 and so on. Nevertheless, the quoted passage suggests the cessation of
what could be otherwise an eternal regression. Harmony is the final stop of the regression,
which means that harmony is (has being), without a reason that justifies its being. In other
words, the fact that there is harmony is a primitive fact. Therefore, harmony is (has being) not
for any other thing, harmony just is.25 Consequently, it is not merely instrumental for God’s
happiness. In this sense, the ontological status of harmony in Leibniz’ system is teleologically
independent from God.
Nonetheless, it could be still argued that the value of harmony is given by God’s
pleasure. In other words, although harmony is (has being) independently of its effect on God,
it could be valuable just because of its pleasure-giving effect on God. This affirmation would
entail that ‘God’s taste’ –understood as what pleases him– is what determines what is
valuable; i.e. X is valuable only because it pleases God and not because it is valuable
independently of God’s ‘reaction’ to it. It could be said that the problem with this view is that
it sounds very similar to Descartes’ God, as described in the previous chapter, and Leibniz
fiercely opposes voluntarism and its conception of value determinate by God. Yet it is not
exactly the same voluntarism that Leibniz opposes: we said at the beginning of this chapter
that the reason why God chooses to actualise some things (or the world) instead of others is
because they are the most valuable things (or world), yet he does not give these things their
value, because that would mean that he is not really choosing the most valuable according to
a reason, rather only through will. This is in fact the objection to the notion of voluntarism
considered in detail in the previous chapter. On the other hand, the idea that we are
examining now is that things reach their value because they coincide with ‘God’s taste’ or
because they give pleasure or happiness to God. This latter view is not exactly the same as
voluntarism if we assume that God’s will does not constitute ‘God’s taste’. So the proposition
that we are examining now is that something X is valuable just because X pleases (i.e. gives
pleasure to) God and whatever pleases God is not dependent on his will.
Nonetheless, this view does not seem adequate either. As the quoted paragraph says
‘it is impossible for him [God] not to be affected by the most perfect harmony’ (A II 1,

25However, we should consider that there is a distinction between harmony as essence and actual harmony as existing, i.e.
the harmony of the actual world. Although the former does not require a reason for it to be, the latter would be subject to the
principle of sufficient reason.
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p.117/L, p.146). This seems to suggest a passive stance on God’s relation with harmony.
Furthermore, Leibniz implies necessity in the relation between God and harmony, as he uses
the word ‘impossible’.26 If harmony is independent of reasons and God must be positively
affected by it, its capacity to give pleasure appears to be ‘previous’ to or at least independent
from God’s ‘preferences’. Leibniz’s justification for God’s unavoidable reaction to harmony
is simply that it must be because ‘God is the most perfect mind’. To understand Leibniz’s
view here it might be helpful to remember two things: firstly, that it is safe to assume that
harmony’s effect on God is pleasure or delight, as harmony and beauty always delight the
wise and God is the wisest mind (A VI 1, pp.434-5); and secondly, that according to Leibniz
harmony and beauty are the only sources of pleasure. For Leibniz the latter seems to be a
primitive fact (which would explain why he does not try to justify it). Primitive facts have no
justification, causation or reason; they cannot be reduced to something else, they just are. If
we assume that this is indeed a primitive fact (i.e. harmony and beauty are the only sources of
pleasure), we can infer that the wisest mind must contain the primitive fact and not produce
it, otherwise it would not be a primitive fact. Consequently, if harmony’s being a source of
pleasure is a primitive fact, it cannot be explained by or reduced to ‘God’s taste’. If I am
right, the fact that harmony and beauty are a source of pleasure is in God’s intellect and not
given by ‘God’s taste’ and much less produced by God’s will. According to our assumption,
God’s delight in harmony is just a necessary effect that may prove the value of harmony, but
it does not determine or cause it, since harmony would still be the source of pleasure even in
the hypothetical case that God did not perceive it. This seems to be the case, although it must
be said that Leibniz does not explicitly express this idea.

3.3 Pleasure as value

The manner in which this later argument has been examined raises the question about the
relation between pleasure and value. More specifically, whether the pleasure given by
something is what makes something valuable. If this is so, are then harmony and beauty
valuable only as sources of pleasure? Since we established in the previous chapter that for
Leibniz beauty is in the object, if we state now that beauty is only valuable because it
produces pleasure, it would mean that, although beauty exists independently of any subject,
its value only emerges once there is some entity to experience pleasure. This relates to our
question (1.a): Would beauty be valuable if God was not a percipient subject? Or better yet,
26In the original Latin: ‘Cum autem Deus sit mens perfectissima, impossibile est ipsum non affici harmonia perfectissima,
atque ita ab ipsa rerum idealitate ad optimum necessitari’. (A II 1, p.117)
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would harmony and beauty be valuable if neither God nor anyone else were there to receive
pleasure from them? The answer to this enquiry varies depending on the definition of the
term ‘value’; as pleasure or as a perfection. If value is to be understood as a perfection –as we
have assumed so far–, the answer is affirmative: in chapter I, we established that harmony
and beauty are perfections and at the beginning of this chapter we stated that perfections
(plural) are valuable. Moreover, we said that perfection itself (singular) is harmony –as
degrees of unity in variety– and that perfection is value. In this sense, the explanation of what
is value is tautological and it is established by Leibniz’s own definitions of the terms
involved, since the definition of ‘harmony’ contains ‘perfection’ and the definition of
‘perfection’ contains ‘value’. By this account, even if there is no one (not even God) to
experience the pleasure given by harmony and beauty, they are still valuable, since by
definition they are value in itself.
On the contrary, if things were valuable only because of the pleasure they produce,
the answer to question (1.a) would be negative. Let us examine this last alternative.
According to Leibniz ‘[e]verything pleasant is sought for its own sake’ (A VI 1, p.464/L,
p.136). Hence, there is no further reason why pleasure is sought, but pleasure itself. It is fair
to assume that what Leibniz means is that pleasure is valuable in itself for anyone that
perceives it. Thus, pleasure is not cherished because of any other purpose; pleasure is not a
means to another end, but an end in itself. If value were exclusively pleasure and harmony
and beauty are the only sources of pleasure, then harmony and beauty would be valuable just
because they provide pleasure, but they would not have value in themselves. Therefore, if
there is harmony and beauty, but no one to receive their pleasure, there could be no value, as
there is no pleasure.
However, there are good reasons to assume that for Leibniz value is not just the
capacity to give pleasure. In On Wisdom, Leibniz establishes that ‘happiness’ is ‘a state of
permanent joy’ and ‘joy’ is ‘a pleasure which the soul feels in itself’ (GP VII, p.86/L, p.425).
However, later in his Principles of Nature and Grace he writes that ‘our happiness will never
consist, and must not consist, in a complete joy, in which nothing is left to desire, and which
would dull our mind, but must consist in a perpetual progress to new pleasures and new
perfections’ (G VI, p.606/AG, p.213). The rejection of complete joy as human happiness
mirrors our previous explanation about the importance of dissonances in harmony; in the
same way that the highest degree of harmony and beauty is not just constant consonance and
positive values – but achieved after considering negative elements such as dissonances (or
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evil)–, the highest degree of happiness is not just uninterrupted joy. As he explains in a letter
to Wolff (1715):

Joy I define as an extraordinary predominance of pleasure, for in the midst of joy we can sense
certain sorrows, but sorrows that are hardly to be considered in comparison with the pleasures, as,
for example, if somewhere a kingdom were granted to an ambitious person suffering hopelessly
from the gout. Moreover, it is necessary that the joy be enduring, so that it not be withdrawn by a
subsequent greater sadness [tristitia] by chance. Furthermore, pleasure is the sensation of
perfection. Perfection is the harmony of things, or the state where everything is worthy of being
observed, that is, the state of agreement [consensus] or identity in variety. (GW, pp.171–2/AG,
p.233)

Joy itself is not just pleasure but the predominance of pleasure, since joy contains sorrows,
i.e. the exact opposite of pleasure. In the quoted letter it is not clear if the integration of
sorrows in joy has any purpose in reaching happiness or if happiness is reached despite
sorrow. Yet if we consider this latter passage in light of the previously quoted one, it could be
said that the presence of sorrows prevents joy from being complete and therefore stimulates
the continuous search for different pleasures, in order to not ‘dull our mind’.27 The fact that
happiness is not just complete pleasure but the ‘perpetual progress to new pleasures’ seems to
deny that pure pleasure is the only value. If pleasure alone were value, the only reason to
search for new pleasures would be finding a greater pleasure, since, magnitude aside, all
pleasures would be equally valuable and novelty should not be a factor for happiness.
However, as Leibniz writes, complete joy or lack of desire dulls our minds. If pleasure were
the unique value it seems odd that conformity with one single pleasure without novelty would
dull the mind.28
What seems to be more likely is that when Leibniz mentions ‘perpetual progress to
new pleasures and perfections’ he is considering a progress in the perfection of the perceiver.

27 It must be noticed that also in The Principles of Nature and Grace, Leibniz gives a positive reason and a negative reason
for the presence of sorrows in joy. The positive is what we already mentioned; that it promotes the progress to new pleasures
and hence prevents our minds to become dull, caused by lack of desire. Indeed, in the New Essays, Leibniz seems committed
to the idea that ‘uneasiness’ is fundamental to reach happiness: ‘Far from such disquiet's being inconsistent with happiness, I
find that it is essential to the happiness of created beings; their happiness never consists in complete attainment, which would
make them insensate and stupified, but in continual and uninterrupted progress towards greater goods. Such progress is
inevitably accompanied by desire or at least by constant disquiet’ (GP V, p.174/RB, p.188). On the other hand, the negative
reason is that it is simply not possible to achieve perfect happiness due to our limitation to fully know God: ‘It is true that
supreme felicity (with whatever beatific vision or knowledge of God it may be accompanied) can never be complete,
because, since God is infinite, he can never be entirely known’ (GP VI, p.606/AG, p.212). At the light of this negative
reason, it could be said that sorrows are just an unavoidable aspect of our nature and thus joy is achieved despite their
presence.
28 Furthermore, why would joy and happiness include sorrow and not just pure pleasure? If everything that is valuable it is so

just because of its production of pleasure, why can’t it makes us happy on its own? Unless we are somehow irrational beings
that do not value the ultimate value as the ultimate value, (and according to Leibniz’s account this is not the case) we should
be able to reach happiness with what is valuable alone.
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If we consider the word ‘progress’, it seems inadequate to use it merely as the search of
novelty. It should also, and especially, be used to denote improvement. ‘Progress’, in this
sense, is not unqualified change for something new, but enhancement of someone’s state.
This idea is present in many of Leibniz’s writings, for example, in On Wisdom, he writes:

Pleasure is the feeling of a perfection or an excellence [vortreflichkeit], whether in ourselves or

something else. […] For the image of such perfection in others, impressed upon us, causes some
of this perfection to be implanted and aroused within ourselves. Thus there is no doubt that he
who consorts much with excellent [treflichen] people or things becomes more excellent
[vortreflicher]. (GP VII, p.86/L, p.425)

Assuming that in this context the word ‘excellent’ (treflichen) or ‘excellence’ (vortreflichkeit)
amounts to the same as ‘perfection’, Leibniz is establishing two significant ideas: firstly, that,
as said before, pleasure is the perception of perfection;29 and secondly, that perceiving
perfection makes the perceiver more perfect. It might be concluded that pleasure has the
effect of elevating our degrees of perfection, therefore pleasure and even happiness conduces
to perfection. In this interpretation, pleasure would be instrumental for reaching higher
degrees of perfection. Thus, the value of the perception itself would reside in the fact that the
perceiver becomes more perfect when she perceives something perfect. But this is not the
case for Leibniz. In other passages he suggests that is not pleasure itself that makes the
perceiver more perfect, but pleasure is an effect of becoming more perfect. As he states in
§15 of the Discourse:

[W]hen a change takes place by which several substances are affected (in fact every change
affects all of them), I believe one may say that the substance which immediately passes to a
greater degree of perfection or to a more perfect expression exercises its power and acts, and the
substance which passes to a lesser degree shows its weakness and is acted upon [pâtit]. I also hold
that every action of a substance which has perfection involves some pleasure, and every passion
some pain and vice versa. (A VI 4, p.1554/AG, p.48)

Pleasure is the result of a substance acting (or exercising power) and thus becoming more
perfect. This idea is very similar to Spinoza’s view on the topic, as in the third part of the
Ethics, Spinoza considers that power of acting is related to joy (CE, p.102) and later he
defines joy as ‘a man’s passage from a lesser to a greater perfection’ (CE, p.104). In his notes
about Spinoza’s Ethics, Leibniz agrees with him on this issue, as he also considers that joy
implies a transition to more perfection in humans, adding that this is the same as becoming

29For example in this previously quoted passage: ‘Furthermore, pleasure is the sensation of perfection. Perfection is the
harmony of things, or the state where everything is worthy of being observed, that is, the state of agreement [consensus] or
identity in variety.’ (GW, pp.172/AG, p.233)
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more beautiful (GP I, p.152).30 In this sense, when Leibniz writes that joy is a progression to
new pleasures and new perfections, he is thinking on an increase in the degrees of perfection
of the perceiver: perception of perfection in things (i.e. harmonious and, thusly, beautiful
things) makes us more perfect (more harmonious and beautiful) and this passing to a higher
degree of perfection brings us pleasure. Finding new perfections to perceive allows us to
continue upgrading our degrees of perfection, which brings more pleasure and, in turn, this
pleasure is joy.
By this account it cannot be said that pleasure is an instrumental value subordinated to
harmony (or perfection), since the former is a consequence of the latter. Yet, for the reasons
given before, it is not right either to consider pleasure as the only value. The relation between
pleasure and other valuable properties seems to be like a perfect convergence, where one
valuable property produces or enhances another: harmony, reason, perfection and beauty
produce greater harmony, perfection and beauty bringing pleasure then joy and happiness.
Nevertheless, there is no doubt that the ultimate value, understood as the source of all others,
is harmony. If pleasure were the ultimate value it must ground all other values, yet how could
this be if harmony has ontological anteriority? In order to consider pleasure as the ultimate
value it must be supposed that harmony is value-neutral in itself, since on this view,
harmony’s value would only derive from the pleasure harmony produces. In other words,
harmony would be retroactively valuable, as it is valuable only once there is someone to
perceive its pleasure. However, for Leibniz, harmony is not a neutral ontological force.
Harmony is what constitutes God’s perfect intellect, with anteriority to God’s intellect. Thus,
it is the first reason that grounds everything else, since God’s intellect contains every possible
thing. If we consider that Leibniz’s God is perfect in every sense, it is hard to deny that his
intellect –and everything in it– is grounded on something that lacks value in itself and that
only gained value retroactively after it constituted the first value. Furthermore, as established
in chapter I, harmony is beauty, perfection and even power, all attributes that Leibniz deems
perfections worthy to constitute the essence of the perfect being itself. Also in chapter I, we
established that beauty has only the potential to give pleasure. The fact that beauty is a value
that is only potentially a source of pleasure means that it could fail to give pleasure and still
be a value. Hence, it is not a value because of pleasure, but even without it.

30In the original Latin: ‘Laetitia est hominis transitio a minore ad majorem perfectionem’ […] ‘Possum perfectionem
corporis augere, ut non sentiam, ut si fiam pulchrior, si membra in majus robur crescant. Responderi potest, insensibilem
esse hunc transitum adeoque et laetitiam’. (A VI 4, p.1731)
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3.4 God as the ultimate value

There is however another interpretation of what could be value for Leibniz. In this
interpretation the ultimate value is God himself, in other words, everything that has value,
does so only because of God. As we commented at the beginning of our Chapter II, in his
Demonstrationum Catholicarum Conspectus (1668-1669?) Leibniz states that God is the
divine origin where we should look for the source of harmony and beauty: ‘[T]he beatific
vision or [seu] the intuition of God, face to face, is the contemplation of the universal
Harmony of things because GOD or [seu] the Mind of the Universe is nothing other than the
harmony of things, or [seu] the principle of beauty in them’. (AVI 1, p.499/ trans. in Mercer,
2001, p.213).31 This passage could be interpreted as saying that beauty and harmony are
valuable only because they are a reflection of God himself. Yet this does seem at odds with
what we have been arguing here. For once this view still resonates strongly with voluntarism,
as God is in himself the final reason why there is value.
Alternatively, and more satisfactorily in my opinion, it could be said that, since
harmony and beauty are valuable properties, a perfect God cannot but be harmonious and
beautiful, otherwise he would not be perfect. This implies that there is an anteriority or at
least an independence of harmony and beauty as values from God himself. This latter view
seems more coherent with what Leibniz writes to Wedderkopf, since he illustrates a chain of
reasons where the reason for God’s will is God’s intellect and the reason for God’s intellect is
the harmony of things. Even though, as said before, ontological independence does not
guarantee independence of value, in this case ontological independence entails that if God is
harmonious and beautiful, it is because his essence is constituted by harmony and it is so
because harmony is valuable (as opposed to the idea that harmony is caused by God and that
harmony is valuable because it is God’s essence). This means that when Leibniz refers to
God as the ‘harmony of things’ and the ‘principle of beauty in them’, he is not saying that
God is the cause of harmony and value, but that his essence is constituted by the highest
degree of harmony, beauty and therefore value.
Of course, for Leibniz, God’s essence and its attributes are not something that can be
depicted as separate entities. So besides being a purely analytic exercise it does not seem that
Leibniz himself favours this practice. The same could be said about the discussion regarding
ontological anteriority in the letter to Wedderkopf, which might explain why this idea is not
more recurrent in Leibniz’s writings. Be it as it may, according to what has been said here,
31In the original Latin: ‘Visio beatifica seu intuitio DEI de facie in faciem est contemplatio universalis Harmonise rerum
qvia DEUS seu Mens Universi nihil aliud est qvàm rer. harmonía, seu principium pulchritudinis in ipsis.’ (AVI 1, p.499)
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the best interpretation is that harmony, and therefore beauty,32 are value in itself, which
entails that beauty is a value independent of perceivers, even if that perceiver is God himself.
In this sense, it must be concluded that, just as in the case of beauty as a property, beauty as a
value is objective.

