ere is one class of narratives especially,
to which this principle must necessarily be applied. Such are
narratives of supernatural events. To seek to explain these, or to
reduce them to legends, is not to mutilate facts in the name of
theory; it is to make the observation of facts our groundwork. None of
the miracles with which the old histories are filled took place under
scientific conditions. Observation, which has never once been
falsified, teaches us that miracles never happen but in times and
countries in which they are believed, and before persons disposed to
believe them. No miracle ever occurred in the presence of men capable
of testing its miraculous character. Neither common people nor men of
the world are able to do this. It requires great precautions and long
habits of scientific research. In our days have we not seen almost all
respectable people dupes of the grossest frauds or of puerile
illusions? Marvellous facts, attested by the whole population of small
towns, have, thanks to a severer scrutiny, been exploded.[1] If it is
proved that no contemporary miracle will bear inquiry, is it not
probable that the miracles of the past, which have all been performed
in popular gatherings, would equally present their share of illusion,
if it were possible to criticise them in detail?

[Footnote 1: See the _Gazette des Tribunaux_, 10th Sept. and 11th
Nov., 1851, 28th May, 1857.]

It is not, then, in the name of this or that philosophy, but in the
name of universal experience, that we banish miracle from history. We
do not say, "Miracles are impossible." We say, "Up to this time a
miracle has never been proved." If to-morrow a thaumaturgus present
himself with credentials sufficiently important to be discussed, and
announce himself as able, say, to raise the dead, what would be done?
A commission, composed of physiologists, physicists, chemists, persons
accustomed to historical criticism, would be named. This commission
would choose a corpse, would assure itself that the death was real,
would select the room in which the experiment should be made, would
arrange the whole system of precautions, so as to leave no chance of
doubt. If, under such conditions, the resurrection were effected, a
probability almost equal to certainty would be established. As,
however, it ought to be possible always to repeat an experiment--to do
over again what has been done once; and as, in the order of miracle,
there can be no question