QUAESTIONES DISPUTATAE DE PUMPKINITATE:

G. K. Chesterton on the Rationality of This Happening After That (c) 2013 Bart A. Mazzetti

1. Chesterton on what is rational and irrational in any sequences of events. Cf. G. K. Chesterton, The Dragons Grandmother, in Tremendous Trifles (1913), pp. 119-121:
I met a man the other day who did not believe in fairy tales. I do not mean that he did not believe in the incidents narrated in themthat he did not believe that a pumpkin could turn into a coach. He did, indeed, entertain this curious disbelief. And, like all the other people I have ever met who entertained it, he was wholly unable to give me an intelligent reason for it. He tried the laws of nature but soon dropped that. Then he said that pumpkins were unalterable in ordinary experience, and that we all reckoned on their infinitely protracted pumpkinity. But I pointed out to him that this was not an attitude we adopt specially towards impossible marvels, but simply the attitude we adopt towards all unusual occurrences. If we were certain of miracles [119-120] we should not count on them. Things that happen very seldom we all leave out of our calculations, whether they are miraculous or not. I do not expect a glass of water to be turned into wine; but neither do I expect a glass of water to be poisoned with prussic acid. I do not in ordinary business relations act on the assumption that the editor is a fairy; but neither do I act on the assumption that he is a Russian spy, or the lost heir of the Holy Roman Empire. What we assume in action is not that the natural order is unalterable, but simply that it is much safer to bet on uncommon incidents than on common ones. This does not touch the credibility of any attested tale about a Russian spy or a pumpkin turned into a coach. If I had seen a pumpkin turned into a Panhard motor-car with my own eyes that would not make me any more inclined to assume that the same thing would happen again. I should not invest largely in pumpkins with an eye to the motor trade. Cinderella got a ball dress from the fairy; but I do not supposed that [120-121] she looked after her own clothes any the less after it. (emphasis added)

Cf. G. K. Chesterton, The Blatchford Controversies (1904), ch. 3, Miracles and Modern Civilization, in The Collected Works of G. K. Chesterton, Vol. 1, pp. 386-389:
Mr. Blatchford has summed up all that is important in his whole position in three sentences. They are perfectly honest and clear. Nor are they any the less honest and clear because the first two of them are falsehoods and the third is a fallacy. He says The Christian denies the miracles of the Mahommedan. The Mahommedan denies the miracles of the Christian. The Rationalist denies all miracles alike. The historical error in the first two remarks I will deal with shortly. I confine myself for the moment to the courageous admission of Mr. Blatchford that the Rationalist denies all miracles alike. He does not question them. He does not pretend to be agnostic about them. He does not suspend his judgment until they shall be proved. He denies them. Faced with this astounding dogma I asked Mr. Blatchford why he thought miracles would not occur. He replied that the Universe was governed by laws. Obviously this answer is of no use whatever. For we cannot call a thing impossible because the world is governed by laws, unless we know what laws. Does Mr. Blatchford know all about all the laws in the Universe? And if he does not know about the laws how can he possibly know anything about the exceptions? For, obviously, the mere fact that a thing happens seldom, under odd circumstances and with no explanation within our knowledge, is no proof that it is against natural law. That would apply to the Siamese twins, or to a new comet, or to radium three years ago. The philosophical case against miracles is somewhat easily dealt with. There is no philosophical case against miracles. There are no such things as the laws of Nature rationally speaking. What everybody knows is this only. That there is repetition in

nature. What everybody knows is that pumpkins produce pumpkins. What nobody knows is why they should not produce elephants and giraffes. There is one philosophical question about miracles and only one. Many able modern Rationalists cannot apparently even get it into their heads. The poorest lad at Oxford in the Middle Ages would have understood it. (Note. As the last sentence will seem strange in our enlightened age I may explain that under the cruel reign of mediaeval superstition, poor lads were educated at Oxford to a most reckless extent. Thank God, we live in better days.) The question of miracles is merely this. Do you know why a pumpkin goes on being a pumpkin? If you do not, you cannot possibly tell whether a pumpkin could turn into a coach or couldnt. That is all. All the other scientific expressions you are in the habit of using at breakfast are words and winds. You say It is a law of nature that pumpkins should remain pumpkins. That only means that pumpkins generally do remain pumpkins, which is obvious; it does not say why. You say Experience is against it. That only means, I have known many pumpkins intimately and none of them turned into coaches. There was a great Irish Rationalist of this school (possibly related to Mr. Lecky), who when he was told that a witness had seen him commit murder said that he could bring a hundred witnesses who had not seen him commit it. You say The modern world is against it. That means that a mob of men in London and Birmingham, and Chicago, in a thoroughly pumpkiny state of mind, cannot work miracles by faith. You say Science is against it. That means that so long as pumpkins are pumpkins their conduct is pumpkiny, and bears no resemblance to the conduct of a coach. That is fairly obvious. What Christianity says is merely this. That this repetition in Nature has its origin not in a thing resembling a law but a thing resembling a will.1 Of course its phase of a Heavenly Father is drawn from an earthly father. Quite equally Mr. Blatchfords phase of a universal law is a metaphor from an Act of Parliament. But Christianity holds that the world and its repetition came by will or Love as children are begotten by a father, and therefore that other and different things might come by it. Briefly, it believes that a God who could do anything so extraordinary as making pumpkins go on being pumpkins, is like the prophet, Habbakuk, Capable de tout. If you do not think it extraordinary that a pumpkin is always a pumpkin, think again. You have not yet even begun philosophy. You have not even seen a pumpkin. The historic case against miracles is also rather simple. It consists of calling miracles impossible, then saying that no one but a fool believes impossibilities: then declaring that there is no wise evidence on behalf of the miraculous. The whole trick is done by means of leaning alternately on the philosophical and historical objection. If we say miracles are theoretically possible, they say, Yes, but there is no evidence for them. When we take all the records of the human race and say, Here is your evidence, they say, But these people were superstitious, they believed in impossible things. (emphasis added)

Cf. G. K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy (1909), ch. 4, The Ethics of Elfland, pp. 89-98:
But I am not concerned with any of the separate statutes of elfland, but with the whole spirit of its law, which I learnt before I could speak, and shall retain when I cannot write. I am concerned with a certain way of looking at life, which was created in me by the fairy tales, but has since been meekly ratified by the mere facts. It might be stated this way. There are certain sequences or developments (cases of one thing following another), which are, in the true sense of the word, reasonable. They are, in the true sense of the word, necessary. Such are mathematical and merely logical
1

On this point, see the excerpt from Robert R. Reilly below.

sequences. We in fairyland (who are the most reasonable of all creatures) admit that reason and that necessity. For instance, if the Ugly Sisters are older than Cinderella, it is (in an iron and awful sense) necessary that Cinderella is younger than the Ugly Sisters. There is no getting out of it. Haeckel may talk as much fatalism about that fact as he pleases: it really must be. If Jack is the son of a miller, a miller is the father of Jack. Cold reason decrees it from her awful throne: and we in fairyland submit. If the three brothers all ride horses, there are six animals and eighteen legs involved: that is true rationalism, and fairyland is full of it. But as I put my head over the hedge of the elves and began to take notice of the natural world, I observed an extraordinary thing. I observed that learned men in spectacles were talking of the actual things that happened dawn and death and so onas if they were rational and inevitable. They talked as if the fact that trees bear fruit were just as necessary as the fact that two and one trees make three. But it is not. There is an enormous difference by the test of fairyland; which is the test of the imagination. You cannot imagine two and one not making three. But you can easily imagine trees not growing fruit; you can imagine them growing golden candlesticks or tigers hanging on by the tail. These men in spectacles spoke much of a man named Newton, who was hit by an apple, and who discovered a law. But they could not be got to see the distinction between a true law, a law of reason, and the mere fact of apples falling. If the apple hit Newtons nose, Newtons nose hit the apple. That is a true necessity: because we cannot conceive the one occurring without the other. But we can quite well conceive the apple not falling on his nose; we can fancy it flying ardently through the air to hit some other nose, of which it had a more definite dislike. We have always in our fairy tales kept this sharp distinction between the science of mental relations, in which there really are laws, and the science of physical facts, in which there are no laws, but only weird repetitions. We believe in bodily miracles, but not in mental impossibilities. We believe that a Bean-stalk climbed up to Heaven; but that does not at all confuse our convictions on the philosophical question of how many beans make five. Here is the peculiar perfection of tone and truth in the nursery tales. The man of science says, Cut the stalk, and the apple will fall; but he says it calmly, as if the one idea really led up to the other. The witch in the fairy tale says, Blow the horn, and the ogres castle will fall; but she does not say it as if it were something in which the effect obviously arose out of the cause. Doubtless she has given the advice to many champions, and has seen many castles fall, but she does not lose either her wonder or her reason. She does not muddle her head until it imagines a necessary mental connection between a horn and a falling tower. But the scientific men do muddle their heads, until they imagine a necessary mental connection between an apple leaving the tree and an apple reaching the ground. They do really talk as if they had found not only a set of marvellous facts, but a truth connecting those facts. They do talk as if the connection of two strange things physically connected them philosophically. They feel that because one incomprehensible thing constantly follows another incomprehensible thing the two together somehow make up a comprehensible thing. Two black riddles make a white answer. In fairyland we avoid the word law; but in the land of science they are singularly fond of it. Thus they will call some interesting conjecture about how forgotten folks pronounced the alphabet, Grimms Law. But Grimms Law is far less intellectual than Grimms Fairy Tales. The tales are, at any rate, certainly tales; while the law is not a law. A law implies that we know the nature of the generalisation and enactment; not merely that we have noticed some of the effects. If there is a law that pick-pockets shall go to prison, it implies that there is an imaginable mental connection between the idea of prison and the idea of picking pockets. And we know what the idea is. We can say why we take liberty from a man who takes liberties. But we cannot say why an egg can turn into a chicken any more than we can say why a bear could turn into a fairy prince. As ideas, the egg and the chicken are further off from each other than the bear and the prince; for no egg in itself suggests a chicken, whereas some princes do suggest bears.