4. Conclusions
At the beginning, we established that for Leibniz value can be mainly understood as a
positive property or perfection, as well as the degree of overall perfection. Since perfection
also is degree of essence and, in turn, degree of essence is the ontological ground of every
possible being, we claim that for Leibniz every possible being must have value or be
valuable. Furthermore, in Leibniz’s ontology every being and every possible world must
express different degrees of value. Because perfection is unity in variety or harmony and
beauty is harmony, this ontological view on value is also valid for aesthetic value.
Once this was established, we considered harmony and beauty as value in relation to
humans and God as well as in relation to other possible aspects of value and beauty, such as
pleasure and happiness. We sought to answer five questions that guided our examination of
the topic. Thus, to recapitulate: 1.a) would beauty be valuable if God was not a perceiving
subject? Yes, since the value of harmony is anterior to ‘God’s taste’. However, this question
is based on the analytic exercise of assuming that a non-perceiving God is possible and
Leibniz does not favour this assumption. (1.b) Can finite subjects value objective beauty as
God does? In principle, yes, because God and us share the same faculty of reason, as well as
wisdom. However, God’s reason and wisdom are infinite while ours are only finite, plus we
do not always succeed in being wise. (1.c) Are we humans the only ones that value the
universe’s beauty? No, any perceiving being can, such as God, non-human rational beings
and even animals, although in the case of the latter their capacity to value beauty is limited.
(2.a) Is beauty for God’s happiness? Not uniquely or ultimately; beauty, as an instance of
harmony, is not a value in virtue of another purpose, but it is a value in itself. (2.b) Is there
any relation between our happiness and the value of beauty? Harmony and beauty are sources
of happiness, indeed harmony is the only source of pleasure. This is valid for all minds
including humans and God. However, the value of the world is not designed just for our
happiness, since there are other dimensions of the universe and what is required in order to
32It could be objected that many of the arguments here are about the value of harmony but not necessary about the value of
beauty, since beauty still could be valuable only as a source of pleasure. However, it has been made clear in the first chapter
that beauty is harmony. Furthermore, as just said, beauty is ontologically independent of pleasure, since it is only a potential
source of pleasure.
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uphold their value might sometimes work against our happiness, such as the natural realm of
bodies and metaphysical perfection.
In summary, harmony as a value is independent of perceivers, this includes us and
even God. It is also a non-instrumental value, since harmony is not valuable just because of
its effect (e.g. pleasure or happiness) on us or God. As beauty is harmony (or rather an
instance of harmony), there are no good reasons to deny that this applies to the former in the
same manner as the latter. Nevertheless, it is the case that we experience beauty and its value.
As we will show in the following chapter, Leibniz’s philosophy offers a unique theory of
perception, knowledge and sensation that configures an interesting interpretation of our
relation with beauty.
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Chapter VI: Beauty as experience

Until now we have been focusing on Leibniz’s notion of beauty from a metaphysical
perspective. Thus we have not talked much about the specificities of the relation between
perceivers and beauty. In the following pages we explore this topic. More specifically, here
we focus on the subjective experience of beauty. In the interest of properly explain Leibniz’s
views on this matter, it is required to engage with a variety of other notions that not always
refer directly to the idea of beauty, namely notions about Leibniz’s theory of knowledge and
perception. In order to facilitate the following discussion, it would be useful to consider the
following dichotomies:
(a) Distinct – Confused
(b) Concept/Notion/Idea/Thought – Sensation/Perception/Sense Perception
(c) Intellect/Understanding – Sensitivity/Sensorial
After the works of Baumgarten, Hume and Kant, among other modern philosophers,
aesthetic phenomena have been generally associated with the terms at the right of each of
these binary distinctions. It would not be an overstatement to claim that this view is shared by
most contemporary aestheticians. Many of the works devoted to Leibniz’s aesthetics have
postulated that his account is no exception. In one way or another, the authors of these works
claim that Leibniz also conceived aesthetics as confused sense perceptions. Yet, there are
good reasons to question this interpretation. Here we will argue that for Leibniz aesthetic
experiences, understood as our experience of beauty, resists being relegated exclusively to the
second term in each of these three binary distinctions. In other words, Leibniz thinks that
beauty is not only experienced through confused representations, not only a derived from
sense perceptions and not only sensible. Accordingly, there is also aesthetic experience
related to distinct representations, to non-sensible concepts and to the intellect. Furthermore,
we will claim that for Leibniz, the experience of beauty is at its best intellectual, grounded on
concepts and distinct knowledge.
In the first section we will describe how Leibniz himself defines and classifies these
dichotomies. Afterwards, we will go through the main arguments that commentators have
given regarding the discussion of Leibniz’ view on this matter and we will provide a
conceptual frame to understand these dichotomies when applied to aesthetics. The second
section will review those works that claim that Leibniz’s aesthetics is limited to the second
term of each dichotomy. We will argue that this limitation has no solid basis in Leibniz’s
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texts. In the third section, we will explain why for Leibniz the experience of beauty is at its
best more related to the terms on the left of the dichotomies than with the terms on the right.
We will claim not only that the intellect and distinct knowledge have a significant role in our
experience of beauty, but also that science and mathematics do provide a model of beauty. In
the last section, we will argue that Leibniz also considers that beauty manifests itself through
matter and thus we can experience it through our senses as confused perceptions. We will
argue that at least in the case of beauty there is not a strict opposition between having a
sensible and having an intellectual experience. Our aesthetic experience can have confused
elements as well as distinct ones at the same time. Consequently, we will conclude that the
views expressed in the aforementioned works on Leibniz’s aesthetics are at odds with his
theory about the experience of beauty.
All aesthetic phenomena related to subjectivity will be here understood only as
experiences of beauty. This includes our taste about the arts and our pleasure derived from
any sort of experience that could be considered of aesthetic nature. We stand on this
assumption because Leibniz does not consider explicitly any other aesthetic value or aesthetic
property than beauty. It is true that he also makes the connection between (aesthetic) pleasure
and perfection/harmony, but these notions are equivalent to beauty. When Leibniz refers to
the arts it is safe to understand that he is valuing them in relation to our pleasure. Also when
he writes about taste he tends to run this notion together with our experience of pleasure. As
said in the previous chapter, for him, all pleasure comes from harmony, which is beauty.
Therefore, we conclude that from Leibniz’s perspective our aesthetic judgements about arts
and our taste are measured by the pleasure of our experience of them, and since pleasure is
given by beauty, all these aesthetic experiences are reduced to experiences of beauty.

1. The dichotomies
1.1 Leibniz’s definitions of distinct and confused
Referring back to the aforementioned dichotomies, for Leibniz, it is the case that both terms
of (a) apply to both terms of (b), i.e. there are distinct concepts (or notions, ideas or thoughts)
and confused concepts (or notions, ideas or thoughts), as well as distinct perceptions and
confused perceptions. In turn, distinct and confused concepts are normally associated with
intellectual knowledge, while distinct and confused perceptions are associated with sensitivity
or sensual knowledge. As we will see, some commentators such as George Henry Radcliffe
Parkinson and Margaret Wilson argue that the terms of (a) mean one thing when applied to
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concepts and something different when applied to perception, while other commentators,
such as Stephen Puryear, disagree and think that distinct and confused mean the same for
concepts and perceptions. The distinction held by Parkinson and Wilson entails consequences
for (c), namely that intellectual knowledge differs in kind from sensitivity. Conversely,
denying that there is a distinction between the terms of (a) when applied to concepts and
when applied to perceptions, as Puryear claims, could imply that the difference between
intellectual knowledge and sensitivity is not necessarily an irreducible one. We will start by
defining the notions of (a) applied to concepts and then applied to perceptions.
In his Meditations on Knowledge, Truth, and Ideas (1684) Leibniz provides us with
very precise definitions of distinct and confused concepts (or notions, ideas or thoughts). In
this essay Leibniz does not explain with much detail the different meanings of the terms
‘concepts’, ‘notions’, ‘ideas’ and ‘knowledge’. Indeed, he seems to use the terms ‘notions’,
‘ideas’ and ‘knowledge’ [cognitio] as if they are interchangeable. For the purpose of this
chapter, the difference between these terms is not entirely relevant, nevertheless, it is safe to
assume that for Leibniz notions or concepts, as well as ideas or thoughts, are intimately
associated with knowledge.1 Leibniz starts the essay by distinguishing between obscure and
clear; a notion is obscure when it is not enough to identify what it represents and clear when
it is. For example, if my idea of a particular animal or a flower is not enough to distinguish it
from another animal or flower then my notion of that animal or flower is obscure; conversely,
if I can distinguish them, it is clear (A VI 4, p.586/AG, p.23). Subsequently, Leibniz says that
clear knowledge is either distinct or confused. He tackles first clear and confused knowledge:

It is confused when I cannot enumerate one by one marks [nota] sufficient for differentiating a
thing from others, even though the thing does indeed have such marks and requisites into which
its notion can be resolved. And so we recognize colors, smells, tastes, and other particular objects
of the senses clearly enough, and we distinguish them from one another, but only through the
simple testimony of the senses, not by way of explicit marks. Thus we cannot explain what red is
to a blind man, nor can we make such things clear to others except by leading them into the
presence of the thing and making them see, smell, or taste the same thing we do, or, at very least,
by reminding them of some past perception that is similar. (A VI 4, p.587/AG, p.23).

Qualia, such as colours, are good examples of confused knowledge, since it does not matter
how much we know about, let’s say, the colour red, it is just not possible to give a ‘nominal

1 In the Discourse Leibniz proposes to call ‘ideas’ those expressions that are in the soul whether conceived or not, while
‘notions’ and ‘concepts’ are those that are conceived or formed (A VI 4, p.1572/AG, p.59). However, as said, these
definitions are not very relevant for our topic, so here we will not consider any difference between these terms in order to
avoid unnecessary complexity.
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definition’ of it that can explain what it is to a blind man. In other words, we cannot
enumerate enough predicates or marks to express the notion of red.2 However, confused
knowledge can be clear. This means that even if we cannot provide a nominal definition of
red, we are able to distinguish red from other colours. On the other hand, we have clear and
distinct knowledge when we can give a nominal definition of something. In Leibniz words:

a distinct notion is like the notion an assayer has of gold, that is, a notion connected with marks
and tests sufficient to distinguish a thing from all other similar bodies. Notions common to several
senses, like the notions of number, magnitude, shape are usually of such a kind, as are those
pertaining to many states of mind, such as hope or fear, in a word, those that pertain to everything
for which we have a nominal definition (which is nothing but an enumeration of sufficient marks)
(A VI 4, pp.586-7/AG, p.23).

For Leibniz, we can have clear and distinct knowledge of hope or a triangle, since we can
give a nominal definition of their respective notions. Unlike explaining the colour red to a
blind man, we can explain what hope is to someone that has never felt it, or a triangle to
someone who has never seen one.
In contrast, distinct and confused perceptions are not defined so straight forwardly as
distinct and confused concepts.3 Nevertheless, there is a recurrent meaning of these terms in
Leibniz’ writings. In the Discourse, he writes as follows:

We also see that the perceptions of our senses, even when they are clear, must necessarily contain
some confused feeling [sentiment], for our body receives the impression of all other bodies, since
all the bodies of the universe are in sympathy, and, even though our senses are related to
everything, it is impossible for our soul to attend to everything in particular; that is why our
confused sensations are the result of a truly infinite variety of perceptions. (A VI 4, p.1582-3/AG,
p.65)

The idea that there are confused perceptions is an important linchpin of Leibniz’s theory of
universal harmony; the metaphysical view that everything is related to everything else. This
doctrine establishes the universal connection of things, partly through perception. 4 In other

2 It must be noticed that elsewhere Leibniz expresses what seems to be the opposite opinion about this same issue. We will
discuss that issue later on this chapter, yet for now and for the sake of simplicity the presented view will suffice.
3 For now, here we use the term ‘perception’ referring mainly to sense perceptions. Nevertheless, notice that at the end of

this section we conclude that for Leibniz perceptions must not be conceived as opposed to thoughts or ideas (furthermore,
we consider that maybe perceptions are just confused thoughts). Therefore, later through this chapter, we use the term
‘perception’ in a more general sense, not just as sense perceptions, unless specified. There is of course much to say about
the rich metaphysical development of the notion of ‘perception’ in Leibniz ontology, such as the role of perceptions
regarding substances. Unfortunately, we cannot explain at length those ideas here.
4 Although the quoted passage from the Discourse mentions the universal connections of bodies through impressions,

Leibniz’s theory also posits the connections of minds, souls and monads through knowledge. For example, in the Principles
of Nature and Grace, Based on Reason (1714), Leibniz repeats the same idea contained in the quoted passage, but this time
positing the soul and perceptions instead of the body and including the notion of knowledge in close connection with
perception: ‘One could know the beauty of the universe in each soul, if one could unfold all its folds, which only open
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words, we perceive everything. Yet, it is obvious that we are not aware of perceiving
everything. Hence, it must be the case that we are unaware of many or most aspects of our
perceptions of the world. When we are unaware of some aspects of our perceptions, we
perceive confusedly. Accordingly, a first attempt to define confused and distinct perceptions
goes as follows: A confused perception is when we are unaware of some aspects of that
perception, while a distinct perception is the awareness of the aspects of that perception.5 We
will improve this definition later, but first it is important to explain the role of awareness and
unawareness in perception. Accordingly, we should introduce another dichotomy that might
be worth having at hand for the discussion:
(d) Aware – Unaware6
Why are there perceptions of which we are unaware? Why don’t we notice certain
perceptions or parts of them? In the preface of the New Essays on Human Understanding
(1765) Leibniz tackles this issue. Here he considers at least three characteristics that make
perceptions unnoticeable:

Besides, there are hundreds of indications leading us to conclude that at every moment there is in
us an infinity of perceptions, unaccompanied by awareness or reflection; that is, of alterations in
the soul itself, of which we are unaware because these impressions are either too minute and too
numerous, or else too unvarying, so that they are not sufficiently distinctive on their own. But
when they are combined with others they do nevertheless have their effect and make themselves
felt, at least confusedly, within the whole. (A VI 6, p.53/RB, p.53)

Perceptions escape our awareness if they are too small, too many or too monotonous. It is
worth noticing that these three traits are properties of perceptions. Therefore, what makes us
be unaware of perceptions does not depend only on our state of mind, for there are also
certain traits of perceptions themselves that make it hard for us to consciously notice them,

perceptibly with time. But since each distinct perception of the soul includes an infinity of confused perceptions which
embrace the whole universe, the soul itself knows the things it perceives only so far as it has distinct and heightened
[revelées] perceptions; and it has perfection to the extent that it has distinct perceptions. Each soul knows the infinite—
knows all—but confusedly’ (GP VI, p.604/AG, p.211). The passage also suggests that perceiving is knowing, which seems
to imply that there is a continuum between perception and knowledge. As we will see later in this same chapter, this is a
topic of much controversy among commentators.
5 In a text from 1686, Leibniz states that ‘if the perception is more distinct, it makes a sensation’ (GP VII, p.317/MP, p.85).

This could be taken as if for Leibniz distinct perceptions are sensations. However in the English translation of the New
Essays, we find on more than one occasion the term ‘confused sensations’. But, in this context, Leibniz originally used the
words sentiment and sentimens (A VI 6, pp.54 & 113 /RB, pp. 53 & 113) more related to signify ‘feelings’ or ‘sentiments’.
In order to avoid unnecessary confusion, here we will not define sensation as distinct perception. However, we are not
denying that this could be an accurate definition. For a more specific discussion about this issue see Simmons (2001) and
Parkinson (1994).
6 Leibniz not only uses the aware/unaware distinction but also refers to distinct perceptions as ‘stronger in flavour’ [‘plus

haut gout’] (GP VI, p.611/AG, p.216); and confused ones as not distinct ‘enough for one to be aware of or to remember
them’ (A VI 6, p.112/RB, p.112). This suggests further distinctions such as conscious/unconscious and strong/weak. To
avoid confusion we will use the distinction aware/unaware to cover all these similar distinctions.
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namely; size, number and diversity. However, in the paragraph following the quoted one,
Leibniz also points out that sometimes we do not notice perceptions because of particular
states of minds; for example, if we are distracted we might not notice some perceptions or
what is the same, we will perceive them confusedly.7 So, in some cases, unawareness could
depend only on a mental state.
Even though we are unaware of some perceptions, they do have an effect on us. In the
following sentence from the quoted passage from the Discourse, he writes that the truly
infinite variety of perceptions is ‘almost like the confused murmur coming from the
innumerable set of breaking waves heard by those who approach the seashore’ (A VI 4,
p.1583/AG, p.65). The examples of a murmur and breaking waves imply that we do perceive
something, yet we do not notice the components of that perception. In Principles of Nature
and Grace, Based on Reason (1714), Leibniz explains this issue using again the example of
waves:

It is like walking on the seashore and hearing the great noise of the sea: I hear the particular noises
of each wave, of which the whole noise is composed, but without distinguishing them. But
confused perceptions are the result of impressions that the whole universe makes upon us; it is the
same for each monad. (GP VI, p.604/AG, p.211)

Then again in the New Essays he uses the same example:

To hear this noise as we do, we must hear the parts which make up this whole, that is the noise of
each wave, although each of these little noises makes itself known only when combined
confusedly with all the others, and would not be noticed if the wave which made it were by itself.
We must be affected slightly by the motion of this wave, and have some perception of each of
these noises, however faint they may be; otherwise there would be no perception of a hundred
thousand waves, since a hundred thousand nothings cannot make something. (A VI 6, p.54/RB,
p.53)

The summation of these perceptions that we do not notice results in a perception that we do.
Leibniz calls the former, ‘petites perceptions’. In this way, we are affected by something to
which our consciousness has no immediate access: ‘These minute perceptions, then, are more
effective in their results than has been recognized. They constitute that je ne sais quoi, those
flavours, those images of sensible qualities, vivid in the aggregate but confused as to the

7 For example, in the New Essays, Leibniz gives the following example: ‘This is how we become so accustomed to the
motion of a mill or a waterfall, after living beside it for a while, that we pay no heed to it. Not that this motion ceases to
strike on our sense-organs, or that something corresponding to it does not still occur in the soul because of the harmony
between the soul and the body; but these impressions in the soul and the body, lacking the appeal of novelty, are not forceful
enough to attract our attention and our memory, which are applied only to more compelling objects. Memory is needed for
attention: when we are not alerted, so to speak, to pay heed to certain of our own present perceptions, we allow them to slip
by unconsidered and even unnoticed’. (A VI 6, pp.53-54/RB, p.53)
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parts’ (A VI 6, p.54-55/RB, p.54). With this in mind, we should reformulate our previous
definition: Confused perceptions are not perceptions of which we are completely unaware of,
but perceptions of which we are unaware of their components. In this sense, they are clear –
we are aware of us hearing the roar of the ocean–, but confused –we are not aware that we
hear all the tiny sounds that in summation result in the roar of the ocean. In some passages,
Leibniz affirms that all sense perceptions are confused in this way (A VI 4, pp.1582-3/AG,
p.65).

