Appendix I. to That Work, Under Article _reason_.]

7. The seventh and last of these heads of Fallacy is, when the questioner puts two distinct questions in the same form of words, as if they were one--Fallacia Plurium Interrogationum ut Unius. In well-conducted Dialectic the respondent was assumed to reply either Yes or No to the question put; or, if it was put in the form of an alternative, he accepted distinctly one term of the alternative. Under such conditions he could not reply to one of these double-termed questions without speaking falsely or committing himself. Are the earth and the sea liquid? Is the heaven or the earth sea? The questions are improperly put, and neither admits of any one correct answer. You ought to confine yourself to one question at a time, with one subject and one predicate, making what is properly understood by one single proposition. The two questions here stated as examples ought properly to be put as four.

The examples given of this fallacy by Aristotle are so palpable--the expounder of every fallacy must make it clear by giving examples that every one sees through at once--that we are tempted to imagine that no one can be imposed on by it. But Aristotle himself remarks, very justly, that there occur many cases in which we do not readily see whether one question only, or more than one, is involved; and in which one answer is made, though two questions are concerned. To set out distinctly all the separate debateable points is one of the most essential precautions for ensuring correct decision. The importance of such discriminating separation is one of the four rules prescribed by Descartes in his Discours de la Méthode. The present case comes under Mr. Mill's Fallacies of Confusion.]

Aristotle has thus distinguished and classified Fallacies under thirteen distinct heads in all--six In Dictione, and seven Extra Dictionem; among which last one is Ignoratio Elenchi. He now proceeds to show that, in another way of looking at the matter, all the Fallacies ranged under the thirteen heads, may be shown to be reducible to this single one--Ignoratio Elenchi. Every Fallacy, whatever it be, transgresses or fails to satisfy, in some way or other, the canons or conditions which go to constitute a valid Elenchus, or a valid Syllogism. For a true Elenchus is only one mode of a true Syllogism; namely, that of which the conclusion is contradictory to some given thesis or proposition. With this particular added, the definition of a valid Syllogism will also be the definition of a good Elenchus. And thus Ignoratio Elenchi--misconception or neglect of the conditions of a good Elenchus--understood in its largest meaning, is rather a characteristic common to all varieties of Fallacy, than one variety among others.

In regard to two among the thirteen heads--Fallacia Accidentis and Fallacia Consequentis (which however ought properly to rank as only one head, since the second is merely a particular variety of the first)--Aristotle's observations are remarkable. After having pointed out that a Syllogism embodying this fallacy will not be valid or conclusive (thus showing that it involves Ignoratio Elenchi), he affirms that even scientific men were often not aware of it, and conceived themselves to be really refuted by an unscientific opponent urging against them such an inconclusive syllogism. To take an example:--Every triangle has its three angles equal to two right angles; every triangle is a figure; therefore, every figure has its three angles equal to two right angles. Here we have an invalid syllogism; for it is in the Third figure, and sins against the conditions of that figure, by exhibiting an universal affirmative conclusion: it is a syllogism properly concluding in Darapti, but with conclusion improperly generalized. Yet Aristotle intimates that a scientific geometer of his day, in argument with an unscientific opponent, would admit the conclusion to be well proved, not knowing how to point out where the fallacy lay: he would, if asked, grant the premisses necessary for constructing such a syllogism; and, even if not asked, would suppose that he had already granted them, or that they ought to be granted.

Here we have Figure reckoned as an accident of Triangle. This is a specimen of Aristotle's occasional laxity in employing the word [Greek: sumbebêko/s]. He commonly uses it as contrasted with essential, of which last term Mr. Poste says very justly (notes, p. 129):--"To complete the statement of Aristotle's view, it should be added, that essential propositions are those whose predicate cannot be defined without naming the subject, or whose subject cannot be defined without naming the predicate." Now figure is the genus to which triangle belongs, and triangle cannot be defined without naming its genus figure. But to include Genus as a predicable under the head of [Greek: sumbebêko/s]or Accident, is in marked opposition to Aristotle's own doctrine elsewhere: see Topic. I. v. p. 102, b. 4; iv. p. 101, b. 17; Analyt. Post. I. ii. p. 71, b. 9; Metaphys. E. p. 1026, b. 32. It is a misfortune that Aristotle gave to this general head of Fallacy the misleading title of Fallacia Accidentia--[Greek: para\ to\ sumbebêko/s]. When he gave this title, he probably had present to his mind only such examples as he indicates in Soph. El. v. p. 166, b. 32. Throughout the Topica and elsewhere, Genus is distinguished pointedly from [Greek: sumbebêko/s], though examples occur occasionally in which the distinction is neglected. The two Fallacies called Accidentis and Consequentis, would both be more properly ranked under one common logical title--Supposed convertibility or interchangeableness between Subject and Predicate--[Greek: ei) to/de a)po\ tou=de mê\ chôri/zetai, mêd' a)po\ thate/rou chôri/zesthai tha/teron] (vii. p. 169, b. 8).]

The passage affords us a curious insight into the intellectual grasp of the scientific men contemporary with Aristotle. Most of them were prepared to admit fallacious inferences (such as the above) which assumed the interchangeability of subject and predicate. They had paid little or no attention to the logical relations between one proposition and another, and between the two different terms of the same proposition. The differences of essential from accidental predication, and of each among the five Predicables from the others, must have been practically familiar to them, as to others, from the habit of correct speaking in detail; but they had not been called upon to consider correct speaking and reasoning in theory, nor to understand upon what conditions it depended whether the march of their argumentative discourse landed them in true or false results. And, if even the scientific men were thus unaware of logical fallacies, we may be sure that this must have been still more the case with unscientific men, of ordinary intelligence and education. Aristotle tells us here, in more than one passage, how widespread such illogical tendencies were: to fancy that two subjects which had one predicate the same must be the same with each other in all respects; to understand each predicate applied to a subject as being itself an independent subject, implying a new Hoc Aliquid or Unum; to treat the universal, not as a common epithet but, as a substantive and singular apart; to use equivocal words or phrases, even the most wide and vague, without any attempt to discriminate their various meanings. Such insensibility to the conditions of accurate reasoning prevailed alike among ordinary men and among the men of special science. A geometer would be imposed upon by the inconclusive syllogism stated in the last paragraph, which, as being founded on the Fallacia Accidentia (or interchangeability of subject and predicate), Aristotle numbers among Sophistical Refutations. Such a refutation, however, even when successful, would not at all prove that the geometer was deficient in knowledge of his own science; for it would puzzle the really scientific man as well as the pretender.

We must always recollect that Aristotle was the first author who studied the logical relations between Terms and Propositions, with a view to theory and to general rules founded thereupon. The distinctions which he brought to view were in his time novelties; even the simplest rules, such as those relating to the Conversion of propositions, or to Contraries and Contradictories, had never been stated in general terms before. Up to a certain point, indeed, acquired habit, even without these generalities, would doubtless lead to correct speech and reasoning; yet liable to be perverted in many cases by erroneous tendencies, requiring to be indicated and guarded against by a logician. When we are told that even a professed geometer was imposed upon by these fallacies, we learn at once how deep-seated were such illogical deficiencies, how useful was Aristotle's theoretical study in marking them out, and how insufficient was his classification when he described the Fallacies as obvious frauds, broached only by dishonest professional Sophists. As he himself states, the cause of deceit turns upon a quite trifling difference; having its root in the imperfection of language and in our frequent habit of using words without much attention to logical distinctions.

