by Leibniz
(translated by Robert Latta; revised by Donald Rutherford)
From: (
1. The monad, of which we shall speak here is nothing but a simple substance that enters into composites; simple, that is, without parts. (sec. 10)

2. And there must be simple substances, since there are composites; for a composite is nothing but a collection, or aggregate, of simples.

3. But where there are no parts, there is neither extension nor figure, nor any possible division. These monads are the true atoms of nature and, in a word, the elements of things.

4. No dissolution of these elements need be feared, and there is no conceivable way in which a simple substance can perish naturally. (sec. 89)

5. For the same reason there is no conceivable way in which a simple substance can begin naturally, since it cannot be formed through composition.

6. Thus it may be said that monads can only begin or end all at once; that is, they can only begin by creation and end by annihilation, whereas that which is composite begins or ends through its parts.

7. Further, there is no way of explaining how a monad can be altered or changed internally by any other created thing; for it is impossible to change the place of anything in it or to conceive in it any internal motion that could be excited, directed, increased or diminished therein, although all this is possible in the case of composites, in which there are changes among the parts. Monads have no windows, through which anything could enter or leave. Accidents cannot be separated from substances or go about outside of them, as the sensible species of the Scholastics used to do. Thus neither substance nor accident can enter a monad from without.

8. Yet monads must have some qualities, otherwise they would not even be beings. And if simple substances did not differ in their qualities, there would be no means of perceiving any change in things; for what is in the composite can come only from its simple ingredients; and monads, if they had no qualities, would be indistinguishable from one another, since they do not differ in quantity. Consequently, assuming a plenum, in motion each place would always receive exactly the equivalent of what it already had, and one state of things would be indistinguishable from another.

9. Indeed, each monad must be different from every other; for in nature there are never two beings which are perfectly alike and in which it is not possible to find an internal difference or one founded on an intrinsic denomination.

10. I assume also as a given that every created being, and consequently the created monad as well, is subject to change, and further that this change is continual in each.

11. It follows from what has just been said, that the natural changes of monads come from an internal principle, since an external cause cannot influence it internally. (secs. 396, 400)

12. But, besides the principle of change, there must be a diversity in that which changes, which produces, so to speak, the specification and variety of simple substances.

13. This diversity must involve a multitude in the unity or in the simple. For all natural change occurs gradually, something changes and something remains; consequently, there must be a plurality of affections and relations in a simple substance, although it has no parts.

14. The passing state that involves and represents a multitude in the unity, or in the simple substance, is nothing but what is called perception, which is to be distinguished from apperception or consciousness, as will become clear later. The Cartesians have seriously erred in this, for they discount entirely perceptions of which we are not aware. This has led them to believe also that minds alone are monads, and that there are no souls of beasts or other entelechies. Thus, like common people, they have failed to distinguish a prolonged unconsciousness and actual death, which has made them fall back into the Scholastic prejudice of entirely separate souls, and has even confirmed unbalanced minds in the opinion that souls are mortal.

15. The action of the internal principle that produces the change or passage from one perception to another may be called appetition. It is true that appetite cannot always fully reach the entire perception at which it aims, but it always obtains some of it and reaches new perceptions.

16. We ourselves experience a multitude in a simple substance, when we find that the least thought of which we are aware involves a variety in its object. Thus all those who admit that the soul is a simple substance should admit this multitude in the monad; and M. Bayle ought not to find any difficulty in it, as he has done in his Dictionary, article 'Rorarius.'

17. Moreover, it must be confessed that perception and that which depends on it are inexplicable in mechanical terms, that is, in terms of figures and motions. And supposing there were a machine, so constructed as to think, feel, and have perception, one could imagine it increased in size, while keeping the same proportions, so that one could go into it as into a mill. In that case, we should, on examining its interior, find only parts that work upon one another, and never anything by which to explain a perception. Thus, perception must be sought in a simple substance, and not in a composite or machine. Further, nothing but this (namely, perceptions and their changes) can be found in a simple substance. It is in this alone also that all the internal actions of simple substances can consist.

18. All simple substances, or created monads, can be called entelechies, for they have in them a certain perfection (echousi to enteles); they have a self-sufficiency (autarkeia) which makes them the sources of their internal actions and, so to speak, incorporeal automata. (sec. 87)

19. If we wish to give the name "soul" to everything that has perceptions and appetites in the general sense I have just explained, then all simple substances or created monads could be called souls; but as sensation is something more than simple perception, I believe the general name "monad" or "entelechy" suffices for simple substances that have perception only, and that the name "soul" should be given only to those in which perception is more distinct and accompanied by memory.

