In C. S. Lewis’ The Silver Chair, an evil witch-serpent masquerading as a beautiful lady abducts Rilian, prince of Narnia, and traps him in her dark, dank realm of Underworld for ten years. Aslan, the great golden lion who rules Narnia, sends a boy and girl named Eustace and Jill, and a marshwiggle named Puddleglum to Underworld to rescue Rilian from his deep enchantment. In the final chapters of the book, Eustace, Jill and Puddleglum, along with the dis-enchanted Rilian, confront the witch, struggling to preserve their grip on reality in the face of her persuasive charms. She challenges everything that they hold dear: sunshine, trees, Narnia, and even Aslan himself.

Puddleglum (Illustration by Pauline Baynes)

Trapped in Underworld’s gloom, our heroes try everything they can think of to defend Narnia and Aslan from the attacks of skepticism, but it’s a losing battle. It’s the Matrix, way before the Wachowski brothers; it’s Plato’s cave; it’s Descartes’ evil demon all over again. Their memories can’t be trusted, and neither can their senses. The only way to stop the witch’s incessant questioning is with a self-justifying claim, the truth of which will be immediately apparent to all: “I think, therefore I am.” Had Puddleglum, Eustace or Jill actually pulled the cogito ergo sum card, however, it would have proved fairly useless- what is the point of knowing you exist when you can’t know much else about said existence?

Now, this would have gone the way of a typical skeptical argument – a series of failed attempts to answer questions like “How do you know?” and “Can you be sure?” and then an infinite regress of justification- if not for Puddleglum’s honest, desperate, surprising answer:

“One word, Ma’am,” he said, coming back from the fire; limping because of the pain. “One word. All you’ve been saying is quite right, I shouldn’t wonder…So I won’t deny any of what you said. But there’s one thing more to be said, even so. Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things- trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones…I’m on Aslan’s side even if there isn’t any Aslan to lead it. I’m going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn’t any Narnia. So…we’re leaving your court at once and setting out in the dark to spend our lives looking for the Overland. Not that our lives will be very long, I should think; but that’s a small loss if the world’s as dull a place as you say.”

With this speech, Puddleglum turns the tables on the witch, who reverts to her serpent form and resorts to brute force to defeat the small company. But why does Puddleglum’s argument infuriate her so? Why is the witch unable to respond to it with her usual charming eloquence?

Let’s examine the argument Puddleglum’s making here- we’ll call it the Faith Argument. He hasn’t been convinced that all the things they’ve believed in aren’t real, but he’s accepted the idea that they can’t know for sure, he’s weighed up the options available to him, and he’s made a choice. Aslan and Narnia might or might not be real. It might or might not be that the only reality is that of Underworld. But even if the witch’s version of reality is the true one, Puddleglum’s chosen to go with the things he’s hoping for but can’t be sure of. He’s chosen, against all doubt, fear and logic, to hold on to his belief. (Furthermore, it may be that the witch’s realm is in fact less real than Narnia; he can’t be sure of that either.)

Puddleglum has shifted the paradigm; rather than logic and reasoning, it’s about faith. His conclusion is by no means necessarily true, but there is far more security in his faith than there is to be found in their fruitless search for logical certainty. In a world where beautiful women turn out to be poisonous serpents and the reassuring physical presence of the Great Lion cannot always be counted on, Puddleglum’s faith is worth more than gold, silver or precious stones. He has chosen, and it can never be taken away from him.