Under one or other, then, of the thirteen general heads above enumerated, all Paralogisms must be included--merely apparent syllogisms, or refutations, which are not real and valid; and all of them designated by Aristotle as sophistic or eristic. Besides these, moreover, he includes, as we saw, under the same designation, syllogisms or refutations valid in form, and true as to conclusion, yet founded on premisses not suited to the matter in debate; i.e., not suited to Dialectic. Now, here it is that difficulty arises. Dialectic and Rhetoric are carefully distinguished by Aristotle from all the special sciences (such as Geometry, Astronomy, Medicine, &c.); and are construed as embracing every variety of authoritative dicta, current beliefs, and matters of opinion, together with all the most general maxims and hypotheses of Ontology and Metaphysics, of Physics and Ethics, and the common Axioms assumed in all the sciences, as discriminated from what is special and peculiar to each. Construed in this way, we might imagine that the subject-matter of Dialectic was all-comprehensive, and that every thing without exception belonged to it, except the specialties of Geometry and of the other sciences; and such is the usual language of Aristotle. Yet in the treatise before us we find him exerting himself to establish another classification, and to part off Dialectic from a certain other science or art which he acknowledges under the title of Sophistic or Eristic. Elsewhere he describes Sophistic as occupied in the study of accidents or occasional conjunctions; and this characteristic feature parts it off from Demonstration and Science. But there is greater difficulty when he tries to part it off from Dialectic. Where are we to find a clear line of distinction between the matter of dialectic debate (gymnastic or testing) on the one hand, and the matter of debate sophistic or litigious, on the other? At the beginning of the Topica Aristotle assigned, as the distinction, that the Dialectician argues upon premisses really probable, while the litigious Sophist takes up premisses which are probable in appearance only, and not in reality; such apparent probabilia (he goes on to say) having only the most superficial semblance of truth, and being seen immediately to be manifest falsehoods by persons of very ordinary intelligence. But I have already pointed out that this description of apparent probabilia, if considered as applying to fallacious reasoning generally, is both untenable in itself, and contradicted by Aristotle himself elsewhere. The truth is, that there is no clear distinction between the matter of Dialectic and the matter of Sophistic. And so, indeed, Aristotle must be understood to admit, when he falls back upon an alleged distinction of aim and purpose between the practitioners of one and the other. The litigious man (he tells us) is bent upon nothing but victory in debate, per fas et nefas: the Sophist aims at passing himself off falsely for a wise or clever man, and making money thereby.

Now, in regard to the distinction of aim or disposition drawn by Aristotle between the dialectical disputant and the litigious or sophistic disputant, we see at once, as was before suggested, that it lies apart from the critical estimate of art, science, or philosophy; and that it belongs, so far as it is well founded, to the estimate of individuals ethically and politically, as worthy men or patriotic citizens. Whether Euripides or Sophokles composed finer tragedies (as we find argued in the Ranæ of Aristophanes), must be decided by examining the tragedies themselves, not by enquiring whether one of them was vain and greedy of money, the other free from these blemishes. A theorist who is laying down general principles of Rhetoric, and illustrating them by the study of Æschines and Demosthenes, will appreciate the oration against Ktesiphon and the oration De Coronâ in their character of compositions intended for a particular purpose. For Rhetoric it is of no moment whether Æschines was venal or disinterested--a malignant rival or an honest patriot; this is an enquiry important indeed, but belonging to the historian and not to the rhetorical theorist. Whether Aristotle was or was not guided, in his animadversions on Plato, by an unworthy and captious jealousy of his master, is an interesting question in reference to his character; but our appreciation of his philosophy must proceed upon an examination, not of his motives but, of his doctrines and reasonings as we find them. A good argument is not deprived of its force when enunciated by a knave, nor is a bad argument rendered good because it proceeds from a virtuous man. Indeed, so far as the character of the speaker counts at all, in falsifying the fair logical estimate of an argument, it operates in a direction opposite to that here indicated by Aristotle. The same argument in the mouth of one who is esteemed and admired counts for more than its worth; in the mouth of a person of low character it counts for less than it is worth. To distribute arguments into two classes--those employed by persons of dishonourable character and those employed by honourable men--is a departure from the scientific character of Logic.

Aristot. Rhetoric. I. ii. p. 1356, a. 5-15.]

As to the other part of the case (if it is still necessary to recur to it), touching the peculiarity of the matter of sophistical arguments, the inconsistency of Aristotle is most apparent. In enumerating the Sophistical Refutations he tells us that these fallacies are indeed sometimes palpable and easily detected, but that they are often very difficult to detect and very misleading; that an unprepared hearer will generally be imposed upon by several of them, and even a scientific hearer by some; and that, even where the fallacy does not actually deceive, the proper mode of meeting and exposing it will not occur unless to one previously exercised in Dialectic. That Fallacies In Dictione, taken as a class (though these are what he declares to be the most usual modus operandi of the sham dialecticians called Sophists), often passed unperceived, and were hard to solve and elucidate even when perceived--we know to have been his opinion; for it is not only in the Topica and Sophistici Elenchi, but also in the Metaphysica and other works, that he takes pains to analyse and discriminate the several distinct meanings borne by terms familiar to every one, such as idem, unum, pulchrum, bonum, amare, album, acutum, &c., which terms therefore, when employed in argument, were always liable to introduce a fallacy of Equivocation or Amphiboly. He tells us the like in specifying the seven Fallacies Extra Dictionem: that they also were often unnoticed, and required vigilant practice to see through and solve. The description in detail, therefore, which Aristotle gives (in Sophistici Elenchi) of the working process peculiar to the litigious Sophist, is completely at variance with the definition which he had given of the sophistic syllogism at the commencement of the Topica. That definition is indeed suitable for the type-specimens which he and other logicians give to illustrate this or that class of Fallacies: the type-specimen produced must carry absurdity on the face of it, so that the reader may at first sight recognize it as a fallacy; and he may even find difficulty in believing that any one can really be imposed upon by such trifling. But, though suitable for the type-specimen taken separately, this definition fails in the essential character which Aristotle postulates for a definition, since it is quite untrue and unsuitable for numerous instances of the class intended to be illustrated. Aristotle was the first who attempted to distribute Fallacies into classes, such that, while in each class there were certain specimens palpably stamped with the fallacious character, there were also in each class an indefinite multitude of analogous cases wherein the fallacious character did not reveal itself openly or easily, but required attentive consideration to detect it, often indeed remaining undetected, and producing its natural fruit of error and confusion. This was one of his many great merits in regard to Logic; and the classification of Fallacies (modified as to details) has passed to all subsequent logicians, so that we find difficulty in understanding that the contemporaries of Sokrates and Plato had no idea of it. But the value of his service to Logic would be much lessened, if all fallacies were sophistic syllogisms, intended to deceive but never really deceiving, corresponding to his definition at the beginning of the Topica; if (as he tells us in the Sophistici Elenchi) they were only impudent forgeries put in circulation by a set of professional knaves called Sophists; and if all non-sophistical dialecticians, and all the world without, could be trusted as speaking correctly by nature and as never falling into them.

Compare also Book [Greek: D]. of the Metaphysica, and the frequent recognition and analysis [Greek: tô=n polla/kô=s legome/nôn] throughout the other Books of the Metaphysica.]

Whoever reads the Sixth Book of the Topica, wherein Aristotle indicates to the questioner Loci for impugning a definition, will see how little this definition of the Sophistic Syllogism will stand such attacks.]

The appeal made by Aristotle to a difference of character and motives as the distinction between the Dialectician and the Sophist is all the more misplaced, because he himself lays down as the essential feature of Dialectic generally, that it is a match or contention between two rivals, each anxious to obtain the victory. It is like a match at chess between two expert players, or a fencing-match between two celebrated masters at arms. Its very nature is to be an attack and defence, in which each combatant resorts to stratagem, and each outwits the other if he can. Whether the match is played for money or for nothing--whether the contentious spirit is more or less intense--does not concern the theorist on dialectical procedure. It is indispensable that both the questioner and the respondent should exert their full force, the one in thrusting, the other in parrying: if they do not, the purpose of Dialectic, which is the common business of both, will not be attained. That purpose is clearly declared by Aristotle. It is not didactic: he distinguishes it expressly from teaching, where one man who knows communicates such knowledge to an ignorant pupil. It is gymnastic, exercising the promptitude and invention of both parties; or peirastic, testing whether the respondent knows a given thesis in such manner as to avoid being driven into answers inconsistent with each other or notoriously false. Each party seeks, not to help or enlighten but, to puzzle and defeat the other. As at chess or in fencing, to mask one's projects and deceive the adversary is essential to the work and to its purpose; each expects it from the other, and undertakes to meet and parry it. The theses debated were always such that arguments might be found both for the affirmative and for the negative.