1.2 Strict dichotomies or continuum?

A more problematic claim is that sometimes Leibniz seems to suggest that the relation
between what we are aware of and that which we are not aware of is a continuum, as it
conforms to his law of continuity: ‘Nothing takes place suddenly, and it is one of my great
and best confirmed maxims that nature never makes leaps’ (A VI 6, p.56/RB, p.56). In other
words, the difference between perceptions of which we are aware and unaware (confused
perceptions or petites perceptions) is not one of kind, but one of degrees. As we will see,
there are cases where we can progressively move from confused to distinct perceptions, even
when we find notions of perceptions that are essentially confused, we still can distinctly
perceive some of their surrounding circumstances. As we will show later on this chapter this
is what occurs in most of our experiences of beauty.
If we can progress from confused to distinct perceptions, could it be the same for
confused and distinct concepts (notions, ideas or thoughts)? This question must be framed in
a more general one, namely; is there any difference between distinct and confused when
applied to concepts and when applied to perceptions? This second question raises a few more:
is there any difference between concepts and perceptions? And is there any difference
between the intellect and sensibility? In other words, are (b) and (c) really strict dichotomies
or just a difference of degrees? And if the latter is the case, is there any meaning in holding
(b) and (c) as dichotomies? There is no simple answer for any of these questions. So in order
to reach a satisfactory agreement on the use of the terms included in the given dichotomies,
we must review some aspects of the discussion about these issues.
In the Critique of Pure Reason, Kant famously claims that Leibniz ‘intellectualised the
appearances’ (A 271/B 327/Guyer, p.372). Unlike his own view, Kant explains that Leibniz
conflates the intellectual with the sensible, since Leibniz fails to separate the source of
representations for the understanding from the source of representations for the sensibility.
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According to Kant’s version of Leibniz’s view, the nature of things is intelligible, hence
compatible with the understanding, while sensibility is just a confused representation of those
things. In Kant’s words:

He [Leibniz] conceded to sensibility no kind of intuition of its own, but rather sought everything
in the understanding, even the empirical representation of objects, and left nothing for the senses
but the contemptible occupation of confusing and upsetting the representation of the former. (A
276/ B 332/ Guyer, p.375).

To put it in our terms, Kant is saying that for Leibniz reality and all correct representations of
the external world are akin to the terms on the left side of each of our established dichotomies
(distinct, conceptual and intellectual), while the terms on the right side are simply the result
of misrepresentations of reality. Following this view all sensations are just confused thoughts.
Consequently, the difference between an idea of the intellect and the representation of a sense
perception is only determined by their distinctness or confusion. There is no lack of textual
evidence in Leibniz’s writings to uphold this view. For example, in a text from 1702, Leibniz
refers to bodily mediated sensations as confused thoughts. He states that ‘it is believed that
confused thoughts are entirely different in kind from distinct ones, whereas they are merely
less distinguishable and less developed because of their multiplicity’ (GP IV, p. 563/L,
p.580). In this text Leibniz is referring to sense perceptions as confused thoughts, which
seems to confirm Kant’s interpretation; thoughts and sensations are not different in kind.
Nevertheless, some commentators have argued against Kant’s interpretation of
Leibniz. For example, G.H.R. Parkinson remarks that Kant was wrong in considering that for
Leibniz sense perception is a confused thought (1994, p.83). In a similar fashion, Margaret
Wilson states that Leibniz’s position in this issue even anticipated Kant’s distinction between
intuitions of the sensible and concepts (1999, p.322).8 Parkinson and Wilson make their case
by arguing that for Leibniz the terms of (a) do not mean the same when Leibniz uses it for
each pair of (b). In other words, the meaning of distinct and confused applied to a
concept/idea differs from when applied to a perception/sensation (Wilson, 1999, p.322;
Parkinson, 1994, pp.80-81). Similarly, as explained above, Wilson considers that distinct and
confused ideas refer to a conceptual ability, while distinct and confused perceptions are
features of sensations (1999, p.322). Ideas are distinct or confused depending on whether
they can be nominally defined or not. Perceptions are distinct or confused depending on
whether we can notice the elements that compose a perception.
8Both Parkinson and Wilson refer their views to Robert McRae, who states that for Leibniz ‘[s]ense perception is not
confused thought’ (McRae, 1976, p.129).
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This distinction entails several consequences for the understanding of Leibniz’s

position on the analysability of confused perceptions. For example, Parkinson considers that a
distinct concept is by definition analysable, contrary to sensations that are made of many
confused perceptions and impossible to analyse by us (1994, p.81). Wilson agrees that
confusion in the case of sensations is ‘largely ineluctable’, but confusion in the case of ideas
is nonetheless correctable (Wilson, 1999, pp.324). If confused ideas are just our inability to
provide a nominal definition of something, they are correctable by gaining the conceptual
capacity to reach a nominal definition. As Wilson points out, in some passages Leibniz
considers that even sense qualities can be reduced to physical-theoretical accounts. Wilson
believes that if this is the case we should be able to reach nominal definitions through
scientific knowledge, and hence have distinct ideas, even of ideas of sense perception:

For if we are allowed to suppose that a red object, for example, is just one that reflects light waves
of such and such frequency in such and such circumstances, there is no obvious reason why we
could not ascribe to ourselves a distinct notion of red, even on the supposition that our (sense)
perceptions are all confused. We would be able to say, for instance, that red objects differ from all
others in that they reflect wave-lengths in range lx – ly. (Wilson, 1999, p.328)

Although we will never notice the elements of red by purely experiencing red, we can reach a
nominal definition through a scientific account of colour. Consequently, even if the
perception of red will always be confused, its idea can be distinct. Wilson here follows some
of Leibniz’s passages that seem to confirm this view, as when he states that ‘I have no doubt
that a man born blind could speak aptly about colours and make a speech in praise of light,
without being acquainted with it, just from having learned about its effects and about the
conditions in which it occurs’ (A VI 6, p.287/RB, p.287). Or when Leibniz states ‘I do not
have a distinct idea of all colors, being required often to say that it is a something I-know-not-
what that I sense very clearly, but cannot explain well [...] When Newton publishes his book
on colours we will understand them more distinctly’ (GP III, p.247/AG, p.287).
Yet, conflicting with Wilson’s interpretation is the fact that Leibniz sometimes
expresses the opposite view. For example he says that ‘a man born blind could learn the
whole of optics yet not acquire any idea of light’ (A VI 4, p.2003/L, p.285). Also in the
quoted passage of Meditations, he suggests that our ideas of sense perceptions will always be
confused (A VI 4, p.587/AG, p.23).9 In passages like these ones, Leibniz not only claims that

9 ‘And so we recognize colors, smells, tastes, and other particular objects of the senses clearly enough, and we distinguish
them from one another, but only through the simple testimony of the senses, not by way of explicit marks’. (A VI 4,
p.587/AG, p.23)
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confusion in sense perceptions is ineluctable, but that the ineluctable confusion in a sense
perception entails ineluctable confusion in its idea. This means that, contrary to Wilson’s
view, essentially confused perceptions (such as the sense perception of red) cannot be
reduced to (or replace by) distinct ideas (such as reflection of the wave-lengths in range lx –
ly). Furthermore, in these passages Leibniz refers to these issues as if there were no
differences between confusion in ideas and confusion in perceptions. Indeed, the
inexorability of confusion in both ideas and perceptions suggests an equivalence and not a
distinction between the allegedly two meanings of confused. In other words, Leibniz is not
explicit in establishing that the nature of confusion in ideas differs from the nature of
confusion in perceptions.
Wilson thinks that these conflicting statements are evidence that Leibniz was
confused about the issue (1999, p.328). Thus, despite the contradictory textual evidence, she
insists that a coherent account requires us to understand distinct and confused as having one
meaning for ideas and another for perceptions, where confusion in the former in correctable
and ineluctable in the latter. A logical consequence of persisting on this difference of
meaning is that ideas or concepts are qualitatively different from perceptions or sensations.
Indeed, as said, both Wilson and Parkinson consider that, contra Kant, the different meanings
of confused entail that for Leibniz ideas/concepts are different in kind from
perceptions/sensations.
However, there are no lack of objections to Parkinson’s and Wilson’s view. Stephen
Puryear claims that for Leibniz there are not two different meanings of confused and distinct;
Leibniz means the same when he applies these terms to perceptions and concepts. In
Puryear’s view, when Leibniz talks about distinct or confused ideas and distinct or confused
perceptions, he always means something about the nature of those ideas and those
perceptions: distinct is the property of having explicit content and confused is the property of
having implicit content. In other words, distinct means that the ingredients of the idea or the
perception are manifested in the idea or in the perception, while confused means that they are
not (Puryear, 2005, p.105). For example perceiving the colour green is confused because its
ingredients are implicit: we know that green is a combination of yellow and blue, yet we
cannot perceive either the yellow or the blue while we are contemplating the green. If we
could separate the yellow from the blue we would see the ingredients of green, yet we would
not see the green anymore (2005, p.110).
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This view does not deviate much from our definition of confused perceptions, i.e.
confused perceptions are perceptions of which we are unaware of their components.
However, Leibniz does define distinct ideas in another manner. As said, distinct ideas are
those we can enumerate their predicates or marks and confused those that we cannot
enumerate their marks. According to Puryear, when Leibniz refers to distinct and confused
ideas in these terms –i.e. as conceptual abilities–, he is just giving a nominal definition for
those terms; he is not saying anything about the nature of ideas, but about our cognitive
response to them. So when Leibniz writes about distinct and confused ideas in terms of
conceptual abilities ‘he is setting forth the means for recognizing when our concepts have
these properties, not telling us what it means for them to be clear or distinct’ (Puryear, 2005,
p.105). Therefore, an idea’s nature is confused just as a perception is confused, i.e. when we
cannot discern their ingredients in the idea by itself. Our ability to discern the marks of an
idea is just a consequence of those marks being explicit in the idea itself.
In summary, according to Puryear, a confused idea, just as a confused perception, is
when we perceive something that appears to us as simple, i.e. without components, even
though that something is not simple. Furthermore, even if we knew the components of the
perceived something, that knowledge would not make the perception distinct. As Puryear
says: ‘Knowing that the ideas of yellow and blue are ingredients in our idea of green, for
example, does not give us any distinguishing marks of green, for the simple reason that we
can never notice any yellow or blue in our confused perceptions of green’ (2005, p.109).10
Hence, knowing the frequency of a sound or the physical-theoretical properties of a colour
does not mean we have a distinct idea of the sound and the colour as perceived. It could be
objected that, as we showed, there are passages where Leibniz does say that science will help
us to have a clear a distinct knowledge even of sense perceptions. Puryear’s response is that
perceptions have more than one idea for each sensible perception. Indeed, for Leibniz, each
sense perception is accompanied by certain circumstances, so ‘there is a kind of redundancy
[pleonasme] in the perceptions we have of sensible qualities’ (A VI 6, p.299/RB, p.299).
Some ideas that we acquire through our senses are indeed confused, such as our

10Puryear bases his view on Leibniz’s passages such as this one: ‘I also made the point there that terms which are simple
only from our point of view because we have no way of analysing them into the elementary perceptions which make them up
–e.g. terms like hot, cold, yellow, green– do admit of real definitions which would explain what causes them. Thus the real
definition of green is to be composed of a thorough mixture of blue and yellow; though green can no more be given a
nominal definition, through which it could be recognized, than can blue or yellow’ (A VI 6, p.297/RB, p.296). Elsewhere,
Leibniz also suggests that the senses can provide us with the knowledge to recognise what a colour is, but not about its
necessary causes: ‘For example, even if we have experienced a million times that blue and yellow mixed together (without
being altered) make green, we are not certain that this is necessary while we do not understand the reason for it. For perhaps
in the universe there is a kind of yellow or blue which produces a different composition’ (GP VI, p.490/LTS, pp.222-3).
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representation of the colour red. However, we could also have distinct intellectual ideas of the
physical circumstances that accompany or underlie that sensory idea, in this case; the
physical-theoretical aspects of colour (Puryear, 2005, p.112).11 These latter are susceptible of
analysis, i.e. if they are confused, they are correctable. In Leibniz words:

They [sensory ideas such as colours] only appear to be simple. So when they occur there are other
things going on which are connected with them, although the connection is not one that we
understand; and these accompanying circumstances provide something that can be explained and
subjected to analysis, which gives some hope that eventually we shall be able to discover the
reasons for these phenomena. So there is a kind of redundancy in our perceptions of sensible
qualities as well as of sensible portions of matter: it consists in the fact that we have more than
one notion of a single subject. (A VI 6, p.299/RB, p.299)

As we will see later, this redundancy also occurs in beauty and it is what explains that beauty
can be perceived both confusedly and distinctly, yet for now it is important to notice that this
redundancy does not mean that all aspects of our confused ideas are correctable. As Puryear
remarks, not only are certain perceptions essentially confused, but so also are their ideas
(2005, p.110). More specifically, our ideas of confused sense perceptions are ineluctably
confused. For example, if our sense perception of the colour red is inexorably confused, our
idea of the perception of the colour red is as well inexorably confused. This is the case
despite the fact that the accompanying or underlying circumstance of the phenomenon of our
perception of the colour red are indeed correctable, i.e. can be distinctly known.
Following Puryear’s interpretation there is not always a continuum between the
confused and the distinct; some sensations and some ideas are and always will be confused.
This conclusion is explicitly stated by Puryear as he says that some ideas and sensations are
essentially confused (2005, p.110). But does this mean that there is no continuity between the
terms of (c): the intellectual and the sensitive? In other words, where do the consequences of
Puryear’s view leave us in relation to Kant’s interpretation? If there are perceptions that will
always be confused, could we agree with Kant and still call them confused thoughts? In
principle it does not seem to be a problem. In fact, elsewhere Puryear himself says that
‘though Leibniz does not seem to be entirely consistent in his use of ‘thought’, the best
evidence indicates that the distinction between intellectual and sensory corresponds to that
between distinct and confused thoughts, not to that between thoughts and non-thoughts’

11 Indeed, for Leibniz, notions as markedly distinct as numbers can be found in confused perceptions such as colours and
sounds: ‘But there are other more intelligible notions which we attribute to the common sense, because they do not have an
external sense to which they are uniquely associated and characteristic of. Such is the idea of numbers, which are discovered
likewise in colors, sounds, and tactile qualities’ (GP VI, p.488/LTS, p.221).
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(2006, p.27). The last sentence points out an important issue for this topic, which is that for
Leibniz sense perceptions are, at least, not the opposite of thoughts. As we stated before,
Leibniz does supply some evidence that confirms that our sense perceptions are indeed
confused thoughts.12 Yet, on the other hand, as we have seen, there are some commentators
that defend the opposite view. Although we cannot solve this controversy here, it suffices to
say that we agree with the notion that sense perceptions are at least not non-thoughts. In other
words, there are at least some cases where there is not a strict opposition between a sensible
and an intellectual experience; where they do not exclude each other. As we will see, beauty
is one of these cases, since our aesthetic experience can have confused elements as well as
distinct ones at the same time. Therefore, it could be at the same time an intellectual and a
sensible experience.
Before we continue we should reiterate certain conclusions that we have reach thus
far that will be important to the coming discussion:
1- In accordance with Puryear, confusion and distinction do not differ in meaning when
applied to ideas and when applied to sense perceptions.
2- Sense perceptions are confused thoughts or at least not the opposite of thoughts.
3- Therefore, there is not always a strict opposition between the intellectual and
sensitivity.
From this we can conclude that:
4- There is no reason why an approach to Leibniz’s aesthetic experience (or rather the
experience of beauty) should be limited just to sensitivity and ignore the intellectual.
We will further develop this last claim after exploring the opposite argument held by several
commentators of Leibniz’s aesthetics. Yet, before ending this section it is important to
consider a practical consequence of the first three conclusions. Accepting these conclusions
entails a desirable by-product: the limitation of the diverging of meanings among the terms
(confused or distinct) ‘perception’, ‘sensation’, ‘idea’, ‘thought’ and ‘knowledge’. Hence,
from now on any reference to (confused or distinct) knowledge can be understood as

12To give another example, in the Theodicy Leibniz writes that ‘[d]istinct knowledge, or intelligence, occurs in the actual
use of reason; but the senses supply us with confused thoughts’ (GP VI, p.288/H, 303). A few pages earlier in the same text,
Leibniz claims as follows: ‘What would it [an intelligent creature] think of, if there were neither movement, nor matter, nor
sense? If it had only distinct thoughts it would be a God, its wisdom would be without bounds: that is one of the results of
my meditations. As soon as there is a mixture of confused thoughts, there is sense, there is matter’ (GP VI, p.179/H, p.198).
Here Leibniz seems to invert the relation between sense and confused thoughts, he is not saying that we have confused
thoughts because we have sense perceptions, but that there are sense perceptions because we can have confused thoughts. He
even goes further to claim that there is matter also because we can have confused thoughts. This sort of passages confirm
Kant’s interpretation that for Leibniz reality is intellectual and when something does not seem as such is just the product of
confusion.
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interchangeable with (confused or distinct) perception, (confused or distinct) idea, (confused

or distinct) thought and (confused or distinct) cognition. So, unless we explicitly point it out,
these terms will be used without any significant difference in meaning.

