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 of ease or difficulty, the thaumaturgus would be invited to reproduce his marvellous act under other circumstances, upon other corpses, in another place.

If the miracle succeeded each time, two things would be proved: First, that supernatural events happen in the world; second, that the power of producing them belongs, or is delegated to, certain persons.

But who does not see that no miracle ever took place under these conditions?
but that always hitherto the thaumaturgus has chosen the subject of the experiment, chosen the spot, chosen the public; that, besides, the people themselves--most commonly in consequence of the invincible want to see something divine in great events and great men--create the marvellous legends afterward?
Until a new order of things prevails, we shall maintain then this principle of historical criticism--that a supernatural account cannot be admitted as such, that it always implies credulity or imposture, that the duty of the historian is to explain it, and seek to ascertain what share of truth or of error it may conceal.
Such are the rules which have been followed in the composition of this work.

To the perusal of documentary evidences I have been able to add an important source of information--the sight of the places where the events occurred.

The scientific mission, having for its object the exploration of ancient Phoenicia, which I directed in 1860 and 1861,[1] led me to reside on the frontiers of Galilee and to travel there frequently.