20. For we experience in ourselves a state in which we remember nothing and have no distinguishable perceptions, as when we fall into a faint or when we are overcome with a profound dreamless sleep. In this state the soul does not differ perceptibly from a simple monad; but as this state is not lasting, and the soul recovers from it, the soul is something more than a simple monad. (sec. 64)

21. And it does not follow from this that the simple substance is without any perception. That, indeed, cannot be, for the reasons already given; for it cannot perish, and it also cannot continue to exist without some affection, which is nothing but its perception. But when there is a great multitude of little perceptions in which nothing is distinguished, we are dazed, just as when we turn continuously round in the same direction several times in a row, and there follows from this a giddiness that can make us faint and prevents us from distinguishing anything. Death may for a time put animals into this state.

22. And as every present state of a simple substance is naturally a consequence of its preceding state, so its present is pregnant with its future. (sec. 350)

23. Therefore, since on waking from a stupor, we are aware of our perceptions, we must have had perceptions immediately beforehand, although we were not aware of them; for one perception can only come naturally from another perception, as one motion can only come naturally from another motion. (secs. 401-403)

24. From this we see that if we had nothing distinguished in our perceptions—nothing, so to speak, heightened and of a more eminent character, we would always be in a stupor. And this is the state of bare monads.

25. Furthermore, we see that nature has given heightened perceptions to animals, by the care she has taken to provide them with organs, which collect numerous rays of light or numerous undulations of the air, in order to make them have a greater effect through their union. Something similar to this takes place in smell, in taste and in touch, and perhaps in a number of other senses, which are unknown to us. And I will explain presently how that which takes place in the soul represents what happens in the organs.

26. Memory provides souls with a kind of succession, which imitates reason, but which must be distinguished from it. Thus we see that when animals have a perception of something which strikes them and of which they have formerly had a similar perception, they are led by the representation in their memory to expect what was combined with the thing in this previous perception, and they come to have feelings similar to those they had on the previous occasion. For instance, when a stick is shown to dogs, they remember the pain it has caused them, and howl and run away. (Prelim. Disc., sec. 65)

27. And the strength of the imagination that impresses and moves them comes either from the magnitude or multitude of the preceding perceptions. For often a strong impression produces all at once the same effect as a long-formed habit, or as many often-repeated ordinary perceptions.

28. Men act like beasts insofar as the succession of their perceptions is due to the principle of memory alone; they resemble empirical physicians, who have a simple practice without theory. Indeed, in three-quarters of our actions we are nothing but empirics. For instance, when we expect that the sun will rise tomorrow, we act like an empiric, for it has always happened this way in the past. It is only the astronomer who judges this on the basis of reason. (Prelim. Disc., sec. 65)

29. But it is the knowledge of necessary and eternal truths that distinguishes us from mere animals and gives us reason and the sciences, raising us to the knowledge of ourselves and of God. And it is this in us that is called the rational soul or mind.

30. It is also through the knowledge of necessary truths and their abstractions that we rise to reflective acts, which make us think of what is called I, and consider that this or that is within us: and thus, thinking of ourselves, we think of being, of substance, of the simple and the composite, of the immaterial, and of God himself, conceiving that what is limited in us is in God without limits. And these reflective acts furnish the chief objects of our reasonings. (Pref. [GP VI 27])

31. Our reasonings are founded on two great principles: that of contradiction, in virtue of which we judge that which involves a contradiction false, and that which is opposed or contradictory to the false true. (secs. 44, 169)

32. And that of sufficient reason, in virtue of which we hold that there can be no real or existing fact, no true statement, unless there is a sufficient reason, why it should be so and not otherwise, although these reasons usually cannot be known by us. (secs. 44, 196)

33. There are two kinds of truths, those of reason and those of fact. Truths of reason are necessary and their opposite is impossible; truths of fact are contingent and their opposite is possible. When a truth is necessary, its reason can be found by analysis, resolving it into simpler ideas and truths, until we come to those that are primitive. (secs. 170, 174, 189, 280-282,367; Summary, Obj. 3)

34. It is in this way that the speculative theorems and practical canons of the mathematicians are reduced by analysis to definitions, axioms and postulates.