2. The confusion about Leibniz’s aesthetics

2.1 Confused perceptions as a requirement for aesthetics
Some of the few commentators that have written about Leibniz’s aesthetics have painfully
struggled to identify where the experience of beauty stands regarding the mentioned
dichotomies. The most evident mistake that most commentators commit is to fall in the trap
of the anachronistic application of the definition of the term ‘aesthetics’. As is well known,
the term ‘aesthetic’ with its contemporary meaning was first coined by Alexander
Baumgarten. ‘Aesthetics’ is defined in the §1 of Baumgarten’s Aesthetica (1750) as a ‘lower
theory of cognition’ (gnoseologia inferior) and the ‘science of sensory cognition’ (Scientia
cognitionis sensitivae), which is analogous to reason (ars analogi rationis), hence not reason
(2007, p.10). Furthermore, in §3 of Reflections on Poetry (1735), Baumgarten identifies
sensory cognition with confused representations (1954, p.38). These definitions check all the
boxes of the left term in each of the three dichotomies: since it is analogous to reason,
aesthetic experiences do not pertain to the intellect; because its object of study is sensory
cognition, aesthetics is focused on sensations and not ideas; and as sensations are derived
from confused representations, aesthetics is related to confusion.
In this sense, it is not surprising that some commentators have gone back to read
Leibniz’s aesthetics as exclusively related to the confused, sensations and sensibility. In The
Aesthetic as the Science of Expression and of the Linguistic in General (1902), Benedetto
Croce clearly recognises the issue: ‘The facts now called æsthetic were identified by Leibniz
with Descartes’ confused cognition, which might be clear without being distinct’ (1964,
p.207). Here Croce is in fact indirectly considering the anachronism of the word. He is not
saying that Leibniz thought that the aesthetic experience is confused, but that what we now
understand as aesthetic experience is what Leibniz had described as confused knowledge. In
this sense, Croce is not wrong; ‘aesthetics’, as defined by Baumgarten, excludes distinct
representations. Yet, as we will argue, this definition of aesthetics falls short on describing all
the dimensions of Leibniz’s view on the experience of beauty.
A more crucial mistake is the one found in some later commentators, who assume that
Leibniz himself thought that the experiences of beauty, art and taste are derived exclusively
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from confused knowledge. For example, Clifford Brown writes that for Leibniz ‘the source of
our pleasure in aesthetic experience is our clear but confused (i.e., non-conceptual)
perception of the perfection of a unity in variety’ (1967, p.73). Similarly, Jose Maria Ortiz
identifies clear but confused knowledge as the ground for aesthetic experience and the
inexplicability of the aesthetic taste in Leibniz’s philosophy (1988, p.156). Javier Villanueva
is even more categorical as he states that ‘what is particularly Leibnizian is to unite beauty to
clear and confused knowledge’ (1984, p.143).13 In Diotima’s Children, Fredrick Beiser
exceptionally notices that for Leibniz beauty is also related to intellectual pleasures.14
Furthermore, he observes that in some passages Leibniz suggests that distinct and intellectual
knowledge are the ground for true beauty and aesthetic pleasure, making intellectual pleasure
the paradigm of all pleasure (2009, pp.37 & 40). Beiser also states, however, that for Leibniz
confused perceptions are a constitutive aspect of aesthetic experience and its pleasure. Hence,
he concludes that ‘Leibniz seems to make the confusion of the senses both a necessary
condition and obstacle of aesthetic pleasure’ (2009, p.40). Despite the fact that Beiser
recognises intellectual beauty, the idea that confusion is a necessary condition for aesthetics
seems to guide much of his interpretation of Leibniz’s view, since on many occasions he
treats aesthetics as completely equivalent with confused perceptions.15
The origins of the idea that Leibniz makes confused knowledge the source of all
aesthetic experience seems to come from a very specific interpretation of a few passages. In
these passages, Leibniz mentions certain phenomena related with aesthetics to illustrate
confused knowledge. In the last four aforementioned works, the commentators seem to
consider that Leibniz is not using aesthetic phenomena just as examples to illustrate
something about confused knowledge, but making a necessary connexion between aesthetics
and confusion. The most commonly referenced passage is found in Meditations on
Knowledge, Truth, and Ideas. In this text, where Leibniz explains the dichotomies of
distinctness and confusion, he also considers the example of aesthetic judgements, more
specifically in the form of judgements about works of visual arts:

Likewise we sometimes see painters and other artists correctly judge what has been done well or
badly; yet they are often unable to give a reason for their judgment but tell the inquirer that the-

13 Author’s translation. In the original Spanish: ‘Lo propiamente leibniziano es unir la belleza al conocimiento claro y
confuso.’ (1984, p.143)
14 According to Beiser, Leibniz ‘maintains that there are purely intellectual pleasures, specifically those that come from the

contemplation of the harmony of the universe’ (2009, p.37).

15 For example, at one point, when Beiser is explaining the value of aesthetic experience as knowledge, he states that

‘although Leibniz did give aesthetic experience some cognitive significance, it was of a very diminished kind: confused
intellectual cognition’ (2009, p.40).
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work which displeases them lacks ‘something, I know not what’ [nescio quid]. (A VI 4,p.586/L,
p.291)16

The aesthetic judgement of painters is here presented as an example of confused knowledge,

as the painter is unable to give a reason for why some aspects of the painting were done ‘well
or badly’. Just as we cannot explain the colour red to a blind man these painters cannot
explain why something in a painting is good or bad. Also interesting here is the use of the
notion of ‘I know not what’ (nescio quid), better known in French as ‘Je ne sais quoi’, which
is a recognisable phrase used in Leibniz’s time in reference to art criticism (see Jeffrey
Barnow, 1993). This phrase fits perfectly with Leibniz definition of confused ideas as ideas
of something of which we cannot provide a nominal definition of its ingredients, which
results in our inability to give any reason about why something is as such.
The last four commentators give especial importance to the notion of ‘I know not
what’ and this passage from the Meditations in their description of Leibniz’s aesthetics. For
example, Ortiz’s statement about the confused perceptions as the ground of aesthetic
experience is justified with a footnote that quotes the aforementioned passage from the
Meditations (1988, pp.154-55 & 156). Also, at the beginning of his essay, Villanueva
paraphrases the same passage to illustrate that something is beautiful when it possesses an ‘I
know not what’ (1984, p.139). Brown quotes three similar passages from Leibniz including
the one from the Meditations, from where he derives the guiding idea that Leibniz’s
aesthetics is related to confused knowledge (1967, p.71). At the beginning of his book,
Beiser introduces the ‘Je ne sais quoi’ as a significant notion to understand rationalist
aesthetics, including Leibniz. Beiser does not quote the mentioned passage, but makes
reference to a very similar one from the Discourse:

When I recognize one thing among others but cannot say in what its differences or properties
consist, my knowledge is confused. In this way we sometimes know clearly, and without having a
doubt of any kind, if a poem or a picture is well done or badly, because it has certain ‘something, I
know not what’ which either satisfies or repeals us. ( GP IV, 449/L, pp.318-19)

Although Beiser notes that for Leibniz there is a version of aesthetic experience that is
intellectual, he is very persistent about the importance of the ‘I know not what’ in aesthetics,

16 Here we prefer Loemker’ translation of Meditations instead of Ariew’s and Garber’s version, which has been used
throughout this thesis. The reason is that the expression nescio quid, translated in the former version as‘I know not what’, is
translated by the latter version as ‘unknown something’ (AG, p.23). We think that Loemker’s phrasing captures much better
the idea of nescio quid as well as of its French version; Je ne sais quoi, which was a very common expression in Leibniz’s
time.
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as he explains ‘Leibniz’s recognition of the ‘Je ne sais quoi’ is significant because it amounts
to an admission that reason finds some limit in sensible aesthetic experience’ (2009, p.40).
It is worth noticing that in both quoted passages (the one from the Meditations and the
one from the Discourse) Leibniz is not talking explicitly about a judgement over all sorts of
beautiful objects, just paintings and poems. He is also not referring to all aesthetic
experiences, but about the quality of paintings in the Meditations and about our taste on
paintings and poems in the Discourse. Furthermore, an attentive reading of Leibniz’s writing
indicates he is not necessarily saying that all judgements about art are limited to confused
knowledge. We suggest that in these passages the mentioned aesthetic phenomena should be
considered in its specificity, as a particular example about only some cases. Indeed, the
passage from the Discourse includes the adverb ‘sometimes’, seemingly expressing this latter
meaning; ‘we sometimes (quelques fois) know clearly, and without having a doubt of any
kind, if a poem or a picture is well done or badly’.17 Also the fragment from the Meditations
presents an equivalent to ‘sometimes’; ‘yet they are often (saepe) unable to give a reason for
their judgement’.18 Therefore, Leibniz is only saying that sometimes (not always) we cannot
give reasons to justify our taste, and often (not always) painters cannot give reasons to justify
the quality of a painting. Under this consideration, both passages do not seem to be hard
theoretical claims establishing some sort of necessity between the ‘I know not what’ –as the
inability to give reasons– and the judgements about artworks, but just mere contingent
examples. Hence, it is not right to conclude from these paragraphs that confused knowledge
is in anyway a kind of requirement for art criticism or taste, much less a requirement for all
other aesthetic phenomena. As we will see, discarding a relation of necessity between the
confused and aesthetics facilitates a more coherent interpretation of Leibniz’s views on the
topic. But for now we can conclude from the consideration of these passages that Leibniz’s
remarks about art and taste are just examples and not theoretical claims.
Nevertheless, it is worth considering couple of other passages that some of these
commentators quote to defend their view. Firstly, from On Wisdom, Brown shows a
statement where Leibniz relates the experience of beauty with the ‘I know not what’:

17 My Italics. In the original French: ‘C'est ainsi que nous connoissons quelques fois c l a i r e m e n t , sans estre en
doute en aucune façon, si un poëme ou bien un tableau est bien ou mal fait, parce qu'il y a un j e n e s ç a y
q u o y qui nous satisfait ou qui nous choque.’ (GP IV, p.449)
18 My Italics. In the original Latin: ‘Similiter videmus pictores aliosque artifices probe cognoscere, quid recte, quid vitiose

factum sit; at judicii sui rationem reddere saepe non posse, et quaerenti dicere, se in re quae displicet desiderare nescio
quid.’ (A VI 4,p.586). However, it must be noticed that the fragment from the Meditations in the original Latin does not
explicitly include a term equivalent with ‘sometimes’ at the beginning, as Loemker’s English translation does in the first
sentence: ‘we sometimes see painters and other artists correctly judge what has been done well or badly’ (L, p.291).
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We do not always observe wherein the perfection of pleasing things consists, or what kind of
perfection within ourselves they serve, yet our feelings (Gemüth) perceive it, even though our
understanding does not. We commonly say, ‘There is something, I know not what, that pleases me
in the matter’ (GP VII, p.86/L, p.425).

This fragment refers not only to our relation to art, but to beauty in general, since he is talking
about the pleasure derived from perfection. Yet, similarly to the aforementioned paragraphs,
Leibniz starts the sentences with a qualifier that encloses the content of the statement,
namely; ‘not always’ (nicht allezeit).19 This passage clearly states that pleasure from
perfection does not always require understanding, hence not all pleasure comes exclusively
from distinct knowledge. But it does not say that all pleasure comes exclusively from
confused knowledge either. Indeed, Leibniz is suggesting that while sometimes we are able to
explain pleasure, sometimes we cannot, since some pleasure comes from confused
perceptions. Furthermore, in the sentence that follows from this one, Leibniz clearly states
that the understanding has a role to play in this matter: ‘But those who seek the causes of
things will usually find a ground for this and understand [begreiffen] that there is something
at the bottom of the matter which, though unnoticed, really appeals to us’ (GP VII, p.86/L,
p.425). This latter quote shows that for Leibniz we can understand why something gives us
pleasure by identifying the source of that pleasure. This is the exact opposite of the meaning
conveyed by the phrase ‘I know not what’. In fact later on in the same text, Leibniz explicitly
says that the element, which is the source of our pleasure, is ‘a regular though invisible order’
(GP VII, p.87/L, p.426), hence showing an understanding (an ‘I do know what’) of what
constitutes the core of our experience of perfection or beauty.
There is one more quote that Brown and Villanueva use to argue the constitutive
relation between confusion and aesthetics. In one paragraph of the Remarks on Shaftesbury’s
Characteristics of Men, Manners, Opinions, Times (1712), Leibniz does establish a
distinction between taste and understanding, relating the former with confused perceptions
and labelling as a ‘sort of instinct’:

Taste as distinguished from understanding consists of confused perceptions for which one cannot
give an adequate reason. It is something like an instinct. Tastes are formed by nature and by
habits. To have good taste, one must practice enjoying the good things which reason and
experience have already authorized. (GP III, pp.430-1/L, p.634)

19In the original German: ‘Man mercket nicht allezeit, worinn die Vollkommenheit der angenehmen dinge beruhe, oder zu
was für einer Vollkommenheit sie in uns dienen: unterdessen wird es doch von unserm gemüth, obschohn nicht von unserm
Verstand, empfunden. Man sagt ins gemein: es ist, ich w e i ß n i c h t w a s , so mir an der sach gefället.’ (GP
VII, p.86).
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This fragment, taken by itself, genuinely seems to convey that for Leibniz we cannot give
reasons to justify our taste, because it is exclusively grounded on confused perceptions. Yet
there are mitigating circumstances surrounding this statement that should be considered.
Firstly, it is a short paragraph that does not develop the argument further, since the
surrounding paragraphs are about significantly different topics. Secondly, as Leibniz
indicates, he is commenting on a specific chapter (Miscellany 3, chapter 2) of Shaftesbury’s
book, which is about taste in morals, manners, politeness and types of personalities in
politics. In this chapter, Shaftesbury barely mentions anything related to taste in something
that we would associate with aesthetics (such as the arts or nature’s beauty), since he talks
mostly about what he frames as a sort of inner beauty –as moral principles– and outward
beauty –manners. Thirdly, when Shaftesbury does mention the arts, he does not consider taste
as something completely apart from reason or knowledge. In fact he starts the chapter
defending the critics’ ability to provide an explanatory account of their taste.20 This is
reflected in the last sentence from Leibniz’s remark, where he says that good taste should be
practised by enjoying the good things that reason and experience have authorised. Therefore,
although at the beginning of the passage Leibniz says that we cannot give reasons to justify
taste, since is based on confused perceptions, later he vindicates the significance of reason to
determine the things that good taste should enjoy. Leibniz is not saying that the
understanding and reason are completely divorced from taste, but that if we do examine taste
by itself, divorced from the understanding, then it is only based on confused perceptions. It is
obvious that taste with no understanding is only confused knowledge, since there cannot be
distinct knowledge without understanding. But according to Leibniz, taste can be –and should
be– supported by the understanding; taste can be –and should be– justified by reason. As we
will see, this convergence between taste and understanding is key for Leibniz’s view about
the experience of beauty.
So we can conclude that neither this nor the other quoted passages support the thesis
that for Leibniz confused knowledge or confused perceptions constitute a necessary
requirement for aesthetics: Confused perceptions are neither a necessary requirement for our
judgements about art nor for our experience of perfection. It is true that Leibniz leaves an
open space in his theory for taste without understanding, based on confused knowledge and
20 In his words: ‘For this reason we presume not only to defend the cause of critics; but to declare open war against those
indolent supine authors, performers, readers, auditors, actors, or spectators; who making their humour alone the rule of what
is beautiful and agreeable, and having no account to give of such their humour or odd fancy, reject the criticising or
examining art, by which alone they are able to discover the true beauty and worth of every object’. (Shaftesbury, 1790,
p.137)
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lack of reason. But there is not much evidence to argue that the lack of understanding and the
inability to give reasons are a constitutive and necessary aspect of the aesthetic phenomena.
Furthermore, as said, Leibniz seems to promote those aesthetic experiences that tend towards
an inclusion of both the understanding and rational justification.