Granted, then, that certain transformations do happen, it is essential that we should regard them in the philosophic manner of fairy tales, not in the unphilosophic manner of science and the Laws of Nature. When we are asked why eggs turn to birds or fruits fall in autumn, we must answer exactly as the fairy godmother would answer if Cinderella asked her why mice turned to horses or her clothes fell from her at twelve oclock. We must answer that it is magic. It is not a law, for we do not understand its general formula. It is not a necessity, for though we can count on it happening practically, we have no right to say that it must always happen. It is no argument for unalterable law (as Huxley fancied) that we count on the ordinary course of things. We do not count on it; we bet on it. We risk the remote possibility of a miracle as we do that of a poisoned pancake or a worlddestroying comet. We leave it out of account, not because it is a miracle, and therefore an impossibility, but because it is a miracle, and therefore an exception. All the terms used in the science books, law, necessity, order, tendency, and so on, are really unintellectual, because they assume an inner synthesis, which we do not possess. The only words that ever satisfied me as describing Nature are the terms used in the fairy books, charm, spell, enchant-ment. They express the arbitrariness of the fact and its mystery. A tree grows fruit because it is a magic tree. Water runs downhill because it is bewitched. The sun shines because it is bewitched. I deny altogether that this is fantastic or even mystical. We may have some mysticism later on; but this fairy-tale language about things is simply rational and agnostic. It is the only way I can express in words my clear and definite perception that one thing is quite distinct from another; that there is no logical connection between flying and laying eggs. It is the man who talks about a law that he has never seen who is the mystic. Nay, the ordinary scientific man is strictly a sentimentalist. He is a sentimentalist in this essential sense, that he is soaked and swept away by mere associations. He has so often seen birds fly and lay eggs that he feels as if there must be some dreamy, tender connection between the two ideas, whereas there is none. A forlorn lover might be unable to dissociate the moon from lost love; so the materialist is unable to dissociate the moon from the tide. In both cases there is no connection, except that one has seen them together. A sentimentalist might shed tears at the smell of apple-blossom, because, by a dark association of his own, it reminded him of his boyhood. So the materialist professor (though he conceals his tears) is yet a sentimentalist, because, by a dark association of his own, apple-blossoms remind him of apples. But the cool rationalist from fairyland does not see why, in the abstract, the apple tree should not grow crimson tulips; it sometimes does in his country. This elementary wonder, however, is not a mere fancy derived from the fairy tales; on the contrary, all the fire of the fairy tales is derived from this. Just as we all like love tales because there is an instinct of sex, we all like astonishing tales because they touch the nerve of the ancient instinct of astonishment. This is proved by the fact that when we are very young children we do not need fairy tales: we only need tales. Mere life is interesting enough. A child of seven is excited by being told that Tommy opened a door and saw a dragon. But a child of three is excited by being told that Tommy opened a door. Boys like romantic tales; but babies like realistic talesbecause they find them romantic. In fact, a baby is about the only person, I should think, to whom a modern realistic novel could be read without boring him. This proves that even nursery tales only echo an almost pre-natal leap of interest and amazement. These tales say that apples were golden only to refresh the forgotten moment when we found that they were green. They make rivers run with wine only to make us remember, for one wild moment, that they run with water. I have said that this is wholly reasonable and even agnostic. And, indeed, on this point I am all for the higher agnosticism; its better name is Ignorance. We have all read in scientific books, and, indeed, in all romances, the story of the man who has forgotten his name. This man walks about the streets and can see and appreciate everything; only he cannot remember who he is. Well, every man is that man in the story. Every man has forgotten who he is. One may understand the cosmos, but never the ego; the self more distant than any star. Thou shalt love the Lord

thy God; but thou shalt not know thyself. We are all under the same mental calamity; we have all forgotten our names. We have all forgotten what we really are. All that we call common sense and rationality and practicality and positivism only means that for certain dead levels of our life we forget that we have forgotten. All that we call spirit and art and ecstacy only means that for one awful instant we remember that we forget. But though (like the man without memory in the novel) we walk the streets with a sort of half-witted admiration, still it is admiration. It is admiration in English and not only admiration in Latin. The wonder has a positive element of praise. This is the next milestone to be definitely marked on our road through fairyland. I shall speak in the next chapter about optimists and pessimists in their intellectual aspect, so far as they have one. Here am only trying to describe the enormous emotions which cannot be described. And the strongest emotion was that life was as precious as it was puzzling. It was an ecstacy because it was an adventure; it was an adventure because it was an opportunity. The goodness of the fairy tale was not affected by the fact that there might be more dragons than princesses; it was good to be in a fairy tale. The test of all happiness is gratitude; and I felt grateful, though I hardly knew to whom. Children are grateful when Santa Claus puts in their stockings gifts of toys or sweets. Could I not be grateful to Santa Claus when he put in my stockings the gift of two miraculous legs? We thank people for birthday presents of cigars and slippers. Can I thank no one for the birthday present of birth? There were, then, these two first feelings, indefensible and indisputable. The world was a shock, but it was not merely shocking; existence was a surprise, but it was a pleasant surprise. In fact, all my first views were exactly uttered in a riddle that stuck in my brain from boyhood. The question was, "What did the first frog say?" And the answer was, "Lord, how you made me jump!" That says succinctly all that I am saying. God made the frog jump; but the frog prefers jumping. But when these things are settled there enters the second great principle of the fairy philosophy. (emphasis added)

2. Chestertons argument in sum:

The Dragons Grandmother, Tremendous Trifles (1913), pp. 119-121 The Blatchford Controversies (1904), ch. 3, Miracles and Modern Civilization, pp. 386-389

I met a man the other day who did not believe in Mr. Blatchford has summed up all that is imfairy tales. portant in his whole position in three sentences. They are perfectly honest and clear. I do not mean that he did not believe in the incidents narrated in themthat he did not believe that a pumpkin could turn into a coach. He did, indeed, entertain this curious disbelief. And, like all the other people I have ever met who entertained it, he was wholly unable to give me an intelligent reason for it. Nor are they any the less honest and clear because the first two of them are falsehoods and the third is a fallacy. He says The Christian denies the miracles of the Mahommedan. The Mahommedan denies the miracles of the Christian. The Rationalist denies all miracles alike. Faced with this astounding dogma I asked Mr. Blatchford why he thought miracles would not occur.

He tried the laws of nature but soon dropped He replied that the Universe was governed by that. laws. Obviously this answer is of no use whatever. Orthodoxy (1909), ch. 4, The Ethics of Elfland, p. In fairyland we avoid the word law; but in the land of science they are singularly fond of it. Thus they will call some interesting conjecture about how forgotten folks pronounced the alphabet, Grimms Law. But Grimms Law is far less intellectual than Grimms Fairy Tales. The tales are, at any rate, certainly tales; while the law is not a law. A law implies that we know the nature of the For we cannot call a thing impossible because generalisation and enactment; not merely that the world is governed by laws, unless we know we have noticed some of the effects. what laws. Does Mr. Blatchford know all about all the laws in the Universe? If there is a law that pick-pockets shall go to prison, it implies that there is an imaginable And if he does not know about the laws how mental connection between the idea of prison can he possibly know anything about the exand the idea of picking pockets. And we know ceptions? what the idea is. We can say why we take liberty from a man who takes liberties. But we cannot say why an egg can turn into a chicken any more than we can say why a bear could turn into a fairy prince. As ideas, the egg and the chicken are further off from each other than the bear and the prince; for no egg in itself suggests a chicken, whereas some princes do suggest bears. Granted, then, that certain transformations do happen, it is essential that we should regard them in the philosophic manner of fairy tales, not in the unphilosophic manner of science and the Laws of Nature. |The philosophical case against miracles is somewhat easily dealt with. There is no philo|We have always in our fairy tales kept this sophical case against miracles. There are no sharp distinction between the science of mental such things as the laws of Nature rationally relations, in which there really are laws, speaking. and the science of physical facts, in which there What everybody knows is this only. That there are no laws, but only weird repetitions. is repetition in nature.

We believe in bodily miracles, but not in mental impossibilities.

What everybody knows is that pumpkins produce pumpkins.

We believe that a Bean-stalk climbed up to What nobody knows is why they should not Heaven; produce elephants and giraffes. but that does not at all confuse our convictions There is one philosophical question about miraon the philosophical question of how many cles and only one. beans make five.| The question of miracles is merely this. Do you know why a pumpkin goes on being a pumpkin? If you do not, you cannot possibly tell whether a pumpkin could turn into a coach or couldnt. That is all. All the other scientific expressions you are in the habit of using at breakfast are words and winds. Then he said that pumpkins were unalterable in You say It is a law of nature that pumpkins ordinary experience, and that we all reckoned should remain pumpkins. That only means that on their infinitely protracted pumpkinity. pumpkins generally do remain pumpkins, which is obvious; it does not say why. You say Experience is against it. That only means, I have known many pumpkins intimately and none of them turned into coaches. You say The modern world is against it. That means that a mob of men in London and Birmingham, and Chicago, in a thoroughly pumpkiny state of mind, cannot work miracles by faith. You say Science is against it. That means that so long as pumpkins are pumpkins their conduct is pumpkiny, and bears no resemblance to the conduct of a coach. That is fairly obvious.| But I pointed out to him that this was not an attitude we adopt specially towards impossible marvels, but simply the attitude we adopt towards all unusual occurrences. If we were certain of miracles we should not count on them. Things that happen very seldom we all leave out For, obviously, the mere fact that a thing of our calculations, whether they are miraculous happens seldom, under odd circumstances and or not. with no explanation within our knowledge, is no proof that it is against natural law.

That would apply to the Siamese twins, or to a new comet, or to radium three years ago. Orthodoxy (1909), ch. 4, The Ethics of Elfland I do not expect a glass of water to be turned into We risk the remote possibility of a miracle as wine; but neither do I expect a glass of water to we do that of a poisoned pancake or a world-debe poisoned with prussic acid. stroying comet. I do not in ordinary business relations act on the We leave it out of account, not because it is a assumption that the editor is a fairy; but neither miracle, and therefore an impossibility, but bedo I act on the assumption that he is a Russian cause it is a miracle, and therefore an exception. spy, or the lost heir of the Holy Roman Empire. What we assume in action is not that the natural |It is no argument for unalterable law (as Huxley order is unalterable, fancied) that we count on the ordinary course of things. but simply that it is much safer to bet on uncommon incidents than on common ones. We do not count on it; we bet on it.| This does not touch the credibility of any attested tale about a Russian spy or a pumpkin turned into a coach. If I had seen a pumpkin turned into a Panhard motor-car with my own eyes that would not make me any more inclined to assume that the same thing would happen again. I should not invest largely in pumpkins with an eye to the motor trade. Cinderella got a ball dress from the fairy; but I do not supposed that / she looked after her own clothes any the less after it.

N.B. In order to understand the radical nature of Chestertons position, it will be helpful to review the understanding of cause and effect furnished by traditional philosophy, especially as found in the teaching of Aristotle. 3. Aristotles understanding of what is irrational: That the irrational is that which is unnatural as having no order. Cf. Aristotle, Phys., VIII. 1 (252a 10-23) (tr. R. Glen Coughlin):
[10] But indeed nothing is disordered among things which are by nature and are according to nature. For nature is in all things a cause of order. The infinite, however, has no ratio to the infinite, and every ratio is an order. It is no longer a work of nature for things to be resting an infinite time, then at some time to have been moved, when there is no difference of this [time] due to which [it has been moved] now rather than before, nor even some order [15] between these [times]. For either what is by nature is disposed simply, and not thus at one time, otherwise at another, as fire moves up by nature, and not at one time but not at another; or else, in the case of what is not simple, what is by nature has a ratio. Whence it is better [to speak] as Empedocles [252a 20] [spoke], and anyone else who said things are so disposed, [saying] that the whole rests in turn and [then] is moving again. For such a whole already has a certain order.

Cf. St. Thomas Aquinas, In VIII Physic., lect. 3, n. 3 (tr. B.A.M.):

Then when he says, But nothing is disordered, etc., he shows that this argument used by Anaxagoras is more unsuitable than the one used by Empedocles. For it is obvious that when something is put down as a principle, one must take what this is in accordance with the nature of the thingthat is, that the nature of the thing be such that it agree with it. For in this way we take as a principle that every whole is greater than its part, because this belongs to the nature of a whole, which exceeds the amount of a part. And so Empedocles used to say that in this way it was naturally apt to be, giving us to understand that this is to be taken as a principle. And Anaxagoras spoke similarly, although he did not say so expressly. But it is obvious that no natural thing, nor something of the things which belong to things by nature, can exist without order, since nature is a cause of ordering. For we observe nature in her works to proceed in an orderly fashion from one thing to another: therefore, what does not possess some order is not in accordance with nature, nor can it be taken as a principle. But two infinites do not have an order to each other, since there is no proportion of one infinite to another; but every order is a certain proportion. Thus, then, it is clear that to rest for an infinite time and afterward to begin to move through an infinite time without there being any difference between this time and that on account of which a motion resulted now more than beforenor again to assign any other ordering between the two of which when the one is lacking, the other begins and a motion results, as Anaxagoras heldthis is not a work of nature. The reason is that whatever exists in nature is always disposed simplythat is, in the same wayand not at times thus, but at other times otherwise, just as fire is always borne upward; or there is some reason why it is not always disposed in the same way, as animals do not always grow, but sometimes they get smaller, and this has some reason. Thus, then, it does not appear to proceed in accordance with nature that things rest for an infinite time and afterward begin to move, as Anaxagoras held. And so it is better that it be said, as Empedocles said, or anyone else who held a similar opinion, that the whole universe rests in a certain part, and moves again in another part of time, since this right away involves some ordering: for there can be a proportion to the finite.