According to Aristotle himself, therefore, the Dialectician is agonistic and eristic, just as much as the Sophist. If the one tries to entrap his opponent for the purpose of victory, so also does the other: the line which Aristotle draws between them is one not founded upon any real distinction between two purposes and modes of procedure, but is merely verbal and sentimental; putting aside under a discredited title what he himself disliked. He admits that the dialectical questioner, whenever the thesis which he undertakes to refute is true, can never refute it except by inducing the respondent to concede what is false; that, even where the thesis is false, he often can only refute it by some other incompatible falsehood, because he cannot obtain from the respondent better premisses; that, where the thesis is probable and conformable to received opinion, his only way of refuting it is by entrapping the respondent into concessions paradoxical and contrary to received opinion. But these ends--fallacious refutation, falsehood, and paradox--are the very same as those which Aristotle (in the Sophistici Elenchi) sets forth as the peculiar characteristics of the litigious Sophist. And the improving intellectual tendencies which he ascribes to Sophistic, are almost identical with those attributed to Dialectic, being declared in very similar words. That there were dialecticians of every degree of merit, in the time of Aristotle, cannot be doubted; some clever and ready, others stupid and destitute of invention. But that there were any two classes of dialecticians such as he describes and contrasts--one heretical class, called Sophists, who purposely and habitually employed the thirteen fallacious refutations, and another orthodox class who purposely avoided or habitually abstained from them--we may most reasonably doubt. If the argument in the Sophistici Elenchi is good at all, it is good against all Dialectic. The Sophist, as Aristotle describes him, is only the Dialectician looked at on the unfavourable side and painted by an enemy. We know that there were in Greece many enemies of Dialectic generally; the intense antipathy inspired by the cross-examining colloquy of Sokrates, and attested by his own declarations, is a sufficient proof of this. The enemies of Sokrates depicted him--as Aristotle depicts the Sophist in the Sophistici Elenchi--as a clever fabricator of fallacious contradictions and puzzles; to which Aristotle adds the farther charge (advanced by Plato before him) against the Sophist, of arguing for lucre--which is an irrelevant charge, travelling out of the region of art, and bearing on the personal character of the individual. If the sophistical stratagems were discreditable and mischievous when exhibited for money, they would be no less such if exhibited gratuitously. The sophistical discourse is not (as Aristotle would have us believe) generically distinguishable from the dialectical; nor is Sophistic an art distinct from Dialectic while adjoining to it, but an inseparable portion of the tissue of Dialectic itself. If the Sophist passed himself off as knowing what he did not really know, so also did the Dialectician; as we know from the testimony of Sokrates, the most consummate master of the art. The conflict of two minds each taking advantage of the misconceptions, short-comings, and blindness of the other, is the essential feature of Dialectic as Aristotle conceives it; to which the eight books of his Topica are adapted, with their multiplicity of distinctions and precepts both for attack and defence. There cannot be a game of chess without stratagems, nor a fencing-match without feints; the power of such aggressive deception is one characteristic mark of a good player. Those who teach or theorize on the game do not seek to exclude stratagem, but furnish precautions to prevent it from succeeding. Mastery of the art assumes skill in defence as well as in attack.

Compare this with Aristot. Soph. El. i. p. 165, a. 30.]

Doubtless there are rules that require to be observed in the dialectical attack and defence, as there are rules for all other matches such as chess or fencing. I should have been glad if Aristotle had given a precise and tenable explanation what these rules were. He describes the Sophist as one who plays the game unfairly; but we have already seen that the ends pursued by the Dialectician generally are hardly at all distinguishable from those aimed at by the Sophist. If we look to the account of the means employed by one and the other, we shall in like manner fail to see how any real line can be drawn between them.

Thus, one proceeding declared to be characteristic of the Sophist is--that he puts multiplied questions apparently at random, without any visible bearing on the thesis; practising a sort of fishing examination, in order to obtain some answer of which he may take advantage. But, when we turn to the Eighth Book of the Topica, we find Aristotle expressly recommending the like manoeuvre to the Dialectician; advising him to conceal as much as possible the scheme and intended series of his questions--to begin as far as possible apart from the thesis, to put the questions in a succession designedly incoherent and unintelligible, and to obtain (what, if obtained, ensured complete success) the full extent of premisses necessary for his final refutative syllogism, without the respondent being aware that he had conceded them. The questioner is farther advised to throw the respondent off his guard by affecting indifference whether each question is answered affirmatively or negatively, and by occasionally taking objection against himself, in order that he may create the impression of a strictly honest purpose. If we compare the interrogative procedure which Aristotle recommends to the Dialectician with that which he blames in the Sophist, we shall find that the former is even a greater refinement of deception than the latter.

Aristotle treats the Sophists as guilty of dishonourable proceeding herein--[Greek: du/nantai de\ nu=n ê(=tton katourgei=n dia\ tou/tôn ê)\ pro/teron.] The very same charge was urged against the dialectic of Sokrates by his opponents: Plato, Hippias Minor, p. 373--[Greek: a)lla\ Sôkra/tês a)ei\ tara/ttei e)n toi=s lo/gois kai\ e)/oiken ô(/sper kakourgou=nti.] Compare Plato, Gorgias, pp. 461, B., 482, E., 483, A.]

The next trick which we find ascribed to the Sophist is--that he conducts the train of interrogation in such manner as to bring it upon a ground on which his memory is abundantly furnished with topics. Aristotle adds that this may be done well and honourably, or ill and dishonourably. From his own admission we see that this practice was not peculiar to Sophists, but was common also to those whom he calls Dialecticians: like every other part of the procedure, it might be done well or ill; but wherein this difference consisted he does not further explain. Indeed, when we recollect that the elaborate details and classification of the Topica are mainly intended to furnish the memory with an abundant store of premisses well-arranged and ready for interrogation, we may be sure that every Dialectician who had gone through the trouble of learning them would be impatient to apply them; and would make an opportunity for doing so, if none were spontaneously tendered to him. But, if the answers obtained were totally irrelevant to his final purpose of refuting the thesis, they would be nothing but embarrassment to him. We must, therefore, understand that the questions put would be such as tended ultimately to introduce that refutative Syllogism which the questioner was bound to conclude with. If they were not, he was of course punished by failure.

Alexander (in Scholia, p. 267, b. 8) tells us that it was customary for the Sophists to put questions lying away from the thesis, and he shows this by mentioning the Platonic Protagoras, in which he says that the Sophist Protagoras does so. But the illustration here produced does not serve Alexander's purpose. The Sophist Protagoras (in the Platonic dialogue so called) is represented, not as shifting dialectic from one point to another, but as running away from it altogether into long discourse and continuous rhetoric (Plato, Protagor. pp. 333, 334, 335). In respect to the thesis started for debate, the dialectic of Sokrates departs from it as widely as that of Protagoras, and this is acknowledged at the close of the dialogue, p. 361. Compare 'Plato and the Other Companions of Sokrates', Vol. II. pp. 53, 59, 70.]

A third manoeuvre treated as peculiar to the Sophist is--that he takes account of the particular philosophical sect to which the respondent belongs, and endeavours to bring out by interrogations whatever there may be paradoxical in the tenets of that sect. But would not any expert Dialectician do just the same? What else would be done by Sokrates, if cross-examining an Anaxagorean or a Herakleitean? or by Aristotle himself, if interrogating a Platonist?

Another proceeding treated as peculiar to the Sophist is--that he seeks to drive the respondent into a paradox, by bringing out in cross-examination certain well-known antitheses or contradictions which subsist together in the opinions of mankind. Thus, men profess in their public talk high principles of virtue; but secretly and at the bottom of their hearts they desire to get wealth or power per fas et nefas. Again, there are two kinds of justice: one, that which is just by nature and in truth, such as wise men or philosophers approve; the other, that which is just according to law or custom, such as the multitude in this or in in some other society approve. There is, also, conflict between the authority of a father, and that of the wise; between justice and expediency; and as to whether it is more eligible to suffer wrong or to do wrong. All these antitheses are presented to us in the Platonic Gorgias, to which (i.e., to the speech of Kallikles therein) Aristotle here makes reference; and he numbers it among the vices distinguishing the Sophist from the genuine Dialectician--to dwell upon such antitheses for the purpose of forcing the respondent into paradoxical answers. But, surely, the antitheses here fastened upon that obnoxious name are of a class utterly opposed to the class of pseudo-probabilia, which he tells us are the peculiar game of the litigious Sophist, though every man of ordinary intelligence detects them at first sight as fallacies. They are all real and serious issues, having plausible arguments pro and con, debateable without end, and settled by every man for himself according to his own sentiment and predisposition. They are exactly the subject-matter best fitted for the acute Dialectician. No man would be allowed by Aristotle to deserve that title, if he omitted to raise and argue them, the thesis being supposed suitable. Aristotle himself speaks often of the equivocal sense of the term justice--of the distinction between what is just by nature and what is just according to some local or peculiar sentiment. The manoeuvre which Aristotle imputes to the Sophist being exactly the same as that which Kallikles imputes to Sokrates in the Platonic Gorgias, it is Sokrates, and not Kallikles, who serves here as illustrating what Aristotle calls a Sophist. Indeed, if we read the Gorgias, we shall find the Platonic Sokrates there represented as neglecting the difference between what is probable (conformable to received opinion) and what is paradoxical. He admits that he stands alone in his opinion, against all the world, and his opponents even imagine that he is bantering them; but he confides in his own individual reason and consistency, so as to be able to reduce all opponents dialectically to proved contradiction with themselves. Himself maintaining a paradox, he constrains his respondent by acute dialectic to assent to it; which is exactly what Aristotle imputes to the Sophists of his day as a reproach.

