Matter that moves itself
Can matter build a world of plants, animals and thinking people with nothing outside it to set it going? If it can, the first mover and the soul lose their work.
Cavendish divides matter into a dull part, which moves only when moved, and a lively part she calls innated matter, which moves by its own nature and carries the dull part with it as it builds. Every body is a figure made by that motion, and death destroys the print while the mould remains. Against her own atomist poems she now argues that loose atoms blown about like dust could never yield such order, such constant kinds, such life and knowledge. Matter is infinite and eternal, so it needs no first push.
- matter
- motion
- form
- causation
- change
- transformation
- infinity
- nature
Enter a dialogue
- Death, in your book, destroys the print of a creature but never the mould. What exactly survives when a body falls apart?
- Your earlier poems built the world from atoms. What made dust blown about by the wind too disorderly to explain it?
- With the right shape, plants and minerals might be wooden men and iron beasts. What keeps a stone, in your system, from showing what it knows?
- Lively matter, you write, is a kind of god to dull matter, forming it as it pleases. Does such a world need any ruler outside it?
- People marvel at the magnet drawing iron and shrug at the sun drawing up vapour. Why does the everyday case deserve the same wonder from you?