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But it must be borne in mind that the pronouncement of our faith is not similar to the position of Anaxagoras. For we do not hold an infinite space of time before the world, of which it is necessary to take a proportion to the following time: but before the world began there was only the simple eternity of God, as has been said, which is entirely outside the genus of time.

Cf. also Aristotle, Phys., IV. 4 (255a 9) (tr. R. Glen Coughlin):

Whence, if it is in its own power for fire to be borne up, it is clear that to be borne down is also in its own power. It is unreasonable, however, [for them] to be moved from themselves according to one motion alone, if in fact they move themselves.

4. Two reasons why Aristotle calls something alogos, or irrational. One may note two general reasons why Aristotle calls something irrational. First, because nature is in all things a cause of order; second, because the thing so called bears on something improbable that is not, simply speaking, impossible. With regard to the first, Aristotle says:
But the infinite has no ratio (= alogos, irrational or without a reason) to the infinite, and every ratio is an order. It is no longer a work of nature for things to be resting an infinite time, then at some time to have been moved, when there is no difference of this [time] due to which [it has been moved] now rather than before, nor even some order between these [times]. For either what is by nature is disposed simply, and not thus at one time, otherwise at another, as fire moves up by nature, and not at one time but not at another; or else, in the case of what is not simple, what is by nature has a ratio. ( Physics VIII, 1, 252a 10 ff., tr. R. Glen Coughlin, additions in ( ) by B.A.M.)

Since nature is a cause of order, nothing disordered is natural, and hence, since every ratio (logos) is an order, that which is unnatural by having no order has no ratio (logos)that is, it is alogos or irrational. The same notion is expressed in the following passages:
As for those who say that mathematical number is first and go on to generate one kind of substance after another with distinct principles for each kind, they make the substance of the universe a mere series of episodes [= unrelated parts] (for substances of one kind contribute nothing to those of another kind, whether it exist or not [i.e. by its existence or nonexistence]) and they make many principles; but things do not wish to be governed badly. The rule of the many is not good; let one the ruler be. (Iliad, ii. 204).1 Again, without taking it lightly, we may press this difficulty regarding all number and mathematicals: those of them which come before contribute nothing to those which come after; for if number did not exist, magnitudes nonetheless would exist according to those who say that only mathematicals exist, and if these did not exist, soul and sensible bodies would still exist. But the observed facts show that nature is not a series of episodes, like a bad tragedy.2

1 2

Metaphys. XII. 10 (1075b 371076a 8) (tr. H. G. Apostle; rev. B.A.M.) Ibid., XIV. 3 (1090b 14-20) ( tr. H. G. Apostle, rev. B.A.M.)

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If one part contribute nothing to another part by its existence or non-existence, says Aristotle, then the universe would be a series of episodes, like a bad tragedy, such a universe, like that composed of successive infinite times, being alogosthat is, without reason or irrational. St. Thomas Aquinas explains Aristotles second reason for calling something irrational as follows:
But it must be understood that these two arguments are probable in accordance with what appears with respect to things moving themselves which are among us, which are sometimes found to be moved by this motion, sometimes also to rest. And so he did not say it is impossible, but irrational, by that manner of speaking he is accustomed to use in probable matters. (In VIII Physic., lect. 7, n. 7)

Aristotle, by the manner of speaking he is accustomed to use in probable matters, calls certain physical theories of Empedocles and Anaxagoras irrational rather than impossible (cf. Physics VIII, 4, 255a 9). 5. Notes. The alogos is found where there is no proportio or ratio of one thing to another, as there is no ratio of one infinite to another; that is, where there is no comparison or relationship of the one to the other. To lack a reason or ratiothis constitutes the alogos. In the phrase, without reason, what does reason mean? As meaning ratio: the habitude or relationship of one thing to another, or that in virtue of which they admit of a comparison to one another. (St. Thomas Aquinas) Clearly, then, a position such as Chestertons does away with nature in its entirety. 6. Primary divisions of the ways in which things come to be. Cf. Aristotle, Phys., II. 5 (196b 10-23) (tr. R. Glen Coughlin):
138. [196b 10] First, therefore, since we see that some things always come to be in the same way, but some do so for the most part, it is apparent that luck is called the cause of neither of these; nor are these by luck, either what is by necessity and always, or what is for the most part. But since there are things which [15] come to be besides these and everyone says these are by luck, it is apparent that luck and chance are something. For we know that such things are by luck and that what are by luck are such things. 139. Of things which come to be, some come to be for the sake of something and some do not. 140. Of the former, some [come to be] according to choice, and some not according to choice; but both sorts are among those which are for the sake of [20] something. Whence it is clear that, even in those which are beyond the necessary and what is for the most part, there are some about which that for the sake of which can be present. Whatever could be done by thought or by nature is for the sake of something.

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The correct way of understanding this happening after that in nature is well-expressed by the following passage: Cf. Michael A. Augros, Scrapbook 1.
[n 463] Because luck and chance are accidental causes, therefore they are not the causes of all things, because they come after nature and reason, and what is by nature or reason is not by luck or chance, because the cause is before the effect. The way we come to see the existence of chance. It is known to us through our very first experiences that there are substances in motion. After some more experience, we see certain regularities in certain motions of certain things, always or usually ending in something good for those things. We see that motion in general has a cause (we always and naturally wonder why a thing moved and why it moved in the way that it did: What makes an ocean wave wave? What causes the tides?). But we see further that motions in a thing which happen regularly must have a per se cause, that something must be causing that motion by being what it is. Moreover, we see that regular motions in things have a per se cause within those things. We then give a name to such causes, nature, and, distinguishing natural motions from violent and artificial ones, we see that nature is a cause of being moved, belonging to the thing moved as part of what it is. Because natural things come and cease to be, and because they do not always move as their natures incline them (e.g. men with six fingers to a hand or born without eyes), we see they have in them a nature which is able to be other than it is. If a natural motion is one in accord with the ability to be moved in a thing, how can there be violent motion? It would have to be a motion in a thing for which it had no ability, which is impossible. But remember, every violent motion is natural to something, and one nature can be composed of many natures. Hence, in burning an animal, this is violent to the animal nature, but not necessarily to the natures of which it is composed (e.g. carbon, which is freed from its composition in the animal by burning and comes into its own complete existence). Burning an animal is a motion in accord with some nature in it, but obviously violent to its complete animal nature.

Cf. also Alfred J. Freddoso, Outline of the Treatise on Happiness:

1,2: Acting for an end is not peculiar to human beings, since all substances are agents, rational or non-rational, that act for an end. (This is a fundamental thesis that St. Thomas takes over from Aristotle and that he would not relinquish even if he were around today.) If an agent were not ordered toward some determinate effect, it wouldnt do this rather than that. What is peculiar to voluntary actions is that this ordering is accomplished through a rational appetite rather than through natural appetiteso that rational agents qua rational move themselves toward deliberated ends, whereas non-rational agents are moved by another toward either an apprehended but undeliberated end (brute animals) or a nonapprehended end (agents that lack cognition).

7. On things by nature and by other causes. Cf. Aristotle, Phys., I. 1 (198b832) (tr. R. Glen Coughlin):
[192b 8] 92-93. Of things which are, some are by nature and some through other causes. The animals and their parts and the plant and the simple bodies, such as [10] earth, fire, air, and water, are by nature. For we say these and such things are by nature. But all these things appear to differ from things not constituted by [15] nature. For each of these has in itself a principle of motion and standing, some according to place, some according to growth and diminution, and some according to alteration.

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A bed and a cloak, however, and anything else of this kind, insofar as they are subject to each predicated [mentioned] and to the degree that they are from art, do not have any inborn impulse for change [20] at all. But insofar as they happen to be rock or earth or a mixture of these, the do have one, and just to that extent, (93) as though nature is some principle and cause of moving and of resting in that in which it is, primarily, in virtue of itself, and not accidentally.

8. An argument showing that things have natures: That like begets like. Cf. Herbals: Their Origin and Evolution: A Chapter in the History of Botany 1470-1670 , by Agnes Arber, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1912:
2. ARISTOTELIAN BOTANY. Aristotle, Platos pupil, concerned himself with the whole field of science, and his influence, especially during the Middle Ages, had a most profound effect on European thought. The greater part of his botanical writings, which belong to the fourth century before Christ, are unfortunately lost, but, from such fragments as remain, it is clear that his interest in plants was of an abstract nature. He held that all living bodies, those of plants as well as of animals, are organs of the soul, through which they exist. It was broad, general speculations, such as these, which chiefly attracted him. He asks why a grain of corn gives rise in its turn to a grain of corn and not to an olive, thus raising a plexus of problems, which, despite the progress of modern science, still baffle the acutest thinkers of the present day.

Cf. Aristotle, Phys. II, 4, 196a 31-32, tr. H. G. Apostle):

(for it is not any chance thing that is generated from a given seed, but an olive tree from this kind and a man from that kind).

9. The three ways in which things happen. Cf. Aristotle Metaphys., XI. 8 (1064b 361065a 2) (tr. W. D. Ross):
We say that everything either is always and of necessity (necessity not in the sense of violence, but that which we appeal to in demonstrations), or is for the most part, or is neither for the most part, nor always and of necessity, but merely as it chances; e.g. there might be cold in the dogdays, but this occurs [1065a] neither always and of necessity, nor for the most part, though it might happen sometimes. The accidental, then, is what occurs, but not always nor of necessity, nor for the most part.

10. The three ways in which the causes of future things are disposed. Cf. St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theol., IIa-IIae, q. 95, art. 1, c. (tr. B.A.M.):
I reply that it must be said that in the name of divination is understood a certain foretelling of things that are to come [or future things]. But future things can be foreknown in two ways: in one way in their causes; in another way in themselves. Now the causes of future things are disposed in three ways. For certain ones produce their effects by necessity and always. And future effects of this sort can be foreknown and foretold with certitude by a consideration of their causes, just as astronomers foretell future eclipses.

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But certain causes produce their effects not of necessity and always, but for the most part, yet they rarely fail. And by causes of this sort future effects can be foreknown not indeed with certitude, but by a certain conjecture, just as astronomers by a certain consideration of the stars can foreknow and foretell about rains and dry spells, and doctors about health and death. But there are some causes which, if they be considered in themselves, are disposed indifferently, which is chiefly observed in rational powers which are disposed to opposites, according to the Philosopher (Meta. viii, 2, 5, 8). And such effects, as well as those effects which occur from natural causes for the least part by chance, cannot be foreknown by a consideration of causes since their causes do not have a determinate inclination to effects of this sort. And so effects of this sort cannot be foreknown unless they be considered in themselves. But effects of this sort can be considered in themselves only while they are present, just as when a man sees Socrates run or walk. But to consider such things in themselves before they take place is proper to God, who alone in eternity sees those things which are to come as though they were present, as has been determined in the first part (I, 14, 13; I, 57, 3; I, 86, 4), and so it is said (Is. 41:23): Show the things that are to come hereafter, and we shall know that ye are gods.