A disputant who argued about these memorable ethical antitheses, must be allowed [Greek: kata\ to\ pra=gma theôrei=n ta\ koina/], which is the characteristic feature assigned by Aristotle to the Dialectician, as contrasted with the Sophist (Soph. El. xi. p. 171, b. 5), in so far us I can understand the words [Greek: kata\ to\ pra=gma]. See note b p. 394 supra.]

Some predecessors of Aristotle had distinguished arguments or discourses into two separate classes--those addressed to the name, and those addressed to the thought. This distinction Aristotle disapproves, denying certainly its pertinence and almost its reality. There can be no arguments addressed to the thought only, apart from the name: all of them must be addressed to the name, and through it to the thought. Whether an argument is addressed to the thought or not, depends not upon any thing in the argument itself, but upon the meaning which one respondent or other may happen to attach to the words: if the respondent understands it as the questioner intended, it is addressed to the thought; if not, not. To require that the questioner shall distinguish accurately the sense in which he puts the question, would, according to Aristotle, convert him into a teacher--would confound the line between Dialectic and Didactic. And this may be granted; but not less, if Dialecticians are to refrain from all those proceedings which Aristotle notes and condemns as peculiar to the Sophist, must they be held to pass into the attitude of teacher and learner; the questioner doing what he can, not to embarrass but, to enlighten and assist the respondent. The purpose of victory, and the stimulus of competition in the double function of question and answer (while entirely absent from Didactic), are quite as essential to the Dialectician as to the Sophist. That the Sophist seeks victory unscrupulously and at all cost, while the Dialectician respects certain rules and limits of the procedure--is a difference well deserving to be noticed; yet not a differentia giving name and essence to a new species. The unfair Dialectician is a Dialectician still; all his purposes remain the same, though the means whereby he pursues them are altered. This distinction of means between the two, Aristotle has taken very insufficient pains to point out. Rude and provocative manner, either on the part of questioner or respondent, and impudent assumption of concessions which have neither been asked nor granted,--these are justly enumerated as illustrations of unfair Dialectic. But the enumeration is most incompletely performed; because Aristotle, in his anxiety to erect Sophistic into an art or procedure by itself, distinct from and alongside of Dialectic, has transferred to it much that belongs to fair and and admissible Dialectic. Hence the really unfair and objectionable means are not often brought into the foreground.

From this allusion (and other allusions also xvii. p. 176, a. 6; xx. p. 177, b. 8; xxii. p. 178, b. 10) to the doctrines of predecessors, we see that the assertion made by Aristotle (in the last chapter of Sophistici Elenchi) of his own originality, and of the absence of prior researches, must be taken with some indulgence.]

Though Aristotle speaks so contemptuously about Sophistic, he nevertheless indicates Loci (or general heads of subjects) to assist the sophistical questioner in attacking, and precepts to the sophistical respondent for warding off attack. On the whole, these precepts are not materially different from those laid out in the Topica for Dialectic; except that he gives greater prominence to Solecism and Tautology, as thrusts practised by the sophistical questioner. He insists upon the intellectual usefulness of practice in sophistical debate, hardly less than in what he calls dialectical, and, as was remarked, upon similar grounds. He recommends it as valuable not only for imparting readiness and abundance in argument, but also for solitary meditation and for investigation of scientific truths. Without it (he declares) we cannot become familiar with the equivocations of terms and propositions, nor acquire the means of escaping them. If we allow ourselves to be entangled in them, without being aware of it, by others, we shall also be entangled in them when we pursue reflections of our own. It is not enough to see generally that there is a fallacy; we must farther learn to detect at once the precise seat of the fallacy, and to point out rapidly how it may be cleared up. This is the more difficult to do, because fallacies that we are thoroughly aware of will often escape our notice under inversion and substitution of words. Unless we acquire promptitude by frequent exercise in such debates, we shall find ourselves always unprepared and behind-hand in each particular case of confusion. If we complain and condemn such debates generally, we shall appear to do so upon no better grounds than our own stupidity and incompetence.

Accordingly the Sophistici Elenchi contains precepts, at considerable length, to the respondent in a sophistical debate, how reply or solution is to be given to the fallacies involved in the questions; all the thirteen Fallacies, (the six In Dictione, and the seven Extra Dictionem) being treated in succession. In conducting his defensive procedure, the respondent must keep constantly in mind what the Sophistical Refutation really is. He must treat it not as a real or genuine refutation, but as a mere simulation of such; and he must so arrange his reply as to bring into full evidence this fact of simulation. What he has to guard against is, not the being really refuted but, the seeming to be refuted. The refutative syllogism constructed by the sophistical questioner, including as it does Equivocation, Amphiboly, or some other verbal fallacy, and therefore yielding no valid conclusion, does not settle whether the respondent is really refuted or not. If indeed the questioner, in putting his interrogation, discriminates the double meaning of his words, where they have a double meaning, the respondent ought to answer plainly and briefly Yes, or No; either affirming or denying what is tendered. But, if the questioner does not so discriminate, the respondent cannot reply simply Yes, or No: he must himself discriminate the two meanings, and affirm or deny accordingly. Unless he guards himself by such discrimination, he cannot avoid falling into a contradiction, at least in appearance. The equivocal wording of the question will be tantamount to the fallacy of putting two questions as one.

Aristotle tells us that this demand for a reply brief and direct, without any qualifying additions or distinctions, was advanced by dialecticians in former days much more emphatically than in his own--[Greek: o(/ t' e)pizêtou=si nu=n me\n ê(=tton pro/teron de\ ma=llon oi( e)ristikoi/, to\ ê)\ nai\ ê)\ ou)\ a)pokri/nesthai to\n e)rôtô/menon, e)gi/net' a)/n.] I presume that he makes comparison with the Platonic dialogues--Euthydemus, p. 295; Gorgias, pp. 448-449; Protagoras, pp. 334-335.]

As the questioner may propound as refutation what seems to be such but is not so in reality, so the respondent may meet it by what is an apparent solution but no solution in reality, There occur various cases, in sophistic or agonistic debate, wherein a simulated solution of this kind is even preferable to a real one. If the question is plausible, the respondent may answer, "Be it so"; but, if it involves any paradox in answering, he will answer by saying, "So it would appear": he will thus not be supposed to have granted what amounts to refutation or paradox. Where the question put is such that, while involving falsehood or paradox if answered in the affirmative, it is at the same time closely or immediately connected with the thesis set up,--the respondent may treat it as equivalent to a Petitio Principii, and make answer in the negative. Also, where the questioner, trying to establish an universal proposition by Induction, puts the final question, not under an universal term but, as the general result of the particulars conceded (and such like),--the respondent may refuse to admit this last step, and may say that his antecedent concessions have been misunderstood.

If a question is put in plain and appropriate language, answer must be made plainly or with some clear distinction; but, where the question is put obscurely and elliptically, leaving part of the meaning unexpressed, the respondent must not concede it unreservedly. If he does, fallacious refutation may very possibly be the result: he may appear to be refuted by that which is no real refutation. If, of two propositions, the second follows upon the first, but the first does not follow upon the second, the respondent, where he has the choice, ought to grant the second only, and not the first. He ought not to make a greater concession when he can escape with a less; e.g., he ought to concede the particular rather than the universal.

Again, among opinions generally received, there are some which the public recognize as matters of more or less doubt and uncertainty; others, on which they are firmly assured that every one who contradicts them speaks falsely. When it is uncertain to which of these two classes the question put is referable, the respondent will be safer in answering neither affirmatively nor negatively, but simply, "I go with the received opinions." In cases where opinions are divided, he may find opportunity for changing the terms, and for substituting a metaphorical equivalent as what he concedes. Such change of terms may pass without protest, in consequence of the doubtful character of the matter; while it will embarrass the questioner in constructing his refutation. The respondent may further embarrass him by anticipating questions that seem likely to be put, and by objecting against them beforehand.

Both the text and the meaning of this difficult clause are differently given by various commentators. The text and construction of Waitz appears to me the best, and I have followed him. I cannot agree with Mr. Poste when he declares (notes, p. 143) [Greek: a)popha/neis] to be the true reading, instead of [Greek: a)popha/seis], which last is adopted both by Bekker and in the edition of **Firmin Didot.]