2.2 The apparent tension between distinct knowledge and the aesthetic experience
There is, however, an issue standing against our claim that aesthetics can be related to
confused perceptions as well as to distinct knowledge. This issue has two types of objections:
on the one hand, if the intellect and sensitivity are to be understood as an excluding and
opposing dichotomy, the experience of beauty cannot integrate both sides of each pairing at
the same time without becoming more than only one experience. On the other hand, if there is
a continuum between the intellect and sensitivity, and aesthetic experience is only defined by
confused perceptions, our relation to beauty is just a failed attempt to perceive distinctly and
gain intellectual knowledge.
According to the first position, since the intellect is the opposite of sensibility, any
experience is either intellectual or sensitive, but not both. Therefore, either the experience of
beauty is based on distinct ideas or on confused perceptions, but not both. This view
constitutes a background that helps to justify the idea that everything related with aesthetics
must be exclusively related to confused perceptions or confused knowledge. Indeed, this
strict opposition of the intellect and sensitivity seems to be at least implicit in some of the
commented works about Leibniz’s aesthetics. Villanueva, however, is very straight-forward
about this opposition being a strong reason why aesthetics must be related only with confused
knowledge or perceptions. He affirms that for Leibniz the cause of aesthetic pleasure is the
rationality of perfection, yet this rationality remains hidden from aesthetic contemplation.
This rationality can be grasped by the intellect as true, good and useful, but not as pleasurable
or delightful. These latter values belong to the faculty of taste which is instinctive and
immediate and ‘intuitive’.21 In this sense, taste is the faculty to experience perfection as
beauty. Villanueva is very clear that taste and rationality are two diametrically opposed ways
to approach reality.22 Villanueva attributes to Leibniz the idea that the role of instinctive and
intuitive knowledge is to provide us with a unified version of reality, contrary to the
21 Villanueva’s use of the term ‘intuitive’ here differs from Leibniz’s definition in the Meditations, where ‘intuitive’ is a
form of distinct and adequate knowledge opposed to symbolic (A VI 4, pp.587-8/AG, p.23). Here Villanueva seems to have
in mind a more colloquial use of the term related with instinctive and confusion.
22 Villanueva does not provide any textual evidence that backs up these particular statements. A few lines before he refer to

the previously quoted passage from Leibniz’s Shaftesbury’s Remarks. Thus it seems that he is relying on that passage that
we already discussed.
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fragmentary and analytic nature of reason. In this context, beauty appears to us only when
reality is synthetically grasped (1984, p.140).23 Villanueva remarks that Leibniz insists on
aesthetics being exclusively related to this intuitive knowledge because Leibniz’s goal is to
maintain the autonomy of the faculty of taste and aesthetics in general. The only way to save
this autonomy, according to Villanueva, is by giving each faculty different types of ideas
(1984, p.145). Hence, in order for taste (i.e. the faculty to experience perfection as beauty) to
preserve its autonomy from the intellect, the former faculty must be based only and
exclusively on confused ideas. Although we could agree on this last statement –namely that
the autonomy of taste, and the autonomy of aesthetics in general, would require an exclusive
source of representing reality–, there is no textual evidence to support the rest of Villanueva’s
interpretation of Leibniz’s aesthetics. As discussed before, it is not clear that Leibniz
establishes a strict opposition between the intellect as reason and sensibility as taste. And
there is no evidence to date that Leibniz had any interest in preserving the autonomy of taste
from reason or the autonomy of aesthetics in general.
Despite this, Villanueva raises a considerable objection as he notices an incoherence
between, on one hand, founding beauty on the rationality of perfection and, on the other,
founding our relation with beauty on non-rational grounds (i.e. taste). As he explains, it is
paradoxical that we are condemned to miss the beauty of a thing, as our knowledge of the
perfection of that thing improves in its perfection and becomes more distinct. Villanueva
accuses Leibniz of espousing a somewhat incoherent way of thinking when he says that
beauty is ultimately grounded on the rationality of perfection (1984, p.146).
Villanueva is not alone in this criticism: although Beiser explicitly acknowledges that
for the Rationalist –including Leibniz– there is a continuum between confused and distinct
perceptions,24 he questions that the experience of beauty could incorporate both confused
perceptions and distinct knowledge. Hence, Beiser expresses a view of Leibniz that is very
similar to Villanueva’s: ‘That special ‘Je ne sais quoi’ of a poem or picture comes from our
incapacity to define its sense qualities. If we were to analyze these qualities into their

23 Although there seems to be no evidence that Leibniz held this view, Beiser attributes a very similar idea to Baumgarten:
‘Still, despite such lingering rationalism, Baumgarten also seems intent on revalorizing the term, giving it a more positive
connotation, making a virtue out of what would have been a vice to Leibniz or Wolff. This seems to be the whole point
behind defining confusion in terms of extensive clarity. If the virtue of intensive clarity is analysis, the virtue of extensive
clarity is synthesis, the power to unite what the intellect would divide’ (Beiser, 2009, p.128).
24 In Beiser’s words: ‘Where they [the rationalist] differ from Kant and Schopenhauer is in denying that these subconscious

perceptions are distinct in kind from those of our self-conscious intellect; they hold instead that there is a continuum between
all perceptions, which are distinguished from one another solely in the degree of their clarity and distinctness’ (Beiser, 2009:
p.21)
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components, they would lose their aesthetic appeal entirely’ (2009, p.40). Beiser bases his
claim on a passage from the New Essays:

[I]t is self-contradictory to want these confused images to persist while wanting their components
to be discerned by the imagination itself. It is like wanting to enjoy being deceived by some
charming perspective and wanting to see through the deception at the same time—which would
spoil the effect. (A VI 6, p.404/RB, p.403)

This passage seems to suggest that there is an enjoyment in illusions, understood as effects
that are enjoyed only when we have no distinct knowledge of their causes. Hence if we
approached reality through distinct knowledge and the intellect, it would destroy the illusion,
as well as its ability to give us pleasure. What Beiser insinuates is that this enjoyment is
indeed aesthetic pleasure, which is strictly confused and unreachable by the intellect. This
case perfectly illustrates Villanueva’s objection and the notion that the use of reason
interferes with the aesthetic experience.
Both Villanueva’s and Beiser’s views are grounded on the supposition that within an
aesthetic experience there is no point of encounter between the confused and the distinct,
since they mutually exclude each other. As we have seen Villanueva is explicit about the
cause of radical separation being the opposing nature of the relation between the intellectual
and sensibility (or reason and taste). Although Beiser is not so explicit about this matter, the
same assumption seems to be implicit, as he treats separately the cases of intellectual beauty
and sensitive beauty. Since Beiser acknowledges that Leibniz writes about both types of
beauty, but not that they can be mixed, he concludes that Leibniz’s account expresses a
tension between sometimes accepting the ‘Je ne sais quoi’ as a requirement for aesthetic
experiences and sometimes denying it in favour of the intellectual structure of beauty (2009,
p.40). In Beiser’s and Villanueva’s interpretations the result of reading Leibniz’s aesthetics as
(sometimes or always) opposed to the intellect is that any approach to reality guided by the
understanding and reason is a threat to our experience of beauty, and since Leibniz always
promotes such approaches of the intellect, aesthetics is deemed as a less desirable good.
In the few paragraphs dedicated to Leibniz in Aesthetics, Croce reaches a similar
conclusion, but by following a different interpretation of Leibniz. For him, unlike Beiser and
Villanueva, Leibniz does not propose a stark opposition between the intellect and sensibility,
but rather a continuum. Croce backs this by pointing out Leibniz’s law of continuity.
According to this law, reality is continuous and therefore our perception and knowledge of
things is also continuous. Hence the distinction between clear and obscure is not one of kind
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but one of quantitative degrees. Although he does not say so explicitly, Croce seems to
suggest that for Leibniz the difference between the intellect and sensibility is also one of
degrees. According to Croce’s interpretation of Leibniz, there is only one type of knowledge.
Thus, unlike Villanueva, for Croce confused and distinct knowledge are not two different
approaches to reality. Knowledge is one and the same that only differs in degrees; from
obscurity to clarity and from confusion to distinctness. The adequate progression of
knowledge is towards clearness and distinctness and far away from obscurity and confusion.
Thus, obscurity and clarity are quantitative grades of a single form of knowledge, the distinct
or intellectual, toward which they both tend (1964, p.208).
Croce’s view seems to be following Kant’s idea that for Leibniz reality is in itself
intellectual. Under this consideration confused knowledge is just a degraded state of
knowledge, since knowledge is a better reflexion of reality when it is distinct and intellectual.
Croce states that what we now would consider as an ‘aesthetic fact’ is for Leibniz neither
completely sensual nor intellectual: these facts are not sensual because they possess their own
clarity, hence differing from pleasure and sensual emotion, yet they are not intellectual either,
since they do not reach distinctness (1964, p.208). Aesthetic facts are the result of a clear and
confused stage of knowledge.
For Croce, however, the Leibnizian law of continuity and the view that reality is
intellectual are not compatible with aesthetic facts being an autonomous source of
knowledge. As said, for Croce confused and distinct knowledge are different degrees of the
development of the same knowledge; confused knowledge is of lesser excellence than distinct
knowledge. The bottom line is that if intellectual knowledge is the same as confused
knowledge, but better, there is no specific value in confused knowledge when compared with
distinct knowledge. Croce goes further to say that, not only for Leibniz, but also in
Baumgarten’s view, confusion in knowledge is not a positive quality, but a negative one
(1964, p.214). According to Croce, since for Leibniz aesthetics in general is exclusively
limited to confused knowledge, aesthetics is not based on a positive quality. From this point
of view, the whole project of Leibniz’s aesthetics is grounded on what results from the
shortcomings of the intellect. Consequently aesthetics cannot be consider an autonomous
dimension of knowledge in Leibnizian philosophy, but just a passing stage of degraded
knowledge.
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Within Croce’s view it is also possible to consider Villanueva’s and Beiser’s

objection regarding the end of the aesthetic experience once we reach intellectual knowledge,
yet for different reasons. The arguments can be summarised as follows:
1. Villanueva’s position (and also implicitly Beiser’s):
 Sensibility/taste and intellect/reason are opposed to each other, so they cannot
converge together in one experience.
 The experience of sensible beauty is given by approaching reality through sensibility
and taste (confused perception).
 Hence, either we approach reality through sensibility/taste (confused knowledge) and
experience beauty or we approach through the intellect/reason (distinct knowledge)
and not experience beauty.
2. Croce’s position:
 Sensibility/taste and the intellect/reason are different degrees of knowledge.
Knowledge improves when it tends towards reaching the latter. Thus confused
knowledge is an inferior state of knowledge, where intellectual knowledge still hasn’t
been reached or has failed to reach.
 The experience of beauty is always and only given by having confused knowledge of
reality.
 Hence, the experience of beauty disappears once an intellectual (distinct) knowledge
had been reached.
Since both positions limit aesthetics to confused knowledge, both conclude that intellectual
knowledge is not only unrelated to our aesthetic experience, but also irreconcilable. The
difference is that, in Villanueva’s position, aesthetics for Leibniz is an approach to reality that
can be valued in its particularity. It provides specific knowledge that is just different from the
one provided by the intellect. Therefore, it allows the autonomy of aesthetics as an area of
human experience. In Croce’s position, aesthetics for Leibniz is a deficiency of knowledge
that not only has less value compared with intellectual knowledge, but also is to be overcome,
as knowledge tends to improve towards distinctness.
Here we reject both positions. In what follows we will argue that there is no
incoherence or paradox in Leibniz’s account, since it does not postulate that perceivers must
either experience beauty or gain distinct knowledge, as Villanueva and Beiser claim.
Contrary to Croce, we will show that for Leibniz the experience of beauty is not an effect of
downgraded confused knowledge. Our main claim is that for Leibniz the experience of
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beauty is not confined to confused perceptions or knowledge. Furthermore, we will explain

that distinct perception or knowledge is better suited than confused perceptions to experience
beauty. Afterwards, we will show how the experience of beauty can be distinct and confused
at the same time.

3. Beauty and distinct knowledge

3.1 Beauty and intelligibility
The experience of beauty for Leibniz is not always and only given by having confused
knowledge of reality. We could show this just going through the many passages where
Leibniz suggests that the experience of beauty is also intellectual, but this method seems less
satisfactory than showing the logic of Leibniz’s view. Therefore, although we will show
some textual evidence, our main interest here is explaining the latter.
From what has been said in the previous chapters, it must be clear by now that for
Leibniz beauty is neither a sensation nor a feeling. Beauty is the formal structure of harmony
as unity in variety. Nevertheless, since a formal structure only expresses itself through certain
content, beauty can be expressed through the sense perceptions that we experience when we
contemplate an object. In this case, beauty is the harmonic order of the sense perceptions, but
not the sensations themselves. Accordingly, beauty is not the result of any sort of subjective
internal sense, but an expression of a formal structure. As we will argue, a formal structure is
better experienced by the intellect than through sensibility. Since beauty, as harmony or unity
in variety, is a formal structure it is better experienced through distinct ideas and the intellect.
In the first chapter we established that one of the features of beauty is to be intelligible
in its disposition. As Leibniz writes ‘[p]erfection is the harmony of things, or the state where
everything is worthy of being observed, that is, the state of agreement [consensus] or
identity in variety; you can even say that it is the degree of contemplatibility
[considerabilitas]’ (GW, p.172/AG, p.233). We said that contemplatibility refers to an order
that is cognitively intelligible. In other words, perfection, as the harmony of things, is
coherent for the intellect. Since beauty is harmony, it is the case that beauty is also
intelligible. For example, as said in the previous chapter, the harmony of the world and its
beauty is in itself a rational order. Therefore, as Leibniz claims, the beauty of the world is
better contemplated through the understanding:

precisely because we discover in numbers, figures, forces and all measurable things of which we
have an adequate conception, that they are not only just and perfect but also quite harmonious and
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beautiful […] Indeed, we cannot see such an order so long as we do not enjoy the correct point of
view, […] It is only with the eyes of the understanding that we can place ourselves in a point of
view which the eyes of the body do not and cannot occupy. (DS, p.51/W, p.572)

For Leibniz ‘the eyes of the understanding’ give us the correct point of view to enjoy the
order of things. By ‘eyes of the understanding’ he clearly means non-sensible knowledge,
since it is not a knowledge given by ‘the eyes of the body’. It must be a knowledge that
provides an adequate conception of measurable things. The intellect or understanding is our
most suitable faculty for grasping measurable things. Since the eyes of the understanding
refers to intellectual and distinct knowledge, it follows that Leibniz considers these faculties
as better suited for experiencing the beauty of the world.
It is also important to note that Leibniz says that measurable things are harmonious
and beautiful. In the quoted passage, by measurable things he refers to those things that we
can understand adequately. To have adequate knowledge is not only to have clear and distinct
knowledge, but to have knowledge of something in its entirety. As he explains in the
Meditations: ‘When everything that enters into a distinct notion is, again, distinctly known, or
when analysis has been carried to completion, then knowledge is adequate’. Subsequently,
Leibniz confesses that he doubts whether it is possible for humans to reach this kind of
knowledge about anything except numbers. Afterwards, he includes algebra, arithmetic and
geometry as examples of ‘symbolic’ or ‘blind’ adequate knowledge (A VI 4, pp.587-8/AG,
p.23). In a passage from Elements of Natural Law (1671?), he expresses a similar idea, yet
this time including movement. He states that ‘[w]hat is beautiful is that whose harmony is
clearly and distinctively understood [intelligitur], of such a kind that it [harmony] is that
which is perceived in figures, numbers and movement’ (A VI 1, p.484).25 So the experience
of beauty is in the perception of the harmony found in formal entities –such as numbers and
geometrical figures – or primary measurable qualities –such as movement or force. The
perception of these entities is not only related to distinct knowledge, but also to adequate
knowledge, which is even more intellectually exhaustive than distinct knowledge.
But, why is the perception of formal entities related to the experience of beauty? An
immediate answer is found in what was already said: formal entities and measurable qualities
can be intellectually understood through distinct and even adequate knowledge, and this
knowledge is more suitable to experience beauty. Thus, the intellect mediates the relation
between formal entities and their beauty. Yet this answer raises a more fundamental question:

25 Author’s translation. In the original Latin: ‘Pulchrum est cuius harmonía claré distincteqve intelligitur, qvalis sola est qvæ
in figuris numeris et motibus percipitur.’ (A VI 1, p.484)
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why is intellectual knowledge (distinct and adequate) more suitable for experiencing
beauty?26 The answer is that for Leibniz intellectual knowledge is in itself beautiful, since it
mirrors the structure of unity in variety. In Résumé of Metaphysics (1697) Leibniz states that
‘[d]istinct cogitability gives order to a thing and beauty to a thinker. For order is simply a
distinctive relation of several things; confusion is when several things are present, but there is
no way of distinguishing one from another’ (GP VII, p.290/MP, p.146). In this passage
Leibniz defines order as a ‘distinctive relation’ between the ingredients that compose one
thing. Also, order is opposed to confusion, as lack of distinction between those ingredients.27
This view of order as distinctness implies the reproduction of the formal structure of beauty
in the cognitive representation of things, since it implicitly refers to unity and variety. Let us
explain this. Here the definition of confusion can be paraphrased as an inability to
conceptually represent variety. Therefore distinctiveness, as the opposite of confusion, is the
conceptual representation of variety. Indeed, in the paragraph previous to the quoted one,
Leibniz himself makes the connection between distinctness and variety, as he explains that
since the actual world has as much variety as it can, it allows ‘the greatest amount of what is
distinctly thinkable’ (GP VII, p.290/MP, p.146). In other words, distinctness in thought is
grounded on the world’s variety. In the quoted passage we can notice that unity is also related
to distinctness. As we explained, unity is a principle of order among the ingredients that
compose a thing and for Leibniz order is a distinctive relation among those ingredients.
Distinctness shows elements that are otherwise implicit if perceived confusedly. These
elements relate to each other or express certain sort of connections among themselves. The

26 There is another question implicit here: considering that we have said that beauty is objective, is the intellect necessary for
formal entities to be beautiful? The answer is no. For Leibniz there is a direct relation between formal entities and beauty,
independently of any participation of the intellect. This is the case because of the mathematical nature of harmony and
reality itself. In a letter to Sophie, the Electress of Hanover, Leibniz writes that there are two sort of truths; truths of the
senses and truths of the understanding. These latter ones –related to formal entities and measurable properties– are the
necessary eternal truths that even God followed in the creation of the world: ‘These eternal truths are the fixed and immu-
table point on which everything turns. Such are the truths of numbers in arithmetic and those of figures in geometry and
those of motions or weights in mechanics and in astronomy. It is for this reason that it is rightly said that God does
everything by number, measure and weight’ (A I 13, p.11/LTS, p.123). The truth of number, measure and weight are not
only immutable truths of God’s understanding, but also the subjacent structure of the universe. This description of
mathematic entities is very similar to what we have said about harmony, which is also an eternal truth in God’s
understanding and the inherent structure that relates all things. Hence it is no surprise that in the following paragraph Leibniz
equates both and states that ‘it is right to consider that order and harmony are also something mathematical which consists in
certain proportions’ (A I 13, p.11/LTS, pp.123-24). Therefore, since beauty is harmony it must be concluded that beauty is
also something mathematical. Yet, as we said in chapter I, beauty is not only mathematical. As we will see, all beauty is
grounded on a mathematical structure, beauty is not always entirely mathematical.
27 It is worth noticing that this definition of confusion is similar to the definition of ‘obscure’ given in the Meditations, as

there he define obscure as a notion that is not enough to recognise what it represents. Yet it also coincides with our definition
of confused as something which content is implicit. In both cases there is lack of distinction between elements. But in the
context of the quote Leibniz refers to the order of an individual thing, therefore confusion here refers not to our ability to
distinguish a thing from other things, but to the undistinguished content of one thing that we already clearly distinguish from
other things.
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representation of elements and their connections explains the ordered structure of one thing.
Hence, more distinctness is more order observed.
In this sense, a distinctive relation introduces a principle of order between
components, therefore it constitutes the conceptual unity of a thing. In simpler terms, if we
have distinct knowledge of something we know each of that thing’s components and their
relations, thus we represent a thing as an ordered unity. Accordingly, the structure of distinct
knowledge mirrors both unity and variety. If this is the case, it follows that not only objects
that present unity and variety are beautiful, but also the structure of distinct thought itself is
beautiful, since it conceptually reproduces unity in variety. Indeed, in Elementa Veræ
Pietatis, Sive de Amore Dei Super Omnia (1677), Leibniz explicitly states that: ‘Harmony is
the perfection of thinkability’ [Harmoniam esse perfectionem cogitabilitatis]. In that text the
argument goes as follows: Something is more perfect when it has more reality in it. Harmony
is the reduction of many things and their relations into one. Harmony is perfection since it is a
unity of a variety of elements of reality. There is more harmony when greater variety is
reduced to unity. If greater variety means the unity of more elements of reality, it follows that
greater harmony is greater perfection. The intellect embodies the structure of harmony when
one act of thought takes many things of reality simultaneously as one. Thus a thought is more
perfect when a thought includes more things (A VI 4, pp.1359-60/SLT, pp.191-2). In other
words, a thought is more perfect when it has more harmony.