35. Finally, there are simple ideas, which cannot be defined; there are also axioms and postulates, or in a word, primitive principles, which cannot be proved and indeed have no need of proof; these are identical propositions, whose opposite involves an explicit contradiction. (secs. 36, 37, 44, 45, 49, 52, 121-122, 337, 340-344)

36. But there must also be a sufficient reason in contingent truths or truths of fact, that is, in the succession of things dispersed throughout the universe of created beings; here analysis into particular reasons could proceed into unending detail, because of the immense variety of things in nature and the infinite division of bodies. There is an infinity of present and past shapes and motions that enter into the efficient cause of my present writing, and there is an infinity of past and present minute tendencies and dispositions of my soul that enter into its final cause.

37. And as all this detail involves other prior or more detailed contingent things, each of which again needs a similar analysis to give its reason, we are no further ahead: and the sufficient or final reason must be outside of the succession or series of this diversity of contingent things, however infinite it may be.

38. Thus the final reason of things must be in a necessary substance, in which the diversity of changes exists only eminently, as in its source; and this substance we call God. (sec. 7)

39. Now as this substance is a sufficient reason for all this diversity, which also is everywhere connected, there is only one God, and this God is sufficient.

40. We may also conclude that this supreme substance, which is unique, universal and necessary, nothing outside of it being independent of it, and which is a mere consequence of possible being, must be incapable of limits and must contain as much reality as possible.

41. From this it follows that God is absolutely perfect; for perfection is nothing but the magnitude of positive reality, in the strict sense, leaving aside the limits or bounds in things that have them. And where there are no bounds, that is, in God, perfection is absolutely infinite. (sec. 22; Pref. [GP V 27])

42. It follows also that created beings derive their perfections from the influence of God, but that their imperfections come from their own nature, which is incapable of being without limits. For it is in this that they differ from God. (secs. 20, 27-30, 153, 167, 377 sqq.; secs 30, 380; Summary, Obj. 5)

43. It is further true that in God there is not only the source of existences but also that of essences, insofar as they are real, that is, the source of what is real in the possible. For the understanding of God is the region of eternal truths or of the ideas on which they depend, and without him there would be nothing real in possibilities, and not only would there be nothing existing but nothing would even be possible. (sec. 20)

44. For if there is a reality in essences or possibilities, or rather in eternal truths, this reality must be founded in something existing and actual, and consequently in the existence of the necessary being, in which essence involves existence, or in which to be possible is to be actual. (secs. 184-189, 335)

45. Thus God alone (or the necessary being) has this privilege, that he must exist, if he is possible. And as nothing can interfere with the possibility of that which involves no limits, no negation and consequently no contradiction, this alone suffices to make known the existence of God a priori. We have thus proved God's existence through the reality of eternal truths. But we have just proved it also a posteriori, since there exist contingent beings, which can have their final or sufficient reason only in the necessary being, which has the reason for its existence in itself.

46. We must not, however, imagine, as some do, that eternal truths, being dependent on God, are arbitrary and depend on his will, as Descartes and later M. Poiret, appear to have held. That is true only of contingent truths, of which the principle is fitness or the choice of the best, whereas necessary truths depend solely on his understanding and are its internal object. (secs. 180-184, 185, 335, 351, 380)

47. Thus God alone is the primitive unity or original simple substance, of which all created or derivative monads are products; and they are born, so to speak, through continual fulgurations of the divinity from moment to moment, limited by the receptivity of the created thing, of whose essence it is to be limited. (secs. 382-391, 398, 395)

48. In God there is power, which is the source of all, then knowledge, which contains the diversity of ideas, and finally will, which brings about changes or products in accordance with the principle of the best. (secs. 7, 149, 150) And these characteristics correspond to what in created monads makes up the subject or ground, the faculty of perception, and the faculty of appetition. But in God these attributes are absolutely infinite or perfect, and in created monads or entelechies (or perfectihabies, as Hermolaus Barbarus translated the word) there are only imitations of these attributes, according to the degree of perfection. (sec. 87)

49. A created thing is said to act outwardly insofar as it has perfection, and to be acted upon by another, insofar as it is imperfect. Thus action is attributed to the monad, insofar as it has distinct perceptions, and passion insofar as its perceptions are confused. (secs. 32, 66, 386)

50. And one created thing is more perfect than another in that there is found within it that which serves to explain a priori what happens in the other, and it is for this reason that the former is said to act upon the latter.