When the questioner has obtained the premisses which he thinks necessary, and has drawn from them a refutative syllogism, the respondent must see whether he can properly solve that syllogism or not. A good and proper solution is, to point out on which premiss the fallacy of the conclusion depends. First, he must examine whether it is formally correct, or whether it has only a false appearance of being so: if the last be the case, he must distinguish in which of the premisses and in what way such false appearance has arisen. If on the other hand the syllogism is formally correct, he must look whether the conclusion is true or false. Should it be true, he cannot solve the syllogism except by controverting one or both of the premisses; but should the conclusion be false, two modes of solution are open to him. One mode is, if he can point out an equivocation or amphiboly in the terms of the conclusion; another mode will be, to controvert, or exhibit a fallacy in, one of the premisses. The respondent, however, must learn to apply this examination rapidly and unhesitatingly: to do so at once is very difficult, though it may be easily done if he has leisure to reflect.

Mr. Poste translates these last words--"or by a counterproof directed against the conclusion:" and he remarks in his note (pp. 145-147), "that this assertion--disproof of the conclusion of the refutative syllogism is one mode of solution--is both manifestly inadmissible, and flatly contradicted by Aristotle himself elsewhere." The words of Aristotle doubtless seem to countenance Mr. Poste's translation; yet the contradiction pointed out by Mr. Poste (and very imperfectly explained, p. 147) ought to make us look out for another meaning; which is suggested by the chapter immediately following (xix. p. 177, a. 9), where Aristotle treats of the Fallacies of Equivocation and Amphiboly. He tells us that equivocation may be found either in the conclusion or in the premisses; and that to show it in the conclusion is one mode of solving or invalidating the refutation. This is what Aristotle means by the words cited at the beginning of this note: [Greek: tô=| dei=xai to\ sumpe/rasma e)/chon ou)ch o)rthô=s]. In Mr. Poste's translation these words mean the same as [Greek: a)nelei=n] used just before, which Aristotle obviously does not intend.]

Aristotle then proceeds to indicate the modes in which the respondent may provide solutions for each of the thirteen heads of fallacious refutation above enumerated. For these thirteen classes, he pronounces that one and the same solution will be found applicable to all fallacies contained in one and the same class.

Thus, in the two first of them--Equivocation of Terms and Amphiboly of Propositions--duplicity of meaning must be either in the conclusion, or in the premisses, of the refutative syllogism. If it be in the conclusion, the refutation must at once be rejected, unless the respondent has previously admitted some proposition containing the equivocal word as one of its terms, so that the refutation may appear to contradict it expressly and distinctly. But, if it be in the premisses, then there is no necessity that the respondent should have previously admitted such a proposition; for the equivocal word may form the middle term of the refutative syllogism, and may thus not appear in the conclusion thereof. The proper way for the respondent to deal with these questions, involving equivocation or amphiboly, is to answer them, at the outset, with a reserve for the double meaning, thus: "In one sense, it is so; in another sense, it is not." If he does not perceive the double meaning until he has already answered the first question, he must recover himself, when he answers the second, by pointing out the equivocation more distinctly, and by specifying how much he is prepared to concede. Even if he has been taken unawares, and has not perceived the equivocation until the refutative syllogism has been constructed simply and absolutely, he should still contend that he never meant to concede what has been apparently refuted, and that the refutation tells only against the name, not against the thing meant; so that there is no genuine refutation at all.

Instead of [Greek: a)\n kai/], Julius Pacius reads [Greek: ka)/n]: the meaning is much the same.]

In the next two Fallacies--those of Composition and Division, or Conjunction and Disjunction--when the questioner draws up his refutative syllogism as if one of the two had been conceded, the respondent will retort by saying that his concession was intended only in the other construction of the words. This fallacy is distinct from Equivocation; and it is a mistake to try (as some have tried) to reduce all fallacies to Equivocation or Amphiboly. The respondent will distinguish, in each particular case, that construction of the words which he intended in his admission, from that which the questioner assumes in his pretended refutation.

This is another of the evidences showing that there were theorists prior to Aristotle on logical proof; and that his declaration of originality (in the concluding chapter of Sophist. Elenchi) must be taken with reserve.]

The Fallacies of Accent rarely furnish sophistical refutations, but those of Figura Dictionis furnish a great many. When two words have the like form and structure, it may naturally be imagined that the signification of one belongs to the same Category as that of the other. But this is often an illusion; and in such cases a sophistical refutation may be founded thereupon. The respondent will solve it by denying the inference from similarity of form to similarity of meaning, and by distinguishing accurately to which among the ten Categories the meaning of each several word or each proposition belongs. When two words thus seem, by their form, to belong to the same Category, the questioner will often take it for granted, without expressly asking, that they do belong to the same, and will found a confutation thereupon; but the respondent must not admit the confutation to be valid, unless this question has been explicitly put to him and conceded. A question is put which, in its direct and obvious meaning, bears only on the category of Quantity, of Quality, of Relation, of Action, or of Passion; but the respondent, not aware of the equivocation, answers it in such a manner as to comprehend the Category of Substance, and is so understood by the questioner when he constructs his refutative syllogism. The respondent will secure himself from being thus confuted, by keeping constantly in view to which of the Categories his answer is intended to refer.

1. Is it possible at the same time to do and to have done the same thing?--No. To see something is to do something; to have seen something is to have done something?--Yes. Is it possible at the same time to see and to have seen the same thing?--Yes.

The respondent has thus contradicted himself. The form of the word [Greek: o(ra=n] appears to rank it under the Category [Greek: poiei=n]. However, I think that the mistake really made here was, that the respondent returned an answer universally negative to the first question.

2. Does anything coming under the Category Pati come under the Category Agere?--No. But [Greek: te/mnetai, kai/etai, ai)stha/netai], all show by their form that they belong to the Category Pati?--Yes. Again, [Greek: le/gein, tre/chein, o(ra=n], show by their form that they belong to the Category Agere?--Yes. You will admit, however, that [Greek: to\ o(ra=n] is [Greek: ai)stha/nesthai/ ti]?--Certainly. Therefore something that belongs to the Category Agere belongs also to that of Pati.

If we turn back to Aristot. Categ. viii. p. 11, a. 37, we shall find that he admits the possibility that the same subject may belong to two distinct Categories.

3. Did any one write that which stands here written?--Yes. It stands here written that you are standing up--a false statement; but when it was written the statement was true?--Yes. Therefore the writer has written a statement both true and false?--Yes.

Here true and false belong to the Category Quality; the statement or matter written belongs to that of Substance. What the writer wrote had nothing to do with the former of the two Categories; and no contradiction has been made out by admitting that the statement was once true and is now false.

4. Does a man tread that which he walks?--Yes. But he walks the whole day?--Yes. Therefore he treads the whole day.

Here the Category of Quando is confused with that of Substance.

5. But the most interesting illustration of this confusion of one Category with another, is furnished by Aristotle in respect of the difference between himself and Plato as to Ideas or Universals. According to Plato the universal term denoted a separate something apart from the particulars, yet of which each of these particulars partook. According to Aristotle it denoted nothing separate from the particulars, but something belonging (essentially or non-essentially) to all and each of the particulars. In the Platonic theory it was an Hoc Aliquid ([Greek: to/de ti]), or had an existence substantive and separate: in the Aristotelian it was a Quale or Quale Quid ([Greek: poio/n]), having an existence merely adjective or predicative. Aristotle maintains that Plato or the Platonists placed it in the wrong Category--in the Category of Substance instead of in that of Quality.

Now it is by rectifying this confusion of Categories that Aristotle solves two argumentative puzzles which he ranks as sophistical:--(1) The argument concluding in what was called the 'Third Man;' (2) The following question: Koriskus, and the musical Koriskus--are these the same, or is the second different from the first?

What is called the 'Third Man' was a refutation of the Platonic theory of Ideas. Because Plato recognized a substantive existence, corresponding to each common denomination connoting likeness, apart from all the similar particulars denominated, e.g., a Self-man, or separate self-existent man, corresponding to the Idea, and apart from all individual men, Caius, &c.--opponents argued against him, saying:--If this is recognized, you must also recognize that the Self-man, and the individual man called Caius, have also a common denomination and similarity, which (upon your principles) corresponds to another Ideal Man, or a Third Man. You must, therefore, go on inferring upwards to a Fourth Man, a Fifth Man, &c., and so onwards to an indefinite number of Ideal Men, one above the other. This was intended as a refutation, by Reductio ad Impossibile, of the Platonic view of Ideas as separate Entities, each of them One and Universal. But Aristotle here treats it as a Sophistical Refutation; and he indicates what he calls the solution of it by saying that it confounds the Categories of Substance and Quality, putting the Universal (which ought to be under the Category of Quality) under the Category of Substance. He has no right, however, to include this among Sophistical Refutations, which are (as he himself defines them) not real but fallacious refutations, invented by a dishonest money-getting profession called Sophists, and which are solved by pointing out the precise seat of the fallacy. The refutation called the 'Third Man' is so far from being fallacious, that it is valid, and is recited as such elsewhere by Aristotle himself (Metaphs. A. ix. p. 990, b. 17**); while the solution tendered by Aristotle, instead of being a solution, is a confirmation, pointing out, not where the fallacy of the refutation resides but, where the fallacy of the doctrine refuted resides. Moreover, if we are to treat the refutation called the 'Third Man' as sophistical, we must number Plato himself among the dishonest class called Sophists. Here is one among the many proofs that the strong line drawn by Aristotle between the Dialectician and the Sophist is quite untenable. The argument is distinctly enunciated in the Platonic Parmenides (pp. 131-133).

