different, and utilizing them for its own purpose” (Life and Matter,
p. 198). The theory of psychophysical parallelism recognizes that
while there is a correspondence between mental and material
phenomena, changes in the mind and changes in the brain, the
former cannot be explained by the latter, as the transition from the
one to the other is unthinkable. William James distinguishes the
transmissive function of the brain from the productive in relation
to thought, and admits only the former, and not the latter (Human
Immortality, p. 32). Thus as life is transcendent and yet immanent
in body, and mind in brain, and both utilize their organs, so God,
transcendent and immanent, uses the course of nature for His own
ends; and the emergence both of life and mind in that course of
nature evidences such a divine initiative as is assumed in the
recognition of the possibility of miracles. For such an initiative
there must be adequate reason; it must be prepared for in the previous
process, and it must be necessary to further progress.
The proof of the possibility of miracle leads us inevitably to the inquiry regarding the necessity of miracle. The necessity of miracles is displayed in their connexion with the divine revelation; but this connexion may be conceived in two ways. The miracles may be regarded as the credentials of the agents of divine revelation. “It is an acknowledged historical fact,” says Butler, “that Christianity offered itself to the world, and demanded to be received, upon the allegation—i.e. as unbelievers would speak—upon the pretence of miracles, publicly wrought to attest the truth of it, in such an age; and that it was actually received by great numbers in that very age, and upon the professed belief of the reality of miracles” (Analogy, part ii. ch. vii.). This view is now generally abandoned; for it is recognized that acts of superhuman power, even if established by adequate historical evidence, do not necessarily certify their divine origin. Their moral quality must correspond with the character of God; and they must be connected with teaching which to reason and conscience approves itself divine. “Miracula sine doctrina nihil valent” is the principle now generally recognized. The miracle and the doctrine mutually illuminate one another. “Les miracles discernent la doctrine, et la doctrine discerne les miracles” (Pascal’s Pensées des miracles). Accordingly, the credentials must also be constituents of the revelation. Of the miracles of Jesus, Bushnell says, “The character of Jesus is ever shining with and through them, in clear self-evidence leaving them never to stand as raw wonders only of might, but covering them with glory as tokens of a heavenly love, and acts that only suit the proportions of His personal greatness and majesty” (Nature and the Supernatural, p. 364). If it be asked why the character may not be displayed in ordinary acts instead of miracles, the answer may be given, “Miracle is the certificate of identity between the Lord of Nature and the Lord of Conscience—the proof that He is really a moral being who subordinates physical to moral interests” (Lidden’s Elements of Religion, p. 73). As God is the Saviour, and the chief end of the revelation is redemption, it is fitting that the miracles should be acts of divine deliverance from physical evil. This congruity of the miracle with divine truth and grace is the answer to Matthew Arnold’s taunt about turning a pen into a pen-wiper or Huxley’s about a centaur trotting down Regent Street. The miracles of Jesus—the relief of need, the removal of suffering, the recovery of health and strength—reveal in outward events the essential features of His divine mission. The divine wisdom and goodness are revealed in the course of nature, but also obscured by it. The existence of physical evil, and still more of moral evil, forbids the assumption without qualification that the real is the rational. God in nature as well as history is fulfilling a redemptive as well as perfective purpose, of which these miracles are appropriate signs. It is an unwarranted idealism and optimism which finds the course of nature so wise and so good that any change in it must be regarded as incredible. On the problem of evil and sin it is impossible here to enter; but this must be insisted on, that the miracles of Jesus at least express divine benevolence just under those conditions in which the course of nature obscures it, and are therefore, proper elements in a revelation of grace, of which nature cannot give any evidence.
Having discussed the possibility and necessity of miracles for the divine revelation, we must now consider whether there is sufficient historical evidence for their occurrence. Hume maintains that no evidence, such as is available, can make a miracle credible. Mill states the position with due care. “The question can be stated fairly as depending on a balance of evidence, a certain amount of positive evidence in favour of miracles, and a negative presumption from the general course of human experience against them” (Essays on Religion, p. 221). The existence of “a certain amount of positive evidence in favour of miracles” forbids the sweeping statement that miracles are “contrary to experience.” The phrase itself is, as Paley has pointed out, ambiguous. If it means all experience it assumes the point to be proved; if it means only common experience then it simply asserts that the miracle is unusual—a truism. The probability of miracles depends on the conception we have of the free relation of God to nature, and of nature as the adequate organ for the fulfilment of God’s purposes. If we believe in a divine revelation and redemption, transcending the course of nature, the miracles as signs of that divine purpose will not seem improbable.