51. But in simple substances the influence of one monad upon another is only ideal, and it can have its effect only through the mediation of God, insofar as in the ideas of God any monad reasonably claims that God, in regulating the others from the beginning of things, should have regard for it. For since one created monad cannot have any physical influence upon the interior of another, it is only by this means that the one can be dependent upon the other. (secs. 9, 54, 65, 66, 201; Summary, Obj. 3)

52. Accordingly, among created things, actions and passions are mutual. For God, comparing two simple substances, finds in each reasons that oblige him to accommodate the other to it, and consequently what is active in certain respects is passive from another point of view; active insofar as what is known distinctly in it serves to explain what happens in another, and passive insofar as the reason for what takes place in it is found in what is distinctly known in another. (sec. 66)

53. Now, as there is an infinity of possible universes in the Ideas of God, and as only one of them can exist, there must be a sufficient reason for God's choice, which determines him toward one rather than another. (secs. 8, 10, 44, 173, 196 sqq., 225, 414-416)

54. And this reason can be found only in the fitness, or the degrees of perfection, that these worlds contain, since each possible thing has the right to claim existence in proportion to the perfection it involves. (secs. 74, 167, 350, 201, 130, 352, 345 sqq., 354)

55. And this is the cause of the existence of the best, which God knows through his wisdom, chooses through his goodness, and produces through his power. (secs. 8, 78, 80, 84, 119, 204, 206, 208; Summary, Objs. 1, 8)

56. Now this connection or accommodation of all created things to each and of each to all the others, means that each simple substance has relations that express all the others, and, consequently, that it is a perpetual living mirror of the universe. (sec. 130, 360.)

57. And just as the same town looked at from different sides appears completely different, and as if multiplied in perspective, so through the infinite multitude of simple substances, it is as if there were so many different universes, which nevertheless are only perspectives on a single universe, according to the different point of view of each monad. (sec. 147)

58. And by this means there is obtained as much variety as possible, along with the greatest possible order; that is, it is the means of obtaining as much perfection as possible. (secs. 120, 124, 241 sqq., 214, 243, 275)

59. Besides, only this hypothesis (which I venture to call demonstrated) suitably exalts the greatness of God; and this Monsieur Bayle recognized when, in his Dictionary (article 'Rorarius'), he raised objections to it, in which he was inclined even to think that I was attributing too much to God—more than it is possible to attribute. But he was unable to explain why this universal harmony, according to which every substance exactly expresses every other through the relations it has with them, was impossible.

60. Further, one sees in what I have just said the a priori reasons why things could not be otherwise than they are. For God in regulating the whole has had regard for each part, and in particular for each monad, whose nature being representative, nothing can limit it to representing only a part of things, although it is true that this representation is only confused as regards the detail of the entire universe, and can be distinct only as regards a small part of things, namely, those that are either nearest or greatest in relation to each of the monads; otherwise each monad would be a divinity. It is not in their object, but in the mode of their knowledge of the object, that monads are limited. They all move confusedly toward the infinite, the whole; but they are limited and distinguished through the degrees of their distinct perceptions.

61. And composites agree in this respect with simple substances. For all is a plenum (and thus all matter is connected) and in the plenum every motion has some effect upon distant bodies in proportion to their distance, so that each body not only is affected by those which are in contact with it and in some way feels the effect of everything that happens to them, but also is indirectly affected by bodies touching those with which it is in immediate contact. It follows that this communication extends to any distance, however great. And consequently every body feels the effect of all that takes place in the universe, so that one who sees all could read in each what is happening everywhere, and even what has happened or will happen, observing in the present that which is far off in time as well as in place: sympnoia panta, as Hippocrates said. But a soul can read in itself only what is represented there distinctly; it cannot unpack all at once all its implications, for they extend to infinity.