The meaning of the Universal (Aristotle maintains) must be considered as predicative only, tacked on to some Hoc Aliquid, and belonging to Quale or some other of the nine latter Categories. It may be set out as a distinct subject for logical consideration and reasoning: but it cannot be set out as a distinct existence beyond and apart from its particulars ([Greek: para\ tou\s pollou\s e(/n ti]). It is [Greek: poio/n], and it cannot even be recognized as [Greek: o(/per poio/n] or [Greek: au)to-poio/n], for this would put it apart from all the other [Greek: poia/], and would be open to the refutation above noticed called the 'Third Man.' Such is the drift of the very difficult passage of the Sophistici Elenchi (xxii. p. 178, b. 37-p. 179, a. 10**). I differ from Mr. Poste's translation (p. 71) of part of this passage, and still more from the explanation given in the latter part of his note (p. 155). I think that the doctrine of [Greek: to\ e(\n para\ ta\ polla/] is produced by Aristotle here and elsewhere in his work as untrue and inadmissible, not as his own doctrine. Mr. Poste understands this passage differently from the previous translators, with whom I agree for the most part, though M. Barthélemy St. Hilaire appears to me to have missed the hinge upon which Aristotle's argument turns, by translating [Greek: o(/per poio/n]--id ipsum, quod quale est (J. Pacius)--"une qualité:" the argument turns upon the distinction between [Greek: o(/per poio/n] and [Greek: poio/n].

I come now to the second sophistical refutation given by Aristotle: Koriskus, and the musician Koriskus--are the two the same or different? This is what Aristotle calls a sophistical or fallacious argument (compare Metaphys. E. ii. p. 1026, b. 15); but it can hardly be so called with propriety, for the only solution that Aristotle himself gives of it is, that the two are idem numero, but in an improper or secondary sense (Topic. I. vii. p. 103, a. 30); i. e., that they are in one point of view the same, in another point of view different--they are [Greek: e(\n kata\ sumbebêko/s]. See Arist. Metaph. [Greek: D]. vi. p. 1015, b. 16; Scholia, p. 696, a. 22, seq.; and Alexand. Aphrodis. ad Metaph. pp. 321, 322, 414, 415, ed. Bonitz. I understand Aristotle to say that [Greek: Ko/riskos mousiko/s] cannot be properly set out or abstracted ([Greek: ou)k e)/stin au)to\ e)kthe/sthai]), because it includes two Categories (Substance and Quality) in one; wherefore it cannot be properly compared either with [Greek: Ko/riskos] simply (Category of Substance) or with [Greek: mousiko/s] simply (Category of Quality). It seems strange that Aristotle does not notice this argumentative difficulty in the discussion which he bestows on [Greek: tau)to/n] in the Seventh Book of the Topica. The subtle reasonings, very hard to follow, which Aristotle employs (Physic. V. iv. p. 227) might have made him cautious in treating the difficulties of opponents as so many dishonest cavils. It is curious that Alexander, in reciting the sophistical argument, assumes as a matter of course that [Greek: o( grammatiko\s Sôkra/tês] is [Greek: o( au)to\s tô=| Sôkra/tei] (Schol. ad Metaphys. p. 736, b. 26, Brand.).]

As a general rule, in all the refutations founded on the seven Fallacies In Dictione, the respondent will solve the refutation by distinguishing the double meaning of the words or of the phrase, and by adopting as his own the one opposite to that which the questioner proceeds upon. If the Fallacy is of Conjunction and Disjunction, and if the questioner assumes Conjunction, the respondent will adopt Disjunction; if it be a Fallacy of Accent, and if the questioner assumes the grave accent, the respondent will adopt the acute.

Passing to the Fallacies Extra Dictionem, where the sophistical refutation is founded upon a Fallacy of Accident, the respondent ought to apply one and the same solution to all. He will say: "The conclusion does not necessarily follow from the premisses"; and he will be prepared with an example, in which the conclusion obtained under this fallacy is notoriously untrue. "Do you know Koriskus?"--"Yes." "Do you know the distant person coming this way?"--"No." "That distant person is Koriskus: therefore you know, and you do not know, the same person." The inference here is not necessary. To be coming this way--is an accident of Koriskus; and, because you do not know the accident, we cannot infer that you do not know the subject; such may or may not be the case.

The major premiss upon which the preceding sophistical refutation must rest, is, That it is impossible both to know and not to know the same thing. This must be put as a direct question by the questioner, and must be conceded by the respondent, before the intended refutation can be made good. Now there are some persons who solve the refutation by answering this question in the negative, and by saying that it is possible both to know and not to know the same thing, only not in the same respect: such is the case when we know Koriskus, but do not know Koriskus approaching from a distance. Aristotle disapproves this mode of solution, as well as another mode which refers the fallacy to equivocation of terms. He points out that there are many other sophistical refutations, coming under the general head of Fallaciæ Accidentis, to which such solution will not apply; and that there ought to be one uniform mode of solution applicable to every fallacy coming under the same general head; though he admits at the same time that particular sophistical refutations may be vicious in more than one way. He says, moreover, that this contradiction or negation of the premiss is no true solution; for a solution ought to bring to view clearly the reason why the fallacious refutation appears to be a real refutation. Thus the Fallacia Accidentis consists in an inference that what is true of an accident is true also of the subject thereof: you explain that such inference, though apparently cogent, has no real cogency, and in that explanation consists the only proper solution of the fallacy.

Mr. Poste (pp. 152-157) translates [Greek: a)nairou=ntes tê\n e)rô/têsin]--"contradicting the thesis," and he expresses his surprise at the assertion, observing (very truly) that contradiction of the thesis is the very opposite of a solution; it helps in the very work which the refutation aims at accomplishing. But I cannot think that [Greek: e)rô/têsis] does mean "the thesis," either here or in the other passage to which Mr. Poste refers (xxii. p. 178, b. 14). I think it means a premiss which the respondent has conceded, or must be presumed to have conceded, essential to the validity of the refutation. The term [Greek: e)rô/têsis] cannot surely, with any propriety, be applied to the thesis. It means either a question, or what is conceded in reply to a question; and the thesis cannot come under either one meaning or the other, being the proposition which the respondent sets out by affirming and undertakes to defend.]

In like manner, all those Fallacies which come under the general head of A dicto Secundum Quid ad dictum Simpliciter, can only be solved by pointing out, in each particular case, in what terms this confusion is concealed--wherein resides the inference apparently cogent which is mistaken for one really cogent. The respondent is driven to an apparent contradiction, by having granted premisses from which the inference is derivable that both sides of the Antiphasis are true--that the same predicate A may be both affirmed and denied of the same subject B. He solves the contradiction by analysing the Antiphasis, and by showing that affirmation is secundum quid, while denial is simpliciter; and that there is a contradiction not real, but only apparent, between the two.

In like manner, the Fallacy Ignoratio Elenchi will be solved by analysing the two supposed counter-propositions of the Antiphasis, and by showing that there is no real contradiction or inconsistency between them.

In regard to the Fallacies under Petitio Principii, the respondent if he perceives that the premiss asked of him involves such a fallacy, must refuse to grant it, however probable it may be in itself. If he does not perceive this until after he has granted it, he must throw back the charge of mal-procedure upon the questioner; declaring that an Elenchus involving assumption of the matter in question is null, and that the concession was made under the supposition that some separate and independent syllogism was in contemplation.

There are two distinct ways in which the Fallacia Consequentis may be employed. The predicate may be an universal, comprehending the subject: because animal always goes along with man, it is falsely inferred that man always goes along with animal; or it is falsely inferred that not-animal always goes along with not-man. The fallacy is solved when this is pointed out. The last inference is only valid when the terms are inverted; if animal always goes along with man, not-man will always go along with not-animal.