Cf. The Catholic Encyclopedia, Divination:

To put the question directly: can man know future events? Let St. Thomas answer in substance: Future things can be known either in their causes or in themselves. Some causes always and necessarily produce their effects, and these effects can be foretold with certainty, as astronomers announce eclipses. Other causes bring forth their effects not always and necessarily, but they generally do so, and these can be foretold as well-founded conjectures or sound inferences, like a physicians diagnosis or a weather observers prediction about rain. Finally there is a third class of causes whose effects depend upon what we call chance or upon mans free will, and these cannot be foretold from their causes. We can only see them in themselves when they are actually present to our eyes. Only God alone, to whom all things are present in His eternity, can see them before they occur. Hence we read in Isaias (41:23), Show the things that are to come hereafter, and we shall know that you are gods. Spirits can know better than men the effects to come from the second class of causes because their knowledge is broader, deeper, and more universal, and many occult powers of nature are known to them. Consequently they can foretell more events and more precisely, just as a physician who sees the causes clearer can better prognosticate about the restoration of health. The difference, in fact, between the first and second classes of causes is due to the limitations of our knowledge. The multiplicity and complexity of causes prevent us from following their effects. Future contingent things, the effects of the third class, spirits cannot know for certain, except God reveal them, though they may wisely conjecture about them because of their wide knowledge of human nature, their long experience, and their judgments based upon our thoughts as revealed to them by our words, countenances, or acts.

In sum, there are causes which produce their effects: (1) of necessity and always, and so such effects can be foretold with certainty (2) not of necessity and always but for the most part, and so such effects can be foretold as well-founded conjectures or sound inferences (3) neither of necessity and always or for the most part but by free will or by chance and for the least part, and so such effects cannot be foretold from their causes 15

11. Alternatives pertaining to the ways in which things happen. things may come to be by nature or not by nature things may come to be for the sake of something or not for the sake of something things may come to be by nature or by thought (or mind) things may come to be by nature or by chance or luck things may come to be according to nature or contrary to nature of things coming to be for the sake of something, some may come to be according to choice or not of things coming to be for the sake of something, some may be done by thought, some by nature we must be careful to distinguish what has happened from: what is happening now (in Aristotles two senses of now) what will happen in the future, and what might have happened but didnt what has happened: in 1948 Harry S. Truman was elected President of the United States what is happening now: George W. Bush is President what will happen in the future: someone now living will be elected President after Bush what might have happened but didnt: Thomas Dewey being elected President in 1948 As Aristotle makes clear in the Poetics, a sequence or a case of one thing following another is reasonable when this happens because of that, not merely after thatthat is, when an action, being possible, consists of this happening after that in accordance with necessity or probability (cf. Poet. ch. 9). Moreover, as I have shown elsewhere (cf. my paper On the Four Things Producing an Effect of Wonder According to Aristotle [Papers In Poetics 2]), what is represented as happening is either rational or explicable or irrational or inexplicable: it is rational or explicable if the antecedent is possible and the consequent follows necessarily or with likelihood; it is irrational or inexplicable (a) if the antecedent is possible, but the consequent does not follow necessarily or with likelihood, or (b) if the antecedent is possible but unlikely and the consequent follows, but does so unexpectedly, or (c) if the antecedent is impossible but likely, and the consequent follows as if the antecedent were true; the irrational or inexplicable being what is unnatural as having no order, such that one part by its existence or non-existence has no bearing on another part. 11. Philosophical roots of the irrationalist view. Cf. Robert R. Reilly, The Pope and the Prophet (Crisis Magazine Oct 8 2009):1

(http://www.crisismagazine.com/2009/the-pope-and-the-prophet [10/10/2009])

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The victorious view developed a theological basis for the primacy of power by claiming that the revelation of Mohammed emphasizes most particularly one attribute of GodHis omnipotence. Although all monotheistic religions hold that, in order to be one, God must be omnipotent, this argument reduced God to His omnipotence by concentrating exclusively on His unlimited power, as against His reason. Gods reasons are unknowable by man. God is not shackled by reason; He rules as He pleases. He is pure will. There is no rational order invested in the universe upon which one can rely, only the second-to-second manifestation of Gods will. God is so powerful that every instant is the equivalent of a miracle. Nothing intervenes or has an independent or even semi-autonomous existence. In philosophical language, this view holds that God is the primary cause of everything, and there are no secondary causes. Therefore, what may seem to be natural laws, such as the laws of physics, gravity, etc., are really nothing more than Gods customs, which He is at complete liberty to break or change at any moment. As Benedict points out, this is called volunteerism. The consequences of this view are momentous. If creation exists simply as a succession of miraculous moments, it cannot be apprehended by reason. Other religions, including Christianity, recognize miracles. But they recognize them precisely as temporary and extraordinary suspensions of the natural law. In fact, that is what defines them as miracles. One admits to the possibility of a miracle only after discounting every possible explanation of its occurrence by natural causes. In this school of Islamic thought, there are no natural causes to discount. As a result, reality becomes incomprehensible. If unlimited will is the exclusive constituent of reality, there is really nothing left to reason about, and the uncreated Quran is not open to interpretation. The earlytenth-century thinker Abu al-Hasan al-Ashari elaborated a metaphysics for the anti-rational view by using early Greek atomistic philosophy to assert that reality is composed of atoms. The configuration of these atoms at any given moment makes things what they are. In Islam in the World, British analyst Malise Ruthven explains: The Asharis rationalised Gods omnipotence within an atomistic theory of creation, according to which the world was made up of the discrete points in space and time whose only connection was the will of God, which created them anew at every moment. For example, there is a collection of atoms that is a plant. Does the plant remain a plant because it has the nature of a plant, or because Allah wishes it to be a plant from this moment to the next? The Asharites said it is only a plant for the moment. For the plant to remain a plant depends on the will of Allah, and if you say it has to remain a plant because it has the nature of plant, this is shirkblasphemy. The catastrophic result of this view is the denial of the relationship between cause and effect. In The Incoherence of the Philosophers, Abu Hamid al-Ghazali (10581111), perhaps the single most influential Muslim thinker after Mohammed, vehemently rejected Greek thought: The source of their infidelity was their hearing terrible names such as Socrates and Hippocrates, Plato and Aristotle. Al-Ghazali insisted that God is not bound by any order, and that there is, therefore, no natural sequence of cause and effect, as in fire burning cotton or, more colorfully, as in the purging of the bowels and the using of a purgative. Things do not act according to their own natures but only according to Gods will at the moment. There are only juxtapositions of discrete events that make it appear that the fire is burning the cotton, but God could just as well do otherwise. (This doctrine is known as occasionalism.) In other words, there is no continuous narrative of cause and effect tying these moments together in a comprehensible way. In attacking the Mutazilites, the Asharites, in the words of Mohammed Khair, wished to free Gods saving power from the shackles of causality. (emphasis added)

Cf. R. Glen Coughlin, Some Considerations on Aristotelian Place and Newtonian Space, The Aquinas Review (Vol. 1, No. 1, 1994): 17

Causes also fall away. If there is no imaginative component to causality, as Hume shows there is not, we must bid it good-bye. If we are to consider things mathematically and formally, we cannot consider the passivity of an object as such, and so we cannot consider new effects as being the actualizations of previously dormant potencies. Since causes are causes only in relation to effects, we can no longer consider causes as producing. We can only know of a miraculous constant conjunction and succession in time. (emphasis added)

Cf. David Hume, A Treatise on Human Nature (1739-40), vol. I, part 1:

Moral philosophy, or the study of human nature, may be treated in two ways. The simple, popular, philosophy of Man born for action, taste and sentiment; which by appeal to feelings, moulds the heart. Or the Abstruse philosophy of reasoning and speculationunpopular & tricky but able to diffuse through to the lawyer, soldier and politician. All our Ideas come from sensory Impressions (well, perhaps except the missing shade of blue). You cant dispute this give me an idea which hasnt come from an impression? The Idea of a golden mountain comes from impressions of gold and mountain and of God from extensions of ourselves. We associate ideas because of their Resemblance (we see a painting, think of the original), their Contiguity (closeness in time/place) or their perceived cause-andeffect (think of a wound we cannot avoid thinking of pain). But there is a distinction between relations of ideas and matters of fact Adam wouldnt have known that water drowns. Stones might go up, or billiard-balls not rebound. We believe things when we hold a vivid, lively, forcible, firm, steady, more intense conception, which may not sound very philosophical but we agree about the thing. Resemblance livens ideas powerfully, as with the Catholic mummeries. We assume one thing is caused by another just by the habitual assumption that things are often found together it is not a reliable assumption. My sceptical friend argues that religion has no part in politics, and therefore the two ought not to be mixed. He misses the point that people do mix the two, no amount of ought is equal to is. Animals as well as men learn from experience, as when the dog fears the whip. Our Laws are based on punishment that same effect will have same cause. But Cause is mere constant conjunction, we never really discover anything but one event following another. There is no such thing as chance in the world, yet nothing is more free than the imagination of man. There are always causes, even if the Power behind them is hidden from us, as with medicines or clouds. Miracles shouldnt be believed, unless it would be even more miraculous not to believe. All religions with miracles say that miracles prove other religions wrong (which is impossible). If God knows all, then he is the author of all criminality. There need be no fear that philosophy should undermine our reasonings in common life, but we can be sceptical as to moral or religious results. (emphasis added)

Cf. David Hume, An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding, Sec. X. Of Miracles:

It being a general maxim, that no objects have any discoverable connection together, and that all the inferences, which we can draw from one to another, are founded merely on our experience of their constant and regular conjunction; it is evident that we ought not to make an exception to this maxim in favor of human testimony.... This species of reasoning, perhaps, one may deny to be founded on the relation of cause and effect. I shall not dispute about a word. (emphasis added)

Cf. Mortimer J. Adler, The Great Ideas: A Syntopicon of Great Books of the Western World (Chicago, 1952), Vol. I, Chapter 39, Induction (Introduction), pp. 810-811:

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Hume offers two reasons for the inconclusiveness and uncertainty which he thinks qualify all our generalizations or inductions from experience. The first calls attention to the fact that, unlike mathematical reasoning, inferences from experience in the realm of physical matters depend on the number of cases observed. The conclusions which [reason] draws from considering one circle, he says, are the same it would form upon surveying all the circles in the universe. But no man, having seen only one body move, after being impelled by another, could infer that every other body will move after a like impulse. The principle which determines him to form such a conclusion is, according to Hume, Custom or Habit; and precisely because inductive generalization is an effect of custom rather than of reasoning in the strict sense, the strength of the induction or the force of custom varies with the number of cases from which it arises. After the constant conjunction of two objects heat and flame, for instance, weight and soliditywe are determined by custom alone to expect the one from the appearance of the other. This hypothesis, Hume maintains, seems . . . the only one which explains the difficulty, why we draw, from a thousand instances, an inference which we are not able to draw from one instance, that is in no respect different from them. Reason is incapable of any such variation. Since all the relevant cases can never be exhaustively observed, the inference from a customary conjunction must always remain uncertain, no matter how high a probability it derives from the multiplication of like instances. To this first point, concerning the dependence of the probability of generalizations from experience upon the frequency of the observed instances, Hume adds a second point about the similarity of the cases under obser- [810-811] vation. Analogy, he says, leads us to expect from any cause the same events, which we have observed to result from similar causes. Where the causes are entirely similar, the analogy is perfect, and the inference drawn from it is regarded as certain and conclusive. . . . But where the objects have not so exact a similarity, the analogy is less perfect, and the inference is less conclusive; though still it has some force, in proportion to the degree of similarity and resemblance. The absence of perfect similarity is Humes second reason for the inconclusiveness or uncertainty of inductive generalizations. The contrary supposition that one case can be perfectly representative of an infinite number of similar cases may explain why Aristotle seems to think that induction is able to produce the primary truths or principles of science with a certitude which gives certainty to all the demonstrations founded on these axioms. Another explanation of Aristotles view may be found in his distinction between scientific and dialectical induction. He regards the former as based on the kind of common experience which, unlike even the best experiment, admits of no exceptions. In contrast, dialectical induction, or the still weaker form of induction which he calls rhetorical, is based on an enumeration of cases (which may not be complete) or upon a single example (which provides no safeguard against possible exceptions). In its dialectical form, the inductive argument proceeds from a number of particulars taken for granted. Aristotle offers this example of dialectical induction: Supposing the skilled pilot is the most effective, and likewise the skilled charioteer, then, in general, the skilled man is the best at his particular task. In its rhetorical form, no more than a single example may be used, as when the orator generalizes that honesty is the best policy from the story of a particular individual who was finally rewarded for his virtue. In both forms, the inductive generalization is at best probable; and it is more or less probable according to the soundness of the suppositions or the examples from which it originates to be tested only by extending the enumeration of particulars. But if an induction is merely probable in the first place, it can only be made more probable, it can never be made certain, by multiplying cases or by increasing their variety. Aristotles theory of dialectical induction thus seems to have a bearing on the probability of induction from limited experiments (or from a single experiment whose perfection is not assured) and of induction from the frequency or variety of observed instances. The other point to be noted is that Bacons basic rule of gradual ascent from particular cases through less general to more general propositions seems to be relevant to dialectical induction, but not, on Aristotles view, to that kind of induction which produces the axioms or principles of science. (emphasis added)