62. Thus, although each created monad represents the whole universe, it represents more distinctly the body which is specially assigned to it, and of which it is the entelechy; and as this body expresses the whole universe through the connection of all matter in the plenum, the soul also represents the whole universe by representing this body, which belongs to it in a particular way. (sec. 400)

63. The body belonging to a monad, which is its entelechy or soul, constitutes with the entelechy what can be called a living thing, and with the soul what is called an animal. Now this body of a living thing, or animal, is always organic; for as every monad is, in its own way, a mirror of the universe, and as the universe is regulated according to a perfect order, there must also be an order in that which represents it, i.e., in the perceptions of the soul, and consequently in the body, according to which the universe is represented in the soul. (sec. 403)

64. Thus the organic body of each living thing is a kind of divine machine or natural automaton, which infinitely surpasses all artificial automata. For a machine made by human art is not a machine in each of its parts. For instance, the tooth of a brass wheel has parts or fragments which for us are no longer artificial things, and which have nothing to indicate the machine in relation to which the wheel was intended to be used. But machines of nature, that is, living bodies, are still machines in their smallest parts, to infinity. It is this which constitutes the difference between nature and art, that is, between divine art and ours. (secs. 134, 146, 194, 403)

65. And the Author of nature has been able to practice this divine and infinitely marvelous art, because each portion of matter is not only infinitely divisible, as the ancients recognized, but also actually subdivided without end, each part into parts, of which each has some motion of its own; otherwise it would be impossible for each portion of matter to express the whole universe. (Prelim. Disc., sec. 70; sec. 195.)

66. From this we see that there is a world of creatures, living things, animals, entelechies, souls in the smallest portion of matter.

67. Each portion of matter can be conceived as a garden full of plants, and as a pond full of fishes. But each branch of a plant, each member of an animal, each drop of its humors is also such a garden or such a pond.

68. And although the earth and the air which are between the plants of the garden, or the water which is between the fish of the pond, are neither plants nor fish, yet they also contain plants and fishes, but most often so minute as to be imperceptible to us.

69. Thus there is nothing fallow, nothing sterile, nothing dead in the universe, no chaos, no confusion save in appearance, somewhat as might it appear in a pond at a distance, in which one would see a confused movement and, as it were, a swarming of fish in the pond, without separately distinguishing the fish themselves. (Pref. [GP V 40, 44])

70. Hence we see that each living body has a dominant entelechy, which in an animal is the soul; but the members of this living body are full of other living things, plants, animals, each of which also has its entelechy, or its dominant soul.

71. But it must not be imagined, as has been done by some who have misunderstood my thought, that each soul has a mass or portion of matter belonging exclusively to itself or assigned to it forever, and that it consequently possesses other inferior living things, destined to serve it forever. For all bodies are in a perpetual flux like rivers, and parts enter them and leave them continually.

72. Thus the soul changes its body only little by little, and by degrees, so that it is never deprived at once of all its organs; and there is often metamorphosis in animals, but never metempsychosis or transmigration of souls; nor are there entirely separated souls or spirits without bodies. God alone is completely without body. (secs. 90, 124.)

73. It also follows from this that there is never absolute generation nor, strictly speaking, complete death, involving the separation of the soul. What we call generations are developments and growths; what we call deaths are envelopments and diminutions.

74. Philosophers have been much perplexed about the origin of forms, entelechies, or souls; but today when it has become known through careful studies of plants, insects, and animals that the organic bodies of nature are never products of chaos or putrefaction, but always come from seeds, in which there was undoubtedly some preformation, it is judged that not only was the organic body already there before conception, but also a soul in this body, and, in short, the animal itself; and that through conception this animal has merely been prepared for a great transformation, in order to become an animal of another kind. Something like this is seen even apart from generation, as when worms become flies and caterpillars become butterflies. (secs. 86, 89; Pref. [GP V 40ff]; secs. 90, 187, 188, 403, 86, 397)

75. Those animals of which some are raised by means of conception to the rank of larger animals may be called spermatic; but those among them which remain in their own kind (that is, the majority) are born, multiply, and are destroyed like the large animals, and it is only a few elect that pass to a greater theater.

76. But this was only half the truth: I judged, therefore, that if the animal never begins naturally, it no more ends naturally, and that not only will there be no generation, but also no complete destruction or death in the strict sense. And these a posteriori reasonings, drawn from experience, agree perfectly with my a priori principles, as deduced above. (sec. 90)

77. Thus it may be said that not only is the soul (mirror of an indestructible universe) indestructible, but also the animal itself, even though its machine may often perish in part and cast off or put on organic coverings.

