This essay is an appreciation of Massimo Mugnai’s many contributions to Leibniz scholarship, as well as to the history of logic and history of philosophy more generally.

This article explores the relations between Leibniz and the French erudite Pierre-Daniel Huet in the context of their shared anti-Cartesianism. After an introductory survey of the available commentaries and primary texts, I focus on a publication by Leibniz in the Journal des sçavans from 1693, where he fully endorses the critique of Descartes developed by Huet in his 1689 Censura philosophiae cartesianae. Next, I provide some indications as to Leibniz’s motivations behind this public approval of Huet. First, I show how Leibniz throughout the 1690s was attempting to have his 1692 Animadversiones in partem generalem Principiorum Cartesianorum and other anti-Cartesian items annexed to a reedition of Huet’s Censura. I finally show how these attempts to team up with Huet were prompted by Leibniz’s dislike of certain German Cartesians, in particular J. E. Schweling, and by his fear that orthodox Cartesianism might do irremediable damage to the intellectual ethics of the Republic of Letters.

This paper traces Leibniz’s use of his neologism, “transcreation.” Leibniz coins the term in his 1676 discussions of motion, using it to identify a certain type of leap that is essential to motion. But Leibniz quickly dispensed with this theory of motion, arguing instead that “nature never acts by leaps,” and the term “transcreation” fell out of use. However, Leibniz surprisingly revived the term in 1709 in his discussion of the generation of rational beings. By contrasting the way Leibniz uses the term in his theory of motion with his use of the term in the generation of rational beings, we will see that Leibniz’s arguments against leaps early in his career are less forceful against the leaps purportedly involved in the generation of minds. Nevertheless, the “transcreation” of minds does not necessary entail a discontinuity in the “chain of being.”

The only extensive study that Leibniz ever made of an English-language book, his New Essays on John Locke’s 1690 Essay Concerning Human Understanding, was based not on the English original, but on a French translation. And his correspondence with English scholars and political figures was invariably written in Latin or French. In consequence the impression is widespread among Anglophone Leibnizians that he did not know English. However, considerable evidence has come to light in recent years that Leibniz did somehow manage to acquire a capacity to handle the language in its written form.

Most interpreters think that for Leibniz, teleology is goodness-directedness. Explaining a monadic action teleologically, according to them, simply means explaining it in terms of the goodness of the state at which the agent aims. On some interpretations, the goodness at issue is always apparent goodness: an action is end-directed iff it aims at what appears good to the agent. On other interpretations, the goodness at issue is only sometimes apparent goodness and at other times merely objective goodness: some actions do not aim at what appears good to the agent, but merely at what is objectively good—that is, at what God knows to be good—and that is sufficient for teleology. My paper, on the other hand, argues that both of these interpretations are mistaken. Monadic teleology, I contend, does not have to consist in striving for the good; neither goodness nor God is required to make monadic actions teleological.

The question why Leibniz continues to fascinate and perplex us 300 years after his death is one I approach with both hesitation and enthusiasm. Rather than attempting a survey of currrent controversies in Leibniz scholarship, as useful and interesting as such a survey would be, I take the opportunity to explain the underlying basis of our interest in Leibniz.