3.2 The beauty of science and mathematics

According to what has been said, the beauty of things is firstly and mostly perceived in those
formal entities or measurable properties. This is so because these sorts of entities and
properties can be distinctly –and even adequately– grasped by thought and this act of thought
reproduces the structure of unity in variety, which is beauty. This view explains Leibniz’s
insistence on the beauty of science and mathematics.
As he explains in a letter to Sophie (1691), one of the purpose of mathematics is
reaching beautiful thoughts:

Nevertheless we must acknowledge that it is important that one have some general insights on
mathematics, not as craftsmen have for the accuracy of their works, but because of the openings
that one finds in it for elevating the mind to thoughts that are beautiful and sound in equal
measure. (A I 7, pp. 49-50/LTS, pp.91-92).
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The idea that mathematical thoughts are beautiful is perfectly coherent with what we said
about the intellect in the previous subsection. Distinct and adequate knowledge is beautiful as
it reproduces the structure of unity in variety, since formal or mathematical entities are the
paradigm of objects of distinct and adequate knowledge, it is only natural that mathematical
thoughts ‘are beautiful and sound in equal measure’.
In the case of scientific theories beauty is mainly predicated on the fact that the
structure of unity in variety is reproduced in the relation of hypotheses and the phenomena
they render intelligible. For example, Leibniz mentions Copernicus’ theory as an example
beauty and truth by merit of its intelligibility:

But since, in explaining the theory of the planets, the Copernican hypothesis wonderfully
illuminates the soul, and beautifully displays the harmony of things at the same time as it shows
the wisdom of the creator, and since other hypotheses are burdened with innumerable perplexities
and confuse everything in astonishing ways, we must say that, just as the Ptolemaic account is the
truest one in spherical astronomy, on the other hand the Copernican account is the truest theory,
that is, the most intelligible theory and the only one capable of an explanation sufficient for a
person of sound reason. (C, pp.591-2/AG, p.92)

A good scientific theory is an idea that provides unity through a hypothesis to a variety of
phenomena.28 If true, this idea would coincide with the unity provided by an objective natural
law, thus the theory and the law would be describing the same unity. Since the hypothesis
mirrors a natural law that unites a variety of phenomena, scientific theories not only discover
these laws, but also the structure of beauty expressed by the world, i.e. unity in variety. Even
without considering their relation with natural laws, scientific theories also reproduce the
structure of unity in variety. Therefore they are beautiful in themselves. As Herbert Breger
says, for Leibniz, there is beauty in the agreement of a hypothesis with the phenomena it
explains (1994, p.133).
That said, the capacity of a hypothesis to show the intelligibility of natural laws is
directly related to its beauty. In other words, a more correct scientific theory is also more
beautiful. For Leibniz, one theory is more correct than another theory when the former offers
a simpler hypothesis to explain a larger variety of phenomena than the latter. This is the case
because a simple hypothesis offers greater intelligibility and, hence, truth:

the truth of a hypothesis should be taken to be nothing but its greater intelligibility, indeed, that it
cannot be taken to be anything else, so that henceforth there would be no more distinction

28 As Bertoloni Meli states, in the philosophical systems of Kepler and Leibniz ‘phenomena assume a new dignity and the
true hypothesis becomes the instrument for binding them to the laws of knowledge’ (1993, p.19)
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between those who prefer the Copernican system as the hypothesis more in agreement with the
intellect, and those who defend it as the truth. For the nature of the matter is that the two claims
are identical; nor should one look for a greater or a different truth here. (C, p.592/AG, p.92)

As the quote shows, a hypothesis’ truth is dependent on its intelligibility. An intelligible

hypothesis is more likely to be true than a less intelligible one, because nature itself is
intelligible. Nature is intelligible because it has simple laws that can be explained distinctly
and hence mathematically. And for this same reason both nature and science are beautiful. As
Herbert Breger explains, for Leibniz beauty is not only a property of a theory –as is the case
of contemporary physics–, but also a property of nature itself: nature is beautiful because
nature has laws and these laws are mathematically comprehensible (Breger, 1994, p.133). In
other words, mathematically comprehensible laws can be understood distinctly as hypotheses
that constitute unity for a diversity.
Nature’s laws are not only simple in the sense that they are intelligible, but also
because there are only as many of them as is necessary to regulate or explain the whole
variety of phenomena. This parsimony is for Leibniz a rational principle; ‘reason requires that
we avoid multiplying hypotheses or principles, in somewhat the same way that the simplest
system is always preferred in astronomy’ (A VI 4, p.1537/AG, p.38). Since parsimony is
preferable, a world created by a perfect Being cannot but follow the same canon: ‘God has
chosen the most perfect world, that is, the one which is at the same time the simplest in
hypotheses and the richest in phenomena, as might be a line in geometry whose construction
is easy and whose properties and effects are extremely remarkable and widespread’ (A VI 4,
p.1538/AG, p.39). The result is that the world is already made from design to be compatible
with the intellect, which means compatible with science based on mathematics. This is indeed
another replication of harmony, since a world with few laws entails the unification of many
phenomena. Hence following Breger, we can affirm that ‘[s]implicity in diversity means
harmony and therefore beauty’, accordingly ‘[i]n the best world, there exists precisely what is
harmonious or what pleases the intelligent’ (1994, p.134).

3.3 Dissonance and distinct knowledge

There is, however, one apparent problem with these descriptions of beauty and harmony
based on intelligible hypotheses and simple laws: they do not seem to explain dissonances,
which is one of the elements of beauty that we have been considering in previous chapters.
We will argue that there is a solution to this issue, but first we will explain the arguments that
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maintain the incompatibility between dissonance in harmony/beauty and distinct knowledge.

Frédéric de Buzon notices this issue and concludes that Leibniz defends two types of
harmony: on one hand, there is the harmony of things, which is the inherent metaphysical
relation of all things; and, on the other, the harmony of minds (l'harmonie des esprits), based
on the harmony produced by the intellect, distinct knowledge and science. The first one refers
to Leibniz’s metaphysical idea that all things constitute a variety of things, not only
quantitative, but also qualitative, as things differ from each other as much as to even establish
dissonant relations. Yet, at the same time, they are all ontologically related conforming to a
unity (e.g. the unity of the world). This is the notion of harmony that values the variety
offered by infinitely many possible worlds, as well as infinitely many possible things and
events. Indeed, the more quantity of things and the more difference between those things, the
more harmony, the more beauty. This is rather similar to the notion of harmony that we have
developed in previous chapters, especially in chapter 2. The second notion of harmony is the
harmony of minds and is fairly similar to the harmony of aggregates that we discussed in
chapter 3, yet it would be preferable to first understand it by following Buzon’s argument.
In Elementa Veræ Pietatis, the Discourse and other texts, Buzon notices a shift in
Leibniz’s notion of harmony, where harmony is not so much the inherent harmony of things,
but a harmony articulated through the notions of mind, expression, representation and
cogitability. If the first notion of harmony focuses on the degree of variety and diversity, this
second one centres mostly on the degree of unity given by cogitability. Commenting on the
previously paraphrased passage from the Elementa Veræ Pietatis, Buzon states that

Now Leibniz introduces here degrees into unity itself […] All the interest in the application of
harmony to cogitability lies precisely in this capacity to introduce degrees within the capacity of
representation. Harmony is thus oriented towards the general problem of expression, through the
notions of relation and its species. If the degree of reality is a function of the degree of relation,
and of the degree of cogitability, then the harmony is all the greater when thought is more able to
represent things with the least amount of acts. The most thinkable is therefore the most harmonic.
(1995, p.109)29

Unlike the harmony of things, the harmony of minds introduces degrees of unity as degrees
of cogitability as well as variety. Yet, variety here is mainly understood as quantity of

29 Author’s translation. In the original French: ‘Or Leibniz introduit ici des degrés dans l'unité même. […] Tout l'intérêt
précisément de l'applica- tion de l'harmonie à la cogitabilité tient dans cette capacité à introduire des degrés dans la
capacité de la représentation. L'harmonie s'oriente donc vers le problème général de l'expression, par le biais des notions de
relation et de ses espèces. Si le degré de réalité est fonction du degré de relation, et celui-ci du degré de cogitabilité, alors
l'harmonie est d'autant plus grande que la pensée est plus capable de représenter les choses avec le moins d'actes. Le plus
pensable est alors le plus harmonique.’ (1995, p.109)
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elements of reality that are united in one thought. The main difference with the first model of
harmony is that the celebration of variety as qualitative diversity and dissonance does not
have a place in this second notion of harmony. Buzon claims that the presence of dissonances
in perception is a sign of incomplete –or unaccomplished– (inaccomplissement) cogitability
or observability of what is perceived. In his view, the appearance of dissonances is
discontinuities, which impede thought itself and its conformity to rules. For this reason
dissonance in perception is related to confusion (1995, p.115). Buzon seems to have in mind
Leibniz’s letter to Wolff (1715), where he writes as follows:

Imperfections are exceptions which disturb general rules, that is, general observations. If there
were many rules, there would be nothing worthy of observation [observatione dignum], but only
chaos. In my Theodicy I noted that wisdom always acts through principles, that is, through rules,
and never through exceptions, […] And so one can also say that that which is more perfect is that
which is more regular, that is, that which admits of more observations, namely, more general
observations. […] However, a multitude of regularities brings forth variety. So uniformity, that is,
generality, and variety are reconciled. (GW, p.163/AG, p.231)

In this passage, perfection is defined through observability, as many things conformed to

general rules. Also, perfection is related to harmony, since harmony is grounded on the
general laws or generalities that can be observed in a variety of things, while imperfections
are the exceptions to these general rules. Buzon seems to consider dissonances as equivalent
to these imperfections as discontinuities or exceptions to comply with general rules. It
follows that, for the harmony of the mind, dissonances are not a positive value, but a negation
of observability, since dissonances, as discontinuities, are problematic for the observation of
general rules. Because perfect observability is distinct thought and dissonances are
imperfections for thought, dissonances are also identified with confusion, as they do not fit
well with the intelligibility of things given by conformity to laws. The same is true for
science and mathematics, since both rely on distinct knowledge that is only possible through
the observation of general rules and dissonances are the opposite of general rules. As Buzon
explains, while for the harmony of things dissonance is a mark of variety and universal
perfection, in science dissonances are to be rejected as signs of errors and aberration. He
concludes that it is necessary to make a distinction between two types of beauty: an
intellectual beauty based on equations and signs; and a clear and confused beauty that
includes dissonances and applies to art and nature taken as a spectacle (1995, p.115). In this
sense, the result of Buzon’s interpretation of Leibniz’s notion of harmony points in the same
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direction as Beiser’s account, as both of them establish a divide between intellectual beauty
and sensitive beauty and deem both sorts of beauty incompatible with each other.
Buzon’s harmony of minds is similarly defined as what we considered to be the
harmony of aggregates in chapter III. Both his harmony of minds and our harmony of
aggregates are expressions of harmony understood from the perspective of a subject’s mind.
Also, in both cases perfection is equivalent to the degree of unity given to variety. In chapter
III, we said that the degree of unity generated by aggregates depends on how strong are the
relations among the variety of elements that the subjective idea unites. The strength of these
relations is in turn determined by the facility with which certain relations are more easily
disposed to be perceived or understood by the mind. This facility is possible when there are
simple laws that explain a variety of phenomena. In other words, when a variety is subsumed
in conformity to rules. Things that conform to rules are intelligible and therefore easier to
understand or perceive distinctly. Accordingly, the highest degree of unity of an aggregate’s
harmony is reached when a subjective idea explains more phenomena with fewer exceptions.
This should occur when that subjective idea coincides with a general law of nature, since
laws of nature are the perfectly designed divine principles of order that explain more
phenomena with fewer exceptions. And this is indeed what scientific hypotheses or theories
do, which according to Leibniz results in beauty. If in this model we include Buzon’s account
of dissonances, we will find that they are detrimental to our notion of degree of unity, just as
for Buzon’s harmony of minds. If dissonance are discontinuities that do not conform to laws
and degree of unity is the facility of perception given by general laws, it is clear that
dissonances are opposed to unity. Hence, following Buzon’s view, we could conclude that the
harmony of aggregates, as well as the beauty given by scientific theories or hypotheses,
should exclude dissonance and, therefore any model of harmony that values dissonance. Yet
contrary to Buzon, we think that the exclusion of dissonance from the harmony of the mind is
neither desirable nor completely right.
Although Buzon presents a coherent interpretation of this matter and we can agree
with many of his statements, we think that settling in the position that there are two
irreconcilable models of harmony in Leibniz’s philosophy is to rush to a conclusion. This
account has not only the unwanted result of assuming two mutually exclusive models of
harmony and beauty,30 but also fails to recognise the distinction between unity and variety, as

30Indeed it seems unlikely that Leibniz would see this as a desirable outcome. It would be ironic that a philosopher such as
Leibniz –who believed that there is perfection in the parsimony of laws, hypotheses, scientific theories and their
phenomena– would have two different and irreconcilable explanations of harmony and beauty.
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well as the roles they play in the constitution of harmony. It is true that a model of harmony
that includes dissonance seems at odds with a harmony generated by distinct knowledge,
hypotheses and scientific theories. Yet this is so only when we lose perspective of the process
and elements that constitute beauty in Leibniz’s account. Here we claim that harmony –and
therefore beauty– is always one and the same structure, and these two types are rather two
moments of the same structure. What De Buzon takes to be the harmony of the mind –
including the harmony of hypothesis and science– does not account for an analytical
distinction between unity and variety, as it explains harmony mostly from the side of only
one of its structural aspects; unity. In our version of the harmony of aggregates, harmony is
constituted by two elements: firstly, a subjective idea that is what unites a variety; and
secondly, a variety that is objectively given and hence something other than the idea. In other
words, unity is not the same as variety. Accordingly, variety is not defined only through
unity. Hence it is important to make an analytical distinction between unity and variety.
Likewise, the harmony of a scientific theory is not just the hypothesis that describes a law of
nature, but also the phenomena that it explains. The phenomena are the variety, while the
hypothesis is the unity and both must be analytically distinguished. For example, the theory
of general relativity postulates a law-like hypothesis that explains (and also predicts) multiple
phenomena, among them the curvature of space-time, the existence of black holes,
gravitational waves, etc. These phenomena are the variety, while the theory by itself is the
unity. If there weren’t any theory capable of explaining these phenomena in relation to the
rest of explained phenomena, they would be for us a variety without unity, which means
unrelated exceptions or discontinuities for thought, just as Buzon describes dissonance. In
this context, dissonances refer to phenomena that do not conform to the rules given by laws
that has been described by a scientific theory. When this variety is seen through the general
law established by a theory it is subsumed to a rule, just as in music dissonances are resolved
in the final unity of harmony. When Buzon points out that dissonances in science are a sign
of error and are excluded from the model of the harmony of minds, he would be right if the
harmony of minds in the form of a scientific theory did only consist in the account of the law
that the theory postulates, without considering the previously unrelated and dissonant
phenomena. Yet for Leibniz the harmony of minds does include a dissonant variety, even if it
is meant to be resolved by unity. This is explicitly established by Leibniz in the same
paragraph of Elementa Veræ Pietatis also commented by Buzon:
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Harmony is when many things are reduced to a kind of unity. For where there is no variety, there
is no harmony, […] In turn, where variety is without order, without proportion, without concord,
there is no harmony. From this it is evident that however much greater is both the variety and the
unity in variety, so much greater is the harmony. Hence the dissonances themselves increase the
loveliness, if they are unexpectedly reduced to concord with other dissonances. Symmetry is the
same. Now from this it is clearly evident that harmony is the perfection of thinkability
[cogitabilitatis]. (A VI 4, p.1359/SLT, p.191)

In this passage Leibniz explains the role of dissonances in harmony and in the following
sentence postulates harmony as thinkability or cogitability [cogitabilitatis]. In other words, it
does not seem to make any distinction between one harmony with dissonances and another
harmony of the mind without dissonances. More importantly, however, we need to
understand the subtle references to temporality in the language used by Leibniz. He is
suggesting that dissonances are like moments of a harmonious whole before they are reduced
to agreement. Pauline Phemister notices that for Leibniz our perception of the perfection of
the world is in its unfolding (2016, p.88). Likewise our experience of the world’s beauty
takes place in the unfolding of our understanding of it; we perceive its nature through a
process. Along the same lines Breger claims that for humans the beauty of nature can only be
limited and at least only gradually recognised (1994, p.133). In a text entitled Reflections on
the Common Concept of Justice (1702?), Leibniz states the world is
too great and too beautiful for spirits with our present range to be able to perceive it so soon. To try to see it
here is like wishing to take a novel by the tail and to claim to have deciphered the plot from the first book;
the beauty of a novel instead, is great in the degree that order emerges from very great apparent confusion.
The composition would thus contain a fault if the reader could divine the entire issue at once. But what is
only suspense [curiosité] and beauty in novels, which imitate creation, so to speak, is also utility and wisdom
in this great and true poem, this word-by-word creation, the universe. (L, pp.565-66)