If the sophistical refutation includes more premisses than are indispensable to the conclusion, the respondent, after having satisfied himself that this is the fact, will point out the mal-procedure of the questioner, and will say that he conceded the superfluous premiss, not because it was in itself probable but, because it seemed relevant to the debate; while nevertheless the questioner has made no real or legitimate application of it towards that object. This is the mode of solution applicable in the case of the Fallacies coming under the head Non Causa pro Causâ.

Where the sophistical questioner tries to refute by the Fallacia Plurium Interrogationum (i.e., by putting two or more questions as one), the respondent should forthwith divide the complex question into its component simple questions, and make answer accordingly. He must not give one answer, either affirmative or negative, to that which is more than one question. Even if he does give one answer, he may sometimes not involve himself in any contradiction; for it may happen that the same predicate is truly affirmable, or truly deniable, of two or more distinct and independent subjects. Often, however, the contrary is the case: no one true answer, either affirmative or negative, can be given to one of these complex questions: the one answer given, whatever it be, must always be partially false or inconsistent. Suppose two subjects, A and B, one good, the other bad: if the question be, Whether A and B are good or bad, it will be equally true to say--Both are good, or, Both are bad, or, Both are neither good nor bad. There may indeed be other solutions for this fallacy: Both or All may signify two or more items taken individually, or taken collectively; but the only sure precaution is--one answer to one question.

Suppose that, instead of aiming at a seeming refutation, the Sophist tries to convict the respondent of Tautology. The source of this embarrassment is commonly the fact that a relative term is often used and conveys clear meaning without its correlate, though the correlate is always implied and understood. The respondent must avoid this trap by refusing to grant that the relative has any meaning at all without its correlate; and by requiring that the correlate shall be distinctly enunciated along with it. He ought to treat the relative without its correlate as merely a part of the whole significant expression--as merely syncategorematic; just as ten is in the phrase--ten minus one, or as the affirmative word is in a negative proposition. Thus he will not recognize double as significant by itself without its correlate half, nor half without its correlate double; although in common parlance such correlate is often understood without being formally enunciated.

Mr. Poste observes in his note:--"The sophistic locus of tautology may be considered as a caricature of a dialectic locus. One fault which dialectic criticism finds with a definition is the introduction of superfluous words." He then cites Topic. VI. ii. (p. 141, a. 4, seq.); but in this passage we find that the repetition of the same word is declared not to be an argumentative impropriety, so that the Sophist would gain nothing by driving his opponent into tautology.]

Lastly, another purpose which Aristotle ascribes to the Sophist, is that of driving the respondent into a Solecism--into some grammatical or syntactical impropriety, such as, using a noun in the wrong case or gender, using a pronoun with a different gender or number from the noun to which it belongs, &c. He points out that the solution of these verbal puzzles must be different for each particular case; in general, when thrown into a regular syllogistic form, even the questioner himself will be found to speak bad Greek. The examples given by Aristotle do not admit of being translated into a modern language, so as to preserve the solecism that constitutes their peculiarity.

After having thus gone through the different artifices ascribed to the Sophist, and the ways of solving or meeting them, Aristotle remarks that there are material distinctions between the different cases which fall under one and the same general head of Sophistical Paralogism. Some cases there are in which both the fallacy itself, and the particular point upon which it turns, are obvious and discernible at first sight. In other cases, again, an ordinary person does not perceive that there is any fallacy at all; or, if he does perceive it, he often does not detect the seat of the fallacy, so that one man will refer the case to one general head, and another, to a different one. Thus, for example, Fallacies of Equivocation are perhaps the most frequent and numerous of all fallacies; some of them are childish and jocular, not really imposing upon any one; but there are others again in which the double meaning of a word is at first unnoticed, and is disputed even when pointed out, so that it can only be brought to light by the most careful and subtle analysis. This happens especially with terms that are highly abstract and general: which are treated by many, including even **philosophers like Parmenides and Zeno, as if they were not equivocal at all, but univocal. Again, the Fallaciæ Accidentis, and the other classes Extra Dictionem, are also often hard to detect. On the whole, it is often hard to determine, not merely to which of the classes any case of fallacy belongs, but even whether there is any fallacy at all--whether the refutation is, or is not, a valid one.

The pungent arguments in debate are those which bite most keenly, and create the greatest amount of embarrassment and puzzle. In dialectical debate a puzzle arises, when the respondent finds that a correct syllogism has been established against him, and when he does not at once see which among its premisses he ought to controvert, in order to overthrow the conclusion. In the eristic or sophistic debate the puzzle of the respondent is, in what language to enunciate his propositions so as to keep clear of the subtle objections which will be brought against him by the questioner. It is these pungent arguments that most effectually stimulate the mind to investigation. The most pungent of all is, where the syllogistic premisses are highly probable, yet where they nevertheless negative a conclusion which is also highly probable. Here we have an equal antithesis as to presumptive credibility, between the premisses taken together on one side and the conclusion on the other. We do not know whether it is in the premisses only, or in the conclusion, that we are to look for untruth: the conclusion, though improbable, may yet be true, while we may find that the true conclusion has been obtained from untrue premisses; or the conclusion may be both improbable and untrue, in which case we must look for untruth in one of the premisses also--either the major or the minor. This is the most embarrassing position of all. Another, rather less embarrassing, is, where our thesis will be confuted unless we can show the confuting conclusion to be untrue, but where each of the premisses on which the conclusion depends is equally probable, so that we do not at once see in which of them the cause of its untruth is to be sought. These two are the most pungent and perplexing argumentative conjunctures of dialectical debate.

This difficult passage (not well explained by Alexander, Schol. p. 320, b. 9) requires the explanations of Waitz and Mr. Poste. The note of Mr. Poste is particularly instructive, because he expands in full (p. 164) the three "similar syllogisms" to which Aristotle here briefly alludes. The phrase [Greek: metatitheme/nês tê=s a)ntipha/seôs] is determined by a passage in Analyt. Priora, II. viii. p. 59, b. 1: it means "employment of the contradictory of the conclusion, in combination with either one of the premisses, to upset the other." The original syllogism is assumed to have two premisses, each highly probable, while the conclusion is highly improbable, being the negation of a highly probable proposition. The original syllogism will stand thus: All M is P; All S is M; Ergo, All S is P: the two premisses being supposed highly probable, and the conclusion highly improbable. Of course, therefore, the contradictory of the conclusion will be highly probable--Some S is not P. We take this contradictory and employ it to construct two new syllogisms as follows:--"All M is P; Some S is not P; Ergo Some S is not M. And again, Some S is not P: All S is M; Ergo, Some M is not P. All these three syllogisms are similar in this respect: that each has two highly probable premisses, while the conclusion is highly improbable.]

But in eristic or sophistic debate our greatest embarrassment as respondents will arise when we do not at once see whether the refutative syllogism brought against us is conclusive or not, and whether it is to be solved by negation or by distinction. Next in order as to embarrassment stands the case, where we see in which of the two processes (negation or distinction) we are to find our solution, yet without seeing on which of the premisses we are to bring the process to bear; or whether, if distinction be the process required, we are to apply it to the conclusion, or to one of the premisses. A defective syllogistic argument is silly, when the deficient points are of capital importance--relating to the minor or to the middle term, or when the assumptions are false and strange; but it will sometimes be worthy of attention, if the points deficient are outlying and easily supplied; in which cases it is the carelessness of the questioner that is to blame, rather than the argument itself. Both the line of argument taken by the questioner, and the mode of solution adopted by the respondent, may be directed towards any one of three distinct purposes: either to the thesis and main subject discussed; or to the adversary personally (i.e., to the particular way in which he has been arguing); or to neither of these, but simply to prolong the discussion (i.e., against time). The solution may thus be sometimes such that it would take more time to argue upon it than the patience of the auditors will allow.

Mr. Poste translates these last words very correctly:--"Whether it is one of the premisses or the conclusion that requires distinction." Here Aristotle again speaks of a mode of solution furnished by applying distinction ([Greek: diai/resis]) to the conclusion as well as to the premisses, though he does not say that solution can be furnished by applying disproof ([Greek: a)nai/resis]) to the conclusion. See my remarks, a few pages above, on Mr. Poste's note respecting ch. xviii. (supra, p. 406).]

The last chapter of the Sophistici Elenchi is employed by Aristotle in recapitulating the scope and procedure of the nine Books of Topica (reckoning the Sophistici Elenchi as the Ninth, as we ought in propriety to do); and in appreciating the general bearing and value of that treatise, having regard to the practice and theory of the day.