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Cf. C. S. Lewis, Miracles: A Preliminary Study (New York: Macmillan Publishing Company, 1978, 1st ed. 1947), pp. 55-56:
Three conceptions of the Laws of Nature have been held. (1) That they are mere brute facts, known only by observation, with no discoverable rhyme or reason about them. We know that Nature behaves thus and thus; we do not know why she does and can see no reason why she should not do the opposite. (2) That they are applications of the law of averages. The foundations of Nature are in the random and lawless. But the number of units we are [55-56] dealing with are so enormous that the behaviour of these crowds (like the behaviour of very large masses of men) can be calculated with practical accuracy. What we call impossible events are events so overwhelmingly improbableby actuarial standardsthat we do not need to take them into account. (3) That the fundamental laws of Physics are really what we call necessary truths like the truths of mathematicsin other words, that if we clearly understand what we are saying we shall see that the opposite would be meaningless nonsense. <> It will at once be clear that the first of these three theories gives no assurance against Miraclesindeed no assurance that, even apart from Miracles, the laws which we have hitherto observed will be obeyed to-morrow. If we have no idea why a thing happens, then of course we know no reason why it should be otherwise.

12. C. S. Lewis on miracles: The answer to Chesterton: Cf. Miracles from God in the Dock by C. S. Lewis, editor Walter Hooper, (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1970) pp. 25-35:
Nothing is wonderful except the abnormal and nothing is abnormal until we have grasped the norm. Complete ignorance of the laws of Nature would preclude the perception of the miraculous just as rigidly as complete disbelief in the supernatural precludes it, perhaps even more so. For while the materialist would have at least to explain miracles away, the man wholly ignorant of Nature would simply not notice them. The experience of a miracle in fact requires two conditions. First we must believe in a normal stability of nature, which means we must recognize that the data offered by our senses recur in regular patterns. Secondly, we must believe in some reality beyond Nature. When both beliefs are held, and not till then, we can approach with an open mind the various reports which claim that this super- or extra-natural reality has sometimes invaded and disturbed the sensuous content of space and time which makes our natural world. The belief in such a supernatural reality itself can neither be proved nor disproved by experience. The arguments for its existence are metaphysical, and to me conclusive. They turn on the fact that even to think and act in the natural world we have to assume something beyond it and even assume that we partly belong to that something. In order to think we must claim for our own reasoning a validity which is not credible if our own thought is merely a function of our brain, and our brains a by-product of irrational physical processes. In order to act above the level of mere impulse we must claim a similar validity for our judgments of good and evil. In both cases we get the same disquieting result.

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The concept of nature itself is one we have reached only tacitly by claiming a sort of supernatural status for ourselves. If we frankly accept this position and then turn to the evidence we find, of course, that accounts of the supernatural meet us on every side. History is full of them, often in the same documents which we accept wherever they do not report miracles. Respectable missionaries report them not infrequently. The whole Church of Rome claims their continued occurrence. Intimate conversation elicits from almost every acquaintance at least one episode in his life which is what he would call queer or rum. No doubt most stories of miracles are unreliable; but then, as anyone can see by reading the papers, so are most stories of all events. Each story must be taken on its merits. What one must not do is to rule out the supernatural as the one impossible explanation. Thus you may disbelieve in the Mons Angels [Lewis is referring to the story that angels appeared, protecting British troops in their retreat from Mons, France, on the 26th August 1914, ed.] because you cannot find a sufficient number of sensible people who say they saw them. But if you found a sufficient number, it would, in my view, be unreasonable to explain this by collective hallucination. For we know enough of psychology to know that spontaneous unanimity in hallucination is very improbable, and we do not know enough of the supernatural to know that a manifestation of angels is equally improbable. The supernatural theory is the less improbable of the two. When the Old Testament says that Sennacheribs invasion was stopped by angels (2 Kings 19.35), and Herodotus says it was stopped by a lot of mice who came and ate up all the bowstrings of his army (Herodotus, Bk. 2, Sec. 14), an open-minded man will be on the side of the angels. Unless you start by begging the question, there is nothing intrinsically unlikely in the existence of angels or in the action ascribed to them. But mice just dont do these things. A great deal of skepticism now current about the miracles of our Lord does not, however, come from disbelief of all reality beyond nature. It comes from two ideas which are respectable but I think mistaken. In the first place, modern people have an almost aesthetic dislike of miracles. Admitting that God can, they doubt if He would. To violate the laws He Himself has imposed on His creation seems to them arbitrary, clumsy, a theatrical device only fit to impress savages a solecism against the grammar of the universe. In the second place, many people confuse the laws of nature with the laws of thought and imagine that their reversal or suspension would be a contradiction in terms as if the resurrection of the dead were the same sort of thing as two and two making five.1 I have only recently found the answer to the first objection. I found it first in George MacDonald and then later in St. Athanasius. This is what St. Athanasius says in his little book On the Incarnation: Our Lord took a body like to ours and lived as a man in order that those who had refused to recognize Him in His superintendence and captaincy of the whole universe might come to recognize from the works He did here below in the body that what dwelled in this body was the Word of God. This accords exactly with Christs own account of His miracles: The Son can do nothing of Himself, but what He seeth the Father do. (Jn 5.19) The doctrine, as I understand it, is something like this: There is an activity of God displayed throughout creation, a wholesale activity let us say which men refuse to recognize. The miracles done by God incarnate, living as a man in Palestine, perform the very same things as this wholesale activity, but at a different speed and on a smaller scale. One of their chief purposes is that men, having seen a thing done by personal power on the small scale, may recognize, when they see the same thing done on the large scale, that the power behind it is also personal is indeed the very same person who lived among us 2000 years ago.
1

N.B. Here Lewis puts his finger on the nub of Chestertons position.

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The miracles in fact are a retelling in small letters of the very same story which is written across the whole world in letters too large for some of us to see. Of that larger script part is already visible, part is still unsolved. In other words, some of the miracles do locally what God has already done universally: others do locally what He has not yet done, but will do. In that sense, and from our human point of view, some are reminders and others prophecies. God creates the vine and teaches it to draw up water by its roots and, with the aid of the sun, to turn that water into a juice which will ferment and take on certain qualities. Thus every year, from Noahs time till ours, God turns water into wine. That, men fail to see. Either like the Pagans they refer the process to some finite spirit, Bacchus or Dionysus: or else, like the moderns, they attribute real and ultimate causality to the chemical and other material phenomena which are all that our senses can discover in it. But when Christ at Cana makes water into wine, the mask is off. (Jn 2.1-11) The miracle has only half its effect if it only convinces us that Christ is God: it will have its full effect if whenever we see a vineyard or drink a glass of wine we remember that here works He who sat at the wedding party in Cana. Every year God makes a little corn into much corn: the seed is sown and there is an increase, and men, according to the fashion of their age, say It is Ceres, it is Adonis, it is the Corn-King, or else It is the laws of Nature. The close-up, the translation, of this annual wonder is the feeding of the 5000. (Mat 14.15-21) Bread is not made there of nothing. Bread is not made of stones, as the Devil once suggested to Our Lord in vain (Matt 4.3). A little bread is made into much bread. The Son will do nothing but what he sees the Father do. There is, so to speak, a family style. The miracles of healing fall into the same pattern. This is sometimes obscured for us by the somewhat magical view we tend to take of ordinary medicine. The doctors themselves do not take this view. The magic is not in the medicine but in the patients body. What the doctor does is to stimulate Natures functions in the body, or to remove hindrances. In a sense, though we speak for convenience of healing a cut, every cut heals itself; no dressing will make skin grow over a cut on a corpse. That same mysterious energy which we call gravitational when it steers the planets and biochemical when it heals a body is the efficient cause of all recoveries, and if God exists, that energy, directly or indirectly, is His. All who are cured are cured by Him, the healer within. But once He did it visibly, a Man meeting a man. Where He does not work within in this mode, the organism dies. Hence Christs one miracle of destruction is also in harmony with Gods wholesale activity. His bodily hand, held out in symbolic wrath, blasted a single fig tree (Matt 21.19); but no tree died that year in Palestine, or any year, or in any land, or even ever will, save because He has done something, or (more likely) ceased to do something, to it. When He fed the thousands he multiplied fish as well as bread. Look in every bay and almost every river. This swarming, pulsating fecundity shows He is still at work. The ancients had a god called Genius the god of animal and human fertility, the presiding spirit of gynecology, embryology, or the marriage bed the genial bed as they called it after its god Genius. As the miracles of wine and bread and healing showed who Bacchus really was, who Ceres, who Apollo, and that all were one, so this miraculous multiplication of fish reveals the real Genius. And with that we stand at the threshold of the miracle which for some reason most offends modern ears. I can understand the man who denies the miraculous altogether; but what is one to make of the people who admit some miracles but deny the Virgin Birth? Is it that for all their lip service to the laws of Nature there is only one law of Nature that they really believe? Or is it that they see in this miracle a slur upon sexual intercourse which is rapidly becoming the one thing venerated in a world without veneration? No miracle is in fact more significant. What happens in ordinary generation? What is a fathers function in the act of begetting? A microscopic particle of matter from his body fertilizes the female: and with that microscopic particle passes, it may be, the colour of his