Part of the beauty of nature discovered by sciences, hypotheses or distinct knowledge is that
it does not reveal itself all at once, but that it is a process that starts from observing an
unintelligible, unrelated and inexplicable variety of phenomena and advances towards the
formulation of hypotheses of general laws. These latter allows us to understand those
phenomena by establishing explanations and connections among them. In this case it is not
contradictory to state that there are dissonances or discontinuities in the variety that are
resolved under a general law that unites this variety of phenomena by explaining its order.
This view does not reject dissonance, it just postulates its eventual resolution.
The role of dissonance in harmony can be better understood from its definition. As we
explained in chapter II, dissonances are a relative disorder or less immediate order in some
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parts of an overall ordered whole. In other words, dissonances express, for example, a local
or momentary mismatch between two or more things, yet from a wider perspective those
things do conform to the same general rule. This final conformity to rule, is indeed what we
refer to as the resolution of dissonances, which is necessary in order for there to be beauty.
Buzon’s interpretation depicts dissonances as incompatible with harmony at the moment of
integrating a variety under the same general law, since his view of dissonances as
discontinuities expresses exactly that lack of conformity to rules. Yet if dissonances cannot
ever be integrated under the same rule, they are not dissonances, but incompossibilities. Since
dissonances are not incompossibilities, they do eventually conform to some rule. It is not
wrong to consider dissonances as discontinuities or exceptions to some laws, what is wrong is
to assume that dissonances are exceptions to absolutely any general rule and, consequently,
that dissonances impede thought itself. Moreover, it is clear that in the universe, according to
Leibniz, there is no incompossibility, as he says ‘I see everything to be regular and rich
beyond what anyone has previously conceived; with matter everywhere organic –nothing
empty, sterile, idle– nothing too uniform, everything varied but orderly’ (A VI 6, pp.72-
73/RB, pp.72-73). Therefore if a scientific theory encounters dissonances, as absolute
exceptions to all laws (or what is the same, absolute disorder), it is the case that that theory is
wrong or at least incomplete.
However, it must not be understood from this that dissonances are only a temporal
issue that disappears at the moment of resolution. Dissonances could still be there whenever
we approach them and examine them ‘up close’. For example, as it is well known, Einstein’s
theory predicted that light will follow certain curvature of space-time when it passes near a
star. In other words, light bends its trajectory. If it weren’t for a theory that established a law
that explains light’s behaviour and the gravity field of the stars, this bending would be
inexplicable. This is the case because light travel through space-time in a straight line. So
light’s bending is a dissonant phenomenon that can only be explained if we consider
something else beyond the laws of light itself, which in this case is the bending of space-time.
But even after knowing this explanation the fact that light does not always appear to be
moving in a straight line would still be experienced as a dissonant phenomenon, since light’s
bending constitutes an exception from the law that light always travel in a straight line. It
would be much simpler and ordered (and we could add more consonant) if light’s trajectory
always appeared to be the same. Yet this exception or low degree of order is beautifully
explained (and hence ordered) with a theory that describes something broader than just light’s
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properties, namely; gravity and space-time. From the perspective of scientific theories we
could then give a second definition of dissonances, as those phenomena that do not fit in a
law and hence required a further, more general, law to be explained. Accordingly, contrary to
Buzon, we can conclude that even in the most distinct possible knowledge about the world,
which is the one provided by scientific theories, there can be dissonance.

4. Beauty and confusion

4.1 Sympathy
As we have seen Leibniz’s notion of beauty is far from being restricted to confused
knowledge. Indeed, distinct knowledge provides us with formal entities and measurable
properties which are a source of beauty. Leibniz goes as far as to say that harmony itself is
mathematical, from which we can infer that beauty is a mathematical structure. Moreover, if
distinct knowledge is how we experience mathematical and formal entities we could infer
that we experience beauty only through distinct knowledge. Yet, this is not the case according
to Leibniz. There is indeed more than just a mathematical structure in our experience of
beauty. Although beauty is a formal structure, it is perceived through non-formal things
whenever there are formal entities underlying the non-formal ones. For example in Principles
of Nature and Grace, Leibniz exemplifies this with the relation between music and
mathematics.

Music charms us, even though its beauty consists only in the harmonies of numbers and in a
calculation that we are not aware of, but which the soul nevertheless carries out, a calculation
concerning the beats or vibrations of sounding bodies, which are encountered at certain intervals.
The pleasures that sight finds in proportions are of the same nature, and those caused by the other
senses amount to something similar, even though we might not be able to explain it so distinctly
(GP VI, pp.605-6/AG, p.212).

The beauty of the ordered succession of sensible sounds is provided by the calculations and
harmonies of numbers underlying music. Furthermore, it could be said that beauty consists
only in these formal elements that we experience even if we are not aware of them and we
only notice the series of sensible sounds. However, at this point, we have to remember that
Leibniz is a nominalist, hence he does not accept Platonic abstract entities separated from
things, such as universals. This means that there is no entity of pure beauty in itself separated
from things. The same can be said about formal entities such as mathematical entities and
formal structures, such as harmony or unity in variety. In simpler words, there cannot be
variety if there is not a plurality of actual or possible things, there cannot be unity if there is
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nothing to unite and there cannot be measurable qualities if there is nothing to measure.
Accordingly, we only perceive beauty when the structure of harmony is expressed through
something. We could go as far as to apply the same principle to mathematical theorems and
state that the beauty of mathematical entities is only manifest when theorems are expressed
through signs. Indeed, in an unpublished fragment of 1675, Leibniz himself seems to be
saying this, as he writes that ‘[t]he beauty of the theorems consists in the beautiful
arrangement of their characters’ (quoted by Breger, 1994, p.139).31 The notion that the beauty
of theorems is expressed through their notation is highly problematic if we assume that by
‘arrangement of their characters’ Leibniz only means the physically written expression of
theorems and excludes the mental idea of them. But, if the mental representation of the
notations is also accepted as part of what Leibniz is saying, it is not so hard to admit that the
beauty of a theorem requires some form of expression. At least it should be granted that no
one can think about mathematical theorems without imagining some things, even if those
things are signs or symbols.
In the case of mathematics, the object through which beauty is expressed is a formal
entity and allows us to experience beauty with no, or very little, confusion. Indeed, as said
earlier, Leibniz considers that mathematical entities can be distinctly, and even adequately,
32
known. Yet, this is not the case for other ways in which beauty is expressed. Take the
quoted passage about music, where we fail to know distinctly the mathematical and harmonic
structure of beauty. In that example we only notice a succession of sounds with no awareness
of its implicit structure, nonetheless we still experience beauty. In On Wisdom, Leibniz calls
this phenomenon ‘sympathy’:

We do not always observe wherein the perfection of pleasing things consists, or what kind of
perfection within ourselves they serve, yet our feelings (Gemüth) perceive it, even though our
understanding does not. We commonly say, ‘There is something, I know not what, that pleases me
in the matter. This we call ‘sympathy’ (GP VII, p.86/L, p.425).

Leibniz further explains that everything that emits a sound and proceeds in order, but with
certain variation, is pleasing: ‘Drum beats, the beat and cadence of dance, and other motions
of this kind in measure and rule derive their pleasurableness from their order’. He says that
when we hear sounds and beats following an invisible order, ‘this creates a sympathetic echo
31 Author’s translation. The complete passage, as quoted by Breger: ‘Les theoremes ne sont intelligibles, que par leur signes
ou caracteres. Les images sont une espece des caracteres. Quand les caracteres peuvent estre semblables aux choses, tant
mieux. La beauté des theoremes consiste dans le bel arrangement de leur character.’ (Breger, 1994, p.139)
32 It is hard to tell if Leibniz thinks that mathematical theorems expressed through notations can be distinctly perceived in

their totality or there is always a residue of confusion in them. Here we will not propose a solution, as it falls outside the
scope of this thesis.
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in us, to which our animal spirits respond’ (GP VII, p.87/L, p.426). When confronted with
something that expresses an ordered variety, our feeling of pleasure is triggered as a sort of
automatic response to a structure of which we might not even be aware. This is not just
limited to music, Leibniz extends this explanation to sensations experienced through other
senses: ‘There can be no doubt that even in touch, taste, and smell, sweetness consists in a
definite though insensible order and perfection or a fitness, which nature has put there to
stimulate us and the animals to that which is otherwise needed’ (GP VII, p.87/L, p.426).
These passages show that for Leibniz beauty is indeed grounded on a formal structure, such
as an ordered variety, which in itself is insensible, but can be expressed through things that
we can perceive with our senses in such a way that we experience beauty, even if we are
completely oblivious of that structure.
But how could we experience beauty without being aware of what is beautiful in
something? How can we experience the effects of a structure that we fail to notice? The
answer to these questions lies in a fundamental idea of Leibniz’s metaphysics: ‘Each soul
knows the infinite—knows all—but confusedly’ (GP VI, p.604/AG, p.211). As said at the
beginning of this chapter, Leibniz’s doctrine of universal harmony establishes that everything
is related to everything else and, in the case of monads, this connection is constituted by each
monad’s perceptions of the whole universe. So when we hear a beautiful musical piece, but
we are unaware of its formal structure, it is not the case that we do not grasp such structure.
We do perceive it, in fact, we know it, yet we do so confusedly. Despite the fact that we fail
to notice the principle of order that unites the variety of sounds and constitutes the beauty of
that piece of music, that order is still perceived by our soul.33 As said, perceiving or knowing
something confusedly means that we are not aware of the implicit ingredients of something,
which in this case would be the formal structure of unity in variety while hearing a piece of
music. But since everything is connected, even the implicit and unconsciously perceived
ingredients of something can, and indeed do, affect us. So the result is that although we do
not distinctly perceive or have no awareness of the structure that makes something beautiful,
we nonetheless experience beauty. This might sound a bit paradoxical, but it is perfectly
consistent with Leibniz’s metaphysical doctrine. Moreover, in the case of beauty Leibniz
specifies how his metaphysical doctrine works for this particular case. As have said, he even
gave a name to the application of his doctrine to the particular case of beauty, i.e. ‘sympathy’.

33A perception of the soul in this case can be understood as opposed to a sense perception. In other words, a perception of
the soul is not a perception mediated by our sense organs. In this sense, it is more like what we colloquially mean with the
word ‘thought’ or ‘knowledge’.
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4.2 The relation between the distinct and the confused

The insensible order or formal structure of beauty is one of those things that we can
experience, while not distinctly perceiving or noticing. In other words, we can experience
beauty confusedly. Yet, from all that has been said here, it should be clear by now that
confused knowledge or perception is not a requirement to experience beauty. Indeed, beauty
is not experienced because of confusion, but despite confusion. Since the source of beauty in
things is an intelligible formal structure, the intellect, concepts and distinct knowledge are our
best way to experience the beauty of things. Confused knowledge –such as sense
perceptions– is only related to our experience of beauty when something we know confusedly
implicitly expresses this intelligible structure. This explains why in the Principles of Nature
and Grace, Based on Reason (1714) Leibniz writes that ‘even the pleasures of the senses
reduce to intellectual pleasures known confusedly’ (GP VI, p.605/AG, p.212). For example,
the pleasure we experience from hearing a series of ordered sounds is our confused
perception of the intelligible structure of ordered variety expressed through sounds.
However, according to Beiser, the quoted passage from the Principles shows that
sometimes Leibniz advocates that there is no place for confused knowledge in the experience
of beauty. Beiser further supports his claim asserting that in De Affectibus (1679) Leibniz
affirms that ‘true beauty would be that which remains after analysis, when all its elements are
clearly and distinctly perceived’ (Beiser, 2009, p.40). It must be said that the passage that
Beiser seems to be paraphrasing does not conform to his statement. Leibniz’s text reads as
follows: ‘[W]hat is beautiful is something whose contemplation is pleasant in itself, namely
when a ratio is rendered with pleasantness, either when it is clearly and distinctly perceived,
or when it is pleasant to understand [intelligere]’ (A VI 4, p.1415).34 Contrary to what Beiser
says, the passage does not define beauty as what is left after confused perceptions are gone. It
does suggest, however, the intimate relation between distinct perceptions or intelligibility and
beauty. Indeed, as it is conveyed in the Principles, Leibniz thinks that pleasure from confused
knowledge, such as sense perceptions, can be reduced to intellectual pleasure. This means
that our aesthetic pleasure perceived through confused perceptions can be traced back to its
source that is the intelligible structure of beauty, which can be reached more directly through
the intellect. But we should not think that this reduction of sensible perceptions to the
intellectual mandates an exclusion of the former in order to experience beauty. We claim that
34In the original Latin: ‘[P]ulchrum est cujus contemplatio per se jucunda est, cum scilicet reddi ratio potest jucunditatis,
seu clare distincteque percipitur, seu cum intelligere jucundum est.’ (A VI 4, p.1415)
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both the confused and the distinct coexist in the experience of beauty, just as shown in the
example of music.
The fact is that in most cases confusion and distinctness are integrated in the same
experience. Furthermore, our experience of beauty benefits from a progression from confused
to distinct knowledge, even though confusion is never completely overcome. As said, for
Leibniz our experience of the world’s beauty is at some extent the progress of our knowledge
of it from confused to distinct; just as the beauty of a novel, the beauty of the world is in a
great degree found in the emergence of order from confusion.35 Yet, even though we never
get to know the whole universe distinctly, and confused thoughts always accompany our
distinct thoughts of the world (GP IV, pp.563-64/L, p.580)36 –otherwise we would be God
(GP VI, p.179/H, p.198)–, we still can experience the beauty of the cosmos. Indeed we
always experience the beauty of most if not all things as a mix of confused and distinct
perceptions.
But, what would happen if there is a case where our experience from distinct
knowledge cancels out our experiences from confused knowledge? Indeed, this question is
implicitly posed by Beiser’s analysis of Leibniz’s passage about the cogwheel:

The wheel's rotation makes the teeth disappear and an imaginary continuous transparent [ring]
appear in their place; it is made up of successive appearances of teeth and of gaps between them,
but in such rapid succession that our imagination cannot distinguish them. So the teeth are
encountered in the distinct notion of this transparency, but not in that confused sensory perception
of it. It is the latter's nature to be confused and to remain so; for if the confusion ceased (e.g. if the
motion slowed down enough for us to be able to observe the parts in succession) it would no
longer be this same perception, i.e. it would no longer be this image of transparency. […] [F]or it
is self-contradictory to want these confused images to persist while wanting their components to
be discerned by the imagination itself. It is like wanting to enjoy being deceived by some
charming perspective and wanting to see through the deception at the same time—which would
spoil the effect. (A VI 6, pp.403-404/RB, p.403)

Here there is an experience that is given by a confused perception of a spinning cogwheel –

namely, the image of a continuous transparent ring– that can no longer persist after we have a
distinct perception of the wheel. Beiser suggests with this example that there is no
coexistence of confused and distinct knowledge in our aesthetic experience. But, this is not

35 There are also non-temporal examples of this process, such as the one given about the theory of general relativity; there is
dissonance and confusion when we contemplate the effect light’s trajectory bending instead of moving in straight line, yet
we can distinctly understand it from the broader perspective of the light’s relation to gravity.
36 It could be the case that there are distinct thoughts completely free from confusion, such as thoughts of abstract or

mathematical entities. But as we said earlier, it is not clear whether Leibniz characterises them as such or he still thinks that
they present a low degree of confusion.
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exactly what the example illustrates. It is not our aesthetic experience of the confused
perception that is ruined by distinct knowledge. What disappears is the state of being
deceived by the illusion of a transparent ring. It is true that Leibniz says that the illusion of
confused perceptions does not persist, but that doesn’t seem to be right. It is more likely that
Leibniz means that the illusion of the ring as a deception does not persist, yet as a
phenomena, the ring undoubtedly persists. If we knew distinctly that there is actually a
cogwheel where we confusedly perceive a transparent ring, we would still experience this
transparent ring, even though we would know that it is actually a spinning cogwheel. Hence
both the confused and the distinct knowledge integrate our aesthetic experience of the
spinning cogwheel.
In fact Leibniz offers a theoretical explanation of this with his notion of redundancy
[pleonasme] in our perception. As we explained at the beginning of this chapter, Leibniz
states that there is a redundancy of notions and circumstances when we perceive something
(A VI 6, p.299/RB, p.299). As Puryear explains each perception has more than one idea and
some of these ideas could be confused and others distinct (Puryear, 2005: p.112). Thus we
can experience the beauty of something through distinct perceptions, while still having
confused ones. For example, even if we distinctly knew all the calculations and formal order
of a musical piece, we would still know only confusedly the timbre of those sounds. The
same could be said about the colours of a painting; we could distinctly know all the formal
aspects of its harmonic structure, yet still we could never have a distinct knowledge of the
sensation of its colours. In both cases our perception of the objects is accompanied by many
notions, some we perceive confusedly and others distinctly. Furthermore, some notions are
susceptible to be perceived distinctly, such as the harmonic order of a musical piece, while
others are just essentially confused, such as colour and sound timbre. Hence, sometimes our
knowledge of some of these notions can progress from confused to distinct, such as the order
of a novel that emerges from confusion as we keep reading it, while other notions are just not
distinctly accessible for us.
Contrary to Villanueva’s interpretation we can have both sort of perceptions in one
aesthetic experience. Nevertheless, it seems clear that Leibniz held distinctness in higher
regard. In other words, having more distinct perceptions, or a higher degree of distinctness in
our overall perception, results in a better experience of beauty. This entails that for Leibniz
there should not be any sort of downgrading of the experience of beauty in the progression
from confused perceptions to distinct knowledge. Thus the enjoyment of being deceived
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cannot be higher than the enjoyment of understanding the trick. In contrast with Brown’s
view that for Leibniz the source of our pleasure in aesthetic experience is confused
perceptions (1967, p.73), there is enjoyment in distinct knowledge or intellectual pleasure, as
Leibniz states in the Principles (GP VI, pp.605-6/AG, p.212). This also applies to art, as
Leibniz comments that ‘a painting of Raphael affects him who understands it’ (GP III,
p.387/L, p.422). Phemister observes that Leibniz’s claim reminds us that the true appreciation
of the painting’s beauty demands some effort on our part, it is not enough only to sense
perceive it, but we should also understand it (2016, p.85). Differing from the comments of the
aforementioned works on Leibniz’s aesthetics, there is a role for the understanding in art.
Although artist and art audiences do not need to distinctly know why they like a work of art,
it is nonetheless possible, and desirable, that they achieve distinct knowledge and understand
their own taste. As Leibniz’s comments on Shaftesbury suggest, taste alone cannot justify
itself, but we can –and should– provide reasons to explain it if we use the understanding to
distinctly know the objects of our liking. Even if artists and audiences sometimes fail to reach
distinct knowledge or understanding of their taste, it is not the case that this is an impossible
task. Since beauty is an intelligible structure in something, it must be that our experience of a
beautiful thing allows us, at least in principle, to reach a certain degree of distinct knowledge
of the things that we fancy. Distinct knowledge entails that reason and explanations are
possible. Hence, contrary to Ortiz’s statement about the inexplicability of taste (1988, p.156)
and Beiser’s comment that reason finds its limit in sensible aesthetic experience (2009, p.40),
it is the case that taste can be explicable. Furthermore, the explicability of taste –i.e. the
understanding or the distinct knowledge of taste– is something that adds aesthetic value.
Indeed, in agreement with Shaftesbury, Leibniz proposes that good taste should be educated
through reason, as he states that ‘one must practice enjoying the good things which reason
and experience are already authorized’ (GP III, pp.430-1/L, p.634). He says something not
very different about artistic creation. Artists can at some moment let imagination run free
from consulting reason, as manner of ‘enthusiasm’, yet afterwards they must bring back
reason to examine, correct and polish the work of imagination (A VI 4, p.710).37