For the Christian Church the miracles of Jesus are of primary importance; and the evidence—external and internal—in their favour may be said to be sufficient to justify belief. The Gospels assumed their present form between A.D. 60 and 90. Their representation of the moral character, the religious consciousness, the teaching of Jesus, inspires confidence. The narratives of miracles are woven into the very texture of this representation. In these acts Jesus reveals Himself as Saviour. “The Jesus Christ presented to us in the New Testament would become a very different person if the miracles were removed” (Temple’s Relations between Religion and Science). In His sinless perfection and filial relation to God He is unique, and His works are congruous with His Person. Of the supreme miracle of His resurrection there is earlier evidence than of any of the others (1 Cor. xv. 3–7, before A.D. 58). His conquest of death is most frequently appealed to in the apostolic teaching. The Christian Church would never have come into existence without faith in the Risen Lord. The proof of the supernaturalness of His Person sets the seal to the credibility of His supernatural works. In Christ, however, was the fulfilment of law and prophecy. This close connexion invests the antecedent revelation in some degree with the supernaturalness of His Person: at least, we are prepared to entertain without prejudice any evidence that may be presented in the Old Testament. That this evidence is not as good as that for the miracles of Jesus must be conceded, as much of it is of much later date than the events recorded. The miracles connected with the beginnings of the national history—the period of the Exodus—appear on closer inspection to have been ordinarily natural phenomena, to which a supernatural character was given by their connexion with the prophetic word of Moses. The miracles recorded of Elijah and Elisha lie somewhat apart from the main currents of the history, the narratives themselves are distinct from the historical works in which they have been incorporated, and the character of some of the actions raises serious doubts and difficulties. In some cases suspense of judgment seems necessary even from the standpoint of Christian faith. The supernatural element that is prominent in the Old Testament is God’s providential guidance and guardianship of His people, and His teaching and training of them by His prophets. The Apostolic miracles, to which the New Testament bears evidence, were wrought in the power of Christ, and were evidences to His church and to the world of His continued presence. When the Church had established itself in the world, and possessed in its moral and religious fruits evidence of its claims, these outward signs appear gradually to have ceased, although attempts were made to perpetuate them. It is true that in Roman Catholicism, in medieval as in modern times, the working of miracles has been ascribed to its saints; but the character of most of these miracles is such as to lack the a priori probability which has been claimed for the Scripture miracles on account of their connexion and congruity with the divine revelation. The a posteriori evidence as regards both its moral and religious quality and its date is altogether inferior to the evidence of the Gospels. Further, these records are imitative. As Christ and the apostles worked miracles, it is assumed that those who in the Church were distinguished for their sanctity would also work miracles; and there can be little doubt that the wish was often father to the thought. There may be cases which cannot be explained in this way; but “whatever may be thought about them, it is plain that even if these and their like are really to be traced to the intervention of the divine mercy which loves to reward a simple faith (and it does not seem to us that the evidence is sufficient to establish such a conclusion), yet they do not serve as vehicles of revelation as the miracles of the Gospel did” (H. J. Bernard in Hastings’s Bible Dictionary, iii. 395). (A. E. G.*)
MIRA, DE AMESCUA, ANTONIO (1578?–1636?), Spanish
dramatist, was born at Guadix (Granada) about 1578. He
is said, but doubtfully, to have been the illegitimate son of one
Juana Perez; he took orders, obtained a canonry at Guadix, and
settled at Madrid early in the 17th century. He is mentioned
as a prominent dramatist in Rojas Villandrando’s Loa (1603),
which was written several years before it was published. In
1610, being then arch-dean of Guadix, he accompanied the count
de Lemos to Naples, and on his return to Spain was appointed
(1619) chaplain to the cardinal Infante Ferdinand of Austria;
he is referred to as still alive in Montalbán’s Para todos (1632),
and he collaborated with Montalbán and Calderon in Polifemo
y Circe, printed in 1634. The date of his death is not known.
Mira de Amescua’s plays are dispersed in various printed
collections, and the absence of a satisfactory edition has prevented
his due recognition. He has an evenness of execution
which indicates an artistic conscience uncommon in Spanish
playwrights; he resisted the temptation to write too much,
and he unites a virile dignity of expression to impressive
conception of character.
Two of his plays—La Adversa fortuna de Don Bernado de Cabrera