78. These principles have given me a way of explaining naturally the union or rather the conformity of the soul and the organic body. The soul follows its own laws, and the body likewise follows its own laws; and they agree with each other in virtue of the harmony preestablished among substances, since they are all representations of the same universe. (Pref. [GP V 39]; secs. 340, 352, 353, 358)

79. Souls act according to the laws of final causes through appetitions, ends and means. Bodies act according to the laws of efficient causes or motions. And the two kingdoms, that of efficient causes and that of final causes, are in harmony with one another.

80. Descartes recognized that souls cannot impart any force to bodies, because there is always the same quantity of force in matter. Nevertheless he believed that the soul could change the direction of bodies. But this is because in his time it was not known that there is a law of nature which affirms also the conservation of the same total direction in matter. Had Descartes noticed this he would have come upon my system of preestablished harmony. (Pref. [GP V 44]; secs. 22, 59, 60, 61, 63, 66, 345, 346 sqq., 354, 355)

81. According to this system bodies act as if (to suppose the impossible) there were no souls, and souls act as if there were no bodies, and both act as if each influenced the other.

82. As regards minds or rational souls, though I find that what I have just said is at bottom true for all living things and animals (namely that animals and souls only begin when the world begins and no more come to an end than the world does), yet there is this peculiarity in rational animals, that their small spermatic animals, so long as they are only that, have merely ordinary or sensitive souls; but when those who are chosen, so to speak, attain to human nature through an actual conception, their sensitive souls are elevated to the rank of reason and to the prerogative of minds. (secs. 91, 397)

83. Among other differences which exist between ordinary souls and minds, some of which I have already noted, there is also this: that souls in general are living mirrors or images of the universe of created things, 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 of imitating it to some extent through architectonic patterns, each mind being like a small divinity in its own sphere. (sec. 147)

84. It is this that enables minds to enter into a kind of society with God, and makes it that, in relation to them, he is not only what an inventor is to his machine (which is the relation of God to other created things), but also what a prince is to his subjects, and even what a father is to his children.

85. From this it is easy to conclude that the collection of all minds must compose the city of God, that is, the most perfect state that is possible, under the most perfect of monarchs. (sec. 146; Summary, Obj. 2)

86. This city of God, this truly universal monarchy, is a moral world in the natural world, and is the most exalted and most divine among the works of God; and it is in it that the glory of God truly consists, for he would have no glory were his greatness and goodness not known and admired by minds. It is also in relation to this divine city that God properly has goodness, whereas his wisdom and power are manifested everywhere.

87. As we have shown above that there is a perfect harmony between the two natural kingdoms, the one of efficient causes, the other of final causes, we should notice here also another harmony between the physical kingdom of nature and the moral kingdom of grace, that is, between God considered as architect of the machine of the universe and God considered as monarch of the divine city of minds. (secs. 62, 74, 118, 248, 112, 130, 247)

88. This harmony brings it about that things are led to grace by the very ways of nature, and that this globe, for example, must be destroyed and repaired by natural means at moments when the government of spirits requires it, for the punishment of some and the reward of others. (secs. 18 sqq., 110, 244, 245, 340)

89. It may also be said that God as architect satisfies in every respect God as legislator, and thus that sins must carry their penalty with them, through the order of nature, and even in virtue of the mechanical structure of things; and likewise that noble actions will attain their rewards by mechanical means, in relation to bodies, although this cannot and ought not always to happen immediately.

90. Finally, under this perfect government no good action will go unrewarded and no bad one unpunished, and everything must result in the well-being of the good, that is, of those who are not dissatisfied in this great state, but who trust in providence, after having done their duty, and who love and imitate, as they should, the author of all good, finding pleasure in the contemplation of his perfections, as is the way of genuine pure love, which takes pleasure in the happiness of the beloved. This is what leads wise and virtuous people to devote their efforts to everything which appears in harmony with the presumptive or antecedent will of God, and yet makes them content with what God actually brings about by his secret, consequent or decisive will, recognizing that if we could sufficiently understand the order of the universe, we would find that it exceeds all the wishes of the wisest, and that it is impossible to make it better than it is, not only for the whole in general but also for ourselves in particular, if we are attached, as we ought to be, to the author of the whole, not only as the architect and efficient cause of our being, but as to our master and to the final cause which ought to be the whole aim of our will and which alone can make for our happiness. (secs. 134, 278; Pref. [GP V 27, 28])