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hair and his great grandfathers hanging lip, and the human form in all its complexity of bones, liver, sinews, heart, and limbs, and pre-human form which the embryo will recapitulate in the womb. Behind every spermatozoon lies the whole history of the universe: locked within it is no small part of the worlds future. That is Gods normal way of making a man a process that takes centuries, beginning with the creation of matter itself, and narrowing to one second and one particle at the moment of begetting. And once again men will mistake the sense impressions which this creative act throws off for the act itself or else refer it to some infinite being such as Genius. Once, therefore, God does it directly, instantaneously; without a spermatozoon, without the millenniums of organic history behind the spermatozoon. There was of course another reason. This time He was creating not simply a man, but the man who was to be Himself: the only true Man. The process which leads to the spermatozoon has carried down with it through the centuries much undesirable silt; the life which reaches us by that normal route is tainted. To avoid that taint, to give humanity a fresh start, He once short-circuited the process. There is a vulgar anti-God paper which some anonymous donor sends me every week. In it recently I saw the taunt that we Christians believe in a God who committed adultery with the wife of a Jewish carpenter. The answer to that is that if you describe the action of God in fertilizing Mary as adultery then, in that sense, God would have committed adultery with every woman who ever had a baby. For what He did once without a human father, He does always even when He uses a human father as His instrument. For the human father in ordinary generation is only a carrier, sometimes an unwilling carrier, always the last in a long line of carriers, of life that comes from the supreme life. Thus the filth that our poor, muddled, sincere, resentful enemies fling at the Holy One, either does not stick, or, sticking, turns into glory. So much for the miracles which do small and quick what we have already seen in the large letters of Gods universal activity. But before I go on to the second class, those which foreshadow parts of the universal activity we have not yet seen, I must guard against a misunderstanding. Do not imagine I am trying to make the miracle less miraculous. I am not arguing that they are more probable because they are less unlike natural events: I am trying to answer those who think them arbitrary, theatrical, unworthy of God, meaningless interruptions of universal order. They remain in my view wholly miraculous. To do instantly with dead and baked corn what ordinarily happens slowly with live seed is just as great a miracle as to make bread of stones. Just as great, but a different kind of miracle. That is the point. When I open Ovid or Grimm I find the sort of miracles which really would be arbitrary. Trees talk, houses turn into trees, magic rings raise tables richly spread with food in lonely places, ships become goddesses, and men are changed into snakes or birds or bears. It is fun to read about: the least suspicion that it had really happened would turn that fun into nightmare. You find no miracles of that kind in the Gospels. Such things, if they could be, would prove that some alien power was invading Nature; they would not in the least prove that it was the same power which had made Nature and rules her every day. But the true miracles express not simply a god, but God: that which is outside Nature, not as a foreigner, but as her Sovereign. They announce not merely that a King has visited our town, but that it is the King, our King. The second class of miracles, on this view, foretell what God has not yet done, but will do, universally. He raised one man (the man who was Himself) from the dead because He will one day raise all men from the dead. Perhaps not only men, for there are hints in the New Testament that all creation will eventually be rescued from decay, restored to shape and subserve the splendour of re-made humanity (see Rom 8.22). The Transfiguration (Matt 16.1-9) and the walking on the water (Matt 14.26) are glimpses of the beauty and the

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effortless power over all matter which will belong to men when they are really waked by God. Now resurrection certainly involves reversal of natural process in the sense that it involves a series of changes moving in the opposite direction to those we see. At death, matter which has been organic, falls back gradually into the inorganic, to be finally scattered and used perhaps in other organisms. Resurrection would be the reverse process. It would not of course mean the restoration to each personality of those very atoms, numerically the same, which had made its first or natural body. There would not be enough to go round, for one thing; and for another, the unity of the body even in this life was consistent with a slow but perplexed change of its actual ingredients. But it certainly does mean matter of some kind rushing towards organism as now we see it rushing away. It means, in fact, playing backwards a film we have already seen played forwards. In that sense it is a reversal of Nature. But, of course, it is a further question whether reversal in this sense is necessarily contradiction. Do we know that the film cannot be played backwards? Well, in one sense, it is precisely the teaching of modern physics that the film never works backwards. For modern physics, as you have heard before, the universe is running down. Disorganization and chance is continually increasing. There will come a time, not infinitely remote, when it will be wholly run down or wholly disorganized, and science knows of no possible return from that state. There must have been a time, not infinitely remote, in the past when it was wound up, though science knows of no winding-up process. The point is that for our ancestors the universe was a picture: for modern physics it is a story. If the universe is a picture these things either appear in that picture or not; and if they dont, since it is an infinite picture, one may suspect that they are contrary to the nature of things. But a story is a different matter; specially if it is an incomplete story. And the story told by modern physics might be told briefly in the words Humpty Dumpty was falling. That is, it proclaims itself an incomplete story. There must have been a time before he fell, when he was sitting on the wall; there must be a time after he had reached the ground. It is quite true that science knows of no horses and men who can put him together again once he has reached the ground and broken. But then she also knows of no means by which he could originally have been put on the wall. You wouldnt expect her to. All science rests on observation: all our observations are taken during Humpty Dumptys fall, because we were born after he lost his seat on the wall and shall be extinct long before he reaches the ground. But to assume from observations taken while the clock is running down that the unimaginable winding-up which must have preceded this process cannot occur when the process is over is the merest dogmatism. From the very nature of the case the laws of degradation and disorganization which we find in matter at present, cannot be the ultimate and eternal nature of things. If they were, there would have been nothing to degrade and disorganize. Humpty Dumpty cant fall off a wall that never existed. Obviously, an event which lies outside the falling or disintegrating process which we know as Nature, is not imaginable. If anything is clear from the records of Our Lords appearances after His resurrection, it is that the risen body was very different from the body that died and that it lives under conditions quite unlike those of natural life. It is frequently not recognized by those who see it (Lk 24.13-31): and it is not related to space in the same way as our bodies. The sudden appearances and disappearances (Mark 16.14; Luke 24.31,36; John 20.19,26) suggest the ghost of popular tradition: yet He emphatically insists that He is not merely a spirit and takes steps to demonstrate that the risen body can still perform animal operations, such as eating. (Luke 24.42-43; John 21.13) What makes all this baffling to us is our assumption that to pass beyond what we call Nature beyond the three dimensions and the five highly specialized and limited senses is immediately to be in a world of pure negative spirituality, a world where space of any sort and sense of any sort has no function. I know no grounds for believing this.

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To explain even an atom Schrodinger (Arthur Schrodinger 1887-1961) wants seven dimensions: and give us new senses and we should find a new Nature. There may be Natures piled upon Natures, each supernatural to the one beneath it, before we come to the abyss of pure spirit; and to be in that abyss, at the right hand of the Father, may not mean being absent from any of these Natures. It may mean a yet more dynamic presence on all levels. That is why I think it very rash to assume that the story of the Ascension is mere allegory. I know it sounds like the work of people who imagined an absolute up and down and a local heaven in the sky. But to say this is after all to say Assuming that the story is fake, we could thus explain how it arose. Without that assumption we find ourselves moving about in worlds unrealised (Wordsworth Intimations of Immortality) with no probability or improbability to guide us. For if the story is true then a being still in some mode, though not our mode, corporeal, withdrew at His own will from the Nature presented by our three dimensions and five senses, not necessarily into the non-sensuous and undimensioned but possibly into, or through, a world or worlds of super-sense and super-space. And He might choose to do it gradually. Who on earth knows what the spectators might see? If they say they saw a momentary movement along the vertical plane then an indistinct mass then nothing who is to pronounce this improbable? (emphasis added)

13. An evaluation of Chestertons view. As we have seen, Chesterton restricts the notion of necessity in our knowledge to two cases: logical conversion and simple mathematical calculation:
For instance, if the Ugly Sisters are older than Cinderella, it is (in an iron and awful sense) necessary that Cinderella is younger than the Ugly Sisters. There is no getting out of it. Haeckel may talk as much fatalism about that fact as he pleases: it really must be. If Jack is the son of a miller, a miller is the father of Jack. Cold reason decrees it from her awful throne: and we in fairyland submit. If the three brothers all ride horses, there are six animals and eighteen legs involved: that is true rationalism, and fairyland is full of it.

E.g. if the apple tree bore apples, then apples were borne by the apple tree; if the apple fell to the ground, then the ground received the apple; if 3 x 2 = 6, then 6 = 3 x 2. But just because natural sequences do not involve logical or mathematical necessity, it does not follow that they involve no necessity whatsoever. Chesterton assumes that necessary has only one meaning: that is necessary the opposite of which involves a contradiction; the corollary to this maxim being that one cannot imagine any such sequence which involves a contradiction (e.g. when one knows that 2 + 2 = 4, one cannot imagine that 2 + 2 = 5, etc.). E.g. If I am capable of imagining something other than a chicken coming from the egg that is, if considering another outcome involves no contradictionthan there was no necessity for the chicken being born. It is only a weird repetition. But what proportion is there between what is imaginable and what is necessary? One can easily imagine many things the contradictory of which in no way does away with things that are necessarily so. Furthermore, Chesterton says, we leave out of account things which happen rarely, like a poisoned pancake or a world-destroying comet. But doing so presupposes that we have taken account of the regularity of things, for otherwise we could have no conception of what is rare or unusual. But if there are no laws but only weird repetitions, why should we even care about such things? Again, if we are supposed to feel surprise at events which repeat themselves invariably day in and day out, what would be the proper response if things went haywire every day?

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Regarding his error concerning natural effects: he denies that reason can say anything about why apple trees bear apples, or why pumpkins remain pumpkins. The root of Chestertons error lies in this: he fails to see that things have natures and hence act in determinate ways according to an inclination given them by the first cause (some acting the same way always and of necessity, some for the most part, others for the least part) such that there is a connection graspable by reason between effects and their causes and conditions. It is not arbitrary that a man cannot drink twelve bottles of champagne and not be made sick. Again, it is not arbitrary that a man be limited to one wife. His error consists in restricting the notion of necessity to logical conversions and simple mathematical calculations. He thinks that if it is impossible to imagine the contrary being true, then the sequence is necessary; if not, it is not. But what he calls weird repetitions are our only evidence for the natures of things. One cannot deny a certain necessity to them except by adopting an a priori commitment against it. His position is no different from that of Blatchford (see C. S. Lewis on the miraculous above). GKC: We do not reckon on (= count on) pumpkins remaining pumpkins (as opposed to suddenly turning into something else), rather, we leave this possibility out of account, just as we leave out of account the possibility of a world-destroying comet. We leave out of account every unusual occurrencethat is, things that happen very seldom. This appears to be the sum of Chestertons understanding of the definition of a miracle: it is something unusual as happening very seldom. He fails to understand that a miracle is called unusual not because it is infrequent, but because it outside the natural course. He seems to be saying that impossible marvels, like the transformation of a pumpkin into a coach, are coextensive with unusual occurrences. Here the true definition of miracles, from St. Thomas and St. Augustine (for which, see the Appendix below), destroys his argument. So far as I know, no one has ever seen or reported such a transformation; it is merely made up, as Chesterton himself saw in distinguishing fable from legend in many of his writings. GKC: What we do not count on is the same as what we leave out of our calculations. We do not leave miracles out of our calculations, therefore we DO count on them. If we were certain of miracles we should not count on them. This implies that if we are uncertain of miracles, then we do count on them. But to reason thus is an error in logic: If x is NOT something we do not count on, it does not follow that it IS something we do count on: it may be indifferent to being counted onthat is, it may be non-counted on. To take a similar case: if something is not voluntary, it does not follow that it is voluntary: it may be non-voluntary. What we assume in action is not that the natural order is unalterable, but simply that it is much safer to bet on uncommon incidents than on common ones. If GKCs friend did say words to the effect that he did not reckon on etc. it is NOT reasonable to assume that he was referring to an assumption upon which he may act. Again, did Chestertons friend really disbelieve in the transformation because he believed that the natural order is unalterable, as Chesterton appears to assume? A person who disbelieves in the transformation of a pumpkin into a coach does not necessarily do so because he thinks the natural order is set in stone, but because such things are not seen to happen. Granted that they are possible through divine power, a reasonable man has no call to believe that divine omnipotence ever has or ever will bring it about. 26