The business of Dialectic and Peirastic is to find and apply the syllogizing process to any given thesis, with premisses the most probable that can be obtained bearing on the thesis. This Aristotle treats as the proper function of Dialectic per se and of Peirastic; considering both--the last, of course--as referring wholly to the questioner. His purpose is to investigate and impart this syllogizing power--the power of questioning and cross-examining a respondent who sets up a given thesis, so as to drive him into inconsistent answers. It appears that Aristotle would not have cared to teach the respondent how he might defend himself against this procedure, if there had not happened to be another art--Sophistic, closely bordering on Dialectic and Peirastic. He considers it indispensable to furnish the respondent with defensive armour against sophistical cross-examination; and this could not be done without teaching him at the same time modes of defence against the cross-examination of Dialectic and Peirastic. For this reason it is (Aristotle **tells us) that he has included in the Topica precepts on the best mode of defending the thesis by the most probable arguments, as well as of impugning it. The respondent professes to know (while the questioner does not), and must be taught how to maintain his thesis like a man of knowledge. Sokrates, the prince of dialecticians, did nothing but question and cross-examine: he would never be respondent at all; for he explicitly disclaimed knowledge. And if it were not for the neighbourhood of Sophistic, Aristotle would have thought it sufficient to teach a procedure like that of Sokrates. It was the danger from sophistical cross-examination that led him to enlarge his scheme--to unmask the Sophists by enumerating the paralogisms peculiar to them, and to indicate the proper scheme of the responses and solutions whereby the respondent might defend himself against them. We remember that Aristotle treats all paralogisms and fallacies as if they belonged to a peculiar art or profession called Sophistic, and as if they were employed by Sophists exclusively; as if the Dialecticians and the Peirasts, including among them Sokrates and Plato, put all their questions without ever resorting to or falling into paralogisms.

It appears to me that in one line of this remarkable passage a word has dropped out which is necessary to the sense. We now read (about the middle) [Greek: ô(s ou) mo/non pei=ran du/natai labei=n dialektikô=s, a)lla\ kai\ ô(s ei)dô/s]. Now the words [Greek: pei=ran labei=n] as the passage stands, must be construed along with [Greek: ô(s ei)dô/s], and this makes no meaning at all, or an inadmissible meaning. I think it clear that the word [Greek: u(pe/chein] or [Greek: dou=nai] has dropped out before [Greek: ei)dô/s]. The passage will then stand:--[Greek: ô(s ou) mo/non pei=ran du/natai labei=n dialektikô=s, a)lla\ kai\ u(pe/chein] (or [Greek: dou=nai) ô(s ei)dô/s]. When this verb is supplied the sense will be quite in harmony with what follows, which at present it is not. [Greek: Pei=ran labei=n] applies to the questioner, but not to the respondent; [Greek: ô(s ei)dô/s] applies to the respondent, but not to the questioner; [Greek: pei=ran u(pe/chein] applies to the respondent, and is therefore the fit concomitant of [Greek: ô(s ei)dô/s]. The translation given by Mr. Poste first (p. 93):--"professing not only to test knowledge with the resources of Dialectic, but also to maintain any thesis with the infallibility of science" appears to me (excepting the word infallibility, which is unsuitable) to render Aristotle's thought, though not his words as they now stand; but Mr. Poste has given what he thinks an amended translation (p. 175):--"Since it claims the power of catechizing or cross-examining not only dialectically but also scientifically." This second translation may approach more nearly to the present words of Aristotle, but it departs more widely from his sense and doctrine. Aristotle does not claim for either Dialecticians or Sophists the power of cross-examining scientifically. He ascribes to the Sophists nothing but cavil and fallacy--verbal and extra-verbal--the pretence and sham of being wise or knowing (Soph. El. i., ii. p. 165).]

Aristotle, we have already more than once seen, asserts emphatically his claim to originality as having been the first to treat these subjects theoretically, and to suggest precepts founded on the theory. On all important subjects (he remarks) the elaboration of any good theory is a gradual process, the work of several successive authors. The first beginnings are very imperfect and rudimentary; upon these, however, subsequent authors build, both correcting and enlarging, until, after some considerable time, a tolerably complete scheme or system comes to be constructed. Such has been the case with Rhetoric and other arts. Tisias was the first writer and preceptor on Rhetoric, yet with poor and insufficient effect. To him succeeded Thrasymachus, next Theodorus, and various others; from each of whom partial improvements and additions were derived, until at length we have now (it is Aristotle that speaks) a copious body of rhetorical theory and precept, inherited from predecessors and accumulated by successive traditions. Compared with this, the earliest attempt at theory was indeed narrow and imperfect; but it was nevertheless the first step in a great work, and, as such, it was the most difficult and the most important. The task of building on a foundation already laid, is far easier.

While rhetorical theory has thus been gradually worked up to maturity, the case has been altogether different with Dialectic. In this I (Aristotle) found no basis prepared; no predecessor to follow; no models to copy. I had to begin from the beginning, and to make good the first step myself. The process of syllogizing had never yet been analysed or explained by any one; much less had anything been set forth about the different applications of it in detail. I worked it out for myself, without any assistance, by long and laborious application. There existed indeed paid teachers, both in Dialectic and in Eristic (or Sophistic); but their teaching has been entirely without analysis, or theory, or system. Just as rhetoricians gave to their pupils orations to learn by heart, so these dialectical teachers gave out dialogues to learn by heart upon those subjects which they thought most likely to become the topics of discourse. They thus imparted to their pupils a certain readiness and fluency; but they communicated no art, no rational conception of what was to be sought or avoided, no skill or power of dealing with new circumstances. They proceeded like men, who, professing to show how comfortable covering might be provided for the feet, should not teach the pupil how he could make shoes for himself, but should merely furnish him with a good stock of ready-made shoes--a present valuable indeed for use, but quite unconnected with any skill as an artificer. The syllogism as a system and theory, with precepts founded on that theory for Demonstration and Dialectic, has originated first with me (Aristotle). Mine is the first step, and therefore a small one, though worked out with much thought and hard labour: it must be looked at as a first step, and judged with indulgence. You, my readers, or hearers of my lectures, if you think that I have done as much as can fairly be required for an initiatory start, compared with other more advanced departments of theory, will acknowledge what I have achieved, and pardon what I have left for others to accomplish.

Cicero, in describing his own treatise De Oratore, insists upon the marked difference between his mode of treatment and the common rhetorical precepts; he claims to have followed the manner of the Aristotelian Dialogues:--"Scripsi Aristoteleo more, quemadmodum quidem volui, tres libros in disputatione ac dialogo de Oratore, quos arbitror Lentulo tuo fore non inutiles. Abhorrent enim a communibus præceptis, atque omnem antiquorum et Aristoteleam et Isocrateam rationem oratoriam complectuntur" (Cicero, Epist. ad Famill. i. 9).]

It would seem that by [Greek: toi=s theasame/nois] Aristotle means to address the readers of the present treatise, while by [Greek: tô=n ê)kroame/nôn] he designates those who had heard his oral expositions on the same subject.]

Such is the impressive closing chapter of the Sophistici Elenchi. It is remarkable in two ways: first, that Aristotle expressly addresses himself to hearers and readers in the second person; next, that he asserts emphatically his own claim to originality as a theorist on Logic, and declares himself to have worked out even the first beginnings of such theory by laborious application. I understand his claim to originality as intended to bear, not simply on the treatise called Sophistici Elenchi and on the enumeration of Fallacies therein contained, but, in a larger sense, on the theory of the Syllogism; as first unfolded in the Analytica Priora, applied to Demonstration in the Analytica Posteriora, applied afterwards to Dialectic in the Topica, applied lastly to Sophistic (or Eristic) in the Sophistici Elenchi. The phrase, "Respecting the process of syllogizing, I found absolutely nothing prepared, but worked it out by laborious application for myself"--seems plainly to denote this large comprehension. And, indeed, in respect to Sophistic separately, the remark of Aristotle that nothing whatever had been done before him, would not be well founded: we find in his own treatise of the Sophistici Elenchi allusion to various prior doctrines, from which he dissents. In these prior doctrines, however, his predecessors had treated the sophistical modes of refutation without reference to the Syllogism and its general theory. It is against such separation that Aristotle distinctly protests. He insists upon the necessity of first expounding the Syllogism, and of discussing the laws of good or bad Refutation as a corollary or dependant of the syllogistic theory. Accordingly he begins this treatise by intimating that he intends to deduce these laws from the first and highest generalities of the subject; and he concludes it by claiming this method of philosophizing as original with himself.