37 In the original French: ‘Et comme pour jouer du clavessin, il faut une habitude que les doigts mêmes doivent prendre,
ainsi pour imaginer un bel air, pour faire un beau poeme, pour se figurer promtement des ornemens d'architecture, ou le
dessein d'un tableau d'invention, il faut que nostre imagination même ait prise une habitude, après quoy on luy peut donner
la liberté de prendre son vol, sans consulter la raison, par une manière d'Enth[o]usiasme. Elle ne manque pas de réussir à
mesure du genie et de l'experience de la personne, et nous experimentons mêmes quelquesfois dans les songes que nous nous
formons des images qu'on aurait eu de la peine à trouver en veillant. Mais il faut que la raison examine par après, et qu'elle
corrige et polisse l'ouvrage de l'imagination, c'est là où les preceptes de l'art sont nécessaires pour donner quelque chose de
fini et d'excellent.’ (A VI 4, p.710)
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Since aesthetic phenomena are optimally experienced when the confused is

accompanied by the understanding, reason and distinctness, we could agree with Croce that
the confused provides an inferior experience. We could even go further and assume that he
was right in thinking that the confused has no specific value –or comparative advantage–
when compared with the distinct. But contrary to Croce, we claim that this also applies to the
experience of beauty. While in Croce’s interpretation of Leibniz, beauty is to be left behind,
bond with confusion, in the progress of knowledge towards distinctness, we have seen that
this progression also takes place within the experience of beauty. Hence the experience of
beauty is not a by-product of the failure of the intellect to reach distinct knowledge, but it can
be an instance of the intellect’s achievement of distinctness. Although it seems that for
Leibniz confusion is to some degree found in almost all objects of our aesthetic
experiences,38 there is often the possibility of a progression towards reason, understanding
and distinct knowledge.

5. Conclusions
Here we have argued that the experience of beauty can include confused and distinct
perceptions, sensations and thoughts, thus it can be intellectual as well as sensitive.
Furthermore, in most cases our aesthetic experiences are of this sort; they are seldom purely
intellectual or completely sensorial. The former occurs almost exclusively when we
experience the beauty of formal objects. On the other hand, an aesthetic experience consisting
in completely confused perceptions often has the potential to be upgraded by noticing distinct
elements in it.
As we have shown, there is not only textual evidence that refutes the idea that for
Leibniz confused perception is a requisite for experiencing beauty, but also his theory of
beauty is incompatible with that claim held by some of the commentators here considered.
Leibniz’s assertion that objects from the intellect –such as formal entities– are beautiful,
endorses the view that in some cases we can experience beauty through thoughts that are
mostly distinct. We also argued that distinct thought mirrors the structure of beauty,
presenting greater unity and greater variety, thus greater beauty, than confused perceptions.
But more importantly, if, as we claim in this thesis, beauty is the formal structure of unity in
variety, it must be the case that our best approach to experience beauty is through distinct

38 Maybe with the exception of formal entities such as mathematical ones.

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ideas, because any formal entity is insensible, therefore intellectual in itself. This complies
with our claim, made in chapter I, that the structure of beauty must be intelligible.
Even though the formal structure of beauty is intellectual, it normally expresses itself
through sensible elements. That is why there are also confused perceptions in most of our
experiences of beauty. Indeed, it can be the case that we experience beauty only through
confused perceptions, unaware of the structure of unity in variety. This is what Leibniz refers
to as ‘sympathy’. Yet, as said, this is not a requirement for aesthetic experiences.
Furthermore, it is not only possible to gain distinct knowledge from a confused experience,
but also desirable in order to improve our experience of beauty.
The assumption that in Leibniz’s philosophy there is no strict opposition between the
intellectual and the sensitive or between thoughts and perception means that the confused and
the distinct do not exclude each other. As we seen in the case of scientific theories, some
phenomena that seem unrelated and confused become ordered and distinct when approach
with a better hypothesis. Indeed, we showed that this progression from confusion to
distinctness or from chaos to order illustrates the idea of beauty in some of Leibniz’s
examples.
Even when some elements of our aesthetic experiences are inherently confused, those
elements entail ‘circumstances’ that can be distinctly perceived, as is the case of the
phenomenal representation of colour, which although is essentially confused, its
circumstances include physical properties that are amenable to be distinctively known. Thus
the idea that each perception is accompanied by circumstances explains why even in the case
of experiencing essentially confused entities there is the possibility of engaging with distinct
knowledge. But, in most cases we experience the beauty of objects that include more than
just confused elements. For example, our experience of a piece of music is composed of
timbres that are inheritably confused, but music also possess a structure of order that can be
distinctly known, like rhythm or the system of tonality. Also a painting presents us with the
inherently confused phenomenal representation of colours, yet also a structure of composition
that offers order and distinct knowledge. Accordingly, these experiences necessarily involve
both sensible and insensible perceived properties.
In this sense, beauty is experienced from the contemplation of a much wider variety
of entities than just those we perceive through our senses. The idea that almost all kind of
entities, even formal ones, can be experienced as beautiful is coherent with Leibniz’s
ontological view that all beings are based on harmony (of properties or parts). Since beauty is
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harmony and the degrees of essence of all beings are grounded on harmony, it is reasonable
that they all present beauty that is disposed for us to experience it, even if it is not sensible.
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CONCLUSION
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As we have shown in the first part of this thesis, the ontological structure of beings is their
degree of essence or perfection, which in turn is harmony or unity in variety (harmonically
united things, parts or properties). Beauty is an expression of this same structure that grounds
all beings. Thus beauty is an expression of unity in variety. Unity and variety corresponds to
an intelligible order that unites many things as a whole, which has the potential to give
pleasure. An entity is beautiful when that entity achieves these requirements. Hence, beauty is
not something in itself, but it is in things that comply with the formal structure of unity in
variety (with which every being complies) and the other formal features entailed by unity in
variety (wholeness, order, intelligibility and potential for pleasure). On the other hand, since
beauty is when something possesses this formal structure and complies with these formal
features, things do not need to have any specified content or element to be beautiful. Rather, a
united variety of any elements whatsoever –that are united in an intelligible order and forms a
whole– can be beautiful. This is what we mean when we said that beauty, for Leibniz, is a
formal property.
For example, what complies with variety can be many things/parts (as in the case of
composed beings) or many properties (as in the case of simple partless beings), independently
of what those particular things/parts and properties actually are. However, variety in
Leibniz’s notion of harmony is not just a mere summation of many things or properties, but
also the degree of difference between those things or properties. The result is that greater
beauty is achieved when something expresses a harmonic whole that includes not only
perfectly consonant and similar elements, but also conflicting and dissonant elements. As we
argued, the inclusion of dissonances introduces variety and enhances beauty. Yet, in order for
there to be beauty, dissonances require resolution. For Leibniz, beauty follows the structure
of a tonal musical piece that mixes dissonances with consonances, yet in the end, and as a
whole, it always resolves dissonances in perfect harmony. In the same way, beautiful things
can exhibit a sort of complex diversity that appears as disorder, but truly there is always an
underlying order that guarantees beauty.
As we saw, order is indeed an essential requirement for beauty. We claimed here that
the notion of ‘unity’ in the formula of harmony (unity in variety) is a principle of order. In
other words, what unites a variety and effects beauty is not one entity imposing over many,
but a principle of organisation of the many. This principle is understood as a wide term that
encompasses many forms and functions such as a law, a rule, a design, a program, a purpose,
an algorithm, alongside criteria of organisation, coordination, inclusion, exclusion,
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succession, among others. A principle of order produces unities, constitutes identities and
determines the agreement of multiplicities. Since this principle is the unity that the postulated
formula of harmony/beauty manifests, two or more things (or properties) are united when
they share a common principle of order. This sorts of cases can be found in all of the entities
accepted as unities in Leibniz’s ontology; from possible worlds, to any individual that
inhabits those world, monads and aggregates. Therefore, harmony’s unity, interpreted as a
principle of order, universally extends beauty to every ontological level, where principles of
order overlap each other: the unity of the universe includes many united corporeal substances
and these, in turn, many other corporeal substances and so on. Leibniz’s account presents
types of unities that result in different levels of harmony and beauty. There are objective
unities, such as the principle of order that constitutes individual substances and God’s design
of the universe. Yet, there are also subjective unities, where the principle of order that unites
a variety is given by subjective ideas. These latter are conceived under the notion of
aggregates and are less capable of providing a higher degree of unity to a greater variety than
the objective unities. Hence, objective unities such as the world, substances and biological
beings are able to offer more unity in greater variety, which is a higher degree of harmony
and, therefore, more beauty than subjective unities, such as artworks.
Despite the acceptance of subjective unities, for Leibniz, beauty is radically objective.
The objectivity of beauty as a property consists in its independence from three factors:
subjective recognition, existence and God’s will. Something is beautiful as a possible thing
before it gains existence or even if it never exists. Therefore, something is beautiful before it
can be empirically recognised by any finite subject. Indeed, its beauty is determined only by
its compliance with the formal structure and requisites mentioned above, even if that thing is
only in the mind of God (and every possible being is in the mind of God). These rules of
beauty are not created by God, i.e. they do not depend on his will, but they are in his intellect
just as mathematical truths. In this sense, something beautiful is as such, independently not
only from subjective recognition (even divine recognition), but also independently from any
criterion of beauty imposed by God’s will.
Furthermore, the aesthetic value of the universe is also objective. This means two
things; firstly, that beauty is not only valuable when appreciated by perceivers, and secondly,
that nature’s aesthetic value is not given by its instrumental relation with subjective pleasure
and happiness. For Leibniz, value in itself is perfection and, in turn, perfection is a rational
order in the form of unity in variety. Hence, the value of any world is neither just given by
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our enjoyment of it nor even by God’s happiness. Something is valuable for its own sake by
complying with the formula of unity in variety. Although value is only given by unity in
variety or harmony, this does not entail a disconnection with pleasure. Indeed, for Leibniz,
harmony is the only source of pleasure for us and for God. Since the aesthetic value of any
world is grounded on a rational order that corresponds to the notion of harmony, our access to
the pleasure given by the world’s beauty is fully achieved by the convergence of our capacity
to exercise reason and the rational structure of the world (and the individual things that
constitute the world).
Since beauty is the formal structure of harmony, beauty in itself is abstract and
insensible. Hence, our ability to experience beauty is at its best when we have intellectual
distinct knowledge. However, this structure of beauty is, in most cases, expressed through
material and sensible elements that we can experience through confused sense perceptions. It
might be the case that sometimes we can only experience a beautiful thing through confused
perceptions. If this occurs we still can experience beauty, since we still experience the
structure of unity in variety even if we are not aware of it. However, Leibniz suggests that the
best way to appreciate beauty is through an experience that progresses from confused
perceptions to distinct ones, from sense perceptions to intellectual knowledge.
In this sense, Leibniz’s notion of beauty is characterised as a formal, objective and
fundamentally valuable property, based on the ontological structure of perfection and being
itself. Beauty is a nominalist notion grounded on a formal structure, which is the formula
unity in variety or harmony. This formula extends throughout Leibniz’s metaphysics, from
his ontology to his epistemology. It is the grounding structure of many notions in Leibniz’s
thought, for example, unity in variety is the ontological structure of beings, ideas, knowledge
and the rational order of the world, but also the measure of perfection and value. Therefore,
Leibniz’s notion of beauty can be extended to all these domains, entities and concepts.
Since for Leibniz beauty is grounded on the formula of harmony, and harmony
permeates throughout his philosophy, beauty is a rather general and ubiquitous notion.
Conceptually, this ubiquity is explained by the general applicability of the formula of unity in
variety. However, this generality does not come without its problem. For one, it makes it
harder to establish the specificity of beauty in order to distinguish it from other values or
concepts such as goodness, power, rationality, knowledge, and such like. In Leibniz’s
philosophy, all of these concepts can also be conceived (or at least partially conceived)
through unity in variety. Although establishing a fundamental unique grounding for diverse
 209

concepts constitutes an advantage when founding a metaphysical system, it might be

problematic if the intention is to develop a theory about one concept in particular, such as a
theory of aesthetics based on the notion of beauty. This is why, as said in the introduction,
here we built our theory of beauty moving towards Leibniz’s general metaphysics and the
aforementioned concepts. Yet the opposite movement, one towards the specification of the
notion of beauty beyond metaphysics, seems complicated within Leibniz’s philosophy.
This relates with another issue: thusly conceived, beauty does not allow us to consider
aesthetics as an autonomous field of philosophy. The pervasiveness of the grounding formula
of harmony allows beauty to spread to every aspect of philosophy, further beyond than mere
sensation or taste. As suggested in chapter VI, the problem is that the autonomy of aesthetics
requires an exclusive type of source or object of study. As also mentioned in the introduction,
Baumgarten’s account established this source to be sensory cognition as a dimension within
phenomenological subjective experience. Yet, if beauty is grounded on a common
metaphysical ground –shared with notions such as reason, knowledge, power or goodness–
and not in sensory cognition or something equivalent, it lacks an exclusive source that would
allow it to become an autonomous discipline. It is for this reason that, on this point, we fully
agree with Croce and affirm that Leibniz’s philosophy by itself cannot offer enough
theoretical guarantees for aesthetics to be conceived as a truly autonomous discipline within
philosophy.
Another related issue is that, since Leibniz grounds beauty in his particular
metaphysical doctrine, the doctrine itself becomes necessary to justify many (but not all) of
his views on aesthetics. For example, the idea that beauty is everywhere requires to accept the
claim that unity in variety is the foundation of every being; or the idea that beauty is objective
because it is independent of existence requires to conceive that there are possible not-actual
things. In other words, Leibniz’s arguments to defend some of his views on aesthetics depend
on accepting his views on ontology and metaphysics in general. This could be a problem to
establish a dialogue with contemporary aesthetics and in general with any aesthetic theory
outside the Leibnizian tradition.
Nevertheless, these issues aside, Leibniz’s views on beauty can be articulated as an
interesting and coherent theory that, although rather implicit, seems to be consistent through
all his writings. Furthermore, his idea that beauty is harmony constitutes a persuasive take on
the matter of beauty. Indeed, it is hard to deny that everything that we regard as beautiful can
be understood in terms of unity in variety, especially if unity is understood as a principle of
 210

order and variety as many and different things. In this sense, it is a flexible formula easily
applicable for a wide range of cases, extending from artworks, passing through nature, to
mathematical theorems and even everyday objects. It can also justify evaluative aesthetic
judgements, such as why is one thing more beautiful than other, since the degree of beauty of
an object depends on the measure of the degree of unity and the degree of variety that an
object possesses.
However, this does not mean that Leibniz had in mind the possibility of generating a
mathematical formula to give an exact measure of unity and variety for any object. That said,
it is in principle possible that some abstract entities present a countable degree of unity and
variety, such as geometrical figures or mathematical axioms. But, in the case of most non-
formal or material objects, unity and variety are too complex to be objectively measured by
us. Indeed, the measures of the degrees of qualitative variety or degree of order in a non-
formal object are hardly conceivable as translated into countable variables. For example, we
cannot imagine how to quantify the qualitative variety between the circular brushworks of the
sky and the geometrical lines delineating the shape of the houses in Van Gogh’s ‘The Starry
Night’. These are notions that can be intellectually conceived, but not always mathematically
measured by us. Hence, this rules out the idea to simply reduce the degree of a material
object’s beauty to a countable measure or at least makes it an extremely complex task.
Even though the complexity of the formula of unity in variety situates beauty outside
the reach of scientific or mathematical reductionism, beauty is not an essentially irreducible
subjective phenomenon that escapes reason, like a passion or pure emotion. Leibniz’s notion
of beauty constitutes the perfect example of a rationalist account of beauty, as it is not
characterised in opposition to the intellect. Beauty stands in a metaphysical middle ground
between a reductionist conception and an inexorably irreducible notion like the one
associated with Romanticism. So, on the one hand, a physical object’s beauty resists being
known by finite beings with complete distinctness and certain aspects of it remain confused,
or at least confused enough to the point that they cannot be reduced to a specific quantity.
While on the other hand, the formula of beauty can be intellectually understood and the
beauty of objects can be partially grasped by reason.
Beauty is also far from being a subjective phenomenon since Leibniz’s notion of
beauty suggests a realist account of aesthetics. Beauty is not a mere feeling or illusion, but a
real component of the universe, including the physical universe. Furthermore, beauty is in
itself an expression of the same structure that grounds every entity in the universe, as unity in
 211

variety is the structure of the degree of essence, i.e. harmonising properties. Thus beauty is
inextricable from the very essence of every being, actual or possible. This is why Leibniz’s
philosophy does not contemplate ugliness or absolute lack of beauty. Some things can present
low degrees of unity and variety and therefore a low degree of beauty, but not negative
beauty or absence of beauty, since this would mean no essence and essence is the
fundamental requirement for being. Hence, Leibniz’s account suggests a pancalist universe,
i.e. the cosmos –all there is– is beautiful to some degree. This constitutes the metaphysical
explanation of why harmony and thus beauty pervades throughout his philosophy: in
Leibniz’s metaphysics, beauty, as unity in variety, is ubiquitous.
 212

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