Again, to bet in the statement under discussion seems to mean to chance or to risk. I.e. when I drink the glass of water without fear that it may be poisoned by prussic acid I am betting on the improbability of its being poisoned. It does not mean that I believe it is impossible to be poisoned. Likewise, when I buy a pumpkin to make a pie with, I am betting on the improbability that it will be transformed into a coach by somebodys fairy godmother, thereby preventing me from my legal right to the pie I intend to make. I dont discount this turn of events because I judge it impossible, only improbable. This is nonsense: there is only an element of risk where the person has some reason to suspect danger to himself. A lodger on good terms with his law-abiding landlady is at risk only in a theoretical sense. Furthermore, how could risk exist if there are no laws of nature, but only weird repetitions? Death cannot be the necessary effect of swallowing poison: where is the imaginable connection? Given his philosophical commitments, Chesterton should have been downing cups of hemlock with every meal, since there was no necessity of this killing him. Moreover, it is pointless to talk about counting on things happening practically when your fundamental position is that things happen arbitrarily. Likewise, it is ridiculous to speak of things like pumpkins turning into coaches as seldom occurring events when they are never seen to occur. To agree with Chesterton in this matter we would have to pretend to believe are true things we know are not true. Of course, it is easy enough to show that Chesterton himself didnt always believe these arguments, as our next excerpt amply demonstrates. 13. Chesterton affirming the existence of the laws of nature. Cf. G. K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy (1908), ch. 3, The Suicide of Thought, pp. 243-244:
But it is impossible to be an artist and not care for laws and limits. Art is limitation; the essence of every picture is the frame. If you draw a giraffe, you must draw him with a long neck. If, in your bold creative way, you hold yourself free to draw a giraffe with a short neck, you will really find that you are not free to draw a giraffe. The moment you step into the world of facts, you step into a world of limits. You can free things from alien or accidental laws, but not from the laws of their own nature. You may, if you like, free a tiger from his bars; but do not free him from his stripes. Do not free a camel of the burden of his hump: you may be freeing him from being a camel. Do not go about as a demagogue, encouraging triangles to break out of the prison of their three [243-244] sides. If a triangle breaks out of its three sides, its life comes to a lamentable end. (emphasis added)

N.B. This argument presupposes that things have natures, as, for instance, that it is by nature that giraffes have long necks. But if so, then why cant we have necessary knowledge of such things? Again, the fact that an apple falls to the ground when it is cut from its stalk is no less a law of nature then that a tiger has stripes or a camel a hump. One could, of course, multiply passages such as this demonstrating Chestertons unselfconscious acceptance that there is such a thing as nature, but a single instance is sufficient to prove Aristotles dictum that a man doesnt necessarily believe everything he says.

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Appendix: On miracles as things brought about by God beyond the order of nature. (1) But the things which at times are brought about by the divinity beyond the order commonly established in things are customarily called miracles (= wonderful things). And because one and the same cause is sometimes known to some and unknown to others it happens that of those seeing the effect at the same time some wonder and some do not wonder: for the astronomer does not wonder at seeing an eclipse of the sun because he knows the cause; but the person ignorant of astronomy cannot help but wonder, not knowing the cause. In this way, then, something is a wonder to one man and not to another. That, then, is a wonder without qualification which has a cause hidden without qualification. And the name miraculum expresses this, namely, what is of itself full of wonder (= wonderful), not to this man or to that man alone. Now the cause without qualification hidden from every man is God: for it was proved above (cf. ch. 47) that no man in this life can grasp by his understanding the essence of God. Those things, then, are properly to be spoken of as miracles which are brought about by the divinity beyond the order commonly observed in things. (St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Contra Gentes III, q. 101, n. 1, tr. B.A.M.) (2) Now of these miracles there are several ranks and orders. For the highest rank among miracles holds (in those things) in which something is done by God that nature can never do, as that two bodies are together (in place), that the sun go backwards or stand still, that the sea be parted in order to furnish a passage for those crossing it. But among these a certain order is noted. For the greater the things done by God and the more remote they are from the capacity of nature the greater is the miracle, just as it is a greater miracle that the sun go backwards than that the sea be parted. But those things hold the second rank of miracles in which God does something that nature can do but not by that order. For it is a work of nature that an animal should live, see and walk: but that it should live after death, see after blindness, walk after lameness, these things nature cannot do, but God at times does them miraculously. Among these (kinds of) miracle a rank is also noted insofar as that which is brought about is more remote from the capacity of nature. But the third rank of miracles is when God does something which is usually done by the working of nature but is done without the working of the principles of nature, as when one is cured by divine power of a fever curable by nature, or when it rains without the working of the principles of nature. (St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Contra Gentes III, q. 101, nn. 2, 3, 4, tr. B.A.M.) (3) One proceeds to the seventh as follows. It seems that not all the things which God does beyond the natural order of things are miracles. For the creation of the world and also of souls, and the justification of the unrighteous are brought about by God beyond the natural order. For they are not brought about by any natural cause. And nevertheless these are not called miracles.

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Therefore, not all the things which God does beyond the natural order of things are miracles. Further, a miracle means something difficult and unusual arising above the capacity of nature and the hope of the one who wonders (St. Augustine, De utilitate credendi xvi). But certain things are brought about beyond the order of nature which nevertheless are not difficult, for they consist in small matters, such as the recovery and healing of the sick. Nor are they unusual, since they happen frequently, as when the sick were placed in the streets, to be healed by the shadow (sc. of Peter, cf. Acts 5:15). Nor are they even above the capacity of nature, as when some people are healed of fevers. Nor even beyond hope, as everyone hopes for the resurrection of the dead, which nevertheless will be brought about beyond the order of nature. Therefore not all things which are brought about beyond the order of nature are miracles. Further, the name miraculum (miracle) is taken from admiratio (wonder). But admiratio or wonder is about things manifest to the senses. But sometimes some things happen beyond the natural order in things not manifest to the senses, as when the Apostles were made knowers neither by discovery nor by learning. Therefore not all things which are brought about beyond the order of nature are miracles. But against this is what Augustine says (Contra Faustus xxvi), that when God does something against the course of nature known to us and usual, they are named great things or things to be wondered at. I reply that it must be said that the name miraculum (miracle) is taken from admiratio (wonder). Now wonder arises when effects are manifest and their cause hidden, just as someone wonders when he sees an eclipse of the sun and does not know the cause, as is said at the outset of the Metaphysics. But the cause of some apparent effect can be known to someone which nevertheless is unknown to others. And so something is a wonder to one that is not a wonder to others, just as an eclipse of the sun is wondered at by the uneducated man but not by the astronomer. But miracle means, as it were, full of wonder which, namely, has a cause hidden from everyone without qualification. And this is God. And so those things which are brought about by God beyond the causes known to us are called miracles. To the first, then, it must be said that creation and the justification of the unrighteous, even if brought about by God alone, are nevertheless not called miracles, properly speaking. The reason is that they are not naturally apt to come about through other causes, and so they do not happen beyond the order of nature, since these things do not pertain to the order of nature. To the second it must be said that a miracle is called difficult not by reason of the dignity of the matter in which it comes about, but because it exceeds the capacity of nature. 29

Likewise it is called unusual not because it does not happen often, but because it is beyond the accustomed natural course. But something is called beyond the capacity of nature not only by reason of the substance of the thing done, but also by reason of the manner and the order of the doing. But a miracle is said to be above the hope of nature, not above the hope of grace, which is from faith, by which we believe in a future resurrection. To the third it must be said that the knowledge of the Apostles, although in and of itself it was not manifest, was nevertheless manifested in its effects, from which marvels it was apparent. (St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theol., Ia, q. 105, art. 7, tr. B.A.M.) (4) One proceeds to the eighth as follows. It seems that one miracle is not greater than another. For Augustine, in his Letter to Volusianus, says that in things done miraculously the whole rationale of the thing done is in the power of the doer. But every miracle is brought about by the same power, namely, by God. Therefore one is not greater than another. Further, the power of God is infinite. But the infinite exceeds every finite thing without proportion. Therefore this effect is not to be more wondered at than that one. Therefore one miracle is not greater than another. But to the contrary is what the Lord, speaking of miraculous works, says (John 14:12) The works that I do, he also shall do, and greater than these shall he do. I reply that it must be said that nothing can be called a miracle in comparison with the divine power, since whatever is done compared with the divine power is of small account, according to Isaiah (40:15), Behold the Gentiles are as a drop from a bucket, and are counted as the smallest grain of a balance. But something is called a miracle by a comparison with the capacity of nature, which it exceeds. And so the more it exceeds the capacity of nature, the more it is called a miracle. But something exceeds the capacity of nature in three ways. In one way with respect to the substance of the thing done, as that two bodies are together (in place), or that the sun go backwards, or that the human body be glorified, which nature in no way can do. And such things hold the highest rank in miracles. In a second (way) something exceeds the capacity of nature not with respect to that which is done, but with respect to that in which it is done, just as the bringing back to life of the dead, and the restoring of sight to the blind, and the like. For nature can cause life, but not in the dead, and can bestow sight, but not in the blind. And these hold the second place in miracles. In a third way something exceeds the capacity of nature with respect to the manner and the order of the doing, just as when by divine power someone speedily cures a fever without treatment and the process of nature customary in such matters, and when by divine power the air is immediately condensed into rain apart from natural causes, as at the prayers of Samuel and Elias. And such things hold the lowest place in miracles.

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Still, any of these have diverse ranks insofar as they exceed the capacity of nature in various ways. And from the foregoing the solution to the objections which proceed on the part of the divine power are clear. (St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theol., Ia, q. 105, art. 8, tr. B.A.M.) (5) To the third it must be said that two things can be considered in miracles. One is that which is brought about, which is something exceeding the capacity of nature. And with respect to this they are called virtues (powers). The other is that on account of which miracles are brought about, namely, the manifestation of something supernatural. And with respect to this they are commonly called signs by reason of excellence; they are called portents or prodigies, however, as showing something from afar. (St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theol., IIa-IIae, q. 178, art. 1, ad 3, tr. B.A.M.) (6) One proceeds to the fourth as follows. It seems that the angels can work miracles. For Gregory says (Hom. xxxiv in Evang.): Those spirits are called virtues by whom signs and miracles are usually done. Further, Augustine says in the Book of Eighty-Three Questions (qu. 79) that magicians work miracles by private contracts; good Christians by public justice, bad Christians by the signs of public justice. But magicians work miracles because they are heard by the demons, as he says elsewhere in the same work [Cf. Liber xxi, Sentent., sent. 4: among the supposititious works of St. Augustine]. Therefore the demons can work miracles. Therefore much more can the good angels. Further, Augustine says in the same work [Cf. Liber xxi, Sentent., sent. 4: among the supposititious works of St. Augustine] that it is not absurd to believe that all the things we see happen may be brought about by the lower powers that dwell in our atmosphere. But when an effect of natural causes is produced outside the order of the natural cause, we call it a miracle, as, for instance, when anyone is cured of a fever not by the operation of nature. Therefore the angels and demons can work miracles. Further, superior power is not subject to the order of an inferior cause. But corporeal nature is inferior to an angel. Therefore an angel can work outside the order of corporeal agents; which is to work miracles. On the contrary, It is written of God (Ps. 135:4): Who alone doth great wonders. I reply that it must be said that a miracle is said properly when something is done outside the order of nature. But it is not enough for a miracle if something is done outside the order of any particular nature; for otherwise anyone would perform a miracle by throwing a stone upwards, as such a thing is outside the order of the stones nature. So for a miracle is required that it be against the order of the whole of created nature. But God alone can do this, because, whatever an angel or any other creature does

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by its own power is according to the order of created nature; and thus it is not a miracle. Hence God alone can work miracles. To the first it must be said that some angels are said to work miracles either because God works miracles at their request, in the same way as holy men are said to work miracles; or because they exercise a kind of ministry in the miracles which take place, as in collecting the dust in the general resurrection, or by doing something of that kind. To the second it must be said that simply speaking, as has been said, miracles are those things which are done outside the order of the whole of created nature. But because all the power of created nature is not known to us, it follows that when anything is done outside the order of created nature known to us by a created power unknown to us, it is called a miracle as regards ourselves. So when the demons do anything of their own natural power, these things are called miracles not simply, but in reference to ourselves. In this way the magicians work miracles through the demons; and these are said to be done by private contracts, forasmuch as every power of the creature, in the universe, may be compared to the power of a private person in a city. And so when a magician does anything by compact with a demon, this is done as it were by a certain private contract. But the Divine justice is in the whole universe as the public law is in the city. And so good Christians, so far as they work miracles by Divine justice, are said to work miracles by public justice: but bad Christians by the signs of public justice, as by invoking the name of Christ, or by making use of other sacred signs. To the third it must be said that spiritual powers are able to effect whatever happens in this visible world, by employing corporeal seeds by local movement. To the fourth it must be said that although the angels can do something which is outside the order of corporeal nature, yet they cannot do anything outside the whole created order, which is essential to a miracle, as has been said. (St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theol., Ia, q. 110, art. 4, tr. English Dominican Fathers, rev. B.A.M.) (7) As stated above (Article [2]), fate is the ordering of second causes to effects foreseen by God. Whatever, therefore, is subject to second causes, is subject also to fate. But whatever is done immediately by God, since it is not subject to second causes, neither is it subject to fate; such are creation, the glorification of spiritual substances, and the like. (St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theol., Ia, q. 116, art. 4, c.)

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1. On the three ways in which something exceeds the capacity of nature: A comparison of

texts.
Summa Contra Gentes III, q. 101, n. 4 Now of these miracles there are several ranks and orders. Summa Theol., Ia, q. 105, art. 8, c. But something exceeds the capacity of nature in three ways.

For the highest rank among miracles holds (in In one way with respect to the substance of the those things) in which something is done by thing done, God that nature can never do, as that two bodies are together (in place), that the sun go backwards or stand still, as that two bodies are together (in place), or that the sun go backwards,

that the sea be parted in order to furnish a pas- or that the human body be glorified, which sage for those crossing it. nature in no way can do. But among these a certain order is noted. For the greater the things done by God and the more remote they are from the capacity of nature, the greater is the miracle, just as it is a greater miracle that the sun go backwards than that the sea be parted. But those things hold the second rank of In a second (way) something exceeds the miracles in which God does something that capacity of nature not with respect to that which nature can do, but not by that order. is done, but with respect to that in which it is done, For it is a work of nature that an animal should just as the bringing back to life of the dead, and live, see and walk: the restoring of sight to the blind, and the like. but that it should live after death, see after For nature can cause life, but not in the dead, blindness, walk after lameness, these things and can bestow sight, but not in the blind. nature cannot do, but God at times does them miraculously. And these hold the second place in miracles. Among these (kinds of) miracle a rank is also |Still, any of these have diverse ranks insofar as noted insofar as that which is done is more they exceed the capacity of nature in various remote from the capacity of nature. ways.| But the third rank of miracles is when God does In a third way something exceeds the capacity something which is usually done by the working of nature with respect to the manner and the of nature, but is done without the working of the order of the doing, principles of nature, as when one is cured by divine power of a fever curable by nature, just as when by divine power someone speedily cures a fever without treatment and the process of nature customary in such matters, And such things hold the highest rank in miracles.

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or when it rains without the working of the and when by divine power the air is immediprinciples of nature. ately condensed into rain apart from natural causes, as at the prayers of Samuel and Elias. And such things hold the lowest place in miracles. |Among these (kinds of) miracle a rank is also Still, any of these have diverse ranks insofar as noted insofar as that which is brought about is they exceed the capacity of nature in various more remote from the capacity of nature.| ways.

N.B. The reader will note a divergence between the foregoing texts. According to the passage from the Summa Contra Gentes, the distinction according to order is allotted the second division, but according to the Summa Theologiae, order is placed with the third division, together with the manner of the doing. Perhaps St. Thomas saw that the second rank is better accounted for in terms of the subject in which the miracle takes place, whereas order pertains more to rank where the instrumentality of nature is omitted. 2. On the difference in order. In his discussion of miracles, C. S. Lewis brings out a distinction in the manner of working. God does instantaneously what nature does over time. The difference between bringing about the effect instantaneously as opposed to gradually and over time clearly is a difference in the manner of working. But how is it a difference in order? Perhaps the answer lies in this: what is instantaneous takes no time, whereas what is gradual does. But time is the number of motion according to the before and after. But before and after are of the essence of order. Hence, where there is no time, there is no before and after. Hence, when an effect is brought about instantaneously, there is no before and after. Hence there is a difference in the order of working. 3. On the difference between acts of God not properly called miracles and acts surpassing the capacity of nature as to their substance. According to the Summa Theologiae, Ia, q. 105, art. 7, creation and the justification of the unrighteous, even if brought about by God alone, are nevertheless not called miracles, properly speaking. The reason is that they are not naturally apt to come about through other causes, and so they do not happen beyond the order of nature, since these things do not pertain to the order of nature. Hence to be a miracle a thing must be apt to come about through causes other than God, and so pertain to the order of nature, as does the resurrection of the dead, since life belonging to a man is part of the natural order. To know whether or not something is a miracle one must ask, does the act in question have some reference to the natural order, and is it apt to come about through causes other than God? Creation does not have such a reference since it is solely in Gods power, nor does the justification of the sinner since it pertains to the order of grace. Such acts are not usually found in fantastic fiction.

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Miracles as to the substance of the act are things which nature never does, but which pertain to nature, as two bodies being together in place, or making the sun stand still. An example in fantastic fiction: the transformation of a pumpkin into a coach. The working of magic is an instance of going beyond the capacity of nature. The principal meaning of miracle which is characteristic of fantastic fiction:
But because all the power of created nature is not known to us, it follows that when anything is done outside the order of created nature known to us by a created power unknown to us, it is called a miracle as regards ourselves. So when the demons do anything of their own natural power, these things are called miracles not simply, but in reference to ourselves. In this way the magicians work miracles through the demons; and these are said to be done by private contracts, forasmuch as every power of the creature, in the universe, may be compared to the power of a private person in a city. (St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theol., Ia, q. 110, art. 4, ad 2)

Hence one may define miraculum (miracle) with regard to ourselves as follows. That is called a miracle with regard to ourselves when anything is done outside the order of created nature known to us by a created power unknown to us. (cf. St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theol., Ia, q. 110, art. 4, ad 2) 4. Miraculum properly speaking. That which God does beyond the order of nature (after St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theol., Ia, q. 105, art. 7, obj. 1). That which God brings about beyond the natural order of things (after St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theol., Ia, q. 105, art. 7, obj. 1). Those things which are brought about by God beyond the causes known to us (after St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theol., Ia, q. 105, art. 7, c.). Those things which the divinity brings about beyond the order commonly observed in things (after St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Contra Gentes III, q. 101, n. 1). Something God does against the course of nature known to us and usual (after St. Augustine, Contra Faustus xxvi, St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theol., Ia, q. 105, art. 7, sc.). But when an effect of natural causes is produced outside the order of the natural cause, we call this a miracle. (St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theol., Ia, q. 110, art. 4, obj. 3) Something difficult and unusual arising above the capacity of nature and the hope of the one who wonders (after St. Augustine, De utilitate credendi xvi; St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theol., Ia, q. 105, art. 7, obj. 1).

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That which is difficult because it exceeds the capacity of nature either in the substance of the thing done, or in the manner or in the order of the doing, and unusual not because it happens infrequently, but because it is beyond the accustomed natural course (after St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theol., Ia, q. 105, art. 7, ad 2). Those things in which something is done by God that nature can never do, which holds the highest rank among miracles; those things in which God does something that nature can do, but not by that order, which holds the second rank of miracles; those things in which God does something which is usually done by the working of nature, but is done without the working of the principles of nature, which holds the third rank of miracles. (after St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Contra Gentes III, q. 101, n. 4) That the cause of which is hidden from everyone without qualification (but whose effects are perceptible to the senses) (after St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theol., Ia, q. 105, art. 7. c.). A miracle properly so called is when something is done outside the order of nature. But it is not enough for a miracle if something is done outside the order of any particular nature; for otherwise anyone would perform a miracle by throwing a stone upwards, as such a thing is outside the order of the stones nature. So for a miracle is required that it be against the order of the whole of created nature. But God alone can do this, because, whatever an angel or any other creature does by its own power, is according to the order of created nature; and thus it is not a miracle. (St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theol., Ia, q. 110, art. 4, c., tr. English Dominican Fathers, rev. B.A.M.) 5. Complete division of miracles: (I-III.) The three ranks of miracle properly so called, (IV.) What is miraculous with respect to ourselves, and (V) The para tes doxan di allela (things happening unexpectedly but because of each other). a. What is supervenient to the accustomed natural course. In this world (from St. Thomas Aquinas) In fantastic fiction (from J.R.R. Tolkiens The Lord of the Rings)

I. The first degree of miracles (as to the substance of the act, something which nature never does; what is beyond the capacity of nature, yet pertains to nature): two bodies are together in place the sun goes backward or stands still the sea is parted the body is glorified an opaque body is made transparent starlight is captured in a phial of water water in a basin reveals images of the past or the future

II. The second degree of miracles (that in which God does something that nature can do, but not in that order, or not in that subject): the bringing back to life of the dead the restoring of sight to the blind Gandalf being returned to life after dying the healing of victims of the Black Breath by the King 36

the lame are made to walk

the restoration of Theoden King by Gandalf

III. The third degree of miracles (God does something which is usually done by the working of nature but is done without the working of the principles of nature): the speedy cure of a fever without treat- the excellence Gandalf imparts to the beer ment etc. of Barliman Butterbur when air is immediately condensed to rain the raising of the river by Elrond apart from natural causes IV. What is a miraculum quoad nos (something is done outside the order of created nature known to us by a created power unknown to us): when demons do anything by their own the snows, high winds, and avalanche pronatural power duced by Caradhras B. What is not supervenient to the accustomed natural course. V. What comes under the para tes doxan di allela (things which happen unexpectedly but because of each other):1 the statue of Mitys falling on and killing the salvation of Middle-earth by Gollums Mitys killer (an historical occurrence, re- providential fall into the Cracks of Doom ported by Aristotle and not known to St. while holding the One Ring Thomas) 6. Alternatives pertaining to miraculum. When something takes place, its effect is either manifest to the senses or it is not. If it is manifest, its cause is either hidden or not hidden (an effect whose cause is hidden giving rise to wonder). A manifest effect whose cause is hidden is either wondered about by all or not wondered at by all but by some only, and hence something is a wonder to one that is not a wonder to others. But that whose cause is hidden from everyone without qualification and so is wondered at by all is said to be full of wonderthat is, it is a miraculum, its cause being God, so that those things brought about by God beyond the causes known to us are, properly speaking, miracles. Hence, what is brought about by God is either beyond the natural order of things or not beyond them, or, to put it the other way around, it is either naturally apt to be brought about through other causes or not naturally apt to be brought about in this way.
1

See my paper On the Four Things Producing an Effect of Wonder According to Aristotle (Papers In Poetics 2).

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Again, a miracle has been defined as something difficult and unusual arising above the capacity of nature and the hope of the one who wonders. Hence, when something takes place it is either difficult or not difficult. If it is difficult, it is so either by reason of the dignity of the matter in which it comes about or because it exceeds the capacity of nature. Again, it is either unusual or not unusual. If unusual, it is so either because it does not happen often or because it is beyond the accustomed natural course, which is the same as exceeding the capacity of nature. If it exceeds the capacity of nature it does so (according to the Summa Contra Gentes III, q. 101, n. 4) either by being (a) something done by God which nature can never do, or (b) something nature can do, but not by that order, or (c) something done by God but which is usually done by the working of nature, but is done without the working of the principles of nature; or it does so (according to the Summa Theologiae, Ia, q. 105, art. 8, c.) (a) with respect to the substance of the thing done, or (b) not with respect to that which is done, but with respect to that in which it is done, or (c) with respect to the manner or the order of the doing. Quaestiones disputatae de pumpkinitate: G. K. Chesterton on the Rationality of This Happening After That (c) 2013 Bart A. Mazzetti. All Rights Reserved.

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